Tyron clearly believed that Deinon could become a first-rate patterner of lacs, so he’d be concentrating on that now, although he’d still need to work with lacs. That way he’d have a better grasp of what he was tryingto achieve. But Tyron had different reasons to keep me there.
He thought that if Hob still intended to hurt me, he would be less likely to do if I remained at his house. At the Wheel Hob had spies and agents; it would be easier to attack me there.
Suddenly I saw Kwin walking across the plaza towards the café – my heart lurched and began to beat more quickly. She was with a group of lads, and I soon recognized the tall muscular one walking next to her asJon. Were they back together again? I wondered in despair.
Kwin smiled and waved at us and we returned the greeting. Jon waved too, but only Kwin came over to our table.
Last season Jon had lost a fight with a tassel on the slopes above the city. Persuaded by Kwin, I’d helped fight it, hoping to earn his freedom. It had been dangerous; but for the intervention of Konnit and otherGenthai, all three of us would have been taken to Hob’s citadel. I wondered why Jon hadn’t mentioned the incident, but perhaps he was embarrassed and just wanted to forget it.
‘Hey!’ Kwin said, dragging up a chair and joining us. ‘Glad we met up. I’ve a proposition for you two – we don’t get much chance to speak at the house without being overheard.’
‘We’re all ears,’ I said with a smile, doing my best to hide my misery.
‘You ever been down to the Commonality, Deinon?’ she asked, fixing her gaze on him.
Deinon shook his head.
‘Well, Leif has, but only because I took him to see it. Neither of you two good boys would go down there just to explore!’ she joked.
I let the comment go. It was probably true. Last year Kwin had got me in all sorts of trouble: against my better judgement I’d fought her with sticks – and nearly lost my place as a trainee because of it. Then I’d faced atassel and almost got killed. I didn’t regret any of it, but left alone, I’d not have got involved in any of those things.
‘I showed Leif the illegal combats between lacs down in the Commonality,’ said Kwin. ‘They are forced to face each other in an arena ringed with blades. They fight without armour, almost naked, and get cut toribbons. Lots of them die. It’s wrong! Cyro, who’s supposed to be in charge of the Commonality, turns a blind eye because the gambling houses make a lot of money and give him a cut. We’re planning to do somethingabout it. Tomorrow night a group of us are going down there to protest – to make our feelings known by occupying the arena and halting the contests! Want to come? Jon’s organizing it. It was his idea to ask you two.’
For a moment Deinon looked doubtful, but then he spoke up. ‘I do think something should be done. They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it!’
‘What about your father?’ I said, raising my eyebrows. This was clearly something Kwin didn’t want Tyron to know about.
She shrugged. ‘He wouldn’t want us to go, Leif, that’s true enough. But he never allows his lacs to fight down there. He’s against it. I’m sure there wouldn’t be any serious consequences if he found out.’
The protest was worth making, I thought. ‘OK! See you tomorrow night,’ I said. ‘Where shall we meet up?’
‘At the back entrance of the Wheel at six-thirty, just before sunset.’
‘We’ll see you there,’ said Deinon, grinning from ear to ear. I could tell he was looking forward to it.
On our way back we passed the shop selling Trig equipment and paraphernalia. I carried on walking, but I knew what would happen.
Deinon came to a halt and pointed at the window. ‘The red boots – they’re gone! I wonder if Palm bought them for Kwin.’
Palm was soft on Kwin, and had intended to buy the boots for her. He’d bet that I wouldn’t win a single contest in the Trainee Tournament. I’d won the bet and used some of the money to buy those boots.
But now Deinon was staring at me, and I saw his expression change as understanding dawned. ‘No, Leif! Tell me you didn’t . . .’
I shrugged. ‘I bought them for Kwin.’
‘You shouldn’t have. You needed that money. It could have bought you a first-class lac!’
‘I didn’t spend it all,’ I told him.
‘You shouldn’t have spent any of it. Tyron’s rolling in money. He’d have bought them for Kwin eventually. I hope she thanked you!’
‘At the time, she seemed very angry, but really I think she was embarrassed. Later, she admitted that she did like the boots, and they were the best present anyone had ever bought her! I don’t regret buying them onebit.’
‘How grateful was she?’ Deinon said, giving me an evil grin.
‘She kissed me on the cheek!’ I joked as we moved away from the window. ‘It was a very sisterly kiss!’
A TRAVESTY OF ARENA COMBAT
Anything which bleeds can feel pain,
But not everything which thinks bleeds.
Amabramsum: the Genthai Book of Wisdom
When Deinon and I arrived at the back gate, there were already about a dozen young people gathered at the Wheel – a roughly even mix of girls and boys. I recognized a few as trainees from other stables. Because wewere living in Tyron’s house rather than at the Wheel, we didn’t know any well enough to talk to, but we exchanged a few friendly nods.
I couldn’t see any sign of Jon. Was he with Kwin? I wondered. No doubt they’d arrive together.
I glanced up at the huge copper dome reflecting the light of the setting sun. The vultures were already starting their slow spirals above it, riding the air currents.
‘There’s something strange about that dome,’ Deinon said, following my gaze.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look at the colour of it. What do you see, Leif?’
‘It’s copper, so they say. It’s a sort of browny-gold,’ I replied. ‘I like the way it reflects the sun.’
‘Yes, but copper open to the elements doesn’t usually look like that. It turns a sort of green. Something called verdigris forms on it. We have a well on our farm. It’s got a round wooden lid which is coated with copperriveted to the wood. That lid is green. My father says that the dome of the Wheel must be made out of a very special kind of copper.’
‘I wonder who built it,’ I mused. It was one more mystery to add to the many others about the origins of Midgard – though nothing compared to the Wolf Wheel that Konnit had described. Just how much of our landhad been shaped by the djinn? We patterned lacs, but they had patterned Midgard.
Ten minutes later Kwin and Jon arrived. They weren’t arm in arm, but their shoulders were almost touching, and immediately I felt jealous. Kwin hardly seemed to notice us; she went straight to the front of the groupwith Jon, and they led the way through the narrow gate into the Wheel. We followed behind, and I did a quick head count. I was surprised to find that there were only nineteen of us. I’d expected more.
There were few people about in the Wheel because it was still early. Contests didn’t start until eight in the evening. We went down the stone steps that led to the Commonality. They led downwards in a tight spiral.Nobody spoke, and all that could be heard was the echo of our footsteps.
Soon we were moving along a series of tunnels. At one intersection I saw a cluster of pale fungal growths dangling from the ceiling. Kwin had told me about them on our previous visit, and now I noticed the poisondripping from it. Deinon was heading directly towards it, and there was no time to call out a warning; I leaped forward and pushed him roughly out of the way. A drop of skeip just missed his left shoulder.
He looked back at me angrily.
‘Sorry about the push, but that’s skeip fungus,’ I said, pointing it out to him. ‘It’s deadly. You should never stand underneath it because it drips a deadly poison. It almost hit you!’
As we watched, it began to drip again, each globule of poison splattering on the tunnel floor.
Deinon looked at me with w
ide eyes and said, ‘Thanks.’
We moved on. The tunnels were lit by torches, but there were gloomy sections that could have concealed any number of dangers. After passing through a curved stone archway, we reached a matrix of straw-linedstone containers where hundreds of lacs were stored; row after row extending up into the darkness until they were lost to view.
The lacs were in the deep sleep – a type of hibernation in which they required little food and expended hardly any energy. For their owners it made good economic sense; renting the cots cost little. Until awakened forcombat by a wurde, they would stay in that somnolent state.
Deinon knew that such places existed in the Commonality, but he’d never seen such a big storage area before. His eyes went everywhere as he registered what he was seeing.
‘Who’d have thought there’d be so many lacs here – it’s huge!’ he exclaimed.
‘Those were exactly my thoughts when I first saw it,’ I told him.
There was something strange and scary about the sight of so many shaven heads and yellow-soled feet – and the pink-lipped throat-slits without the armoured throat-socket.
There was a hiss of breathing; some slack-faced lacs were snoring too. It sounded like the drone of angry bees or a wind gathering to storm-force. The atmosphere was compounded by the unpleasant stink of damp,urine-soaked straw.
I was glad when we’d passed through the far exit and were walking along the tunnels again. Finally we reached a rusty iron grille set into the wall. Beyond it, steps led downwards, descending into utter darkness.
‘That’s to keep the feral lacs out of the main area of the Commonality,’ I told Deinon as we passed it.
He came to a halt and stared at the grille. I stood beside him, peering into the darkness.
‘There really are wild lacs down there?’ he asked. ‘I thought that was just a story to scare children.’
‘Well, Cyro takes it seriously enough to keep those gates well-maintained. At least, that’s what Kwin told me,’ I said with a grin. ‘It’s said that they eat rats, and sometimes each other.’
‘You mean they’re cannibals like the tassels?’
‘That’s what Kwin believes!’
‘How do they get down there?’
‘They escape from their owners. Maybe something goes wrong with their patterning and they wake up out of the deep sleep. They’re more than capable of ripping a gate like this off its hinges.’
We suddenly realized that the others had moved on without us and we ran to catch up. Kwin had told me about the danger of getting lost down in the Commonality. It was best to keep to well-lit tunnels.
When we emerged onto a high ledge, I realized that we were looking down on the amphitheatre, which was ringed with torches. From my last visit I recognized the circle of two-foot-high sharp blades that marked theperimeter of the combat area, which was covered with sand to soak up the blood. A contest between two lacs was already underway.
There was a fair-sized crowd in the elevated seating around the arena. They would gather here to bet and enjoy the brutal spectacle, and then go up to Arena 13 to watch the contests there.
One of our group was about to set off along the winding path that led down to the arena when Jon halted him with a gesture.
‘Best to wait until the contest is over. Then we’ll take them by surprise.’
Nobody argued, so we watched in silence as the two lacs fought it out below, whirling and slashing, their oiled bodies glistening in the torchlight. Unlike Arena 13 lacs, they had no armour. Apart from the metal bandsthat held the throat-sockets in place, all they wore were loincloths; white and black in this case, to make it easier to tell them apart. We watched in silence, listening to the occasional gasps or cheers from the excitedaudience. Once again, I was impressed by the agility and speed of the long-armed lacs.
The last time I’d watched one of those contests, it had ended bloodily. One of the lacs had been forced back into the ring of blades; its legs were cut to ribbons as its opponent delivered the killing blow.
This contest finished with the endoff, much like one in Arena 13. Victory was achieved when the black-clothed lac slotted its blade into its opponent’s throat-socket. The lac in the white loincloth collapsed on thefloor. Not one drop of blood had been spilled. The lac would live to fight again. But how many times could it fight in this way without receiving some serious injury?
The audience were quiet. They’d been denied the gory end that many of them craved.
‘Right!’ said Jon. ‘Let’s do it!’
He ran down the path with Kwin at his shoulder. Once again Deinon and I were at the back. By the time we reached the arena, the blades had been retracted into the ground and the lacs removed. Without hesitation,Jon led the way to the centre of the arena.
The spectators stared at us, puzzled or angry expressions on their faces. They began to murmur, many clearly resenting this intrusion.
Jon raised his arms for silence – and got it. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice.
‘We are here to protest against these barbaric contests where lac is pitted against lac without armour. It is illegal for lacs to fight in this way. Lacs may only enter combat in the thirteen arenas of the Wheel or intraining sessions that prepare them to fight there. That is the law.’
‘Get out of here!’ shouted a voice from high up in the banked seats. ‘What do you know about it, you stupid, ignorant lout. You’re still wet behind the ears!’
I glanced up and saw that the red-faced man who’d spoken had risen to his feet. To my astonishment, I saw Palm sitting next to him. What was he doing here? I wondered. Trainees didn’t come to watch this travestyof arena combat. It was generally held in disgust and contempt.
‘I’m an Arena 13 trainee combatant, as are others in our group,’ replied Jon. ‘We know this business very well. We know what’s permitted and what is not. These practices disgust us. The blades that encircle thisarena during combat are designed to cut lacs who do not wear armour. Why is that? I ask you. Why aren’t they provided with armour? It is because you want to see them bleed!’
‘They’re just animals!’ the voice called back. ‘I’m a farmer and I work hard to put meat on your table and keep your bellies full. Do you worry when cattle are cut to pieces in the slaughterhouse? What’s thedifference?’
It suddenly struck me that the man was probably Palm’s father. He was a rich farmer who ensured that Palm had the best of everything – including lacs for fighting in Arena 13.
Jon opened his mouth to reply, but then Cyro waddled out of the shadows, his belly overhanging his broad belt. Last season I’d only seen him from the ledge high above. Now, closer to, I saw that it was muscle, notfat, that bulked out his huge body.
A couple of dozen guards followed behind him, thick-set, thuggish men with broad shoulders and short, fat necks. They gripped wooden clubs, tapping them into the palms of their hands and grinning, clearly enjoyingtheir work. A club like that wielded with force could easily break a limb or cave in a skull, I thought.
‘Well, children,’ said Cyro, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘You’ve had your few minutes of fun. But now it’s time to go home. Go in peace, or stay and take the consequences. Time is money, and every second youstay makes me a little angrier.’
‘What you’re doing is illegal!’ Jon shouted, moving across to face him.
‘Illegal, is it?’ Cyro smiled. ‘This is my domain and you haven’t been invited. So according to the law, you’re trespassing, and I’m going to evict you. If a few heads get broken in the process, well, that’s a pity, but I’llstill sleep well tonight. So what is it to be, sonny?’
‘We’re staying,’ Jon replied, but he sounded slightly less confident.
Now Kwin stepped forward. ‘Yes, we are staying! We’re staying until everyone leaves and we’re sure that none of this butchery will continue!’ she cried, her voice full of fury.
Cyro smiled and very deliberately looked her up and down. With her lips painted in
that distinctive fashion, red and black, and the 13 tattooed upon her forehead, she would be easy to identify. But it seemed that heknew her already:
‘You’re Tyron’s daughter, aren’t you? You work in the admin building.’
Kwin didn’t reply.
‘I thought so,’ he said. ‘I wonder how your father will react when he knows what you’ve been up to!’
‘He doesn’t agree with what goes on down here either. None of his lacs ever take part.’
‘What your father does best is minding his own business. He minds his and I mind mine. I’ll be in touch with him tomorrow. We’ll have words about you. He needs to keep you under control.’
‘It’s you who are out of control!’ Kwin snapped back. ‘You think you’re beyond the law!’
Had I been closer to Kwin, I’d have warned her not to antagonize Cyro. But I saw the anger in her expression. She wouldn’t have listened anyway.
Cyro stared at her, his face now flushed with anger. ‘I really hate lippy women,’ he said, his voice low but clear. ‘And lippy young girls like you are the worst of all.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh, then turned andbegan to walk away. I couldn’t believe it. Had he given up? But then he gave a gesture – a sudden downward thrust of his left thumb.
Immediately his men started running towards us, their clubs raised.
Everything happened very quickly. Perhaps they’d expected us to run, but we didn’t. We stood our ground. I watched Jon duck under a blow aimed at his head. The club missed; Jon’s fist didn’t. It connected with thejaw of his assailant, who went down. Others were racing to attack, and Kwin was in their path. I ran forward, attempting to get in front of her.
Then I was ducking and punching, and we were suddenly moving forward in a line, driving our opponents back. I glanced to my right and saw Kwin fighting alongside me. She now had one of the clubs in her righthand and was swinging it with deadly accuracy. I suddenly thought we might actually win.
Cyro had expected us to run for it; in any case we surely had no chance against his armed thugs. But we were either trainee Arena 13 combatants or stick-fighters. We were young and fast, more than able to cope withthe clumsy attacks of Cyro’s muscle-bound men. The girls were also fighting back; with her club, Kwin was a force to be reckoned with.
Arena 13 #2 THE PREY Page 9