Agalon didn’t seem angry, but part of Xac wished he did.  He seemed…  strange.  Detached.  They hadn’t had sex the night before, or when they woke up, and Agalon had seemed preoccupied throughout the morning as they dressed, and left Xaxac alone when he went down for breakfast.

    Xac hadn’t wanted to go to the restaurant, so he had let Lee go without him, and wound up lying in the bedroom by himself while they were gone, staring up at the ceiling.  He had torn his fancy clothes so when Lee had handed him the uniform of a house slave he had taken it with gratitude, and as he stared at the ceiling he smoothed out his shirt.  He didn’t know where the new boots had come from.  No one ever got two pairs of boots in one year.  The concept was insane.  Agalon loved him.

    It was strange to get new boots for someone who was going to die.

    But Agalon had put him in the cage.

    There were flowers carved into the ceiling tiles in the hotel, too.  This room was bigger than their room at house, by an entire row.  There were sixty-six flowers on the ceiling.

    “Little bunny Foo Foo,

    Hopping through the forest

    Scooping up the field mice,” Xac sang, and wondered why he didn’t feel like crying.  He just felt tired.  He knew he was hungry, but he didn’t particularly care.  Nothing seemed to matter with the prospect of death looming over him; it was a freeing feeling.

    “And boppin um on the head,” Alex said as he barreled his way into the room and slammed a plate of biscuits on the bedside table, “Get your ass up.  Flour an water, nothin else, tastes like shit, but I got jelly.  I had to pull some strings to get these so sit your ass up and eat or Ima be real pissed off, Bunny Foo Foo.”

    “I’m gonna die,” Xac told him as he sat up.

    “Yeah, I heard about that,” Alex said, “We all gonna die, Xacy-boy, but you gonna have a crowd.  Eat or I’m slappin the shit outta ya.  We ain’t got time for this.  My master don’t know where I’m at and your butler’s coverin for me, because I guess hell’s done froze over and Magnus is shiverin’.”

    “Thanks,” Xac said as he picked up a biscuit, tore it in half, and spread the jam over it.  “Reckon we oughta go to the table?  Like civilized folks?”

    “Whatever, Foo Foo,” Alex picked up the plate and walked away with it, so Xac shoved the half a biscuit he was still holding into his mouth and followed him.

    “How come you’re so…  chipper?” Xac asked, “Ain’t you scared of me?”

    “Oh honey, I am absolutely erect with terror,” Alex proclaimed, sat the plate down at the table, then fell into his chair with a show of drama that included kicking one leg over his head when he crossed them and leaning forward on the table with his charming smile plastered on his face.

    “It ain’t funny,” Xac snarled as he sat down and began to eat.

    “Bitch, am I laughin?” Alex asked, “I’m serious.  That’s the scariest goddamn thing I ever seen in my life.  They locked my ass in with ya.  I had to change clothes.  Which you didn’t say nothin about so that pisses me off a little bit.”

    “Sorry,” Xac said, and he meant it.  He hadn’t properly looked at Alex because he hadn’t been thinking or feeling very much at all, and wasn’t paying particular attention to the world around him.  He had changed clothes; he was wearing a set of tight pants tucked into knee-high boots and a flowing shirt that looked as if it really should button, but it didn’t.  Instead it tied with little bows all down his chest and at the wrists.  He was cute.  He was always cute.

    “You’re cute,” Xac said.

    “I’m glad one of us is,” Alex said, “‘Cause you look like shit.  You lost weight.  Darlin, look at me, look at my face.  What I need you to do is take some cream a shade lighter than your skin, and blend it in under your eyes and at the part of your cheeks that are supposed to be full.  You’re gettin too little and it ain’t a good look.  Blend it in and then put the settin powder on top of it.”

    “I ain’t redoin my makeup,” Xac said as he shoved another biscuit in his mouth.

    “Well ya look like a damn corpse,” Alex said.

    “Thanks,” Xac said, swallowed, and asked, “You really ain’t scared ‘a me?”

    “Bitch I done told you I was terrified!” Alex grinned, “You don’t believe me?”

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    “You ain’t actin scared,” Xac accused.

    “This is how I act when I’m scared a’ somebody,” Alex explained, “On account a’ I got some sense.  You know I love ya, buddy, don’t’cha?  Just cause I’m scared a’ ya that don’t mean we ain’t friends.”

    “What?” Xac asked.

    “Listen, Foo Foo,” Alex said, leaning over the table, and though he was still smiling, Xac saw that he was telling the truth, there was fear in his eyes, the kind of fear that was almost madness, “From where I’m standin, it’s better to be at the right hand a’ the devil than in his path.  Right?”

    “Oh,” Xac said.  He hadn’t thought of that.  But Alex was right.  Monsters were only scary because they were dangerous; Xac hadn’t hurt anyone he had ever cared about.  He hadn’t hurt Alex.  He had also never hurt his father.  He hadn’t hurt Agalon after that first time, after he had grown to truly love him.

    “Wait, am I the devil in that scenario?” Xac asked.

    “Oh, absolutely, Foo Foo,” Alex giggled, “An’ the devil’s in the details.  And I got me some details, this mornin.  We ain’t supposed to be talkin about you, but I heard that you healed a broke jaw in the time it took you to walk upstairs.  Is that true?”

    “Yeah,” Xac said and stood, walked to the writing desk, opened the drawers, and found the flask he was looking for almost instantly.  He brought it back and took a swig as Alex spoke.

    “You ain’t gonna die tonight,” Alex said as if it was a fact.

    “I ain’t never been in a fight,” Xac said, “I don’t know-”

    “Yeah, you have,” Alex interrupted, “You been in fights.  You fought Billy the Bull.  And you got up.”  His grin widened and he leaned back in his chair.  “He didn’t.  You walked off a broke jaw, broke arm, grew back a tooth.  I don’t reckon anybody could beat you to death.”

    “I didn’t do nothin to do that,” Xac said, “That’s just cause I’m a shifter.”

    “And ‘cause you’re a pleasure slave,” Alex said, “and the more I think about it, the more I think the skills transfer.  You can’t ride a dick without core strength.  You don’t get knocked down with somebody slammin, full body weight, into ya.  You know how to judge folks, know how to tell what they’re gonna do and what they want you to do.  You got this, Foo Foo.”

    “I like that,” Xac said, “it’s cute.  That’s cute…  the ‘Foo Foo’ thing.”

    “You’d be cute if you’d listen to me,” Alex said.

    “I’m glad you believe in me,” Xac sighed, “but don’t hold your breath.”

    “Don’t tell me what to do,” Alex grinned.

    The door opened and Lee stuck his head in, saw the two of them, and his stern expression melted into a soft smile.

    “Hurry up,” he said, “we’re headin out.  The masters are waiting.”

    Xaxac huddled into Agalon as they strode into the stable where the fighters were kept, and he was shocked to see how few people were up and milling about.  A good half of the fighters he had seen the day before weren’t out in the open area finishing up their breakfast and he had no idea where they were or what had happened to them.

    The vet was sitting at the table with a few other earth elves, watching the remaining fighters and drinking a cup of coffee that smelled delicious, looking worn out, and his weiriness somehow intensified when he saw Agalon.

    Agalon motioned to him, and he stood to meet him by the door of the stall that Xaxac now knew intimately.

    “How’s he holdin up?” Agalon asked.

    “Bad, Kai, Thesis’s eyes,” the vet said as if this should not need to be said.  “I done what I could but I told you I didn’t have no guarantees.”

    Agalon nodded, opened the door, and stepped inside.

    The smell hit Xac before anything else.  It smelled of urine, sweat, and rot so that he had to let go of Agalon and throw both hands over his mouth.  Four of Agalon’s six fighters were sitting inside, all nursing various injuries; Xaxac recognized the wooden splints that he had had to wear when he had broken his arm on many of them.

    But the real sight was tucked away in a corner.

    A mound of bloody bandages moved as if it was breathing, as if it was alive, but it was asleep, and it had Billy’s face.

    “I give him a potion already,” the vet said, “they’re deep wounds, but a healin spell couple times a day and a potion or two and they’ll heal up, I reckon.  I’m good at what I do.  The problem is the insides.  Intestines all clumped together like that might heal back wrong.  That’s what you gotta watch for.”

    “How long is it gonna take?” Agalon asked, and the vet shrugged.

    “I’d give it a month before I had him do much,” he said, “definitely wouldn’t try nothin’ for at least a fortnight.  Gonna be a hell’uva scar.”

    Alex was right.

    Billy had attacked Xac three times.  Every time Xac had gotten up, had walked it off.

    Xac had attacked Billy once.

    He didn’t get up.

    Maybe he could do this.

    “Alright,” Agalon sighed, turned on his heel and marched out of the room, “Let’s get to trainin.”  He saw that Xaxac had not moved, that he was still standing, frozen to the spot, staring at the bloody mass of bandages, so he grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him back out into the big open space.  He leaned down to whisper to him, “Not you, darlin.  You just stay right by my side and watch.  Learn all ya’ can, but don’t look like you’re learnin nothin.  If I play my cards right…  you’ll be a secret.  You just gotta qualify.  You can start trainin when we get back to the house.”

    Xac nodded, though he did not really understand.