Ebudae by John H. Carroll

Lizor
took them. People wilting in the heat were sitting on a few of the
benches, fanning themselves in vain attempts to get cool. There was
a show with a decent audience at the far end, but afternoon in the
summertime was one of the worst time slots for Carnies to have.
    “And this is our home,” Lizor said with a
wide sweep of his arm at a large green and red checkered tent. The
wooden stage in front was wide with tall, canvas paintings of
countrysides used as a backing. Lizor led them past the stage into
a walkway between his tent and the one next to it. A flap in the
middle served as an entrance. He used that to step inside, leaving
the girls to follow. Pelya looked back and shrugged. Ebudae stared
at her fearfully. It was a fact that every woman in Dralin got
kidnapped, at least that was the way it seemed from all the stories
her grandmother had told her.
    The only reason she went in was because she
refused to let go of Pelya’s belt. Then she felt the cool air and
decided that perhaps being kidnapped wouldn’t be so bad if she
didn’t have to go back into the heat.
    The tent was a riot of colors inside. There
were carpets and mats on the floor with countless pillows for
sleeping and eating. Small paintings and tapestries hung from the
canvas walls. Two wooden poles held the tent up, with the middle
just high enough for Lizor to stand without touching his head. To
the right were three people around an ornate hookah with a
porcelain bottom. Smoke bubbled out the top of it.
    “Lizor, who did you bring?” A woman
gracefully rose to her feet and stepped forward. Her auburn hair
flowed in waves down her back. She outlined her dark-green eyes
with black makeup and colored her lids with green eye shadow, while
bright-red lipstick covered full lips. Piercings dotted her ears,
one eyebrow and the right side of the upper lip. But the most
striking feature was a tattoo of thin green scrollwork along her
left jaw from the chin all the way to where it wrapped around her
ear. She wore a tight yellow blouse and black leggings. She was one
of the most beautiful women Ebudae had ever seen.
    “Lizor has brought pretty ladies who need
shade.” He gestured grandly at the girls and then became distracted
by his biceps, which he began flexing.
    “We’ve talked about this, Lizor. The pretty
ladies might be nice to you every once in a while, but they won’t
want to marry you or be your girlfriend,” the woman admonished.
    That didn’t make Ebudae feel any better
about entering the tent. She didn’t want to be anyone’s wife
or girlfriend at the moment, let alone the brute’s.
    “I know. They don’t think Lizor sexy even
with all of his magnificent muscles. But these pretty ladies are
nice and they need shade.”
    “Alright, Lizor,” the woman said. She turned
to Pelya and Ebudae. “Hello. I’m Aphry. If you’re not intent on
harming anyone, then you’re welcome to join us for a short
while.”
    Ebudae had decided earlier to let Pelya do
all the talking. It would be easier that way. Her warrior friend
obliged. “My name is Pelya and this is Ebudae. We have no intention
of harming anyone.” She gestured toward Lizor who was next to her.
“Lizor has been wonderful and we greatly appreciate everything. As
soon as we cool off a bit, we’ll be out of your hair.”
    A blonde man with thick beard and mustache
spoke in a ringing voice that filled the tent. Ebudae felt herself
drawn to it as though compelled to listen. “Pelya. That’s an
unusual name.” He tilted his head in thought and picked on a string
of a well-used lute in his lap. “There’s a girl by that name who’s
being raised in the City Guard. I’ve never heard of it otherwise.”
Ebudae looked for any sign of a spell or charm, but when the
colorfully dressed man spoke, it became clear that he drew
attention to himself through charisma.
    Aphry raised an eyebrow. “Are you her?”
    Ebudae felt Pelya’s muscles tighten, but her
friend answered anyway. “I