One of the men snickered, and the other drew a little knife with an ivory handle and a metal blade that stank of pure iron. The third threaded his hand through the boy's hair, tipping his head back.
"No!" Kaye yelled as the iron dagger stabbed into the boy's left eye. The orb popped like a grape, clear liquid and blood running down his face as he screamed. The flesh hissed where the iron touched it.
"So much better with an audience," one of the skinny men said.
Kaye stumbled back, reaching around on a nearby table, finding only a goblet. She hefted it like a small club, unsure of what she was going to do with it.
One skinny man drew the iron blade over the skin of the boy's cheek, down his neck as the boy trembled and squealed, his one good eye rolling weakly in his head. The iron left a thin red line where it passed, the skin bubbling to white welts.
"Going to save him, poppet?" another of the skinny men called to Kaye.
Kaye's hands were shaking, and the cup seemed nothing more than a heavy thing she held; certainly, it was no weapon.
"We're not going to kill him," the man who was holding the boy's hair said.
"Just softening him up a bit," the one with the knife put in.
Fury surged up in her. The cup flew from her hand, hitting the shoulder of the man with the knife, spotting his coat with droplets of the wine it had contained before falling ineffectually to the dirt floor, where it rolled in helpless circles.
One of the men laughed and another lunged for her. She ducked into the crowd, pushing aside a dainty woman and sidling through.
Then she came to a sudden halt. Half hidden by three toad-skinned creatures hunched over a game of dice, there was Corny.
He was wedged against an overturned table, a goblet tipped in his hand. He was rocking back and forth with his eyes shut. A puddle of wine was soaking his pants, but he didn't seem to care.
Revelers were packed in tightly around her, so she scuttled under the table.
"Corny?" Kaye said, breathing hard.
Corny was right in front of her, but didn't seem to see her.
She shook him.
He noticed that and finally glanced up. He looked drunk, or worse than drunk. Like he'd been drunk for years.
"I know you," Corny said thickly.
"It's me, Kaye."
"Kaye?"
"What are you doing here?"
"They said it wasn't for me."
"What wasn't for you?"
The hand with the goblet in it stirred slightly.
"The wine?"
"Not for me. So I drank it. I want everything that's not for me."
"What happened to you?"
"This," he said, and twitched his mouth into something that might have been a smile. "I saw him."
She looked quickly back into the throng. "Who?"