Chainers Torment

CHAPTER 20

Laquatus stood in the First's private chamber at the head of a small group of Cabalists and dignitaries. They had all been summoned in the wake of the raid, ostensibly to testify about their whereabouts and report what they had seen. The Mer ambassador recognized a simple call for scapegoats, however.

He was unconcerned for himself. His contact with Major Teroh had been completely innocent, or at least, absolutely secret. Even if the First knew he had been in contact with the Order, Laquatus felt secure. There was nothing in the content of his exchanges with Teroh that was incriminating. If Teroh read a hidden meaning into the ambassador's words, Laquatus could easily feign shock and could well afford to make restitution. Besides, he was certain the First understood the political necessity of keeping in touch with one's enemies as well as one's allies, especially in these troubled times.

The captain of the city watch standing next to him was not so confident. The man had the common, earthy stink of fear all over him, and with good reason. The city's defenses were virtually nonexistent during the opening minutes of the raid, and so far no one had come up with an explanation of how the Order was able to penetrate so far into the city so quickly. There were even rumors that the captain had betrayed the Cabal and given the Order free access to the heart of the city, but Laquatus knew for a fact they were false. He surreptitiously stepped further away from the captain, however, for his was the most likely head to fall.

Next to the captain stood Chainer, the young dementist who was going to provide a replacement for Turg. Chainer seemed calm, almost tranquil compared to the captain, but Laquatus was having a difficult time seeing into the boy's mind. Most of the individuals he encountered in person were as defenseless as if they had peepholes installed in their foreheads that Laquatus could peer into at any time. Chainer was more like Caster Fulla, however. Instead of a peephole, his mind was guarded by a tortured maze of mirrors. Every time Laquatus looked in, all he saw were distorted images of himself.

The boy Chainer kept glancing to his right at Louche, a sallow Cabalist who had just become the new Master of the Games. Louche's mind was more open than Chainer's and calmer than the captain's, but there was no useful information in it. It was full of facts and figures and deals and deadlines, all glued together with acrid contempt for almost all sentient being.

The First swept into the room with his attendants hovering all around him. The killers on the wall stood a little straighter as he passed them, and the entire entourage took up their positions at the far end of the room. The First's mind was even more closed to Laquatus than Chainer's.

"I will be brief," the First said. "I am conducting a basic inquiry into the recent visit we received from the crusat. Captain Fleer."

"Yes, Pater." Sweat fairly poured from Fleer's forehead.

"Explain the guards' poor performance."

"It was a well-organized attack," Fleer stammered. "They hit us on three sides simultaneously."

The First nodded to one of his hand attendants, who was busily transcribing the captain's words. "West, north, and south?"

"Yes, Pater."

"But not from the east. Not from the sea." He looked at Laqua-tus meaningfully, but the ambassador kept his face and his thoughts blank.

"No, Pater. There was no attack on the port or the docks."

"That you know of."

"Uh… no, Pater. Not that I know of."

"And yet, somehow an entire squadron of crusat fanatics was able to gain access to the arena."

"Yes, Pater."

"And storm the vault in an effort to seize the Mirari."

"Yes, Pater."

"And you have no idea how they were able to get to the arena so quickly?"

"No, Pater. We killed or wounded hundreds," he added desperately. "They took heavy casualties in their retreat."

"Because they took almost none in the attack. Be silent, Captain." The First turned his withering white gaze on Laquatus. "Ambassador," he said. "I trust you were not inconvenienced by the attack?"

"Not at all, O Patriarch. If not for the noise, I doubt I would have even known there was an attack."

"Outstanding. As you know, the comfort of our visitors is something we city dwellers pride ourselves on. We would never want to breach the sacred bond between host and guest."

"That bond is as strong as ever, my lord."

"You must understand, however, that these events will impact the plans we have already made."

"Of course, my lord." Laquatus swallowed his first taste of uncertainty. "I trust it will not impact them too… dramatically?"

"That remains to be seen." The First addressed Louche. "Master of the Games," he said, and Laquatus saw Chainer's mild surprise tinged with… disappointment? Laquatus wasn't sure, but clearly Chainer had not been aware of Louche's promotion.

"Pater."

"Your predecessor allowed the arena to be taken like some lonely mountain outpost. The pits are now in your hands. Will they be ready for the anniversary games?"

Louche's lips moved as he juggled figures in his head. "Three months from now, Pater?"

"Two months, three weeks," the First said.

Louche nodded. "No problem. The damage to the facilities was mostly cosmetic. The crowds will be down for the next few weeks because the spectators will be afraid of another raid. They'll forget, though. By the time the anniversary rolls around, everything will be back to normal."

"Outstanding. Be sure that all the shills and runners know the date. I want the arena full."

"Yes, Pater."

The First now turned his milky gaze on Chainer. He smiled warmly. "Master Chainer," he said.

"Pater." Chainer seemed completely at ease, almost disinterested.

"Once again, the Cabal owes you its thanks. It is impossible to tell how much damage the Order would have done-" he glared at Fleer- "if you hadn't arrived in time to stop them."

"I am your obedient child."

"That you are. But there should be more of a reward than my praise. Is there anything you desire? If it is within my power, it shall be yours."

"I require nothing, Pater," Chainer said. "Though my friend and partner Kamahl was gravely injured during the raid. He is not Cabal, yet he put his own body in harm's way on the Cabal's behalf."

"Then your friend and partner also has my thanks. His wounds are being seen to?"

"They are. But if it pleases you, Pater, I have chosen my reward."

"Name it."

"Give me the Mirari," Chainer said, and Laquatus fought the urge to cry out.

"Not to keep," the young dementist went on, "but to use on my friend."

"I was unaware that the Mirari had healing powers," the First said. Laquatus heard an element of suspicion in the Patriarch's voice, suspicion that Laquatus shared. How did the boy know something about the Mirari that neither Laquatus or the First knew?

"As far as I know, it doesn't. But the extent of my powers has yet to be defined. I would like to try to help my friend with the Mirari in my hands."

Laquatus could no longer contain himself. "No one yet has touched the Mirari and lived," he blurted.

Chainer smiled. "Except for me, Ambassador. And I only seek to borrow the Mirari, not to own it."

The First paused, obviously deep in thought. "It shall be done," he said. "Although I shall accompany you, to protect the Cabal's interests."

"Of course, Pater."

"I should very much like to see the Mirari in the hands of an expert," Laquatus said. "Twice now I have watched it destroy its temporary owners."

"Your presence is not necessary," Chainer said. Laquatus was preparing to argue when Chainer continued, addressing the First. "Although I would also like to employ the Mirari as an aid in fulfilling our bargain with the ambassador. I can provide him with a new familiar at any time, but with the Mirari in hand, I can exceed his expectations."

"I have no objections to the dementist's proposal," Laquatus said quickly.

The First was slower to respond. "Very well," he said. "But one use of the Mirari is a reward. The second must be paid for."

"Pater. I am always at your service."

"When shall the Mirari be employed on my behalf?" Laquatus asked.

Chainer and the First exchanged a knowing glance, then each nodded. Laquatus was beside himself that they were communicating right in front of him, and he had no idea.what they were saying.

"Two days hence," the First said, and Chainer nodded again. "Now, there is one final matter that I need to address." He clapped his hands once, and the former Master of the Games was dragged, bound and kicking, into the chamber. She was gagged, but she continued to babble incoherently through the heavy cloth.

"Capau, be still." The sound of her secret name drained all the energy out of the former Master of the Games. She stood dazed and listless, her eyes glassy and fearful. The First gestured, and one of his attendants stepped forward and slashed her bonds from her wrists and ankles. The former Master of the Games stood perfectly still as if unaware of her new freedom.

Laquatus stole a glance at Louche, who had just taken over the dangerous position. For once the bitter little man was not thinking of how much others annoyed him. In fact, Laquatus didn't need to read minds to understand the sickly, haunted look on Louche's face.

"Sadget, step forward" the First intoned, and Fleer woodenly took up the space next to the bound master.

"You have failed, my children," the First said. "But in the Cabal failure is not punishable by death. Failure requires correction, not extinction. Your failures, however, have cost the Cabal too much. You will make amends for the lives and the materials wasted by your blundering." The First spread his arms wide, and for once none of his attendants jumped forward to do his bidding. In fact, Laquatus thought, even the near-mindless hand attendants were staying well clear of Fleer and the formerly bound woman.

"I forgive you, my children, for your failure." The First smiled at Laquatus, and added, "My greatest flaw is a tendency to overindulge my family. I can never stay angry at them for long." Laquatus smiled politely, but the Cabalists continued to writhe in horror before the First.

"Capau. Sadget. Accept your forgiveness, and your Pater's love. Embrace me and settle your account, so this matter can be forgotten."

Laquatus saw frenzied bolts of terror flash across Louche's mind, and even Chainer seemed apprehensive. The merman was fascinated. He had never seen anyone so much as brush the sleeve of the First's robe. He understood physical contact with their patriarch was the Cabalists' only taboo, and yet two of them were being beckoned into the First's arms by the man himself.

The errant Cabalists stepped woodenly forward, shuffling like sleepwalkers. Tears of terror were streaming down Fleer's face, and the former Master of the Games seemed almost catatonic. They came forward, however, and stood perfectly still as the First wrapped them both in his long arms.

As soon as the gray flesh of the First's hand touched the squirming Cabalists, they began to scream. The First tightened his grip and locked his hands together with Fleer and the deposed master held tight. Their skin blackened where he touched it. The patches of stricken skin spread like fire across a pool of oil, and fine tendrils of black smoke drifted from the victims into the First's waiting nostrils. The Cabal patriarch tightened his grip again and threw his head back. The two figures in his arms were now scarcely recognizable as human. Instead, they seemed to be delicate, paper-thin flowers that were drooping, dying, and rotting all in a matter of seconds. The hollow, brittle rinds of two adult Cabalists collapsed into a thousand fragments as the last of their essence was converted into ebon mist and absorbed by the First.

"Now," the First had grown larger, more robust, "all is truly forgiven." He clapped his hands together, dislodging ashen fragments from his sleeves. "Chainer," he said, "stay with me. The rest of you are dismissed with my thanks."

Laquatus followed Louche as the guards led them out and down the hallway. He would have to be especially careful now. In two days he would be in the same room with the Mirari while Chainer employed it. Everyone else who tried to use the sphere died in cataclysmic circumstances while the Mirari rolled free. If Chainer were going to destroy himself as Pianna and Aboshan had, Laquatus intended to make sure that this time he was the one who caught the bouncing ball.

While the others were led away, the First had his attendants hold up documents for him to read, nodding once for each when he was finished. The attendants made the First's mark on the scrolls he approved, then took them away.

"It was a terrible thing, this crusat raid," the First said.

Chainer nodded.

"Such a thing should never be allowed to happen again," the First continued.

Chainer nodded.

"There were a hundred Cabal fatalities and twice a hundred injuries. But even more than for the murder of our brethren, I want Major Teroh and the other hard-liners to pay for their arrogance. Do they think they can attack us in our own home and walk away with only a bloodied nose? They owe us restitution, and no one walks away from a Cabal debt."

"The First is wise."

"You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?" The First's eyes were calm and wide.

"Yes, Pater."

"And in return, you know I will grant you a second use of the Mirari."

"Yes, Pater."

"When can you leave?"

"Tonight, Pater. After I have visited Kamahl and tried my best to heal him. He was instrumental in my shikar. I cannot leave him to the leeches."

The First nodded. "What did you think of my demonstration?"

Chainer paused. "I think the ambassador either encouraged or enabled the raid. I think he still wants the Mirari. I think he intends to use it to take control of Mer, and then he will come for Otaria."

"He will try," the First agreed. "But there is value in an ally with no morals. If he will betray us to the Order, he will in turn betray the Order to us."

"The First is wise."

"Let us discuss the details of the casting you have planned for him. I may be able to… improve the overall result."

"As soon as I return, Pater."

"Outstanding. Now," he thrust his hands deep into the sleeves of his robe. "Let us attend to your barbarian friend."