The Song of Phaid the Gambler

by Mick Farren

  'What's this?'

  Phaid tried a defiant stand.

  'What does it look like?'

  'We don't want to hear any smart remarks. We're asking why you arrive at a meeting with the Adjudicator carrying a heavy duty fuse tube.'

  'Doesn't everyone carry a weapon at the moment? Sweet Lords, you've seen what it's like out on the street.'

  The gorillas remained totally impassive.

  'You have come to a meeting with the Adjudicator with a heavy duty fuse tube. That is a fact, a fact that is not likely to please the Adjudicator.'

  Phaid swallowed hard. Within seconds of walking into the eating house he seemed to have got himself into serious trouble with the Silent Cousins. Trouble with the Cousins was quite frequently the last trouble that a person could get into.

  The gorillas positioned themselves on either side of him and walked Phaid through the public part of the res­taurant. Every eye in the place seemed to be on him. A curtain in the rear was pulled aside by an android waiter. Behind the curtain was a door flanked by two more gorillas. They gave Phaid the heavy eyeball, but, since he was so completely escorted, they made no comment.

  The door was opened and Phaid entered a small private room. It was discreetly lit and draped in deep, rich purple. There were only three tables, and just one of them was occupied. Orsine was wearing a sober, businesslike black tabard. Beside him was a very young woman with fluffy light blue hair. She was also dressed in black, but the outfit could in no way be considered businesslike, unless, of course, her business was showing off quite considerable areas of her pale, rather delicate skin.

  The back of her gown was cut so low that it dipped well past the base of her spine, and gave anyone who looked a sneak preview of her small rounded bottom. A diamond collar around her throat looked as though it could keep someone in luxury for six months or more.

  Phaid, however, wasn't in any mood to look at girls. He was more concerned with getting over the faux pas about the fuse tube and keeping all his limbs intact.

  Orsine seemed affable enough. He waved Phaid to an empty chair, but then the gorilla who'd confiscated Phaid's weapon stepped in front of him. With more drama than Phaid thought strictly necessary, he placed the tube right in the middle of the table.

  There were two more gorillas behind Orsine's chair. They looked from Phaid to the fuse tube and back to Phaid again. It seemed every eye in the room was drilling into him. Only Orsine himself seemed unperturbed. He even half smiled at Phaid.

  'What were you planning to do, start a war?'

  Phaid did the best he could to conceal that his stomach had turned to jelly.

  'I thought, with the way things are out on the street, it would be wise to have a little protection.'

  Raising his eyebrows, Orsine picked up the fuse tube and felt its weight.

  'A little protection?'

  'Maybe it is a bit of a cannon, but I've had it with me for a long time.'

  'And you're fond of it?'

  'I wouldn't put it that strongly. I've more grown used to it.'

  'It's something of a gauche weapon for the city. Most normal people don't go around with something the size of this strapped to their hip. I would strongly suggest that you rid yourself of this long barrelled monstrosity and find a more civilised weapon. The other alternative is that you get your man or your android to carry the thing for you.'

  'I don't have an android and I certainly don't have a man.'

  Orsine looked at him questioningly.

  'I had a distinct recollection of you travelling with an android.'

  'I had to let him go. He wasn't really mine in the first place.'

  'I see.'

  Orsine continued to examine Phaid's weapon.

  'You know, the only time it's considered polite to carry one of these is if you're going to fight a duel. Even then, you are supposed to carry a matched pair in a case.'

  The very last thing that Phaid had expected was for Orsine to give him a lesson in etiquette.

  'I'm not likely to have to fight a duel.'

  'I wouldn't be so sure. I hear you've been running around with some of the ladies of the court. There's nothing those broads like better than getting two men out duelling.' He put his arm around the young woman. 'You wouldn't do anything like that, would you, sweetness.'

  'Of course not, honey.'

  'This is Sena. Say hello to Phaid, Sena.'

  Sena glanced at Phaid with a total lack of interest.

  'Hello, Phaid.'

  Phaid had a slight, hopeful feeling that maybe nothing was going to happen to him after all. He looked directly at Orsine.

  'You seem to have been checking up on me.'

  'I like to know what's going on.'

  'I wouldn't have thought I was important enough.'

  'One can never assess one's own place in the scheme of things.'

  Phaid decided it was time to take a now or never chance.

  'If you've been checking up on me, you know that I didn't bring that fuse tube with me with any intention of harming you.'

  Orsine looked at Phaid very hard for a long time.

  'Are you nervous, young man?'

  For the first time, Phaid saw Orsine as the mobster that he was. Beneath the urbane exterior was a greedy savage who enjoyed inspiring fear and took pleasure in inflicting mental and physical pain. Phaid wished fervently that he'd noticed this before. There was no way to backpedal now. He had no choice but to brazen things out to whatever the bitter end might be.

  'I'm still standing, and I'd thought I'd been invited for a meal.'

  Orsine half smiled. There was a little humour in it.

  'Indeed, but you arrived for this meal armed to the teeth.'

  'I've already explained that I was merely protecting myself. I was almost killed in the street yesterday.'

  'You also burned down some police officers.'

  Phaid was horrified.

  'You know about that?'

  'I know about most things, but frankly, police officers are none of my concern. What does concern me is your lack of good manners. I consider it extremely ill-mannered to come armed to an appointment for dinner.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  Orsine ignored Phaid and turned to the nearest gorilla.

  'You think you could give this young man a lesson in manners?'

  The gorilla smiled nastily and cracked his knuckles.

  'Just say the word, Adjudicator.'

  Phaid felt sick. There wasn't much point in keeping up a brave front any longer. There seemed to be no doubt that he was going to get his legs broken or worse. Then, to his surprise, Orsine smiled at him for the second time.

  'What about you, young man, do you think that you need a lesson in manners?'

  Phaid knew his next words were crucial. They were the only things that might get him off a very sharp and unpleasant hook. He chose them with extreme care.

  'I'm not going to forget what's happened today in a hurry. I don't think it needs any reinforcing. I'm truly sorry that I brought a weapon to your table. It was an error but not made with any intention of insulting you.'

  There was a long silence which, to Phaid's amazement, was finally broken by Sena.

  'Ah, let him sit down, will you, honey? He didn't mean any harm, and besides, he's kind of cute.'

  Phaid's jaw almost dropped as Orsine suddenly beamed.

  'If that's the way you want it, baby.' He waved a pudgy hand at Phaid. 'Sit down, boy, sit down. Just don't pull nothing like that again, you hear?'

  Phaid nodded and lowered himself shakily into the indicated chair. He could scarcely believe that his being torn limb from limb had been averted simply by the whim of Orsine's mistress. From that point on it was as if the incident over the fuse tube had never happened, although the weapon still lay in the middle of the table and served as a mute reminder to Phaid, if nobody else.

  An android was summoned and menus were handed around. The variety of dishes were both impressive and frightening
ly expensive. Phaid's adrenalin was still pump­ing so fast that he didn't feel capable of thinking about choosing, let alone eating a meal. Fortunately, Orsine took total control.

  'The chef here is human. One of the few in the city who really knows what he's doing.'

  Orsine leaned confidingly towards Phaid.

  'You never want to trust an android chef. All they have is programming. There's no feel, no magic, no inspiration. How could they have? They never eat. They don't know what we're looking for in a good meal. Consequently, they don't have the touch.'

  The human chef was as much cabaret as cuisine. He performed for the diners applause. Orsine's private room came equipped with its own chef's workbench on a raised platform. To Phaid, it looked like a combination of altar, alchemist's workshop and kitchen counter.

  The glo-bars that illuminated the tables dimmed slight­ly. A set of small spotlights set in the ceiling brightened, making the platform the focal point of the whole room.

  The chef entered through a small door at the rear of the platform. He was accompanied by an assistant, and both had the ponderous theatrical pose of an officiating priest and acolyte.

  The chef watched impassively as the assistant laid out the ingredients, then he went to work with a flourish. The chef was a short man with the flat features and narrow slanting eyes that marked him as one of the Tharmiers who lived on the wide fertile coast plain beyond the great icefield, the one that formed the southern boundary of the Republic.

  Despite a rather overdeveloped sense of ritual, they were an easygoing, sensual people who had made the satisfying of the physical pleasures into a high art. Their cooks could perform near miracles. They could always count on first-class appointments and generous retainers if they felt like leaving their homeland and hiring out their skills elsewhere. Others who crossed the icefield to take positions as courtesans were among the most prized and successful that could be found in any city.

  The chef's hands moved at lightning speed among bowls, pots and glass containers. He chopped, mixed, blended and stirred amid rising steam.and brief explosions of pale fire. He spun and tossed and wielded his knives and stirring rod with the unerring dexterity of a master. The private room was filled with a rich, tantalising aroma. Even Phaid, who had thought that the shocks of the evening had completely killed his appetite, started looking forward to the meal.

  Finally the chef was finished. He exited through the same door by which he had entered, with a great deal of flamboyant bowing. The assistant was left to serve the guests.

  Only Orsine, Phaid and Sena had food placed in front of them. The gorillas all remained standing. They were clearly Orsine's private guard and they didn't join him for meals. Phaid didn't feel exactly comfortable eating with all this security around him, but this was more than compensated for by the exquisite dishes that arrived with precision timing.

  The meal was conducted in silence. It was the silence that comes only when food demands total concentration. Eating was such a sensual experience that it eliminated the need for conversation.

  When each and every dish was empty, and glasses of clear mexan liqueur were flamed by the chef and placed in front of each guest, Orsine pushed back his chair with a satisfied, almost bloated smile.

  'One of the few recompenses for a life of unrelenting toil and responsibility is that I get to dine well.'

  Sena fractionally curled the left corner of a perfect upper lip in what had to be the start of a carefully constructed sneer.

  'Not the only recompense, I hope.'

  For an instant, Orsine looked at her questioningly. Right on cue, her eyes melted into wide, goo-goo inno­cence. He ran a pudgy hand down her back.

  'Of course not, honey, of course not.'

  Sena arched her spine and virtually purred. Phaid wondered if the woman was totally infatuated with the Adjudicator or simply, in her own way, doing as good a job as the chef. Phaid wasn't, however, left much time to speculate. Orsine was once again scrutinising him.

  'So, Master Phaid, how do you find our city after so long an absence?'

  'Somewhat of a mess, I'm afraid.'

  'You're not another one who thinks that revolution is just around the corner.'

  'I haven't seen enough to make a final judgement. It certainly seems as though there is a lot wrong with this city. Don't you worry about the possibility of revolution?'

  Orisine, who had been idly starting down the front of Sena's dress, looked up sharply.

  'Worried? Why should I be worried? A revolution would mean little or nothing to me. I frankly don't give a damn if Chrystiana-Nex is dragged screaming from the palace and the whole court is put against the wall and blasted. This city cannot function without my organisa­tion. Whoever takes over will realise that pretty damn quick. Deals can always be done.'

  Phaid scratched his ear.

  'The Day Oners seem to be talking in terms of a whole new start, of tearing down everything.'

  Orsine dismissed the Day Oners with a snort.

  'They'll never achieve power. They'll never achieve it because they're mad. They're a fringe, a lunatic minority. Anyone who aspires to power must know that, even if he used madmen, his very first task, once the old order has been run out, is to destroy those madmen, destroy them totally.'

  Phaid wondered if Orsine had a few dreams of his own of taking up residence in the Presidential Palace. It wasn't beyond the bounds of possibility. A mobster run Republic might be a pleasanter place than one ruled over by an insane woman. With unusual bravery, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to gently test the water.

  'Maybe that's what you'd do. Others might not be so smart.'

  Orsine's eyes narrowed, then he suddenly laughed.

  'You're a perceptive young man. Perhaps you'd better tell me what you've heard about me in your wanderings around the city.'

  Despite the laughter, Phaid knew that once again he was moving into dangerous territory. He did his best to look as innocent as possible.

  'I've only been m the city for a few days. I doubt I would have heard anything you don't already know.'

  'Don't try and con me, I'm too old for that sort of thing. What have you heard?'

  'Only scraps.'

  'What, damn you?'

  Phaid didn't seem to be able to win against the Adjudi­cator. The old man was the perfect blend of paranoia and cunning.

  'I heard that you had your troubles.'

  'Troubles?'

  That subordinates were jealous of your position.'

  'Scarlin-Fell?'

  'The name was mentioned.'

  'I'll wager it was.'

  'Is he a danger?'

  'He's ambitious. He'd like to be where I am, but he hasn't a chance.'

  'You plan to get rid of him?'

  Orsine shook his head and smiled, a smile that sent shivers through Phaid's scalp.

  'The Adjudicator doesn't get rid of ambitious subordin­ates. This isn't the court. The secret of success is to attract inferiors who, in their inadequacy, choose to promote you because it will gain them advantage. If, however, one of those inferiors climbs above his station, then you have to crush him like a bug.'

  For the first time, Phaid had the suspicion that maybe Orsine was also touched by the madness that prevailed in the city.

  'That would be an incentive to stay in one's place.'

  Orsine regarded Phaid as a teacher might regard a bright pupil.

  'Let's hope Scarlin-Fell is as intelligent as you are, for his own good.'

  For a moment, Orsine looked frighteningly grim, and then his expression suddenly changed.

  'But enough of my problems. I want to hear more of what you've observed around our fair but disturbed city.'

  Phaid shrugged.

  'What can I tell you? The population seems restless. The court is decadent, the government has ceased to function and the President has apparently gone mad. You know all this already.'

  'What do you know of Solchaim?'

  'Solchaim?'
>
  The name of the elaihi was cropping up in conversation a little too regularly to be strictly coincidental. Orsine leaned towards Phaid. The air of meance was back and directed straight at him.

  'Don't play coy with me, boy. I have it on good authority that you've encountered elaihim on your travels, and I want to know all about them. A lot of the problems in this city go back to this Solchaim. It seems that no one can touch him. I want to know what makes these creatures tick.'

  Phaid was starting to wonder if he was the only person in the city who had ever met elaihim face to face and just how much the experience was worth. There followed a question and answer session that almost completely para­lleled the one that Roni-Vows had conducted the previous day. Orsine was a little more probing and a great deal shrewder than the courtier, but the information he wanted was exactly the same. Phaid was now certain that Sol­chaim had to be the key to what was going on in the city. He wasn't sure how or why, but people seemed awfully anxious to pump him on the subject. Phaid knew that he should capitalise on his knowledge. He just wasn't sure how. There had to be more in it than a traumatic free meal or a shot of scholomine.

  Just as the interrogation was drawing to a close, Phaid was aware of a high pitched buzzing noise at the very edge of his hearing range. At first he wondered if it was his imagination, some after effect of the scholomine he'd taken the night before. Then he saw the gorillas starting to get edgy and glance nervously at each other. Finally Orsine noticed and swung around angrily.

  'What the hell is that sound? Will somebody do some­thing about it?'

  As though on cue, the sound suddenly rose to a deafening roar, A section of wall glowed bright cherry red, fragmented and then crumbled and cascaded into the room. It was accompanied by a billowing cloud of smoke and dust through which four masked figures suddenly appeared.

  'Day One! Day One!'

  They had blasters in their hands and obviously meant business. The first one through the gaping hole in the wall burned down the nearest gorilla at point blank range.

  There was a frozen moment in the room when everyone seemed too shocked to do anything. Then a second gorilla was taken out by the intruders' weapons. The stench of burned flesh replaced the lingering aroma of food. Orsine was suddenly galvanised into action. He dived sideways, pushing Sena roughly away from him, clean off her chair and on to the floor. At the same time, he upended the table, scattering its contents. The overweight gourmet was suddenly showing all the reflexes of a violent, street fighting past.