“Do you know which planet we’re on?” I said.
He sniffed, dismissively. “As though that matters. I’m a gambler, not a tourist!”
Molly leaned forward suddenly, to get a really close look at the Little Lord, and then crowed triumphantly. “I knew it! You’re a woman!”
“What?” I said.
“Shut up!” said the Little Lord.
“You’re a woman!” said Molly. She put both her hands on the Little Lord’s chest, and had a good feel. “You’ve got breasts! You’re female!”
“Not officially!” said the Little Lord, backing away several steps. She glared at me. “And I challenge you, Shaman Bond, to a game of Change War!”
Molly gave every indication of going after the Little Lord again, possibly to pull her clothes open for a fuller investigation. I grabbed Molly by the arm and pulled her back.
“Behave, Molly!” I said sternly. “You’re not at home now.”
Frankie murmured urgently in my ear.
“Accept the challenge. It’s a simple, basic Game, one on one, win a soul or lose one. A good introduction to the Medium Games, and a chance to make a good impression in front of the crowds.”
“Very well,” I said to the Little Lord. “I accept your challenge.”
“Wait a minute,” said Molly. “We don’t even know what the Game involves yet!”
“Too late, old dear,” said the Little Lord, smiling frostily. “Mr. Bond, I shall make you pay for these indignities, sir!”
And she hurried away, heading for the Arena.
“Little Bitch,” said Molly.
The Little Lord’s back stiffened, but she pretended not to hear and kept going. Striding down through the stone seats, heading for the circle at the heart of the Arena. Top-hatted head held high. I considered blowing a raspberry after her, but decided against it. I had my dignity to consider. I looked at Frankie.
“All right,” I said. “What have I just agreed to, on your advice?”
“Change War,” said Frankie. “You both take a potion, provided by the Casino, a mixture of classic Hyde formula and Chimera Venom. Gives you both the short-term ability to transform your body into absolutely anything your mind can conceive of. You both change shape repeatedly, trying to outmanoeuvre and overwhelm each other, until one of you turns into something the other can’t match. Basically, you just keep fighting in one form after another until there’s a clear winner. And a loser, of course.”
“Didn’t I see this in a Disney film once?” said Molly.
“The thought of you watching a Disney film feels frankly unnatural,” said Frankie.
I thought about it. “Is there any way I can get out of this Game?”
“No!” said Frankie. “No, really, you don’t want to do that! This is a good deal! You’re a trained fighter, and a Drood, so you’re bound to have encountered far weirder and more dangerous things than the Little Lord! You can outclass and outfight her and . . . and walk all over her!”
“If it’s such a good deal, why are you getting so loud?” said Molly.
“I don’t want to kill the Little Lord,” I said to Frankie.
“You won’t have to,” he said quickly. “Just . . . overpower her. We can get really good odds on you, in the side betting!”
I looked at Molly, and she nodded reluctantly. “Do what you have to do, Shaman.”
“Good thing Jacqueline’s not here,” I said. “To see what they’ve done with Hyde formula.”
“Don’t be naive,” said Frankie. “Who do you think sold the details of the formula to the Casino in the first place? In return for an invitation, and enough money to play with?”
* * *
I took my time walking down through the stone seating, towards the circle. I really didn’t want to fight anyone, after what I’d been through in the Pit, but there was no denying the idea of Change War intrigued me. I had some experience in changing the shape of my armour, but to actually change my body . . . into someone or even something else . . . I made myself smile and nod easily to everyone I passed. The crowds were really gathering now, filling the stone seating, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Many were already discussing Shaman Bond and the Little Lord with cold familiarity, like two racehorses. Bets were being placed. It all seemed very sporting and civilised, until you remembered they were wagering other people’s souls. I stopped, right at the edge of the circle. The Arena. Nothing could happen, nothing could begin, until I stepped into the Arena. The Little Lord was already there, strutting up and down, waving to the crowd in a haughty, affected manner. As though they were privileged to be watching her. I suppose, if you’re going to play a part, play it all the way.
Another uniformed flunky appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He stepped into the circle, bearing a silver salver with two champagne flutes on it. No point in putting it off any further. I strode out into the circle, and the crowd cheered me in a mostly good-natured way. The Little Lord came forward, and we both stood together before the Casino’s generic flunky.
“Have we met?” I said, peering into the familiar characterless face.
“No, sir,” said the flunky. “An easy mistake to make. I am told we all look alike to you. Please, drink. So that Change War can begin.”
The Little Lord snatched one of the champagne flutes from the tray, and tossed the clear liquid back. She slammed the glass back onto the tray and walked quickly away. I picked up the remaining glass and studied the contents carefully.
“How long will this stuff last?” I said, to the flunky.
“As long as it needs to, sir. The act of winning, or losing, acts as a psychic trigger to shut down the potion’s effects. It’s all been very carefully worked out, sir. We have done this before. Win, and the Little Lord’s soul is yours. Lose, and your opponent takes control of Miss Molly’s soul. I am not permitted to take anyone’s side, but I believe I am allowed to say ‘Good luck, sir.’”
He bowed, and stepped back. Not a trace of emotion anywhere, in his face or voice. Just waiting for me to drink so the Game could get under way. I looked out into the crowd and there was Frankie, moving quickly back and forth, nailing down those important side bets. I hoped he was getting good odds. I looked round and there was Molly, standing right at the front of the crowd, in the first row. I moved over to stand before her, still holding my champagne glass. We stood and looked at each other for a long moment.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
“You don’t have to do this,” said Molly. “I could do this for you. I’ve as much experience as you, and I can hold my own in a fight. You know that.”
“I have to do this,” I said steadily. “If the horse throws you . . .”
“Then you shoot the bloody thing in the head and move on!” said Molly. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Shaman.”
“Perhaps I have something to prove to myself,” I said. “You don’t know how close I came to losing against the Dancing Fool. I had to descend to his level to win. I don’t like how that made me feel. I need to win this, Molly, and I need to win it . . . in a good way. To be myself again.”
“Oh, hell,” said Molly. “Just . . . don’t get chivalrous. Kick the crap out of the Little Tranny, and come home safely.”
“Now there’s a sentence you don’t hear every day,” I said.
I smiled at Molly, and she smiled at me. And then I turned away from her and strode out into the stone circle, to where the generic flunky was waiting patiently for me. The Little Lord was standing stiffly in place now, impatient to get started. I toasted her with my champagne flute, and gulped the clear liquid down. After my horrid experience with the Armourer’s potion, I didn’t want the stuff lingering in my mouth any longer than necessary. I braced myself, ready for some really horrible taste, some open assault on my taste buds . . . and was surprised to discover that the potion had no taste at all. I might as well have been drinking tap water.
I looked suspiciously at my empty glass, wondering whether
someone might have cheated, and slipped me water instead of the potion, but no, I could already feel the stuff working within me. Feel the potential opening up of all the things I could be. The generic flunky took the empty glass away from me and left the circle, but I barely noticed. I felt like I could be anything, anything at all. That I could rise up into the sky like a giant and drag down one of the moons, or dissipate into a deadly mist that would poison everyone who breathed it in. Turn myself into anyone or anything I’ve ever met. And I’ve been around. All the possibilities jostling within me, just bursting to get out . . .
I looked across at the Little Lord as she carefully removed the monocle from her left eye and tucked the glass safely away in an inside pocket. And then she looked at me and smiled, coldly and dismissively. As though she’d already worked out every possibility in her mind, and won every time. And all that was left now was the formality of playing it out. I had to smile at that. I had been places, and seen things, and done things, far beyond her imagination. The Little Lord wasn’t going to know what hit her. Except, I didn’t want to play the Game that way. The Casino’s bloody, brutal way.
So I just sauntered around the perimeter of the circle, bouncing along full of life and energy, ignoring my opponent to wave and smile at the crowd, who didn’t quite know how to take that. It sure as hell wasn’t We who are about to die, salute you. Fighting in the Arena was supposed to be a grim, deadly affair. That’s why they came. You weren’t supposed to have a good time in the Arena. . . . My actions seemed to actually incense the Little Lord, who had to keep turning just to face me.
“You’re not taking this seriously!” she said, accusingly.
“I’ve had enough of serious,” I said brightly. “Not really my thing. It’s supposed to be a Game, isn’t it? Then let’s play! Let’s enjoy ourselves; have some fun!”
“This isn’t a game,” said the Little Lord. “It was never meant to be a game! Just a contest of skill, with souls on the line!”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t still have a good time,” I said, reasonably. I slammed to a halt and looked steadily at her, my hands thrust casually in my pockets. “Why did you challenge me, rather than anyone else? Did you see me fight in the Pit?”
“You fought in the Pit?” said the Little Lord. “And won?”
“Well, obviously,” I said. “If I hadn’t won, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
“I chose you at random,” said the Little Lord. “Because I didn’t know anything about you. Therefore, you weren’t a Major Player. I couldn’t risk that. Not after I sacrificed so much to get this far. I will beat you!”
“Why?” I said. “Why is winning so important to you?”
“Because it’s my only way to get home again!” said the Little Lord, harshly. “I want to go home!”
“You’d take my soul to do that?” I said.
“I’d take a thousand souls!” said the Little Lord. “And that’s the other reason why I chose to challenge someone I didn’t know. So that whatever happens to you, it won’t bother me so much.”
The Little Lord stamped her foot hard, and her formal clothes burst apart as her body exploded into tightly stretched flesh and muscle. She rose up before me, a huge and powerful figure, a living engine of destruction. The Little Lord had gone for the most obvious choice: a Hyde. But not a female Hyde, not just an evil version of herself. Like Jacqueline before her, the Little Lord had taken the formula at face value. She had become the legendary bogeyman; the biggest, strongest, most deadly man she could think of. A real man, at last. I could see the proof hanging down, between the dark tatters of what had been her exquisitely tailored trousers. And I couldn’t help but grin. The Little Lord might be living her dream, right now, being all a man could be . . . but I was ready to bet that she hadn’t thought it through. That there was one part of being a man that she hadn’t considered, because she’d never had to.
So I didn’t even bother to change into anything else. I just walked right up to the Hyde, smiling sweetly. The Hyde reared up before me, his huge hands opening and closing, smiling his own harsh smile as he got ready to tear me into little pieces. He reached out to me and I lunged quickly forward, inside his reach, and kicked him good and hard in the nuts.
The Hyde tried to cry out in pain, but he couldn’t force a sound through his closed-off throat. He’d never felt anything like it before, as the Little Lord. Never knew there could be a pain like it. His eyes bulged, tears coursing down his stricken face, hurting so bad he couldn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even have the sense to fall down. So I lined up and kicked him in the groin again, putting all my strength behind it. A large part of the crowd cried out in sympathy. The Hyde finally fell down, as all the strength went out of his legs, hitting the hard stone of the circle floor with a crash, and then curling up into a foetal ball. And in the end all he could do, to get away from the pain, was turn back into the Little Lord again.
Round One to me. If I had to fight, I’d fight my way.
I did a lap of honour around the Arena, smiling and waving, acknowledging the cheers and laughter from the crowd. And then that broke off, as loud voices cried out a warning. I turned around, to find the Little Lord had changed shape again. And once again, she’d gone for size and strength.
If anything, she was even bigger than before. A good ten feet tall, her lithe body covered with dark grey fur. Her great head rose up, her face lengthening into a muzzle full of blocky teeth and savage canines. Great pointed ears, eyes yellow as urine. Her back hunched, bending her half over with great ridges of muscle under the grey fur. Her feet were paws, her hands viciously clawed. She’d made herself into a werewolf. Or at least, her idea of one. A huge shaggy figure towering over me, her mouth stretched in a wide hungry smile. The thick doggy scent of her, rich with blood and musk, was almost overpowering. The Hyde had been threatening; the werewolf was actually dangerous.
So I just stood my ground, nodded casually to her, and thought about it. I could have turned into something equally monstrous; God knows I’ve seen worse things in my travels. But I was still determined not to play the Casino’s Game in the Casino’s way, rending and tearing and spilling blood, for the amusement of the crowd. No head-to-head brutality . . . I would win this one with a little lateral thinking.
The werewolf padded forward, yellow eyes gleaming fiercely, clawed hands reaching out to tear my flesh. And I just stood there and smiled, with my hands behind my back. The Little Lord should have had enough sense to be suspicious, but she was all wolf now, driven by the beast’s needs and instincts.
I remembered when Ethel first gifted the Droods with her own strange matter armour, and how we learned to change its shape to suit our needs. I had, on occasion, extended the armour of my golden hands into long golden sword-blades. So, as the werewolf lunged forward, I concentrated on my hands. I could change any part of my body now, into anything I could think of, and right then . . . I was thinking of silver. I waited till the werewolf was almost upon me, lunging for my throat, and once again I stepped forward inside her reach, brought my hands out from behind my back, and showed her the silver blades where my hands had been.
She knew them immediately for what they were, but there was no time for her to stop. She just kept coming, and I thrust both silver blades deep into her heart.
The impact as we closed drove me backwards, but I was expecting that, and kept my balance. The werewolf cried out horribly. I ground both blades deeper into her chest, into her heart, and we skidded to a halt. I pulled both blades out, and jammed them both into her gut. The werewolf cried out again, and collapsed onto the unforgiving ground. Her dark blood pumped thickly on the stone floor. She was dying, and she knew it, so she did the only thing she could. She turned back into the Little Lord, shrinking away from my silver blades, away from the things that were killing her.
I let her do it. She scrambled away from me on all fours, holding the tatters of her clothing to her. It was obvious to anyone who cared to look, now, that t
he Little Lord was a woman . . . but no one in the audience cared. They were all leaning forward, smiling eagerly, to see what would happen next. They’d never seen a Game like this.
The Little Lord changed again, quickly, desperate to regain the advantage. The stone floor of the circle blew apart as she made contact with the ground beneath, and turned herself into a huge archetypal female figure. A Gaia woman, an earth goddess, rising up and up, growing huge and powerful as she drew on more earth for her body from under the Arena. She towered over me, vast and potent, an overwhelmingly female figure. Big enough to stamp me into a bloody mess on the stone floor, or grab me up and hug me to her earthy bosom, and smother me in dirt. But I . . . was thinking about the man I’d seen earlier, in the hotel lobby. Who’d been so scared of what the manager Jonathon Scott might do that he dissolved into water and ran away. I thought I could do better than that.
So I turned myself into a great spring of water, pumping up out of the ground, rising up into a massive boiling fountain with all the pressure of a fire hose behind it. I hit the earth goddess in the face, with enough force to blow her features off. And then I hit her with so much water, I just washed her away. She fell apart, running like thick mud, collapsing in on herself, until there was nothing left of her but mud, spattered across the Arena.
It took us both a while to come back from that. Remembering what a human shape was, and why it was important. Re-forming our human bodies from the elemental forms we’d taken. But I still remembered duty and honour, because I was never free of them, and so I was the first to pull myself together. I stumbled forward to stand over the Little Lord as she took her original shape again. I still had my clothes, intact, because I didn’t think as literally as she did. This time, I didn’t wait for her to change first; I just bent down and slipped one arm round her neck as her head came up, and tightened my hold. Cutting off the air to the throat, and the blood flow to the brain.
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