Battle Circle 2 - Var the Stick

by Piers Anthony

  But none of that concerned Var. He hoped to see Soli graduated and placed in some prosperous household, after which he could retreat to the badlands. He would regret never seeing her again-regret it intensely-but this was the hard choice he had made when he brought her to the school. She would, in time, be happy, and that was what was most important. Her childhood was behind her, and he was part of that childhood.

  The head matron summoned him. "I have excellent news for you," she said, studying him in a way that hinted at a dark side to that news. "We have found a placement for your ward."

  The information crushed him. Suddenly he realized what the matron had probably known all along: that he didn't want Soli placed. He couldn't voluntarily give her up, when that moment came, despite all his plans and pretensions.

  "That is what you required," she reminded him gently.

  "Yes." He felt numb.

  "And as is customary in such cases, her tuition will be refunded. We shall return it to you in lieu of your wages this past year. You will find it to be a comfortable amount."

  Var followed this with difficulty. "You-aren't charging for her training?"

  "Certainly we're charging! We are not a charitable institution. But another party has undertaken to cover it. So it is no longer necessary for you to do so, though we have been well satisfied with your contribution. We shall be owing you money, as I said, at graduation."

  "Who-why-?"

  "The lord who is to marry her, of course." Again that intent look. "We're rather pleased with this placement; it is an auspicious one."

  "Ch'in!" he cried, making the connection.

  "He prefers anonymity, prior to the ceremony," she said. "That is why I did not mention it to you before. But you do deserve to know, and with his livery so evident.... He desired a foreign bride, being momentarily sated with domestic affairs."

  Her nicety of expression was wasted on him. "But Ch'in!"

  "Isn't this what you said you wanted? The highest possible placement for your ward, that she should never again be in want, never again run with a savage?" Once more that obscure glance.

  Yes, it was what he had wanted. What he had thought he had wanted, once. The matron had more than fulfilled the bargain. He could not back out of it now.

  "it is not necessary for you to be separated from her," she continued with a certain wise compassion. "The Emperor Ch'in is always in the market for strong men-at-arms. . . and he seldom pays close attention to a wife for more than a year. His earlier wives have considerable freedom. . . provided they are circumspect."

  Var had once been naive about such things, but he had learned from experience. In this land, the appearance was often more important than the reality as it was in America, too. She was suggesting to him that he take service with the emperor now. . . and make his overtures to Soli after a year or so, when she might have borne a child to Ch'in and when some newer bride would command Ch'in's attention. Such arrangements were common, and the emperor, though cognizant, did not object-so long as no public issue was made. Soli could have a royal life, and Var could have Soli-if he were patient and discreet.

  The matron had showed him the expedient course. He thanked her and left. But he was not satisfied, and expedience had seldom appealed to him before. Suddenly the thought of Soli rolling in the arms of a stout Chinese emperor repelled him. He had never thought it through to this moment to realize that she would buy her luxury with her body, as surely as he 'had bought her training with his own body. He was furiously jealous-of the suitor he had never seen, and whom Soli had never seen.

  He remembered Soli's insistence that she did not favor the schooling and only wanted to travel with him. Now, suddenly, this loomed far more importantly. Now that she could marry richly-would she feel the same?

  It became imperative that he ask her.

  But of course he could not simply walk into the school dormitory and put the question to her there. There were strict regulations. She would be beaten if she were caught speaking to him, just as any girl was beaten who disobeyed any school rule, however minor. But this late in the term they were supposed to discipline themselves, and increasing social stigmata attached to infractions. Soli, a foreigner, had become quite as sensitive to this as any native. So- Var approached cautiously. She would speak to him if he were circumspect: that is, if they were not caught.

  And he discovered that the emperor's men were on the job. Every approach to Soli's dormitory was subtly guarded.

  Var, not to be put off by merely physical barriers, picked the weakest section of the defense and moved through. This was the garden behind her second-floor window. He intended only to knock the lone sentry out with one blow from one stick-but the man was alert, and escaped the blow, and fired his pistol. Var brought him down, but roughly, and there was no chance to scale the Wall before reinforcements came.

  They were well organized, and they had rifles. A semicircle of uniformed men closed in, pinning him in a shrinking area beside the wall. A vehicle crashed through the bushes, making him wince because he had carefully tended those plants. A light speared from it, catching him.

  Var stood still, knowing he was trapped. He had not suspected that they would act so competently. He could not make a break against lights and guns.

  "Who is it?" a voice called from the truck.

  "A maintenance worker," another replied. "I've seen him around."

  'What is he doing here?"

  "He cuts the hedges."

  "At night?"

  "What are you doing here, laborer?" This was directed at Var.

  "I have to talk to-a girl," he. said, realizing that he was hurting himself by his directness.

  "Which girl?"

  There was a huddle behind the light. Var remembered that they had renamed Soli for school purposes, in the interest of minimizing her vulgar origin. The name he had used was not familiar to them, and he could avoid the truth even now. "The one you guard-betrothed to Ch'in."

  "Bring him to the barracks," the officer snapped.

  They brought him. "What do you want of this girl?" the officer demanded, in the privacy of the temporary building the soldiers used.

  "To take her away, if she wants to come." The truth comforted him in the telling, despite the effect it had on these men. He did want Soli, even though it might cost her luxury. He knew that now.

  "Do you understand that we shall kill anyone who tries such a thing?"

  "Yes."

  The officer paused, thinking him a fool or a simpleton.

  "You struck down the sentry?'

  "Yes."

  "Why do you want to take this particular girl?"

  "I love her."

  "Why do you think she might go with you, an ugly hunchback, when the pinnacle is within her reach by staying?"

  "I brought her."

  "You knew her before?"

  "For four years we traveled together."

  "Fetch the matron," the officer said to one of the men. "Heat the knife," he said to another. And to Var: "If she denies your story, you shall die as an example to those who would thwart Ch'in. If she confirms it, you will merely lose your interest in this girl. In any girl."

  Var watched the knife being turned over and over in the flame of a great candle and pondered how many he could kill before that blade touched him.

  The matron came. "It is true," she said. "He brought her, and has paid for her keep by his labors, and kept her here when she wanted to escape. It is his right to take her away again-if she wishes to accompany him."

  "It was his right," the officer said grimly, "until the Emperor Ch'in selected her for his retinue. No other rights exist."

  She faced him without alarm. "We are not in Ch'in's demesne."

  "You may readily be added to it, madam."

  She shrugged. "A strike into this region at this time would unite the enemies of Ch'in in the north, at a time when his main force is occupied to the south. Is one bride worth it?"

  The officer pondered, tak
en aback by the political acumen of the matron. "The Emperor does not wish bloodshed to mar his wedding day. We shall pay this man a fair price for his prior claim, and deport him unharmed from the vicinity. Should he return before the nuptial, he will be held until that day is passed-then suffer the death of a thousand cuts." He fetched a bag of coins. "This will cover it."

  The matron looked at Var soberly. "His compromise is reasonable. Accept it, nomad. And take this too." She handed him a packet

  Var was reminded of the manner of Minos, god of New Crete, as he gave Soli the keys to the power boat. He realized that in some subtle manner she was helping him. He could either start fighting now-sure death, however many he took with him-or trust her guidance and acquiesce to the officer's terms.

  He accepted the money and the package and accompanied the guards to their truck. He had not given up, but this did seem to be the best present course.

  Six hours later he was set down, alone, a hundred miles to the north. Dawn was breaking over the badlands.

  The packet contained a map and a human thumb.

  The map was routine, covering all this region. Except for a single location marked in red. The thumb- Var was familiar with digits, since his own were mis-, shapen. He could recognize certain men as readily by their hands as by their faces. This was not a Chinese digit; was American. Massive, with fine mesh under the skin, scarred.

  This was the Master's thumb.

  Obviously the matron knew where the Master was alive or dead, and had known for some time. She must then also know the connection between Var and Soli and the Nameless One. Now she had chosen to reveal her information to Var. Why?

  He shook his head, not comprehending that part of it. She was an honest woman, but, like so many of these people, mysterious in her ways.

  He had less than a fortnight to recover Soli-if he intended to do so before Ch'in took her to his couch. If he wanted to present her with a fair choice between the ugly nomad and the rich powerful emperor.

  He could return to the school in time, for they had underestimated his capacity for walking. But he knew the officer had not been bluffing about the fate that awaited him there. And suddenly he was unsure what Soli's reaction would be. She had been angry with him, and she could have a luxurious life.

  He could get to the indicated spot on the map in a week's strenuous marching. Surely the Master's thumb had come from there. It was time for him to settle his difference with his longtime friend and mentor-or to know for certain that it could never be settled. If the great man were dead.

  It was an arena. Gladiators met each other and wild animals in mortal combat, for the delight of paying spectators. The star attraction was a pair of foreign savages- prisoners captured half a year before by troops of a lesser kingdom in a border skirmish. Sol and the Master, of course.

  Brief inquiry enabled Var to come at some semblance of the truth. The two had followed Var into the Aleutian tunnel but, more canny than he, had avoided the menace of the automatic sweeper. They had fought off the amazons, but had been balked by the radiation at the bridge. So they had taken the long way round, knowing that Var would not stop until he reached the mainland across the ocean. Back through the tunnel, overland north to the true transpacific tunnel, and down the Asiatic coast. They had traversed a lot of territory, fighting off enemies of animate and inanimate types, and had taken years in the process. Then they had run afoul of one border patrol too many-actually a quasi-official bandit band-and had been taken under the threat of massed rifles.

  After their wounds had healed, the two had been sold to the arena. Their left thumbs had been cut off, to mark their status. Now they were earning out their contracts-at fees that would necessitate a decade to meet the price.

  "I will pay off the contract," Var said. He put the bag of coins into the hand of the agent at the gate.

  The man counted the money and nodded. "Ch'in currency. Very strong. For which one?"

  Var described the Master.

  "Very well." Var had expected haggling, for his little bag could hardly be worth a ten-year contract. The man gave him a receipt, written in the Chinese symbols. Var took it eagerly and entered the grounds, finding his way toward the gladiators' accommodations. It had been surprisingly easy.

  But he had a second thought, and paused to puzzle out the symbols. The note was phony it granted admission to the grounds and nothing else. He bad been cheated.

  Angry, he started back-but soon realized that the man would have hidden the money and perhaps disappeared himself, after this illicit haul. No one else would choose to believe Var's complaint. Arenas were known to be dens of vice and corruption; he should have been alert.

  Still, they had set the pattern, meeting his honest if naive approach with dishonesty. Var's ethics of civilization were not fundamentally ingrained, for he had come by them only through his contact with the Master, and had not had them reinforced by his adventures beyond America. He treated other men as they treated hini-and he knew how to look out for himself, thus warned.

  He threw away the paper and continued to the gladiatonal pen. This was a high wire stockade at whose corners wooden towers rose. A man with a rifle stood watch within each edifice, facing toward the center.

  Nearby were the animal cages. Tigers, bison, snakes, vicious dogs-and some mutants from the badlands. These were set up as a sideshow when not in use. From the healing wounds some had, Var inferred that they were used repeatedly. Probably the gladiators were given a bonus for defeating an animal impressively without killing it.

  He scouted the rest of the compound. This was an off day. The shows only took place every three of four afternoons. Relatively few sightseers like himself were about. In one side lot there Were several trucks, used for transporting animals and equipment from time to time. The show traveled every few months, seeking new pasture and new audience-and perhaps as a hedge against too great an accumulation of vengeance-minded suckers.

  Satisfied, Var retreated to a comfortable wilderness patch and slept. He would be busy tonight.

  At night, refreshed, Var re-entered the compound, using his well-versed stealth. He prised down a window in a locked truck, got the door open, used pliers on the wiring in the manner he had learned as a handyman dealing with balky equipment, and unblocked the wheels. Then he moved to the nearest guard tower, climbed it noiselessly and tapped the rifleman on the head with a makeshift singlestick. He did the same for the second tower, having learned from his brief experience with Ch'in's men not to give a man with a gun any chance to react. The section of fence between these two points was partially out of sight of the far towers, so a passage was clear. Var took metal clippers and made a hole. He entered, carrying a handgun and flashlight taken from the second guard.

  The gladiators were in a locked shed that reeked of excrement. Var used screwdriver and crowbar to unlock it with minimum noise, working on the side away from the manned towers. He knew the occupants would overhear, but would not give him away. They might, however, attempt to overpower him and make their own escape. He had to be ready.

  He kicked open the door, shone the light inside, and stood back. "I have a gun," he said softly in the local dialect. Then, in American: "Come out singly and make no sound-if you want your freedom."

  "Var the Stick!" the Master said at once, but low, for he was well aware that they had to stay below the hearing level of the tower guards. His bulk showed in the doorway. "Do you bring a gun to meet me?"

  That familiar voice sent a shiver through him, but Var answered firmly. "No. This is not the circle. You swore to kill me because you thought I had killed your daughter. I did not kill her. I will take you to her now."

  There was a long pause. "Not my daughter-his," the Master said at last. And Sol appeared beside him, a somber shape. "We suspected as much, when we had the description of the boy you traveled with. But we didn't know- and you kept running~ So we had to follow."

  So the entire chase had been for nothing! Var could have taken Soli
to the Master, or even let Sol see her, that time they met in the circle, and the oath would have been voided. It would not even have affected the contest for the mountain, because Bob had already reniged on that agreement. Such irony!

  Var looked up to discover the Master before him, well within striking range. But of course the Weaponless would not have struck, outside the circle-not against one who shared that convention. And had he wanted to violate the code, he could have thrown something. Except that his thumb was missing; that would have made it harder.

  "I should have questioned you," the Nameless One said. "A day after you were gone, I knew I had acted wrongly, for you had done only what I sent you to do. It was the mountain Helicon that betrayed us both. Betrayed Sol too, for he did not know that his child had been sent-until he learned that she was dead."

  Var remembered that Soli had said her parents hadn't known, that Bob almost never told the truth, and that she had cooperated because of Bob's threat against their lives. Ugly business-the underworld master's revenge for the nomad attack. "That's why he came-to avenge her?"

  "To bury her. He had already avenged her when he slew Bob and fired Heicon. Sosa-disappeared in that carnage. All that was left was to bury Soli-but he could not find her body. So he came-and by the time we met and worked it out, you were gone again, with your... sister."

  They were wasting time. "Come with me," Var said. "She is in-in a school. There will be trouble."

  It was as though there bad never been strife between them. They came: the Master, Sol, and four other gladiators of diverse and grotesque aspect. Var led them through the fence and past the animal cages, ready to loose the beasts upon the compound if any alarm were cried. But, almost disappointingly, there was no disturbance. They piled into the truck and Var started it, using the shorted wiring. They were off.