9.
“Come with us,” the burly unicorn said. He did not question me further to see if I really was this Octavian Silverhorn. Nor was I allowed to ask questions. They took me from my station and into the elevator, down to the street, across the road, and through a door in the side of a building, which was pretty much identical to the previous building except for a height difference of about a dozen stories.I was placed in a small white room which was separated from the next room by a glass partition. I suppose I could have bounced, but the burly unicorns were still there, and even then I was pretty sure they had the situation under their complete control. So I stayed and watched as a bleary-eyed Larry limped into the next room.
“Hey, Eight,” he said. “They told me you were coming.”
“What is going on?”
“I messed up.”
“What did you do?”
Larry vandalized the glass with his horn. I tried to identify his sketch, but it seemed to be utter nonsense.
He pawed at the tile before saying, “I sunk it all: the toffees, the cupcakes, the taffies. Even the caramel. It’s all gone.”
I contemplated the loss of his small fortune. I say small not to be modest, but to actually describe the amount of sweets he reserved in our vault, far from his voracious appetite.
“You got arrested for being broke?”
He smiled a tight, sideways smile. “Not my stash. But that’s gone, too.”
He watched the comprehension warp my face and drive my horn into the glass. He sidestepped and actually looked concerned for once. Like I said, unicorns are usually gentle.
As I backed up for a second charge three guards surrounded me and pressed their horns into my coat. I did not feel where they pressed because suddenly my body was totally numb. Since then I’ve tried to understand the principles of immobilization by horn, but I have only gone as far as poke and gore techniques, available to any unicorn with a horn. There is a lot I am not allowed to study.
You would like to know why. Well, I’m getting there.
I stayed on the ground after the guards pulled back to their corners. I had lost complete – albeit temporary – control of my voluntary nervous system. My yell came out like a strangled cat’s cry.
Larry understood that pure rage. “I only meant to borrow some of your candy. I was going to replace it. I was going to win it all back, yours and Mikey’s.”
I physically could not return an answer. He must have seen my thoughts in the flash of my eyes. At that moment I believed in unicorn telepathy, a ludicrous notion – only werewolves (and some vampires) can read minds.
He said, as if responding to my unspoken answer, “You want to know what I did with it, if I didn’t eat it? I played the tables, Eight. I bet on the races.” Here he looked down. He kept his eyes and nostrils lowered as he added, “I bet against you.”
Feeling was returning to my hindquarters and front knees. I staggered to my hooves. The guards did not bother to lend me a horn. For a long time I started at the pitiful figure behind the glass. He had bet against me. I had been on a winning streak lately, which meant that he had been losing.
My voice strengthened. I asked him, “Why’d you do it, Larry? Why’d you bet against me?”
When he did not answer I said, with all the control I could muster, “You didn’t believe in me. I knew it. You never thought I could make it.” Thoughts like that can really weaken a unicorn. Or anybody, really. Half of our lives are spent believing. To think that someone does not believe in you weakens your belief in yourself. It should not be the case, but it is.
“Octavian, it wasn’t you.” I glanced up and Larry was right on the glass, fogging it with his breath. “I’m a horrible coach. I’m a bad unicorn. I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of.” He cocked his head to the side. “But I’m proud of you.”
I started to tell him that he was a good coach, that I had gotten this far because of him, but the guards brought Mikey through the doors into my side of the partitioned room.
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