‘That poor girl is dead!’ I retorted, the anger building inside me and making my hands shake. ‘I’d really like to stop them taking her body. I know we can’t prevent them from doing that – there are too many of them – but I feel like a coward running away. I’m going to stay and see what our enemies look like. Do you see that clump of scrub and long grass . . .’ I pointed to our left. ‘I can hide there. I’ll be out of sight and safe enough. Which way will they come – through the city or out of the trees?’
‘Probably out of the trees,’ Deinon answered. ‘They sometimes wander through the city streets, but only after dark.’
‘Then I’ll stay and watch – there’s no need to put yourself in danger. You go back to Tyron’s. I’ll be OK.’
‘If you’re staying, Leif, then I’ll stay too. You’re new to the city and Tyron told me to keep an eye on you. I’ve never seen tassels in broad daylight before – I spotted a couple near the Wheel once, but they were some distance away. I want to see our enemies too!’
We headed over to the patch of scrub and settled down, hidden from anyone who came down the hill towards the lake.
‘We should get a good view from here,’ I said.
As the wait began, I felt curious but calm. My anger had subsided and I had no real sense of danger. Surely we’d be safe here?
But as time passed, my feelings gradually changed. I began to worry. Tyron wouldn’t approve of this. He’d say we were taking an unnecessary risk. I glanced back towards the nearest row of houses. The doors were closed and the curtains drawn. Everyone was safely inside but us. The people of the city knew all about the danger from the tassels. They wouldn’t take any risks.
We waited and watched in silence, while more and more doubts whirled through my head. After about half an hour Deinon started to get restless.
He crawled closer. ‘Tyron will be starting to get worried,’ he whispered. ‘News of this will have reached him; he’ll be locking his own doors.’
Deinon was right. Tyron would expect us back by now. I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him again. I felt a few spots of rain on my face and I shivered with cold; my trouser legs were still soaking from our paddle in the lake. We’d have to head back soon.
‘Let’s just give it another ten minutes, then we’ll go. Is that OK with you?’ I asked.
Deinon nodded, and we continued to watch and wait. I felt certain that ten minutes had passed, but neither of us made a move to leave. It was drizzling now, the thin mist making our view less than perfect.
But I could see enough.
My heart lurched as the tassels appeared very suddenly, loping out of the trees like a pack of giant grey rats. I counted them quickly. There were at least a couple of dozen. The leader was big – maybe twice the size of a man – and ran on all fours. The others were of different sizes, some on all fours, most upright, but running with a strange gait that seemed far from human. They moved fast and silently in hooded grey gowns that trailed on the grass. If they came down the hill for us, I reflected, they’d catch us in seconds.
The tassels gathered around the body of the girl, but one on the edge of the pack suddenly lifted his head. His face was so gaunt that it was almost like a skull, the eyes hollow black pits. He seemed to be staring right at us.
My heart began to hammer with fear. Surely he couldn’t see us? Maybe he could sense us in some other way? Unnoticed by the rest of the pack, he began to bound down the hill, directly towards our hiding place.
Deinon looked at me, eyes wide with fear, and started to rise, as if about to turn and run. I gripped his arm and shook my head. If we panicked and fled, the whole horde of tassels would chase us through the deserted streets. There would be nobody to help. We’d be hunted down and taken to Hob’s citadel. We’d never be seen again.
The lone tassel halted close to the edge of the scrub. He was staring directly at us, but he didn’t move. My heart was hammering so hard, I felt sure he must hear it. Suddenly the creature sniffed very loudly, as if sensing our presence, and gave a growl deep in his throat. Could he smell us? Maybe he was more sensitive than the others, who were only interested in the girl?
The tassel’s face was partly in shadow, and at first I thought he had a beard, but then he took another step forward and I saw that his whole face was covered in hair.
He growled again, and I thought he was going to attack us, but then I heard a strange hooting cry from the other tassels.
The giant leader was scooping up the girl’s body and carrying it back up the hill. The rest followed at his heels, and the tassel close to us, perhaps not wishing to be left behind, bounded away after them.
The moment of danger had passed, and soon the tassels had disappeared from view.
‘What do they want her body for?’ I asked Deinon, letting out a sigh of relief as I realized what a great risk we’d just taken.
Deinon shrugged. ‘They’ll take it to Hob, I suppose. He killed her; now she belongs to him. He probably drained her last night and left her floating on the edge of the reeds. It’s happened before.’
‘I’m sorry for getting you into that,’ I said.
‘It was my decision as well, Leif, so I’m to blame just as much. The tassels mostly hunt in the dark – we should have guessed that they don’t simply rely on their eyes. That lone one couldn’t see us, but he knew we were there. We got away with it – but another time we might not be so lucky. Let’s hope that Tyron doesn’t find out what we just did!’
We set off at a jog, while I mulled over what had just occurred. I couldn’t understand this place; why this was allowed to happen in a city which had an armed force to protect its inhabitants.
‘Why doesn’t somebody do something about it?’ I wondered. ‘Hob might kill someone in the night undetected, but why are the tassels allowed to enter the city and take the body? It’s the middle of the day – where are the Protector’s Guard?’
‘They would never interfere with Hob’s business. And it’s a Saturday. Apart from a few left on duty, most of them will be in their barracks swilling ale like the pigs they are. It’s the way things are here, Leif. Hob rules.’
‘There were so many of those tassels,’ I said. ‘They were like a pack of wild animals.’
‘Yes, they hunt in big packs,’ said Deinon. ‘There’d have been others watching from the trees.’
We walked back towards Tyron’s house. The plaza was deserted and it was starting to rain hard. I was angered by what I’d just witnessed. Earlier we’d been sipping fruit juice in the sun; everybody had been enjoying themselves . . . And all the while, unbeknown to us, the body of a dead girl was floating in the lake, waiting to be found.
Hob and his servants could do whatever they pleased.
What a terrible place this was.
15
The Legend of Math
I began to feel myself to be the expression of a higher power, an aspect of Nym, the goddess of all pattern, movement and dance.
I was not merely dancing the patterns of the Trigladius.
In some way I had become those patterns.
The Testimony of Math
At supper I felt distracted. I couldn’t get that poor girl’s white face out of my mind, and I struggled to keep up with the conversation at the table. As usual, Palm was boasting, going on and on about the three lacs that Tyron was going to pattern for him. He never made eye-contact with me, but Deinon was listening with a polite expression on his face.
I could hear the conversation at the other end of the table, where Kern, Tyron, Teena and Kwin were discussing the dead girl. Only one thing lifted my mood a little: at one point I caught Kwin’s eye, and she smiled at me. It was probably just a friendly smile, but my heart leaped with joy.
Then, at the end of the meal, Kern came over to speak to me. ‘Tyron wants to see you up in his study in about five minutes. It’s the room right at the top of the house. You can’t miss it.’
My heart sank. Had he found out about Deino
n and me and our encounter with the tassels? Kern must have read the dismay on my face because he gave me a kind smile and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Leif. You’re not in trouble – but don’t keep him waiting!’
I climbed the stairs to Tyron’s study. It was the first time I’d ever been up there. Despite Kern’s words of reassurance I was very nervous. It would also be the first time I’d spoken properly to Tyron since he’d allowed me back.
I knocked lightly at the door, but there was no response. I was just about to knock again when Tyron opened the door.
‘Come in, Leif, and sit there by the fire.’
I smiled and took the seat he’d indicated, glancing around the room. Panelled in dark, polished mahogany, it was furnished with leather chairs, and white wolf furs were laid upon the boards before the fire. This was clearly the den of a very wealthy man.
As I cast my eyes about the place thinking how different it was from my childhood home, something caught my eye. On the wall was a sealed glass case. It contained a simple shelf upon which, supported by heavy bookends carved in the shape of a wolf, stood six or seven volumes bound in soft brown leather. They looked very ancient.
Tyron walked across to a table in the far corner and poured himself a glass of red wine from a decanter. He returned carrying the glass and sat down in the chair opposite. He took a sip of wine and smiled at me.
The smile was reassuring; it made me feel more comfortable.
‘Kern tells me that you’re doing well. He says a lot of the steps come easily to you, as if you are already familiar with them. Who taught you?’
I hesitated before answering.
‘My father spent time in this city and knew the steps of the Trig. He taught me a few moves. As I said, I was a stick-fighter.’
‘Did many of the lads lose their front teeth?’
‘Some did. It was a risk we took.’
‘I hope my daughter manages to keep hers,’ growled Tyron. ‘It’ll be hard enough getting her married off as it is. I know that you and Kwin are friends, but that friendship brings some responsibility with it. Do you know what I mean?’
Was he about to warn me to keep away from his daughter? Was that why he’d summoned me to his study?
‘Look, Kwin is wild. She takes chances and she’s obsessed with Arena 13. I know she took the lead in arranging that stick-fight between you. No doubt she overcame your reservations and changed your mind. But you can change hers too. It works both ways. Try to talk a bit of sense into her from time to time . . . Will you try?’
I hadn’t a clue how to do that, but I nodded and gave the answer I thought he wanted.
‘Of course I’ll do my best. Kwin has a mind of her own, but I’ll try.’
‘That’s all I ask of you, Leif. Do you miss stick-fighting?’
I thought of the local boys back in Mypocine; we’d all been desperate to fight in Arena 13 one day. It had been a dream, something to sustain us while we scratched a living from the soil.
It was different for those farming close to Gindeen. Here the agricultural land was good; cattle grew fat and farmers rich by supplying beef and milk to the city. The lottery only provided five places a year. The large majority were purchased directly by wealthy fathers; they could afford to buy their sons training places with the best artificers. That was how Palm had got his place. That was how he would be able to maintain three lacs and fight behind a tri-glad.
‘I like training for Arena 13 – it’s far better than stick-fighting. I won’t let you down again. You needn’t worry about that.’
Tyron nodded, and I thought he was about to tell me to go back downstairs when suddenly he asked a question that took me by surprise.
‘You know about Math?’ His eyes were boring into mine.
I nodded, keeping my face expressionless.
‘Do you know what happened to him?’
‘Some of it.’
‘Know what happened to Math and you’ll understand Hob. What’s wrong, boy? You’ve got a strange expression on your face.’
I changed the subject. ‘Deinon and I were at the lake when they found the dead girl. It was horrible. I can’t get it out of my mind.’
‘So you know what this city is up against. That dead girl by the lake is just a part of Hob’s tyranny. Now, I’m going to tell you what Math accomplished in Arena 13. It’s something you need to know. If I begin at the beginning, we’ll still be here at dawn,’ he said, ‘so I’ll start at the end of Math’s second year. By the end of that season he was ranked first in the Lists, and already the aficionados were saying he was the best who’d ever walked the boards.
‘He was registered under the name Mathias, but everyone knew him as Math. He was in the stable of a man called Gunter, who at that time was just about the best artificer in Gindeen. Gunter the Great, they called him. They worked well together: Gunter had the brain for great patterning and Math had the speed to be a great fighter. Arena 13 hasn’t seen the like of those two since, and maybe never will again. It was a true partnership.’
Tyron raised his glass and sipped deeply from the wine. He was staring into space as if seeing a ghost or something from the past. I shifted uncomfortably, had he just got me up here to tell me old stories?
‘On the last night of Math’s second season, Hob came to the Wheel, bringing with him a tri-glad. He offered the usual challenge, and a min combatant was honour-bound to respond.’
‘Were you there?’ I asked Tyron.
He nodded. ‘I was one of the min combatants. I was standing so close to Math that I could have reached out and touched him.
‘We gathered in the waiting room under the arena. Pyncheon, the Chief Marshal – he was a young man then, the youngest ever to hold that office – came in carrying the frosted glass lottery orb which contained the silver straws. The man who drew the short straw would be the one to fight Hob. There were nineteen straws that night – one for each min combatant who’d fought on that evening’s Lists. Obviously I was nervous. Any one of us could have been chosen and it meant certain death.
‘Epson – you’ve seen him fight – plucked the first straw. Until all the straws had been drawn, it was impossible to tell which was the shortest, but Epson seemed safe. But then, suddenly, Math strode into the centre of the group and dashed the glass lottery orb from Pyncheon’s hand. It fell to the ground and shattered into fragments, scattering the remaining straws amongst the shards of glass. Math knelt quickly and selected a straw.’
‘The short straw,’ I whispered.
Tyron stared at me for a moment before continuing. ‘There was total silence in that room; even the Chief Marshal was glaring at him, but he didn’t know what to say. “I hold the short straw, so the right of combat is mine,” Math said.’
‘Pyncheon wouldn’t have liked that, would he?’ I said. ‘Math was breaking the rules in a big way!’
Tyron paused to sip his wine and gave a smile. ‘Yes, he was breaking the rules all right – we all waited in a shocked silence. Nobody could guess how the Chief Marshal would react. But he simply bowed and accepted Math as the challenger. Math had already won a victory over Hob,’ he explained. ‘By breaking the orb and seizing the short straw, he’d ensured that Hob would be forced to face the very best opponent the Wheel had to offer – him. Hob wanted somebody to fight; Math had offered himself up. Pyncheon accepted that and told us all to get to our positions.
‘That evening, we eighteen combatants up in the gallery watched in dismay as Hob’s tri-glad entered the arena. The lacs wore black armour and moved with a speed and grace you wouldn’t believe. Hob followed close behind them.’
‘What did he look like?’ I asked.
‘When he fights in the arena, he looks much like a human combatant,’ Tyron answered. ‘But he’s bigger than most and his arms are exceptionally long – like the arms of a lac – and completely hairless. And he wears a bronze helmet that completely covers his head, right down to his chin. As his throat is open to a blade,
nobody has ever thought to protest – and nobody would dare anyway.
‘I couldn’t believe my eyes when Math followed his own lac into the arena and took up combat position behind it. He was wearing a silver helmet shaped in the likeness of a wolf and held two blades. Until that moment, no human combatant had ever carried blades into Arena 13. They merely had a ceremonial function and were worn at the belt. And as for the helmet, why not? If Hob could do it, why shouldn’t Math? Do you know why his helmet was shaped like a wolf’s head?’
I nodded. ‘Because he was Genthai . . .’
‘Yes. He was Genthai.’
The word meant the People of the Wolf.
‘We’ve a few fighting in the Trig now, but Math was the very first of his people to compete, changing his name so that he would be granted a licence. Of course, down south near Mypocine, you’re not far from the Genthai tribal lands. You’ll know all about how people can be prejudiced. Isn’t that right, boy?’
I shrugged. ‘A lot of trade goes on down there. There’s probably more prejudice up here in Gindeen.’
Tyron looked at me keenly, and then went on, ‘At first Math just waited. Even when Hob’s tri-glad launched the first attack and there was the clash of blade against blade, he still didn’t move.’
‘Like Epson in that contest the other night?’ I asked.
‘Yes, exactly. But then Math’s lac took two swift steps forward, pressing home its advantage, and Math stepped where it had stepped and crouched again, waiting. They attacked once more, but this time two of the tri-glad diverted his lac and the third surged in from the side, seeking his flesh. Math whirled round to meet it and lunged forward. His own lac half turned to protect him, but it was too late: he was already committed. He avoided the first of the blades, but the second struck him high on the temple, a blow that would have cleaved his skull in two—’
‘The wolf helmet saved him,’ I said. ‘Where did he get it?’
Arena 13 Page 11