6 The Angel Marbles

 

 

 

Then

Kindel folded his towel hand-over-hand and left it resting on the edge of the basin.  The water was hot and frothy - either naturally or augmented by something else, he couldn't tell. Around him, the otherwise empty bathhouse was given a warming hue from lamps hanging here and there; dangling in on chains from the rafters.

He shed the remainder of his garments as he sank into the water and stretched his toes to the far wall.  He palmed his beverage - Utopia, Selena had called this smush of berries and their local salts. It would probably be called a headache tomorrow, but for tonight this was exactly what he needed.

Utopia it might be. The life he left was gone forever, but this...well, it was at least the nicest way to be alone.   He stared into one of the lamps and drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless, slumber.

*****

Now

The glow the lamps had created had dimmed over the years, as the salts within them became scarce. And, while most homes received enough to get by, there was little use for street thieves to have their own lighting.  If they wanted light, they had to steal it.  

And the streets remained as dark as ever.  Who wanted to go out into the rain?

The five sat around the stone basin, the competition set to begin. 

"But enough about how our lights work - or don't work.  If you want to win, you have to knock our marbles out of this area here," the tallest indicated the clean area in the middle, "and we have to do the same to yours.  Got it?"

Jacques was up for a game.  Better than dancing on rooftops. "Ok.  What are we using to knock the marbles out?"

"Oh.  Yes.  You can use other marbles," She replied, although she was clearly scanning the available objects.

"Why don't you go first, and show us what you mean?  By the way, I'm Mrs. Trufflebottom, and this is my husband Jacques.  What can we call you?" She asked.  It was a gamble.

"What's your first name?" The youngest asked her back.

"Mrs."

"Hi, Mrs," he replied, taking this quite literally. "I'm Meatball."

She smirked.  "Is your first name 'Meat?' "

He laughed lightly.  "No, my whole name's Meatball!"

The leader spoke again, "He didn't have a name when we found him, but he sure liked his pasta.  Called himself Meatball, so he's Meatball.  I'm Luca.  The quiet one is Scarlet."

Scarlet turned a blushing red beneath her fur but said nothing.  

"Nice to meet you, Angel Marbles?"  Jacques said, as he tried a gamble of his own.  "You must really like this game to call yourselves after it."

"What?  Oh - I mean, it's a good game; let's just play, okay?" Luca stammered back.

"You guys have some really neat stuff -"

"Shut it, Meatball," Luca cut him off.  "I said, let's just play.  Okay?  I'll go first.  Okay that didn't work. Now you go."

They still weren't fully clear on how to play this game, but it wasn't clear that the Angel Marbles were either.  Jacques pushed them on the rules. "Can we roll the marbles down the sides of the basin?  Or can we throw them?  What if we roll them together?  Can we hit them into each other?"

 Luca was becoming increasingly irritable by the question.  Meatball was smiling bigger and bigger at these interesting strangers.  Scarlet was growing more scarlet.

 Jacques and Mrs. Trufflebottom, however,  were making this a game of their own.  "Ok, what if she bends way over and pitches it between her legs?  Oh!  What if I put the marble in my mouth, and then launch it out at the other ones?"

"Like a big meatball!"  Meatball announced gleefully.

"No, no, no, stop!  All of you shut up.  Now!"  They paused to stare at Luca, who was breathing heavy like a predator ready to pounce.  The game was clearly over.  All of them.

"I don't think we understand the rules of this," said Mrs. Trufflebottom, as she looked at each of them in turn, then added, " But I also don't think any of us do."

"There is no game, okay?  I made it up.   I made the whole thing up.  Meatball, just give them their stuff back, and get them out of here."

"Why?  What was the point of all this?"

"No one ever plays games with us.  No one stops to say 'hey let's have fun with you' or ' we just want to spend time with you;' No!  All they see us for is thieves and waste so that's what we'll go back to being."

The conversation fell dead.  Jacques looked down at the marbles: at the dry stone basin that had once been filled with hot springs.  At the poverty that was once a flourishing tourist trap.  And most of all, at their stretched shadows in the dim light reaching out to cross over the Angel Marbles.

"I believe we had a deal.  And our game isn't finished."

The three looked from one another.  Luca still looked ready for a fight, but brushed her hair back between her ears.  "Alright.  But you're going to get us food when the game is over."

"Agreed."  

They resumed their stations around the edges of the basin and began rolling in marbles.  The rules became looser, but so did the tensions.  Fun might have even crept in.  

After a resounding CRACK and knocking two marbles up the side, Mrs. Trufflebottom asked of them, "The Angel Marbles.  You didn't make that name up just for us;   you called yourselves that before.  What's it mean?"

"Angel Marbles?  It's just a old dumb folk tale around here," Luca said as she shot and missed.  "You haven't heard of it?"

"Nope."

"Well, it's kinda like this game - it's what made me think of it.  You put something out into the world, and it's going to bump other things and they change.  So you try to only put good out into the world because once you let them go, they're out of  your control.  You don't know what it's going to happen.  So you're only supposed to do good things because you don't know who it's going to bump into.  Angel Marbles."  She took a shot and missed.  "See?  It's dumb story to make kids behave.  Like the Rainy Rabbit."

Mrs. Trufflebottom snickered, "The what now?"

Meatball replied this time, "The Rainy Rabbit.  She only comes out when it's raining!"

Luca all but threw the marble, "Those stories are boring anyway. And I think you beat us fair and square.  Meatball, give 'em their stuff back."

"Thank you," said Jacques sincerely.  "And, we had a deal.  We're going to get you some food.  I think we know just the place."

"Great," said Luca; clearly a dismissal. "Well, thanks for playing with us -"

"No, this isn't over," Mrs. Trufflebottom cut her off.  "We're coming back with food because you're starving.  Then we're going to start figuring out how to fix all this.  And giving you a rematch."