Blood Red Road

time you was off with that—
    Ike! Jack yells, pointin at the villains at the table. Look! He’s takin seconds!
    Oh no, he ain’t! Ike rushes off.
    Jack grins at me. Poor Ike, he says, tappin the side of his forehead. Crazy as a coot.
    Somehow I don’t think so.

    The men mutter among theirselves as they sit back down at the big table an git to work on their meal. Ash elbows through ’em an fills three trenchers fer her, Epona an Emmi. The one with the eyepatch tries to slide his arm around her an she gives him a sharp rap over the head with the stew ladle.
    Then they pull three chairs close to the fire an tuck in. Both Ash an Epona keep their crossbows close. Nero perches on the back of Emmi’s chair an sets about dryin hisself an puttin his feathers into some kinda order. He hates gittin wet.
    I roll the stiffness outta my shoulders, let the warmth of the room soak into my cold bones.
    Jack motions me over to join him an Ike at a table in a dim lit corner. It looks like the kinda spot where plots git hatched.
    I pull up a stool an sit down.
    No hard feelins? I says to Ike.
    Naw, he says. I like yer style.
    Ike’s got a big head to match the rest of him. With a bushy beard an moustache an straight black hair down to his shoulders. His eyes is dark an set deep. His voice rumbles from somewhere down near his toes.
    Ike, this is Saba, says Jack.
    I hold out my hand fer Ike to shake but he grabs it, lifts it to his mouth an gives it a big wet smack of a kiss.
    Marry me, he says. I got all my own teeth, I wash twice a year an I’ll cut you in fer half the business here.
    My cheeks flame hot. No thanks, I says. I try to pull my hand away, but he clutches it tight to his chest.
    Maybe not right away, he says, but once we git to know each other. A week or so. I don’t mind a little wait. Jest don’t keep me simmerin too long, sweetheart.
    I don’t really think I … uh …, I says.
    I shoot Jack a help-me-out-here-yer-friend’s-crazy kinda look but he don’t even look at me. He leans back in his chair with his hands behind his head an his legs stretched out.
    Will wonders never cease, he says. Ike Twelvetrees finally caught in the net of love. I gotta hand it to you, Saba. Name the first boy after me, will you?
    The first—! I shove back my stool an jump up. I ain’t marryin Ike! I ain’t marryin nobody! What the—?
    Then I catch the look that passes between ’em. Jack’s mouth twitches an they bust out laughin. I glare as they hoot an slap each other on the back like a couple of idiots. Bloody Jack. There he goes agin, makin me look like a fool.
    Very funny, I says. Couple of hyenas. Go on, laugh it up.
    I turn to leave but Ike’s long arm shoots out an grabs my wrist. Aw, don’t, he says, wipin his eyes. Stay. We don’t mean nuthin by it, do we Jack? It’s jest us havin some fun. You don’t hafta marry me … not until yer ready to, that is.
    I guess that’ll be never then, I says.
    He clutches his heart. Wounded! he says. He drags my stool back to the table. Sit, he says. Have a drink. Tell me what brings you to the One-Eyed Man.
    He lifts a jug an pours a clear liquid into three chipped mugs.
    I stand there with my arms folded over my chest.
    What’s the matter? says Ike. You got a face on you like a slapped polecat.
    I don’t like people makin fun of me, I says.
    Dangerous an prickly, says Ike. You got yerself quite a handful here, Jack.
    I ain’t his handful, I says.
    She sure as hell ain’t, says Jack.
    Ike raises one shaggy eyebrow. You sure yer sure about that? C’mon, he says to me. Siddown. Drink.
    I sit.
    Jack lifts his mug. Me an Ike do the same.
    To Molly Pratt, says Jack.
    Ike scowls at him. Watch yer mouth, he says.
    Jeez, Ike, says Jack. All I’m sayin is … to Molly Pratt.
    Ike looks sly. Leans in an waggles his eyebrows. To Molly Pratt, he says, an her frilly red bloomers.
    One helluva woman, says Jack.
    One helluva pair of undies, says Ike.
    Then they throw their drinks down their necks.
    I take a sip. Fire races over my tongue, down my throat. Tears spring to my eyes.
    Jack pounds the table with his fist. Gasps like a landed fish. That’s smooth, Ike, he says. What is it?
    Pine sap vodka, says Ike. Down it in one, he says to me. That way you cain’t taste it.
    I take a deep breath. I down it in one, like he tells me to. The fire hits my belly an starts a slow burn.
    Now, says Ike, let’s git down to business. I know you, Jack. You only ever show up when you want