‘For now, the lac will use this instead of a blade. Even so, perform badly and you’ll end up with a headache. You first, Palm.’ Kern handed him the blade and gave the leather orb to the lac.
Palm executed the steps flawlessly, as light on his feet as Kern had been. At the end of the reverse right diagonal, he struck upwards with the blade. He was good; very good. My heart sank. His superiority was based on skill. Sparks flew as the blade’s point jarred against the edge of the metal throat-socket – but it didn’t go in.
Palm tried to duck, and almost succeeded, but the lac swung the leather ball, caught him a glancing blow on the side of the head, and it was over.
‘Good. Well done! You’re getting closer,’ said Kern, generous with his praise. ‘It won’t be long now before you succeed.’
Palm grinned, showing his teeth. He was obviously pleased to hear that.
Deinon showed just how good Palm had been. He was relatively clumsy in his movements, and the heavy leather ball smacked into his face with such force that he was lifted clean off his feet. He sat down hard, dazed, and Kern had to help him back up while Palm smirked in the background. Good-naturedly, Deinon shook his head to try and clear it as he got to his feet, throwing a wry smile at me.
‘Well then, Leif,’ Kern said, handing me the blade. ‘Let’s see what you can do . . .’
I accepted the blade and took up my position facing the lac, my heart thumping hard. I felt self-conscious, aware that the eyes of everybody in the room were watching me intently to see what I could do. The presence of Tyron bothered me the most.
None, however, scrutinized me as closely as the scary eyes of the lac, which flickered behind the horizontal black slit in the face armour.
I stared back into those alien eyes, took a deep breath, then moved into the pattern of the dance, bringing all my concentration to bear upon it. Two steps to the left. Two steps to the right.
The lac was already moving towards me, but instead of retreating, I took another two steps to the left. I was doing it, not thinking it. My feet were leading my mind. I began to retreat diagonally, but to the left rather than the right.
The lac came after me fast, already starting to swing the leather ball. I reversed suddenly, my bare feet slapping hard against the boards. I ducked and the ball passed very close to the top of my head; the draught from its passing felt like fingers smoothing back my hair, but it didn’t strike me.
I moved in close to the lac and lunged towards its throat-socket. The blade went home hard, jarring my hand, the shock travelling all the way up to my shoulder. And that was that.
As the lac fell, the blade was torn out of my grasp, the creature collapsing with a crash as the wurde endoff was called, the patterning within the mind of the lac bringing about that automatic response.
Elated, I bowed low towards the lac; it was something that my father had done when we fought with sticks, and which I had adopted and did automatically after each stick-fight. After a while it had caught on, and all the lads back home had done it as well.
I heard the door closing, leaving a silence in the training area. As I straightened up, I saw that Tyron had gone. Kern was gazing at me in astonishment, Deinon too. But in Palm’s eyes there was only envy and hatred.
I’d just made an enemy.
9
For Absolute Beginners
Artificers are adepts skilled in patterning the wurdes of Nym.
The first artificers were ur-human.
They developed their power to its height in the Secondary Epoch of Empire.
The Manual of Nym
The morning had gone well. I had a real sense of triumph at having brought the lac to its knees. It was something that Palm had failed to do, despite having been trained for months while I was a complete novice.
The afternoon was devoted to the skill of patterning; it was something I was certainly not looking forward to. I fully expected to find it difficult.
We each had a small study in which to work. Kern gave me a slim textbook: it was an introduction to patterning in the language of Nym for absolute beginners.
He patted me on the shoulder and smiled. ‘Just read through the first couple of pages and absorb as much as you can, Leif. Even in this simple form it’s not easy. So don’t worry. Just do your best. Anything you don’t understand we can discuss later.’
He left me alone, so I opened the book and began to read.
THE DICTIONARY OF NYM
The TOTAL DICTIONARY of Nym (informally termed ‘Fat Nym’) is continually growing, exists in no single location and is potentially infinite. It is also widely distributed. Here are a few locations where segments of it are to be found:
1. Wurdes are embedded within each simulacrum bought from the Trader.
2. New wurdes are created by combining existing wurdes.
3. New wurdes can be created from primitives by a skilled patterner.
4. Some wurdes are created by a patterner and, until embedded within a simulacrum, exist only within his brain.
The CORE DICTIONARY of Nym (informally known as ‘Slim Nym’) exists within the mind of each simulacrum bought from the Trader.
I read that first page about three times, trying to understand it. Then I turned to the second page, dreading what I would find.
It was even worse.
CREATING A NEW WURDE
This is how to mark the beginning of a new wurde definition.
Begin with : which is voiced as Colon
End the new wurde definition with ; which is voiced as Semi
Here is a list of some existing wurdes which can inform and direct the movement of a simulacrum:
StepF1 {this means take one step forward}
StepR3 {this means take three steps to the right}
StepL2 {this means take two steps to the left} Seektarget {this means decide which is the best available target (opposing lac or human combatant) and attack}
Cutflesh {this modifies the former command and directs the lac to attack the human combatant}
Now we see below the creation of a new wurde, ‘Reckless’, which combines a selection of the above pre-existing wurdes. Note the use of * to link the wurdes within the definition.
: Reckless – StepL2 * StepR3 * StepF1 * Seektarget * Cutflesh ;
The above names the new wurde as ‘Reckless’. It commands your lac to take two steps to the left, three steps to the right and then one step forward followed by a direct attack on your human opponent.
The new wurde needs to be COMPILED:
Utter the wurde COMPILE {this places the new wurde within the brain of the lac in a form that can be Called. To call a word is to command your lac to implement it}.
Now CALL the wurde. The wurde is called by simply uttering its name (Reckless). Of course, this is not spoken aloud in combat. It is signalled to your lac by using ULUM, a code drummed by your boots onto the floor of the arena.
I sighed . . .
Deinon was starting to become a little more talkative, and during lunch, while Palm had sulked at the far end of the table, he had explained ‘Ulum’ to me.
You didn’t speak to your lac during combat as Kern had done during our training session. Instead of shouting out a wurde to control its movement, you beat on the floor of the arena with your boots. The drumming was a code that you had to develop yourself and memorize; something that your opponent and his lacs would not understand. So I got the general idea. But as for the rest, I was totally demoralized. It was just too difficult – I knew that I could never become a patterner. Yet even if you were a combatant, you still needed a basic level of competence in patterning. You had to understand how it worked.
Would I ever manage that? It seemed a big obstacle to successfully completing my training.
One after the other we went down for our private lesson with Kern. Deinon returned from his session and rapped on the door to tell me that it was my turn. I thanked him and went downstairs.
Kern had a study twice the size of min
e. On the wall hung a painting of Teena holding their son. She was smiling out of the photo and looked very happy. It was extremely life-like.
I faced him across the wooden desk. He smiled at me warmly. ‘How did you find the textbook?’ he asked.
There was no point in pretending otherwise so I told him the truth.
‘I found it really difficult. I couldn’t understand some of it at all. That wurde it showed – why is it called “Reckless”?’ I asked.
Kern smiled. ‘The textbook is being slightly humorous. If you commanded your lac to “Cutflesh”, as it was defined there, from the min position, it would almost certainly be defeated in seconds. There would be three lacs defending your opponent and it would ignore all defensive measures and go straight for him. It would be a stupid thing to do, but it was just demonstrating how a new wurde is put together.
‘Look, don’t let it worry you, Leif. You may never become a patterner. Very few of us have the ability to develop that skill to the highest level. I certainly don’t. But you don’t necessarily need to pattern wurdes – you just have to be able to use those which have been created for you. I know enough to teach you the rudiments, but if you had enough talent, then Tyron would have to take over at a later stage. He is easily the best patterner in the city.’
This wasn’t the way I wanted to go at all. I wanted to fight, and my face must have given me away, for Kern continued, ‘From what I saw earlier, judging by your speed and agility, I suspect that you’re more likely to end up fighting in the arena. But you can never take it for granted – only time will tell. In the meantime, you still need some basic skills and knowledge of what Nym is all about. So I’ll begin with a little history today.’
‘Do I need to take notes?’ As instructed, I had brought writing materials with me.
‘You’ll be given assignments and essays to write on the things we discuss, but I would advise against taking notes now,’ said Kern. ‘It’s best to concentrate and commit what you learn to memory. Practise using your brain in that way. The best patterners and artificers hold whole sequences of wurdes inside their heads. That way you own them and never have to look things up. They are immediately accessible. And ask as many questions as you like as we go through; you need to get this straight in your mind.’
I got straight in. ‘I’m not quite clear about artificers. How are they different from patterners?’ I asked. I felt more comfortable asking questions of Kern. He had none of the stern gruffness of Tyron.
‘Artificers are master patterners, highly skilled in the language of Nym. Often, like Tyron, they employ many others and have a whole stable of combatants, some of whom are skilled in patterning and some in fighting. Let’s begin now by considering Nym and how it developed. The ancients had a different name for patterners – they called them “programmers” or “coders”. We believe that they used their fingers in some way to pattern moving combat machines that were made out of metal. We don’t know how it worked but suspect it was something like this. They did this on something called a “keyboard”.’
Kern demonstrated by placing his hands next to each other on the desk and drumming rhythmically with his fingers on the wood.
‘Of course, now we use an AUI, which means Audio User Interface. We use our voices and speak words directly to lacs which they can hear and absorb, then fitting them into the basic patterns they already have within them.’
‘How were the first lacs created?’ I asked. I wished I had spent more time asking my father about these things so that I would be more prepared. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but now it was too late.
‘That’s a good question, Leif. As far as we know, the military were responsible. They started by programming metal war machines called “ibots”, but then replaced them with lacs, which are really prototype djinn but inferior to even the lowest of those creatures. Eventually djinn were developed. We think it likely that the flesh of both lacs and djinn was grown in big vats. It’s sometimes called “false flesh”. About that time the patterning language called Nym was developed. It evolved out of several programming languages, but mainly out of “FORTH”, which was created long ago by a programmer called Charles H. Moore.
‘The rest is history – although there are several versions of the actual events, depending on which historian you read. The most commonly held belief is that after the wars between nations of humans, they used djinn to fight for them. The djinn rebelled and then fought against humans until we were defeated. Then they built the Barrier and imprisoned the few human survivors within it. They appointed a protector to rule Midgard on their behalf. A lot of knowledge was lost. We could no longer grow our own lacs, but were allowed to buy lacs from the Trader. Only he can pass back and forth across the Barrier. However, we no longer have the skill to make the lacs we buy sentient.’
The session ended with Kern attempting to teach me a few of the Nym primitives – the building blocks of the language. He was a good teacher with a lot of patience, but I was a poor pupil. I had never been good with language and reading, and this was the most complex thing I’d ever tried to learn. Some of the wurdes were difficult to pronounce and were uttered in the clipped, clear accent of the north. My southern accent was going to make that difficult. If I couldn’t say them correctly, how could I hope to speak to a lac and pattern it?
Perhaps I would never gain the skills necessary to complete my training . . .
That night, when I was just about to get undressed, I heard three knocks from Kwin’s bedroom.
Deinon gave a little smile and raised his eyebrows at me, but Palm’s jaw dropped almost to his boots. He hadn’t expected Kwin to summon me again. He hadn’t spoken to me at all since our morning in the training room, and now his eyes almost turned from blue to green with the intensity of the anger in them.
I wondered what the problem was. It made sense for him to feel annoyed that I’d successfully floored the lac in the training room when he hadn’t managed it yet, but what about now? Did he like Kwin? Maybe he’d hoped for just one knock, meaning that she was summoning him?
I simply shrugged as if I didn’t care one way or the other. I was still annoyed with Kwin for the way she’d turned on me after our night out, but I couldn’t suppress a quiver of excitement.
I was standing by the door even before the key turned in the lock. Kwin was unpredictable and aggressive, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I wanted to see her again.
Once more I entered her room – only this time she wasn’t wearing her dress. Her trousers were secured at the ankles with black ribbon, above what were definitely Trig boots, and her hair was pulled back tightly. Once more her lips were painted black and red. Even her scowl was identical to the one she’d given me the first time I saw her.
‘Me against you, then, Leif – a stick-fight to see who’s the best. Still want to do it?’ she demanded. ‘I heard you put on quite a show in the training room this morning. Come on, I want to see you in action!’
My heart sank. ‘Your father said he doesn’t allow it,’ I told her, regretting the deal I’d made with her the night before. ‘I could get kicked out.’
‘He’s all talk. He wouldn’t dare. Don’t worry – if he ever finds out, I can bend him round my little finger.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked. I was worried, and with good reason. My dream of fighting in Arena 13 felt a lot nearer after my first day of training – even though the theory had been hard. I didn’t want to jeopardize it all.
‘Just as sure as I am that I’ll beat you . . .’
I took a deep breath. There was no reason for Tyron to find out. Kwin knew the city well and I could learn from her. Complicated as she was, I liked being around her – and I certainly wasn’t making a friend in Palm. Plus, I found it hard to resist a challenge. Part of me wanted to fight and put Kwin in her place. I knew that I could beat her and I was looking forward to seeing the expression on her face as I did so.
I nodded. ‘If that’s what you want . . .
I haven’t got a stick, though. I gave mine away to a friend. I didn’t think I’d be using them again.’
Peter had been a good fighter and a close friend. I missed him and the other lads I’d hung around with. I found it hard to believe that I’d ever find that sort of companionship here.
Kwin’s face softened and she almost smiled. She picked up a leather package. ‘You can take your pick from what I’ve got here,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and fight!’
10
The Bone Room
A blow to the head means victory; only the malicious and cruel target the eyes or mouth – such a blow is without honour.
Amabramsum: the Genthai Book of Wisdom
Soon we were crossing the city again, tonight’s waning moon still almost full, and very large and bright on the horizon. We took a different route to the previous night, and when I commented on this, Kwin told me we were heading towards the slaughterhouse rather than the Wheel. The houses gave way to a patchwork of cattle pens, most of them empty, while overhead the dark block of the huge building began to fill the sky, blocking out the moon and eating the stars. There was an overpowering smell of animal manure and sweat that made me breathe through my mouth rather than my nose.
‘Surely there’s a better place to fight than this!’ I said.
‘Inside, it’s well-lit and it’s quiet at this time of night,’ Kwin said, noticing my revulsion. ‘After dark, it’s one of the safest places in Gindeen. Nobody will disturb us. Fight anywhere else and we’d attract attention.’
As we approached, I saw a few workers dressed in bloodied aprons, but they took no notice of us, and we weren’t challenged.
The stench of blood and excrement was much worse – almost overpowering – as we stepped inside.
‘They kill the cattle over there.’ Kwin pointed to a huge door which was open to the night sky. There were pools of blood on the floor and two huge hammers propped up against the wall. From overhead hung a long chain with sharp hooks. It went up at an angle of forty-five degrees to disappear through a big hole in the high ceiling. There was an identical chain near the far wall.
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