Commitment Hour Read Online Free Page A

the punch but the smoke, and all three of us collapsed helplessly onto the mud, tears streaming, bile dripping down our chins.
    With my last remaining energy, I dragged myself to one side, away from the mess I had gagged up. Part of me wanted to let go of the bank, and sink into the creek to clean the stomach-spill from my hands; but I was afraid I’d drown retching, too weak to keep my head above water. My eyes turned back to that fiery boot; and slowly I followed the boot upward, to leg, to body, to helmet.
    It was a knight in full armor. Not metal armor, but something glossy—OldTech plastic. The helmet was completely blank, no holes for mouth or nose, only a smoked-glass plate in front of the eyes. The violet fire surrounding him gave off no heat, but hissed softly like a sleeping snake.
    Through the smoke, I saw Cappie weakly pull the Neut’s machete out of the mud. Before she could use it, the knight kicked the knife lightly from her hand. “ ‘Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them,’ ” he said. “That’s from Othello , Act One, Scene Two. Not that I expect anyone to care. Centuries ago, my ancestors could impress the peasantry by quoting Shakespeare, but now it takes tear gas. Oh, well—time marches on. Hello.”

TWO

    A Finger Exercise for Master Disease

    “Damn it, Rashid,” the Neut croaked to the knight, “this isn’t funny.” It coughed deeply and spat.
    “Don’t fuss,” the knight said. “You’re perfectly all right.”
    The three of us in the water lifted our heads to stare at him, tears streaming from our eyes and vomit crusting our clothes.
    “Some people should cultivate a sense of humor,” the knight muttered. “Two days from now, you’ll be stopping strangers in the street to tell them this story.”
    I heard a soft click and the violet fire around his armor winked out. Sighing, he slipped into the water beside us. I shied away, dragging myself farther along the bank though my arms were weak as twigs. The knight wasn’t interested in me; he put his arm around the Neut’s shoulders and helped the creature wade to the middle of the creek, away from the smoke near shore. There, he bent the Neut over and scooped water into Its weeping eyes.
    “Let’s get you washed up,” the knight said. “You’ll feel a hundred times better when you’re clean.”
    The words jarred me worse than the choking smoke. A woman had said almost the same thing to me a year before, in circumstances that still made me cry out “No!” suddenly, day or night, when the memory came unbidden.
    I had been down-peninsula in Sobble Beach, playing for a wedding dance. It was a good spring for weddings; I’d played three already and was scheduled for two more before solstice. The men of the town attended my performances enthusiastically—as a woman, I wasn’t beautiful but I behaved as if I was and that fooled most people. One man in particular, a young carpenter named Yoskar, was always in the front row whenever I coy-smiled my way onto the podium. Between songs, Yoskar and I flirted. On my break, we even slipped out a side door and spent a tasty few minutes teasing flesh to flesh on the beach. Mouth and hands only, of course—I was always faithful to Cappie, even when he was far away.
    It turned out that Yoskar had someone else in his life too. I met his other woman after the dance, as I walked under a shadowy aisle of cedars on my way to the boat that would take me home. The woman moved quietly and she had a knife.
    Her first stab took me in the back, but high and off center, stopping itself against my shoulder bone. I nearly passed out; if she had immediately tugged back the knife and gone for my throat, Master Day would have welcomed a new violinist in the Fields of Gold. Luckily for me, the woman was as surprised as I was that she had actually plunged a blade into my body. She stood there stupidly, staring at me as I staggered about. By the time she had recovered enough to consider