by Mick Farren
The passing of four hours found Phaid sitting in the line train's ballroom. He was considerably richer and very well pleased with himself. A soft voice came from above and behind him.
'Did you win?'
Phaid looked up and smiled. It was a girl whom he'd noticed watching him while he'd been playing imperial hazard with a banker and two merchants.
'A little, not much. It was good to be in a serious game again.'
'You've been away?'
'Way out in the boondocks, beyond Freeport.'
'It sounds unpleasant.'
'It was.'
The girl was not only extremely attractive, but had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that she stood out, even among the sophisticated late night crowd that had gathered in the ballroom. She had a small, heartshaped face with a disproportionately large mouth and eyes. The eyes were a deep brown and slightly slanted. Her hair was black and hung to her waist. She wore a straight cut, almost mannish jacket, severely tailored with padded shoulders. It was a pale yellow, and if she hadn't been incredibly slim, the effect would never have worked. The narrow, matching calf length skirt was slit to the hip, revealing her exceptionally long legs. These were, for the most part, encased in a pair of darker yellow leather boots. Her jewellery was expensive, as was her musky perfume. Her whole style came straight out of the top drawer. She was exactly the kind of woman that Phaid had dreamed of through all the long days of exile in the jungles and deserts. He ordered two drinks, then he smiled his most charming smile at the girl.
'You don't seem the kind of person who goes to Fennella.'
The girl raised an amused eyebrow. 'What kind of person goes to Fennella?'
'The dull kind.'
'I'm glad I don't look dull, but I did go to Fennella. There's another side to the town that you don't see if you're just passing through.'
'There is?'
The girl looked slyly at him. 'You better believe it.'
'Would it be rude to ask what you were doing there?'
The girl laughed, flashing a set of pearl white teeth.
'Not in the least. I was invited to an orgy.'
She quickly ran a small, pointed pink tongue over her moist lips. Phaid did his best not to look surprised. He had obviously been away from civilisation for too long.
'Did you enjoy it?'
'One orgy is much the same as another.'
'I don't go to too many.'
'Perhaps you should.'
'Maybe. What's your name?'
The woman gazed at him in mock surprise.
'I hope you don't think that because I told you I went to an orgy there's an open offer on my body.'
Phaid smiled and shook his head.
'I make a point of not thinking anything. It's safer when you live the way I do.'
'And how do you live? Are you rich?'
'Sometimes.'
'Not all the time?'
'No.'
'So what do you do?'
Phaid spread his hands. 'You've seen me doing it. I'm a gambler.'
The girl looked at him sideways. 'That's all you do?'
'Pretty much.'
'I don't believe you.'
'So what do you think I am?'
The girl studied him.
'Maybe you are a gambler at that. My name is Edelline-Lan, by the way.'
'Mine's Phaid.'
'Just Phaid?'
'Just Phaid.'
She laid a hand on his arm.
'Well, listen, Phaid, I have to go and speak to someone over on the other side of the room, but don't go away, because I'll be right back. I've never met a gambler before and I want you to tell incredible tales about yourself. They don't even have to be true.'
Phaid watched as she threaded her way across the ballroom. The place was crowded and the atmosphere was festive. Phaid hoped that Edelline-Lan would come back and that the need to talk to someone on the other side of the room wasn't merely an excuse to get away from him. He liked the girl, he wanted to sleep with her, and, always self serving, he suspected she might provide an introduction to at least one of the many levels of Chrystianaville society.
He decided to be patient and wait. It would be worth it if the girl did come back. In the meantime, he got another drink and watched the dancers jerk and twirl. Light glowed from beneath the floor and beamed down from overhead fixtures. The constantly changing colours gave the dancers a strange, unearthly look, and there were times that they seemed positively wraith-like. Phaid could imagine how someone straight out of the hills and backwoods could view the dancefloor as a vision direct from hell.
The music was of a style that Phaid had never heard before. From the energy that was being put in on the floor, Phaid suspected that it must be some kind of new fad. A monotonous medium pace, tromp tromp beat so dominated everything that it had a hypnotic, almost sinisterly mindless quality. High grating tones and sweeps of sound curled and stabbed through it. Melody seemed to have been forgotten. This music was total physical energy and nothing else.
When Phaid had last been in the Republic, the form of music was a kind of nasal, modal singing to the accompaniment of a twelve tone Sievian harp. Times had obviously changed and Phaid wondered how many new trends and innovations he would have to absorb before he could once again feel a part of city life.
The music was provided by two gleaming and very well cared for cybermat music systems. It was just another example of the marikhs' attention to detail. Nothing was too good for the first-class passengers on their trains.
Although Phaid couldn't see the attraction of the new sound, it seemed to exert an overpowering influence on the dancers. One young blonde girl in a loosely fitting, blue chiffon wrap was becoming progressively more carried away. Phaid watched with interest as her movements became increasingly sinuous and abandoned. Finally, with a circular twist of her shoulders, she did something to the garment so it dropped around her waist, leaving the top half of her body completely naked.
'Nice breasts?'
Phaid looked around. Edelline-Lan had returned and was standing grinning at him. Phaid laughed.
'Nicest pair I've seen all day.'
'It's a pity so many other people have seen them so often. They lose their exclusivity.'
'She does this a lot?'
'All the time. It's about her only trick.'
'You know her then?'
'Her name's Mariba. She's always around where there's a big enough crowd. Now that I think about it, she might by your type. You look hungry enough.'
'I look hungry?'
'From all that time in the back of beyond.'
'It shows, does it?'
'If you know how and where to look.'
'That's bad?'
Edelline-Lan went through a parody of slowly appraising Phaid.
'I don't know. It has a kind of rough ruggedness. It's rare in this decadent, butterfly world — or was that the gambler talking?'
'I guess maybe it was.'
'Never give anything away, is that the rule?'
'Right.'
'You're not one of those men who constantly live inside his profession, are you?'
Phaid sipped his drink in a pretence of being thoughtful. 'Maybe it's hard to get out of it.'
'You should try it some time.'
'Supposing you helped me.'
Edelline-Lan waggled an admonishing forefinger. 'I've already told you that I'm not putting my body on offer.'
Phaid didn't take her very seriously.
'It's a fine body.'
'But you won't play with me tonight.'
'No?'
'No.'
'So when?'
'That depends on you, gambler.'
'Phaid.'
'That depends on you, Phaid.'
'I have to lay siege to you?'
'Indeed you do. I'm worth it.'
Phaid frowned.
'Do I have the time? The train gets to Chrystianaville tomorrow.'
Edelline-Lan lowered her eyelids into a sleepy, mysterious expression.
'I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other.'
'You do?'
'I do.' Suddenly her expression changed totally. In a flash she became a bouncing imitation of a teenager. 'Do you want to go to a party?'
'When?'
'Right now, there's a party in one of the staterooms.'
'An orgy?'
'No, just a party.'
'Can anyone come?'
'You can.'
Phaid looked around. 'Do we need to take any booze or anything with us?'
Edelline-Lan looked at him as though he was a little foolish.
'You are now among the rich, the privileged and the beautiful. Everything is provided.'
'Which am I?'
'I know you feel lucky at the moment, but it is wise not to press it.'
She grasped his hand and led him, unprotesting, out of the ballroom.
The first thing he learned was that Edelline-Lan was an extremely well connected young woman. Almost as soon as she stepped through the door she was greeted by a dozen or more people. There were kisses, handshakes and salutations. She introduced Phaid to a procession of faces whose names he immediately forgot, then, happening across a marikh waiter, they helped themselves to a drink each and took a momentary breather.
The party was hardly a hedonistic extravaganza. In fact, it turned out to be a rather stiff, stilted affair. The music was light and muted and the conversation didn't rise above a low murmur. The majority of the guest seemed well into fat, prosperous, middle age and the sprinkling of younger ones looked as though they'd been invited to help the others forget their advancing years. While Phaid was wondering what he was doing there, Edelline-Lan was looking around thoughtfully.
'Now who should I set you up with to talk to?'
'How about you?'
'Not me, my dear, I have other things to do.' She spotted what must have been a likely candidate. 'I know.'
She led him towards a squat, balding man in a long white evening coat. He was in his mid-fifties and carried a good deal of excess weight. One thing did, however, make him stand out from other comfortable, self satisfied party-goers. An old scar ran all the way down his right cheek, giving him a rather disreputable, piratical air.
Edelline-Lan made the introductions.
'Orsine, this is Phaid. He claims he's a gambler. Phaid, this is Orsine. He's a . . .'
She hesitated. Orsine filled in for her. 'I'm an Adjudicator.'
Phaid's ears pricked up at the words. Adjudicator was the common euphemism for someone highly placed in the shadowy organisation known as the Silent Cousins, that ruled the Republic's extensive underworld. Phaid shook his hand with a faint feeling of trepidation. The Silent Cousins were famous for their cold ruthlessness.
Apart from the scar, there was little that was outwardly frightening about Orsine. He smiled expansively at Phaid and beckoned for a waiter.
'Phaid, huh?'
'That's right.'
'No hyphen?'
'No, no hyphen.'
'So you're an outlander?'
'I was born in the outlands, but I've spent a lot of time in the Republic.'
'You've been away, though?'
Phaid was getting a little tired of reciting the litany of his wanderings, but he knew better than to offend an Adjudicator. 'Yes, I've been away.'
'A long time?'
'Quite a while.'
'Why?'
Orsine was nothing if not direct. Phaid decided that he'd be best advised to stick pretty close to the truth.
'I ran into some . . . problems.'
Orsine nodded like an understanding uncle.
'This can happen when one makes a living at games of chance. Not everyone is a strict observer of the rules.'
Phaid laughed. 'You've gambled yourself?'
As Orsine shook his head, Phaid felt that perhaps he should not have said that.
'I've never gambled, but occasionally I've experienced the same sort of troubles in some of my dealings.' For an instant his eyes froze diamond hard. 'Not often, but occasionally, you understand?'
The instant was gone and once again it was the bland-ness of strangers introduced at a party. Phaid knew, however, that this was a man he would never, ever cross. Orsine put a hand on Phaid's shoulder.
'But here we are, chattering on, and your glass is empty.'
He waved his rather pudgy, expensively jewelled fingers and a waiter appeared. Once they had fresh drinks in their hands Orsine looked enquiringly at Phaid.
'You say you had these problems. But now you're returning to Chrystianaville. I take it that you are confident all problems are solved.'
The question was politely casual but, for the second time that day, Phaid felt as though he was being interrogated.
'The people I had the problems with, they were violent but . . . how can I put it, kind of . . .'
'How would you put it?'
'Small time.'
'Aah.'
'I figure they've either moved on or . . .'
Orsine smiled faintly. 'Or their violence has turned back on them. Am I right?'
'Something like that.'
'You strike me as a sensible young man.'
'Thank you,'
'Don't thank me for stating the obvious.'
'None the less . . .'
'We shouldn't be standing here monopolising each other.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Never be sorry, my friend. At least, never say you're sorry. It's a demonstration of weakness.'
'I'm . . .
Phaid caught himself in time. Orsine laughed.
'You amuse me. I think we should meet again once we reach the city.'
'I'd enjoy that.'
'Yes.' Orsine looked at Phaid as though he was now stating the obvious. 'I own a number of very good restaurants. We should dine at one of them.'
It was more like an order than an invitation. Phaid nodded.
'It sounds a very good idea.'
Orsine reached into the sleeve pocket of his evening coat. He-handed Phaid an elegantly engraved pasteboard card.
'Contact me here once you've settled in. One of my assistants will make the arrangements.'
'I look forward to it.'
Orsine nodded. 'Good.'
Phaid was obviously dismissed. The portly Adjudicator moved on and, within seconds, was engaged in a low voiced exchange with an attractive, willowy woman whose hair was tinted a pale magenta to match her clinging, low cut gown. Doing his best to absorb the conversation, Phaid wasn't sure if he should be elated or terrified. He knew he had an incredibly valuable contact, but he wasn't sure just how dangerous the contact might become. The Silent Cousins could grant an individual almost unlimited favours, but all too often those favours had to be repaid with a terrible interest. Phaid flagged down a passing waiter, grabbed yet another drink and swallowed it in one gulp. A connection with a heavyweight organisation like the Silent Cousins was something that he had always hoped for. Now that hope seemed to be becoming a reality, he wondered if he had the courage to follow it through.
'Bored?'
The voice was little girlish and bordered between lisping and slurred. Phaid turned to find that it belonged to the blonde girl who had been falling out of her blue wrap in the ballroom. She had managed to get some of it back on again, and now, instead of dancing, she was slowly swaying in one spot. She clutched a half empty bottle to her breast like a nursing baby. It was clearly at least partly responsible for the sway. Phaid pushed his fears down into the lower levels of his mind and treated her to a wolfish grin.
'Not so much bored, closer to confused.'
'Are you getting drunk? You don't look like the confused type.'
'Maybe I am. Certainly thinking about it.'
'I'm drunk.'
'Enjoying it?'
The girl let a frown slowly gather around her eyes and spread to the rest of her face.
; 'I'm not sure. I had some other things as well. The combination makes it hard to tell.'
'Perhaps you're confused as well.'
The girl giggled. 'At least we have that in common.'
Phaid raised an eyebrow.
'I'm sure we can find more than that.'
'You think so?'
'You name is Mariba, isn't it.'
She thought about this.
'Mariba? Just Mariba. Yes, that's me. Who told you that I was Mariba?'
'It was . . .'
'I know who it was. It was that cow Edelline-Lan, wasn't it. What did she tell you? That I'm not high born, just common and rich? Did she tell you that my family are just traders and that I'm lascivious . . .' She had trouble saying the word. '. . . lascivious, promiscuous, a whore? I fall out of my clothes in public places. I'm not even a whore. Whores get paid. I just give it away. I strip in front of rooms full of people . . . or is it room fulls of peoples?'
'Whatever.'
'Anyway, I know it was her who told you.'
The girl was turning drunkenly belligerent. Phaid did his best to placate her.
'I'm sure it's not that bad.'
'It damn well is. Every bit of it. I'm a wanton, a strumpet and I love it. Dogs, cats, goats and me, the high born don't like me but they're exactly the same.' She paused and blearily inspected Phaid. 'You're better than most. You look like you could be halfway male.'
'Thanks, I try.'
'You're welcome, sir. I believe in the value of truth. Sex and truth, those are Mariba's strong points. That's why high born sluts like Edelline-Lan and her crowd hate me. They can't cope with the truth.'
'Few people can.'
At that point, Edelline-Lan walked by on the arm of a tall, grey haired, very distinguished, middle-aged woman. Phaid glanced across at her.
'Leaving?'
'It's getting to be that time.'
'Oh.'
'Disappointed?'
'Maybe.'
'I told you I wouldn't be played with.'
'I suppose I'm not going to see you again.'
'That depends on you. If you can remember my name, you'll be able to find me.' She looked archly at Mariba. 'Have fun in the meantime.'
She flashed him a swift, dazzling smile and swept out with her escort. Turning back to Mariba, Phaid found that she was pouting hard enough to kill.
'What does that sow have that I don't except for maybe a damned hyphen in her name.'