Mobius

by Garon Whited

  I put the idea on hold and sent Velina to issue the challenge. I set aside my swords with Hazir and Tessera before going through the racks of wooden weapons for something to simulate Firebrand. Thurin noticed. I suppose he would. I was suddenly the man directly below him in rank, and a surrender didn’t count as a challenge. He looked concerned, bordering on worried.

  With my stick selected, I showed off a little, whipping it around as fast as I dared. It made a lovely whistling noise, quite loud.

  Then the horn sounded and Velina announced the formalities of a challenge for standing. I’m not sure what Thurin said during the announcement, but it was only one word.

  Still, he couldn’t turn down a challenge to his rank. He picked up his shield and a suitable sword-stick while the surprised warriors hustled back to the walls. Thurin marched to the center of the arena and I met him there. The council of nine sat up by their rail and one of them signaled us to begin.

  Thurin fought well, with excellent footwork and a lightning-fast riposte I did not like at all. His weakness was the same as all the First: practice doesn’t equal experience. Since I was challenging, he made me come to him, rather than me leading him on an exhausting chase around the arena. I finally beat his shield enough to hurt his arm. He started fighting more defensively, using his sword as well as his shield to deflect high-line attacks. I brought down a two-handed blow toward his helmet and he raised his sword to block, but he didn’t get the edge of his shield up in time. The blow, backed by strength and weight, drove his stick down anyway. My hit rang his helmet and his bell. This let me grab the edge of his shield and rotate it, down and around and up, forcing his arm up behind his back as I placed my stick alongside his neck from behind.

  I’ll say this for him. He wasn’t a quitter. He tried to hit me with his own stick, but I blocked it with the strong of my faux blade and kicked his knees while pushing him forward, dropping him face-first to the sand. I put a foot on his sword-hand and tapped him in the back of the neck a few times, gently, with the blunted point of my stick.

  “I don’t want to break it,” I told him, quietly, and he quit struggling. He let go of his stick and I helped him up.

  “Thurin of Gazlin yields,” he announced. There was some more ceremonial language before they let us sit down. I carried his shield for him as I helped him to his bench and sat him down.

  “You’re uncommonly decent, Al,” he observed, as I straightened out his shoulder.

  “It’s how I was raised,” I replied. “I’ve also done unspeakable things.”

  “You don’t seem the type.”

  “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

  He winced as I moved his arm into a sling-carry position.

  “I believe you.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I assured him. I didn’t tell him about the healing spell. It didn’t seem wise.

  “Al?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t agree with them,” he said, almost whispering, “but I won’t oppose them.”

  “What?”

  “Are you not…?”

  “Not what?” I asked. He glanced around.

  “Perhaps I misspoke. Forget it.”

  I accepted a long cloth from one of his servants and leaned forward to tie it behind his neck, making a sling.

  “I’m not sure I agree, either,” I whispered, since it was true. Who were “they” and what did “they” think? Was it Hazir and whoever was trying to get my voice on the council of nine? Or, rather, trying to get me on the council of nine to argue in “their” favor? There’s a lot going on where I can’t see it. Do I care? Should I investigate? Is it important? No, better question. Is it important to me?

  Thurin nodded and replied more loudly.

  “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

  “You did well,” I complimented him, also at a more normal volume.

  The horn sounded, signaling lunch, and half a dozen pushcarts came in. The guardswoman I sent off to fetch back food did an excellent job of it. The carts rolled in and a few warriors moved to help, what with the sand floor. The surprise at free food turned immediately to muffled cheering as a bunch of hungry people started chomping. Then the cart with barrels of beer rolled in and the cheering doubled.

  If you’re going to feed a bunch of warriors, get a warrior to select the menu.

  After a lengthy lunch, the pushcarts rolled out again and we all got back to work. The rest of the warmeet was filled with the usual exercises. It was nice to get down and dirty again without actually trying to kill anyone. Maybe I need to do this more often. Let off a little steam. The practice sessions in the morning are nice, when I make it, but I’m educating people. I feel like their teacher. They want to learn something new. These warriors don’t know me as well. They just want to get in there and have a good, old-fashioned fight! It’s quite a different atmosphere.

  The council of nine finally stood up and dismissed us. They trooped out and the rest of the warriors trickled out of the arena. Two dozen or so hung back, taking their time about leaving. Hazir was the only member of the First to remain, possibly because we had an appointment to talk. When it was clear no one else was going to leave, they drifted over to me. I pitched them the idea of hiring on.

  “Ain’t you in vendetta with Sarcana?” one inquired, squinting at me.

  “At the moment, yes. They have a small force blockading the road to keep us from getting supplies into my valley.”

  “And I suppose you’d like us to break through?”

  “Funnily enough, no. At least, not yet. I’d rather hire a larger force and overwhelm them than try a skirmish and fail.”

  “What’s it pay?”

  I turned to Velina and muttered with her over the price of meaty violence for a bit, then raised it ten percent and made it an offer. Most of them took it, so Velina handed out money and accepted their service on my behalf. She sent them into the tunnels of the arena to check it for ambushes and guard our path out while Hazir and I discussed other matters.

  “What’s the story?” I asked. “Who’s angling to put me on the council of nine and why?”

  “Straight to the point?”

  “I don’t like being edgy.”

  “In short, I—among others—believe you have the skill to rise to the council on your own. Yet, you do not have the ambition. You disdain the ladder of ranking.”

  “So?”

  “You also wield powers, ah… not commonly found among the warriors.”

  “I have a lot of magical gadgets.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed, dryly. “Quite a number of them.”

  We looked at each other in silence for several seconds.

  “All right, you’ve made your point on that,” I admitted. “Go on.”

  Hazir gestured and we began to walk around the arena, side by side. Velina and Tessera followed at a discrete distance while the other two stayed by the main arena entrance and watched.

  “I am told you are familiar with the vikrasa heresy?”

  Vikrasa, loosely translated, means “of all colors.” Combined with the word for “heresy,” I concluded my incident with a priest and some paint did not go unnoticed. I’d be a fool to think I started it, so maybe I wasn’t the first to make such observations. On the other hand, Hazir—and, if I guessed right, a whole conspiracy—was involved with this vikrasa heresy and wanted my help.

  And here I thought I was doing a decent job of avoiding religious entanglements. Mostly.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” I admitted, “but I also think I might know it.”

  “No doubt. No doubt,” Hazir agreed. “As members of the First, it is not a common thing, this heresy. The lower orders, however, find it much more appealing.”

  “How did you get involved?”

  “I fought my way into the ranks of the First,” he replied. “It was neither swift nor simple, but now I have risen as far as my natural talents can take me.”

  “Fair
enough. So, why is this more popular among the fighters, rather than the First?”

  “The movement of an army requires many servants and great expense. Often, warriors are tasked with things not normally associated with combat. Digging latrines, washing dishes, sewing to repair tents, making and mending of all sorts…”

  “Yes, I’m aware.”

  “Some are even talented physickers, such as yourself—especially those who have seen much of the physicker’s art on the battlefield.”

  “And another dozen occupations outside their caste,” I agreed. “We’re pretty versatile when we need to be, because if we’re not, we’re dead.”

  “You don’t find it strange how people can learn so many different things?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because people can learn anything they put their minds to. Talent counts for a lot—I’ll never been a great musician—but learning to do something at all? Anyone can learn the basics, at least.”

  “Your words echo the vikrasa. The Temple would have you believe the souls of men are made up of a single shade, reflecting their caste. The purity of light divided into many colors, each with its place, shown in the rainbow.”

  “This still doesn’t explain why you want me on the council of nine.”

  “Some believe the warriors are the purest souls,” he stated. “We encompass many skills, many trades. Some say this is reason for the warriors to rule.”

  “I keep hearing you say ‘some say.’ What does Hazir say?”

  “The vikrasa heresy does not speak so. I merely point out some interpret it in such a manner. As for myself, I am reluctant to say men of arms are natural rulers. I do believe we are closer to a purified soul than the other castes. We require an inner discipline to rise in our ranks, to master one’s self and one’s weapons. Such a discipline is not present—or, let us say, not as pronounced—in other castes. This does not make us rulers, merely… frees us to be whatever we wish. Once we master our art—such as a First who gains a seat on the council of nine—we should be permitted to expand our knowledge and our skills.

  “To some extent, other castes would be the same. A master of… oh, say a carpenter. He might achieve a mastery of his craft and wish nothing more than to continue to use his skills, striving always to hone them finer. Or, if he accepted the vikrasa teaching, he might choose to then work in some other trade. Perhaps he would choose to sculpt, building on his knowledge of wood to carve it as an artist. Or a master miner might choose to follow the metal he draws from the earth, learning the trades of blacksmith or steel-wright.

  “This is the heart of the heresy, Al. The Temples would have you become a master of a single thing and remain so until the end of your days. Only then might your soul move into the higher realms, be refined in the purifying light, and return to learn a new thing. The heresy says one who masters his trade might advance himself by learning a second, without wasting the time given him in this world.”

  “I see. And, coming back around to why you want me on the council of nine?”

  “A warrior who becomes also a wizard would prove the heresy and thus force the Temples to acknowledge it.”

  “I have to warn you, I’m not a good example.”

  Hazir cocked his head and gave me the side-eye. Clearly, he was skeptical.

  “You are the foundation of vikrasa.”

  “Hold it. How?”

  “You are a warrior going forth to conquer new lands and become more than a warrior, as once we did in the early days of the Empire. You are become Mazhani where once you were only a warrior, and this is not in accord with the scriptures of the Temple.”

  “That’s still up for debate, isn’t it?”

  “The Temple says they are the only ones who may interpret the will of the gods. They will want to know if you will make a good Mazhani—if you will devote some portion of your wealth to the Temple. Then they will decide.”

  “And if I don’t pay them?”

  “Clearly, the gods will not favor you.” He shrugged. “I am certain it is not as sliced and sewn as I make it sound, but I am not privy to the inner councils of the Temple.”

  “Any ideas on what form of not-showing-favor is in vogue for this year?”

  “If the Temple had no hand in creating your vendetta, they surely rejoiced to have it fall in their laps. Its successful conclusion, one way or another, would be a clear sign from the gods.”

  My comment was, again, short and vulgar.

  “So, Sarcana is being backed by the Temple?”

  “I strongly doubt it. They would not do so. It would make them seem partisan. They must remain above such concerns—or appear so.”

  “That’s good to know. So, if I crush Sarcana, the Temple won’t intervene?”

  “They granted the vendetta. I don’t see how they could intervene directly. If they aid Sarcana, it will be through machinations behind the scenes.”

  “Good. I’ll move Sarcana to the top of my list and get this over with.”

  “You say that rather casually.”

  “I say that rather angrily.”

  “That, too.”

  “Still enjoy your job, Hazir? Want a different one?”

  “I do still enjoy my duties to the mahrani of Sarashda. It affords me certain privileges.”

  “I may have to give you a mirror, someday, so we can talk more easily.”

  “Please, do not go to such trouble. I know how expensive they are.”

  “I know a guy. Besides, making the trip here and back can be difficult.”

  “If you insist, I would be honored at such a gift.”

  “For now, though, I have a lot to think about, a skull to deliver, and a House to crush. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Wait. You do not intend to deliver the skull to the Temple in person, do you?”

  “I had, but now I’m reconsidering. Why?”

  “You have already taken a grave risk in coming to the warmeet. I think you are safe enough for now, but when you leave the arena, there may be trouble.”

  “I don’t suppose you could deliver a skull for me, on behalf of Huron of Lonoseer?”

  “I could.”

  “Please do. I’ll head straight back to La Mancha.”

  “I wish you good fortune.”

  “Likewise.”

  A minute later, we had everyone regrouped. The new hires were instructed to spread the word I was in the market for more warriors, here in Sarashda. They would stay here until called up. They took their first month’s pay along with some incentive money and headed out to find more bodies. My personal guards formed up in the tunnel while the mercenaries were still trooping out of it. I withdrew my power crystal, pretended it was a magical device—a magical device of a different sort, I mean—and opened a portal through the same archway we used to get here. We stepped through briskly and it closed behind us.

  The afternoon was well on its way to evening when we arrived. As I rode down the length of the wooden shift-barn, I gave the four of them the rest of the day off. Bronze dropped me off at the main tower and went off to have a little run. I climbed the steps to my bedroom, showered, and lay down on the bed for a bit.

  Being mortal is sometimes such a pain. Getting into a long-drawn-out beat-down festival is also exhausting. I enjoyed it, though. A never-ending stream of professional warriors to spar with? Especially when they aren’t trying to defer to me as the god-king-avatar-thing? These guys were trying to beat me with a stick, too, not kill me with a double-weight blunt sword.

  Maybe the Knights of Shadow are a little crazy. Then again, who am I to talk?

  As I lay on the bed, sinking into and squirming slightly in the stuffed mattress, I put my hands behind my head and considered things Hazir said. This world has an old heresy the current generation of political priests don’t seem to like. Do I really want to be involved? No. I don’t want to spearhead some sort of protestant movement against the established clergy. I’m a vampire, not Mart
in Luther! I need to stay away from religion whenever possible!

  Looking back, I can see what I should have done. I should have stayed in that mine and started hunting for several other lairs. Low-key lairs in worlds outside the Earth timelines where I could be anonymous and unnoticed. I could have made that mine a base of operations long enough to hunt up a half-dozen or more potential candidates for my larger projects: Reexamining the Earth timelines and how their time flows relate, analysis of angels, how to un-addict human brains, and so on. My mistake was thinking I needed a better base of operations and trying to force this place to be what I needed it to be.

  Live and learn. If only I learned faster.

  Now, though, I’m here. While it was physically possible to leave and never come back, I have some non-physical issues with it. I’m a monster, but I’m not that much of a monster. Maybe I’m being egotistical, but I think I’m needed, now.

  The danger of associating with my food is I start to keep them as pets. I think Mary tried to explain it to me, but, as usual, I didn’t listen.

  If I were to disappear, how would it affect the valley? Leisel would still run the place, wouldn’t she? Lacking any heirs of mine, she’d inherit. Would the Temple be content with that? Possibly. Or would Sarcana press it’s vendetta and absorb the valley into their holdings? How about Hazir and his heretics? They might be able to use my disappearance as propaganda about the Temple making heretics vanish to silence them. Whip up some Temple anti-corruption sentiment. Paint them as conspirators and murderers bent on keeping their power.

  What do I care about, and how can I serve it best? There’s a tough one. I’m not sure I know.

  Lying there, I threw one arm over my face and accidentally had a nap.

  The path before me is familiar, but the manner of familiarity is ghostly, elusive. The path is littered with skulls and bones, not a few of which still have exsanguinated flesh clinging to them. The skulls stare at me, crumbling to dust as I pass. I see the path corkscrewing, twisting counterclockwise before me, but it is always level by the time it reaches my feet. Does it turn as it approaches, or do I turn to match it?