"I am ready, Master."
"That," Skellum said, "is what we are here to prove or disprove." The wind kicked up again, bringing a stream of mist with it. The mist swirled around Skellum until it enveloped him from the ground to his chin. Before it covered him completely, an implosion sounded, and he sent a smoking comet shooting toward the milling creatures. Halfway between Chainer and the inhabitants of his mind, it crashed and exploded into the shape of the snake-thing that had been charging at them under the mustard sky. It roared, angrily pounded the ground, and then turned on Chainer.
Skellum's body was fading away. His voice was distant. "Good luck, Chainer. Kuberr does not offer protection, but he does offer rewards. You must now earn yours." He looked quickly around, then added, "I'll be watching." Then he was gone.
Chainer watched the approaching monsters. There were more of them than he first realized. He tried to remember how many people and beasts he had defeated in the pits, and how many of those he had claimed for the Cabal.
They were following the aggressive lead of the snake-thing. He knew exactly where that had come from. Snakes were a constant danger in the flats, and he'd had bad dreams about them when he was a small boy, before he met Minat.
Well, he thought, he had beaten them all at least once before. Skellum said it wasn't about beating them, though, it was about controlling them. Chainer didn't even know if they could be killed again. He wondered if they remembered how he defeated them the first time, and if he could rely on the same moves twice. In the last few moments he had, Chainer reviewed his assets. He had never been able to create fighting chains so easily and so quickly before, but he still doubted his ability to subdue the creatures one at a time or in small groups before the larger mass overwhelmed him. He wasn't even sure if his dagger or the sharpened weight would penetrate the snake- thing's hide. He would just have to find out the hard way.
The snake-thing tried to barrel straight into Chainer without slowing. Chainer sprang over it and stabbed with his dagger. He had been right, the beast's hide was too thick.
Callda the crusat bird came next. It was even uglier and more misshapen than Chainer remembered. He would have to ask Skellum about that when he got back-if he got back. Happily, Callda's skin was no tougher than it had been in the street outside Roup's, and Chainer punctured one of its wings with his chain and guided it to the ground like a failing kite.
The rest of the shambling horde would soon be upon him, and the snake thing was preparing for another attack. Think, Chainer commanded himself. How could he control a dozen-odd monsters at once? He could kill some of them with the death bloom, he could cripple some more with a dagger to the hamstrings, and he could bind a few with-
The tip of the snake-thing's claw cut the air in front of Chainer's face. It was no longer charging him headlong, but instead slashed at him with its long arms. It feinted and slashed, but Chainer stayed just out of its reach.
A half-rotted zombie bear reared up behind Chainer, roaring through its skeletal jaws. Chainer cracked his chain like a whip across its remaining eye, and when the clumsy brute lunged at Chainer, it connected with the snake-thing. Enraged, the serpent ripped the bear's paw off in its teeth and then backhanded Chainer across the chest with its claws. Chainer nimbly rolled backward, pressing his shirt into the four razor lines bleeding beneath it.
The wound was not serious, but it would force him to think and act faster before the loss of blood started to slow him down. The zombie bear and the serpent were tearing into each other, with the bear getting the worst of it. More creatures in the horde began to turn on each other, and Chainer wondered if he could let them reduce their own numbers and then conquer the survivors.
Something small and ratlike clamped onto his calf muscle with a dozen tiny needle-sharp teeth. Chainer broke its back with his dagger and kicked the wretched thing off. The snake-thing finished with the last few ghastly parts of zombie bear and immediately began stalking Chainer again. A small swarm of glowing insects spat fire at Chainer, and he shielded his eyes from a cascade of sparks. A large pool of oily slime flowed over the dull stone ground, engulfing its fellow nightmares as it also homed in on Chainer. He backpedaled, keeping the horde in front of him with his arms spread wide and his hands empty. The creatures continued to advance, focused once more as a group on the stranger in their domain.
Chainer exhaled. He thought he had the answer. It was an unfamiliar shape, and these were not ideal circumstances, but he had been making links and weights on his own for half his life. He'd been taught proficiency by an expert, then had become an expert on his own.
The snake-thing was slower, almost playful in its final approach. The other nightmares gave it a wide berth as it hissed and grinned and clawed the ground. It was trying to get him to run, to play the role of prey. Chainer smiled at it, playfully showing it his empty hands.
"Come on," he taunted. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. "You'll never get a better chance."
The snake-thing lunged. It was lightning-fast, but Chainer's hand was faster. He cast a chain at its neck, unlike any chain he had ever created before. It was malleable in flight, solid enough only to give itself weight. When it collided with the snake-thing's throat, it folded itself completely around the beast's neck, joined itself around, and tightened. The snake-thing stumbled forward, clawing at the choking collar, and Chainer pulled it right off its feet by yanking down hard on his end of the chain. The brute went face-first into the ground and fought with the unyielding metal around its throat.
Chainer cast another collar around the fallen bird. He held neither of the new leash-chains in his hands. Instead, the ends of each hovered an inch from his open palm, following the hand's movement as if they were attached to it. With his hands thus free, Chainer was able to send collar after collar into the pack of oncoming creatures. He nimbly dodged any who came close enough to strike, and he sank sharpened weights into the bodies of those who broke or avoided the collars. He caught the shapeless mass as it flowed over another, more solid body, collaring both creatures with the same cast. As he leashed each monster, Chainer created a conduit through which he could drain its energy. He used this conduit to draw a portion of each thing's essence into himself, and the monsters invariably fell to their knees, fatigued, weakened, chastened.
Chainer floated above the heads of the now- submissive creatures, borne on a wave of their stolen energy. He no longer felt the pain of his wounds, new or old. He spread his arms wide, with dozens of chains radiating out from his hands, each connecting a monster to its new master. Chainer howled.
With a final surge of power, Chainer dispelled all of the leash-chains with the screech of metal on metal and a deafening boom. Chainer dropped to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest.
The newly released creatures growled and grumbled and eyed him angrily, but none dared attack.
"Get going," Chainer said. He brought his arm up, and when he brought it down, a ten-foot length of whip chain cracked among the creatures. "I'll call you when I need you."
The sullen, confused mass began to move away from him. Some ran headlong, terrified of being collared again. The snake-thing was the last to leave, flicking its forked tongue and clawing the ground in front of it. It hissed at Chainer, sounding almost plaintive.
"Go on," Chainer said. "But not too far. I've got plans for you later." He smiled unpleasantly, lost in childhood memories. The creature grunted, turned, and loped off. When they were all distant and tiny, the mist returned, gently swallowing Chainer from the ground up. Chainer loaded the censer, lit it, and began to whirl it around his head in short, slow circles. He had just earned the right to continue as Skellum's apprentice. He had faced down his oldest nightmare, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he had found a place that was entirely his own.
He continued to casually spin the censer while he waited for Skellum to return and take him back to Cabal City.
PART TWO: CASTER
CHAPTER
12
The next few months went very well for Chainer. He thought him-self happy when the First praised him for delivering the Mirari and ordered Skellum to step up his train-ing. He was even happier, however, when he had been allowed back in the pits.
After spending years in the dementist academy, Chainer was oddly comforted to be back among people who lived and died by their skills rather than their ability to lie. There was also a strange camaraderie among the contestants that Chainer never got tired of. You could be standing in a group waiting for your next bout, and when the starting horn sounded, the people around you could be your allies as easily as your enemies. Unless you had been assigned or had petitioned for a grudge match, you really had no idea who or what you'd be facing, or what the stakes were. Chainer had not seen war, but he imagined the silent, grudging respect pit fighters had for one another was like the bond that formed between soldiers during combat. Only in the pits, there were no uniforms to distinguish friend from foe, and the person who watched your back today would probably stick a rusty spike in it tomorrow.
The Cabal's house pit fighters weren't even sure if they were allowed to win. The Master of the Games plotted and paired the results every match with the fixers, on instructions from the First himself. The most important thing was to put on a good show, to make people come back either as contestants or as spectators. If the Order were out in force and a string of humiliating Cabal defeats would lure them in, then the home team was instructed to embarrass themselves. When the First specified what kind of reaction he wanted from the crowd, the Master of the Games prepared it, and the Cabal fighters produced it.
Chainer had never competed in the main pits before he met Skellum, so his matches were less structured, and he was free to fight as best as he could. His youth and his skill with the chain made him something of a novelty act, however, so he was often just outside the entrance in one of the show pits. At the time, Chainer had felt like he was fighting for his life, but he later realized he was only there to impress passing foot traffic. The Cabal had taken him in, trained him, housed him, and fed him, however, so he did his oath-bound duty and put on a show for the passersby. He took that time to master his technique, and before long he had amassed enough wins to impress the pit bosses, the Master of the Games, and, eventually, Skellum.
His current return to the pits had been gradual but steady. In his first bout, an afternoon show that few spectators attended, he tore through a team of slow-moving zombie wildcats with just his chains and dagger. When the pit bosses released a maddened coal- bellied razorback at an evening exhibition two days later, Chainer kept away from it and spun his censer until he produced the snake-thing he had mastered earlier. It tore the smoking, red-hot boar into little bits and then swallowed the pieces whole. The snake-thing turned on Chainer with murder in its eyes, but Chainer quickly collared it once more and brought it to heel.
With each match he was making a name for himself. People were starting to notice his eclectic style, and more and more people filed in to watch him fight. Most dementia casters in the pits were armed only to keep their creations in line. Even the ones who knew how to fight were casters first and warriors second. Chainer could engage his opponents directly from the outset and then surprise them with an unexpected monster, or he could send something nasty at them to test their abilities and then exploit any weaknesses with his chain and dagger. Word started to spread that the young dementia caster was undefeated since returning to the pits. The quality of Chainer's competition increased, and Chainer's control and winning streak increased tight along with them.
When he wasn't in the pits he was with Skellum, meditating and breathing and mastering his own dementia space. Each creature he faced in the pits left an impression on his eyes, his ears, his memory. At night, those impressions churned and bubbled in Chainer's sleeping head, and when he awoke, there were more nightmare denizens of the world with the black sand and the hole in the sky. Some nights he would retire after dinner and lie in a deathlike state until midday, and others he spent in a fitful, restless state of agitation. No matter how long he slept or how deeply, he always dreamed of monsters. The largest of his pets was still only slightly larger than human, but Skellum was pleased with his creature's durability, detail, and speed. His mentor was also pleased that Chainer was following his instructions to the letter. Skellum worked him hard to keep him grounded in the day-today events in Cabal City, and he seemed satisfied with Chainer's progress. The old man had not mentioned the mental strain of dementia casting in weeks. The only objection
Skellum had to Chainer's success was that his pupil was obliged to abandon the designation "apprentice" in favor of "dementia caster."
"I didn't train a mere caster. Casters work in the mud and the blood of the pits," he huffed. "I train dementists. Dementists do important, detailed work for the First. And we know all the best people."
Chainer laughed at the old snob and tried to smear some of the dirt from the pits on his hat.
"Let me be a caster for a few more months," he said. "I like it."
Skellum blocked Chainer's grimy hand with his cape. "Don't touch me, you clod. I have a dinner engagement at the manor tonight."
"With some of the best people, no doubt."
"Indeed. And you'd do well to wipe that smirk off along with the dirt. You're invited, too."
"Is it the First?" Chainer said, suddenly interested. "Is there news of the Mirari?"
Skellum scowled. "No, then yes." When Chainer looked confused, he went on. "The Master of the Games wants a sit-down with you and me to plan for this weekend's event. Apparently, there's a couple of tough nuts coming in from the mountains, and he wants you to attend to them personally." Chainer wrinkled his nose. "Does that mean I have to baby-sit another barbarian?" His eyes brightened. "Or has Kamahl returned? I'd like to place a few bets on him, make some extra silver." He tugged absently at his ragged clothing. "I could use a new suit."
"That's my boy," Skellum said happily. "I'll take you along to my tailor. Never forget worldly delights, my boy. They should be the reason you fight so hard."
"Master," Chainer said dramatically. "You mean that serving the Cabal isn't reward enough?"
Skellum narrowed his eyes. "You have always had a smart mouth," he said. "And no, service is not its own reward. Neither the First nor Kuberr himself have ever said otherwise. We serve the
Cabal, but the Cabal also serves you. That's how it works. That's why it works. Remember it."
Chainer nodded. "Right now, I'm feeling pretty well served. And after I clean up and join you for dinner, I'll feel even better."
"Agreed," Skellum said. "Meet me in the master's parlor in an hour. He'll meet us there."
*****
Chainer sat in stunned silence as the Master of the Games prattled on. She was different from the master who had directed the games that had been interrupted by the dragon attack. No one spoke of him or his absence, and Chainer decided not to ask.
He shot an aggravated look over at Skellum. His mentor seemed calm and collected, but Chainer could tell he was not happy, either. Chainer waited for the new master to take a breath. When she did, he broke in.
"So you're saying I have to lose." He had never been asked to throw a match before. He was finding that he didn't like it.
"Not in so many words," the master said. She was a tall woman, with a tight, pinched face and her hair pulled tight against her skull. "We want the Cabal to make a good showing. But this pair has worked their way up through all the lesser pits between here and the mountains. They haven't lost yet, but we haven't been able to give them what they want."
"What do they want?" Skellum asked. He was keeping a close eye on Chainer, watching for any sign that his pupil was losing his temper.
"Oh, she's looking for her brother or something. The last she heard, he had come to fight in the pits. She and her dwarf keep beating the best we can throw at them, but so far nobody knows who she's actually looking for, or if we know
where he is. He might be dead. He probably went into debt and is working it off in the side pits or in the flesh mills. Most barbarians can't resist betting on themselves to win." She smiled unpleasantly.
Chainer kept his voice neutral, but he saw Skellum note his renewed interest. "Barbarian?"
"Yes," the Master of the Games checked her roster. "Apparently, both brother and sister are from a tribe in the Pardic mountains. She's got an elderly dwarf as her partner. They seem to have worked together before, because they make an excellent team. Undefeated so far." She raised her eyebrows at Chainer. "Just like you. Think of the crowds, little brother. The Cabal's best against the toughest thing ever to come out of the hills this year."
"I think I know her brother," Chainer said.
The Master of the Games smiled. "That must be why the First gave me your names. I wasn't going to mention it unless I had to, but this directive comes from the First himself. You are to fight the pair from the mountains. The First wants them to get the information they've already earned, but we can't just hand it to them. So we're going to let you square off against them, put on a good show, and then let them walk away feeling victorious."
Chainer looked at Skellum again. He smiled. "What's in it for me?" he asked. Skellum fiddled with his hat to hide his smile of pride.
"For you, little brother? You get to do your duty for the First and the Cabal. What else did you expect?"
"He expects compensation," Skellum broke in. "His undefeated record has value. You're asking him to throw it away. It's only fair that he get something in return."
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