Chainers Torment

CHAPTER 22

Chainer moved into his lavish new quarters in the First's manor and threw himself into his new duties. The Order's crusat blossomed into a full-blown war in the wake of Chainer's visit to the camp, and the First charged Chainer with bringing the hostilities to a speedy conclusion. While the First dealt with angry communiques from the Order's highest ranking officers, Chainer would respond to the marked increase in crusat raids around the region. The raiders were not yet numerous enough to mount another attack on Cabal City. Instead, small bands of troopers and officers were terrorizing the lesser Cabal strongholds in northern Otaria, especially those with pit facilities. So Chainer had very little time to dwell on Kamahl's betrayal. Mere days after mutilating himself, the barbarian packed up his kit and left the leech's chambers on legs that could barely support him. Chainer realized how completely Kamahl had turned his back on Cabal hospitality. He wondered what kind of madness led a man to spit on his hosts and make enemies of his closest friends. The last thing Chainer heard about his former partner was that he was renting a room in a public house near the docks, where the rents were low and interaction between landlord and tenant was minimal. None of that mattered in the larger scheme of things, of course. Kamahl insisted on being treated like any another contestant in the pits, and the Cabal would happily accommodate him. When he came for the Mirari he would fall to Chainer just like every other nameless challenger.

Chainer's new quarters were large and sumptuous, but he had no furniture apart from a chair and a sleeping cot scavenged from his room at Skellum's academy. He brought the cot because it reminded him of his mentor, not because he needed it. Sleep came to him in short, sudden bursts, and sometimes it never came at all.

Just as well, he mused. He had very little time to sleep, anyway. The First had sent scrolls and tomes for him to review, and the Master of the Games regularly added stacks of dates and pairings for upcoming games. Chainer himself had requested some additional reading material on his own, but all of the scrolls and heavy books and loose sheets of paper lay in a confused pile in the corner of the smallest room. Chainer had read them all and retained quite a bit of it, but he preferred to spend his time preparing for battle. He made snakes or weighted chains and aggressively hurled them at imaginary enemies as he sprinted and rolled from room to empty room.

They were all coming for the Mirari, he knew, all of them. The First had been so delighted with Chainer's use of the sphere on Kamahl that he had made Chainer its official keeper. It stayed hidden in a warded vault that would only open if Chainer and the First spoke the right charm at the exact same moment while standing side-by-side outside the door, but no one was ever permitted to touch the Mirari but Chainer, not even the First himself. Even better, when the Mirari games were staged, Chainer would represent the Cabal, and if he won the tournament, he would win the right to bear the Mirari permanently, as he now bore his dagger and censer. A victory for the Cabal meant a victory for Chainer, and vice-versa.

Chainer impulsively created two huge saber- toothed anacondas and set them on one another. He wanted to see what happened when they tried to squeeze each other to death. While the snakes wrapped around each other like a braided garrote, Chainer let his mind wander back to the sensation of holding the Mirari in his hands, of having unimaginable power literally at his fingertips.

Chainer had stood over Kamahl's sleeping body with the Mirari clenched between his palms. In his mind, he saw a bipedal snake man with copper scales standing alongside Kamahl. The two images slid together until they were two overlapping phantoms occupying the exact same space. The snake man's body faded away except for those areas that corresponded to Kamahl's wounds. Chainer felt the first giant wave from an endless ocean of power flow out of the Mirari and into his head. Something shifted deep in his brain, and when he opened his eyes the First was beaming, and Kamahl had live, healthy flesh ready for the leech's grafting spells.

Tapping into the Mirari was different than being in dementia space, different even from communing with Kuberr. The Mirari was its own power, and it didn't mingle or share with the person who held it. The sphere was more like an infinite battery in search of a will through which it could focus and release its energy. The Mirari could change the world, Chainer knew, but it couldn't decide how on its own. Making the decision and unleashing the power had proved fatal to everyone but him, and Chainer took enormous pride in that. Not only was he the only being alive who had used it, he alone was the only one who could. It was his to employ, his to use on behalf of the Cabal. It had told him so the first time he saw it, and everything it had shown him had come true. As soon as he had annihilated the Order and won the Mirari for himself in the games, his destiny would be complete.

A soft knock and a call of "Master?" interrupted his training.

Master Chainer had earned the rank by successfully completing the shikar, and the First had formally conferred it upon him in the wake of the redoubled crusat. He dismissed the two anacondas, touched the polished marble wall to ground himself, and replied.

"The Cabal is here." He was learning to control the physical changes his powers caused. If he concentrated, he could cancel the musical reverberation of his voice. He was less successful at controlling the appearance of his eyes. A young blonde girl came hesitantly in. She held an onyx scroll case. "The First and Ambassador Laquatus await your presence," she said. She never looked up at Chainer. He guessed his eyes were currently hollow. Had he been that timid at her age? That frightened? "Thank you, little sister," he said. She smiled to acknowledge his kindness, but she still seemed cowed, terrified. Perhaps she had only smiled to avoid antagonizing him. Chainer felt the urge to send a rattlesnake slithering across her sandaled feet, a glowing-eyed venom-spitting nightmare that would strike but never bite, that would follow her everywhere and burrow under her pillow while she slept, rattling all the while.

He put the temptation aside. He had business with the First, and besides, he was sure the messenger would crack in less than two days. Hardly worth the effort of creating the snake in the first place. "If you are ready, Master, I will take you to them." "I'm ready, little sister. Lead on." Chainer saw the shadow of a thick, scaled body moving across the messenger's foot, but she didn't react to its touch. He blinked hard, and the rattler was gone. "Are you all right, big brother?"

"I said lead on," Chainer snapped. He was suddenly irritable. Was it lack of sleep? He vowed that he would get some rest, as soon as he and the Mirari introduced Laquatus to his new familiar.

Chainer was taken to a small, comfortable room outside the vault that contained the Mirari. He was greeted warmly by the First and Laquatus, but the ambassador visibly fumed when he was ordered to stay behind while the Cabalists fetched the sphere. When Chainer reentered the room bearing the Mirari, Laquatus stared at it hungrily. "Ambassador," Chainer said. "On behalf of the First and the Cabal, let me apologize for the delay. Now, as agreed, I present you with Turg's replacement." Chainer used the Mirari as he had with Kamahl, held tight between his hands with his eyes closed. He had put a great deal of thought into the casting beforehand, with constant input and refinement from the First. Every detail had been meticulously planned. Unleashing the actual creature was almost an afterthought. Chainer saw the creature clearly in his mind. It was a medium-tall humanoid male with five fingers, no toes, and the well defined musculature of a competitive swimmer. Its body was hairless and featureless, an unbroken surface with no openings for eyes, nose, ears, or mouth. It was bruise-black in color, a dark and murky purple that was effective camouflage both in the shadows of the city and the sunless depths of the ocean. With an extremely bright light directly behind it, however, one could see that it was partially translucent with no recognizable bones or internal organs of any kind. In his mind's eye, Chainer saw a collar streak out and find the featureless man's neck. He noted with satisfaction that the figure did not struggle, or claw, or react in any way to the collar. It seemed as comfortable with it as it did without it.

Chainer gave the leash a gentle mental tug. The creature took a single step forward and disappeared. Chainer opened his eyes, and the purple figure stood in the center of the room, steaming like a lobster fresh from the pot.

"Ambassador Laquatus." Chainer presented the featureless man with a grand wave of his golem hand. "Meet your new familiar. I call him Burke." Laquatus inspected the new arrival and was clearly unimpressed.

"Quickly. Call him by name," Chainer said. Laquatus put his hands on his hips, obviously skeptical of the entire affair.

"Now. He needs to imprint on you as his master, or we'll have to start all over."

"Burke." Laquatus shot the First a long-suffering look as he spat the name out. "Attend your master."

Burke responded to the sound of his name by facing Laquatus then dropping to one knee with his head bowed and his fists on the floor.

"At least he knows his place," Laquatus said. "But what else can he do?"

Chainer had expected this reaction from Laquatus, and he smiled patiently. "Well," he said, "you specified obedient, powerful, and amphibious. Burke is all those things. You can see how quickly he responds to your voice. And he doesn't need to breathe, so both land and sea are accessible to him."

"But what does he do?" Laquatus keened. "Obedient and amphibious do me no good if there's no power to back them up. He has to be my new jack, my champion in the pits. How does he fight?"

Chainer smiled again. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order." He scanned the room. "If you'll follow me to a room with a bit more space, ambassador, I'm sure Burke will satisfy your concerns."

"If I may," the First interrupted, "I will take my leave of you now. Chainer, let us return the Mirari to the vault, so you and Laquatus can test his new jack." Laquatus sulked some more as Chainer and the First left him to become acquainted with Burke while they put their treasure away.

"Has it worked, Master Chainer? Have you created exactly what we discussed?"

"Exactly, Pater."

"Outstanding. Convince the ambassador to accept his gift and send them both on their way. Come to my chambers when you are done. I would discuss your strategy for defending the lesser pits between now and the games."

"I will be along directly, Pater." They replaced the Mirari, sealed the vault, and the First went away, trailing his attendants behind him. When Chainer returned to the conference room, Laquatus was peering into Burke's blank face.

"Can I touch him? Is he at least caustic?" "Follow me, please. And no, Ambassador, I'm afraid not. Burke's entire body is composed of nothing more than a dense, inert gel." He led Laquatus down the hall toward one of the private pits, smaller versions of the main arena for private matches and demonstrations. "Inert? Do you mean it does nothing?"

"I mean it interacts with nothing. A drop of his body material on your skin or in your bloodstream wouldn't harm you any more than a drop of oil. The gel is extremely durable, however. The sharpest sword or dagger might pierce his hide, but the blade will snap before it goes any deeper. "I think you're missing the advantages of his body, Ambassador. He has no bones to break, no organs to rupture. He doesn't breathe, so he cannot be strangled. He has no eyes, so he cannot be blinded. No pores means no way for his skin to absorb irritants. No circulatory system means no way for diseases or poisons to spread inside his body. Virtually every attack he faces in the pits is going to fail, simply because his doesn't function like a normal living body. Burke's body is just a vessel for his mind, and his mind is a vessel for your commands." "Doesn't function normally," Laquatus echoed. "It doesn't seem to function at all! All you've given me is a defensive creature, a bodyguard. And I will repeat myself. I need a jack, a fighting champion." They came upon the closed door that led to a private pit, and Burke sprang forward to hold the door for them as they passed. "Thank you," Chainer said, and Laquatus grumbled.

"I sincerely hope, Master Chainer, that you don't expect me to be polite to this servant every time he attends me."

"No, Ambassador. The Cabal teaches us to be polite to all our guests, including their servants. And Burke is now very much yours."

"A greater treasure I have yet to receive," Laquatus said nastily. "And you haven't answered my question. How does he fight? And more to the point, how does he win?"

"Now that we're here," Chainer said, "I can answer your question. And believe me, you're going to love this."

"We shall see."

"Order him into the center of the room, please." As Laquatus repeated the order and Burke moved, Chainer continued. "He will only respond to you from now on. After a few weeks, you won't even need to talk. It'll be as if he hears your thoughts." Chainer watched Laquatus carefully, but the merman kept his expression neutral. "Won't that be an interesting sensation? To speak without moving your lips?"

"Imperial jesters have been doing that trick for a thousand years," Laquatus said. Chainer thought he saw the barest flicker of recognition, however.

"Of course. My apologies. I'm sure that the Mer learned to speak silently generations ago. Makes it easier to issue commands at the bottom of the sea." Laquatus was staring sharply at Chainer, as if he had just realized there was a deeper meaning to Chainer's casual banter. "You mentioned a demonstration, Master. I am waiting."

"By all means. For the purposes of the demonstration, I'm going to put Burke up against a mixed group of sea creatures and land crawlers."

"An excellent idea. But that is an offensive term to some mer-folk tribes."

"I meant no offense," Chainer said. "There are so many types of sea creatures in the sea that I sometimes have trouble keeping all their customs straight. It would be better for everyone if Mer could unite behind a single leader, don't you think?"

Laquatus looked intrigued, but his voice was suspicious. "I would welcome the chance to discuss the current situation in Mer with you. Later on. But right now… my demonstration?"

Chainer nodded, and with a wave cast four hostile monsters across the room at Burke. A twenty- foot sea serpent thrashed wildly, forcing a long-horned tiger to spring aside and stalk Burke from his left. A four-foot bat with eight spider's legs flapped and chittered madly around the ceiling, and a huge bipedal killer whale slowly moved closer to the gel man. Burke stood impassive with his feet planted firmly on the floor as the creatures all oriented on him and began their attack.

"Order him to kill them all," Chainer said. Laquatus shrugged.

"Burke," he intoned. "This is your master. Destroy your attackers."

The tiger pounced first, seven hundred pounds of snarling fangs, gleaming horns, and sharp claws. Burke stood frozen as the big cat descended on him, and then, in a motion so fast that not even Chainer could follow it, he ducked under the tiger's extended paws and sunk his arm up to the shoulder in the brute's belly. Burke wrapped his other arm around the top of the tiger's torso and slammed it head-first into the stone floor with a brutal combination of power and balance. The tiger's skull cracked, and it faded from the room.

Burke then turned his eyeless face up to the ceiling and extended his arm out toward the spider bat. The gel in his arm softened and stretched as he reached, doubling then tripling the length of the appendage until the bat was trapped in the upper comer of the room. Burke's hand dipped and weaved as the bat tried to avoid it, but he quickly caught the rabid creature by the throat. His arm snapped back to its normal size and shape in a heartbeat, leaving the bat to fall dead to the floor. Its head remained clenched in Burke's hand until both parts of the bat's body disappeared.

The whale creature was better suited to fighting on dry land than the serpent, and it reached Burke first. It grabbed the ambassador's jack like a doll in both hands and rammed him deep into its mouth. The creature ground its huge jaws together once, twice, and then threw its head back like a shark to swallow the chunks of its meal without further chewing. It turned to

Chainer and Laquatus, spread its arms, and bellowed defiantly.

"Well, that was entertaining," Laquatus said. "Perhaps we should just forget this ever happened and you can-"

"Three, two, one," Chainer said. "Go."

A bruise-black fist erupted out of the monster's sternum. The whale-thing roared and tried to tear Burke's arm off, but the gel man held on, and the creature only succeeded in ripping Burke completely out of its gullet. Burke's expressionless face showed no reaction to the layer of blood and bile that coated him. The mortally wounded whale-monstrosity fell onto its back and soon vanished.

"One more to go," Chainer said.

The sea serpent had at last found some traction and was undulating at Burke with its jaws wide. Burke regarded those jaws, and then he leaped forward. His spread-eagled body met the oncoming serpent's head, and Burke splashed across the serpent's face like an overripe piece of fruit. To Laquatus's visible amazement, the shapeless splotch of gel adjusted itself and willfully expanded across the serpent's mouth and nose until both airways were blocked. The serpent shook its head violently in an attempt to dislodge its tormentor, but the gel clung tight and would not be thrown off. The serpent's struggles grew slower, then feeble, then stopped altogether. Only when it disappeared out from under him did Burke reform himself into his humanoid shape.

"He's even better underwater," Chainer said happily. "He can smother gills as easily as lungs. The principle's exactly the same, keep air from entering the body."

Burke stood tall and silent, awaiting his next command. Laquatus woodenly began to clap, slow, measured applause that gave him time to think.

"Absolutely marvelous," Laquatus said. "Forgive me, Master. I did not fully appreciate the value of your gift."

Chainer smiled graciously. "Not at all Ambassador. There are many tasks a man in your position needs a reliable jack to perform. The Cabal is always willing to assist you."

Laquatus was still staring at Burke, his mind furiously churning.

"I'm sure," Chainer went on, "that you'll find something useful for Burke to do almost immediately."

That caught Laquatus's attention. "There are many ways I could employ such a champion. Some are more urgent than others."

"I also have urgent matters to attend to. Matters far less enjoyable than meeting with you, Ambassador. I wonder if we were to discuss these matters together, would we find a way to help each other, as we have done today?"

"I would be most interested in finding out the answer to that question, Master Chainer. I would welcome the Cabal's help and the chance to help the Cabal in return."

"Perhaps we should meet again before you head back below the sea. Tonight, for example. Over dinner?"

"I would be honored. Come to my embassy this evening, and we'll discuss the future."

"I am looking forward to it. Ambassador?"

"Yes?"

"I've heard wondrous tales of the great libraries of Mer. Is it true that they go back thousands of years?"

"Absolutely true."

"And if you had access to certain other… special documents… a man of your talents could uncover a secret that has been hidden for generations?"

"It would be my pleasure to try. More, it would be my duty. You have done me a great service here today, Master Chainer."

Chainer offered the ambassador his hand, and after a conspiratorial smile, he took it.

"The Empire and the Cabal," Chainer said. "May their interests always coincide."