Guardians Of The Flame - The Sleeping Dragon Part 17

Andrea spoke up. "Because probably the news is all over Pandathaway by now, and somebody is going to be looking for whoever did it, stupid. I thought that Walter was just joking before. Tell me, Karl, have you ever thought about the consequences ofa""

"Shut up." That was from Doria, oddly enough. Her defending Karl made little sense. "Tell me, Karl; Did you think about the consequences?"

Karl didn't answer for a moment; he sat there tailor-fas.h.i.+on, his body relaxed and loose, his eyes misty like an absurdly overmuscled Buddha. "To be honest, I didn't. It... it was important enough that... consequences just didn't matter. I'm sorry if you're upseta""

"Upset?" Andrea was almost hysterical. "If they find out who did this, we all could get killed."

Doria's face clouded over. "He said that it was important enough, didn't he? I don't understand whya"but maybe I don't have to. We alla""

Andrea threw up her hands. "That's the trouble with you," she shrilled at Karl, ignoring Doria, "you're always so d.a.m.n intense about everything. That's whya"never mind." She shook her head slowly, rubbing at her eyes. "It's done."

Ahira picked up on that. "Right. It's done." He turned to Karl. "Did anyone see you three?"

"No." Karl chewed on his lower lip. "And besides, around here, the three of us aren't all that unusual-looking. Maybe even if someone did see us, and somebody else links that to Ellegon getting awaya""

"a"it might not matter," Ahira finished. Well, that wasn't likely, but at least it was a possibility. "But let's not take chances. I don't want you three to be seen together in public until we're gone from Pandathaway. And we'd better arrange to get out of here soon. Soon as possible. And that means that you and I'd better do well enough in the Games tomorrow so that we can buy what we need quickly, and get out of here." He considered that for a moment. "Better: We buy just what we need to get to Aeryk, and finish outfitting ourselves there."

Aristobulus c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "I'll still need another two days in the Library, at least. I've gotten one of my spells back, but I need the Fire spell, and I think, with a bit of effort, I could puzzle out the spell that would let me bring writing materials past the Glypha""

"No." Ahira made that as final as possible. "We don't have time for all that. You and Andrea each have one spell to relearna"you do that tomorrow morning while we get ready to leave after the Games."

Hakim lifted his head. "I've got a better idea. We could have Ari Glow a blade or twoa"we ran into a smith who might pay nicely for it, if Doria handles the negotiations, And then he can relearn both that and his Lightning spell. That way..."

"Good." Ahira nodded. "And that's the way we do it. Where are these Games taking place?"

"Mmmm." The thief spread his arms, embarra.s.sed. "To be perfectly honest, we got kind of disa""

"At the Coliseum," Aristobulus snorted. "North side of the city. The oddsmakers set up their tables at dawn; contestants have to be there by midmorning. Anything else you need to know? It's fortunate that at least one of us spent some time asking questionsa""

"Enough." Ahira cut him off. "Spilled milk. Doria?"

"Yes?"

"You and Walter take care of placing the bets on us. Don't go deep into our money, but if Karl and I are as good as I think we are, we shouldn't have any problem winning. And since we're new here, I beta""

Doria nodded. "a"that you'll be undervalued. Fine. How much should we put down?"

Karl spoke up. "That's not the way you gamble. Not if you know what you're doing. Figure out what we need, find out what the odds are, and then you'll know how much to bet."

Andrea stood and stretched. "Well, unless you've got something for me to do, I'm going to wash up"a"she put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawna""and then get some sleep. That meal's going to my head." She started to walk away, then stopped and turned. "One thinga"what if you and Karl don't win?"

Ahira shook his head. "You're looking at it the wrong way. a"Now, Doria and Hakim, I want to go over what you've got to buy tomorrow, just at a minimum. That way, you can price it out, and know what you'll have to bet in order to make the kind of money we need."

Andrea scowled down at him. "What do you mean, I'm looking at it the wrong way?"

He sighed. She still hadn't worked it out? "Karl, tell her."

The big man shrugged. "Look at it this way: We don't have enough money to buy what we need to get out of Pandathaway, and this is the only way I can see of making it in a hurry. And whoever's in charge of this place is probably looking for me right now, and isn't likely to think all that highly of the rest of you. So..."

"So?"

"So we'd d.a.m.n well better win, hadn't we?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN:.

The Games.

A man cannot be too careful in his choice of enemies.

a"Oscar Wilde.

Karl frowned. The place felt normal, but the chatter was strange. The swordsmen's pit beneath the right-hand limb of the Coliseum was a large bare room of gray stone, lit only by a few flickering oil lamps that dangled from the ceiling. The air was cold and damp; the reeking sawdust that covered the dirt floor should have been changed long ago.

But the conversation was positively merry.

"Bet I get past the second round without two marks on my hide, and youa""

"You serious? I put down a couple of silver on myself, but I only got thirty-to-one I make it to the finals. Who you betting with? I've been going to Antrius, that slimy son of a dungflya""

"Well, of course Ohlmin's going to grab first. n.o.body else can move near that fast. So I'm not holding back anything in the early rounds; I'll be satisfied if I can just get into the finalsa""

''You're dreaming, friend. Or crazy. Dwarves are no d.a.m.n good with longbows; they're just too short. Although the little b.u.g.g.e.rsa"''

A pinch-faced elf waved the hundred or so swordsmena"humans, elves, dwarves, and curious mixes that Karl couldn't quite identifya"to a semblance of silence. Standing on a waist-high stone block in the center of the high-ceilinged room, he wore a light-blue tunic with matching leggings, a gold headband that marked him as an official of the Games, and a bored expression that proclaimed that being around a bunch of ill-washed swordsmen was not his ultimate pleasure in life.

"I am," he intoned, "Khoralt ip Therranj, Wineseller's Delegate to the Guilds' Councila""

"So bring us some wine!" a mocking voice called out from the crowd.

The elf sighed. "If you will all keep silent for a few moments, just a few moments, this will be over, and you can proceed to the winning of some money." He made as though to step down, but moved back toward the center of his pedestal as the rush of noise diminished somewhat. He went on: "I will be the chief official of the swords compet.i.tion. The top prize will be two hundred pieces of gold; lesser prizes in the usual ratios."

The same voice called out, "If it's as usual, then why are you wasting our time telling us?"

Karl looked over at him. He was a thin, dark man, dresseda" like all the other contestantsa"only in sandals, leggings, and tunic; armor was not allowed in Pandathaway's Games. Karl had a flash of dislike; the swordsman's crossed-arms slouch, his thin smirk, his whole manner suggested that he was slumming, that he was too good to be here, with ordinary warriors.

Khoralt sighed. "Perhaps not everyone here is a veteran of the Games, Ohlmin. I see some new faces; perhaps there are some men who would not even recognize you."

The thin mana"Ohlmina"shook his head. "If they don't now, they will soon." He smiled thinly. "Business has been slow, latelya"I've an order to fill in Aeryk, and if I don't win today, I won't have enough coin to make my purchases."

The elf shook his head. "Your business concerns are not germane, but..." He shrugged, raising his head to address the crowd. "Ohlmin, here, has won the swords compet.i.tion every time that he has entered it, whenever his selection of slaves has dipped low enough that he's needed the extra coin." He turned back to Ohlmin. "Now, is that sufficient acknowledgment?"

Ohlmin paused. "For now," He smiled.

In another setting, Karl would have wanted to wipe the smirk off Ohlmin's face, but drawing attention to himself for no profit hardly seemed to be a good idea.

"Before I begin," Khoralt continued, "an announcement. Our sewer dragon, as most of you know, escaped yesterday. It is not known if he managed to free himself, or if he was aided. If necessary, the Wizards' Guild will discover which. But in any case, there is a standing reward of three thousand pieces of gold for the capture of the one or ones responsible, if any."

"Dead or alive?" someone called out.

"Alive. Two hundred fifty for the body or bodies, with proof." The elf pursed his lips together. "We want the culprit for a Coliseum execution. Now, as to the rules of this compet.i.tion: This will be a single-elimination event, and will begin just as soon as the axe-and-hammer contest is over. You can choose your weapons just as soon as I finish; we have a broad selection; there is no reason to push. Two critical hits const.i.tute a win, and there will be no arguments as to whether a blow on a non-sword arm is a critical hit: It is not. Decisions of the judges will be just short of final. Any dispute of the judges' decisions will be settled by bowmen in the stands, at the judges' discretion." He smiled thinly. "And that will be final. Are there any questions? If not, then leta""

"Wait!" A new voice called out. "Who won the bows? I had a bit of coin riding on it, and the d.a.m.n armsmen say if I leave to find out, I can't get back in."

Khoralt sighed, examining a slip of parchment which he drew from, his sleeve. "I will give you all the winners. Wrestling: Gronnee of the Endell Warrens. Crossbows: Edryncik, Pandathaway's Chief Man-at-Armsa"" A ragged cheer went up. Clearly, a few of the swordsmen had bet on Edryncik as a local favorite. "And the axe-and-hammer is down to the last two: Wyhnnhyr of Aeryk, and a dwarfa"umm, Ahira of the..." He paused to work out the next words. "... Len-kahn Tunnels. And no, I don't know where those are, either."

Karl smiled. Good. Ahira had made it to the finals, at least. And with a bit of luck...

The elf c.o.c.ked his head to one side, considering the volume of the muted roar from the crowd outside. "From the level of noise, I would hazard a guess that the newcomer has won."

Karl sighed. And now, the rest of it is up to me. It was a long way to Bremen; getting there safely could depend on how well they were equipped. And that would depend on his winning the purse and the bets that Walter and Doria had placed on him by now.

The elf bowed quickly. "And now, it is time for you to select your weapons, and get out there. Good fortune to you all. Anyone who makes trouble gets an arrow through his liver."

Karl joined the ragged column shuffling toward the exit, stopping in his turn at the armory to turn in his sword and pick out one that was roughly the same size and heft.

Although, it wasn't a sword, not really: The weapon was made of wood, except for the wrought-iron crosspiece that served as a guard. But it hefted well; probably it was lead-filled. He fitted his fingers to the hilt and took a few cautious swings. The sword didn't balance too badly, but he was a bit nervous about the black tar that coated the "blade."

"Your first time in this nonsense?" The swordsman to his right let his own sword dangle, keeping it from touching his leg with an easy three-fingered grip.

Karl nodded. "Yes. This thing feels... adequate, I guess, buta""

The other, a short, stocky man with an easy, gap-toothed smile, interrupted him with a nod. "But you're worried about marking yourself with your own stick." He shook his head, "Don't worry about it, as long as you can keep from marring yourself before the first round; they send out slaves to rub the gunk off between rounds." He c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "Are you willing to do me a favor?" he asked, as they stepped out of the tunnel, into the brightness of the Coliseum.

Karl sucked in air. He hadn't seen the Coliseum from the inside before, and it was a sight. Pandathaway's Coliseum was a huge curve, two gray stone arms reaching out toward the plains beyond the city, lined by rows and rows of cheering, shouting spectators in the stands. Near to the base of the curve, the cup of the Coliseum where the swordsmen stood, the stone of the Coliseum was dark, stained with age; beyond, toward the open mouth of the structure, the stones lightened, as though they were newer, added on.

And in the distance, the Aershtyl Mountains loomed, a ma.s.sive backdrop that covered the horizon. From this distance, they seemed blue, wreathed with feathery clouds that clung to their peaks like cottony halos. The highest peaks were touched with snow, and glistening threads that twinkled on the mountainsides, combining into larger streams and rivers.

"Gives the actors one h.e.l.l of a time," Karl's companion said.

Karl tore his eyes from the mountains. "What?"

A smile. "You must be new herea"the Cla.s.sics Festival just finished last month." He gestured at the plain, and the blue mountains beyond. "How would you like to play Iranys with that as your compet.i.tion? It either breaks an actor, or pulls out the performance of his life."

"It would." Just a few weeks ago, just a few eons ago, Karl had been an acting student, paying less attention than he should have to memorizing his lines in The Gla.s.s Menagerie. But that was to be played on a proscenium stage; flats and lighting to aid the players. He shook his head. To act, to compete with that as a background, was a challenge that would frighten Alec Guinness.

"Now, how about that favor?"

Frowning at the smaller man's persistence, Karl turned back to him. "What favor?"

"Look, friend, this is your first time here; odds are, you're not going to make it past the first round." He jerked his chin toward the slaves raking the sands. "As soon as they finish, we have to square offa"for the first round, it's pick-your-opponent. You have any objection to taking me on? I could use an easy first round."

Karl smiled. "I just might win, you know."

The other gave a slight shrug and a doubting grin. "I'll take my chances. Let's move out, nowa"I want to get a spot well away from the stands; sometimes they throw things."

Karl followed him out to a playing area near the center of the field. Like the fifty or so others, it was square, the corners marked by four iron poles. There would be two ways to lose a round, and any chance of advancing in the compet.i.tion: either be hit by two blows that the judges deemed critical, or leave during play the five-yard-square area marked by the poles.

As the other swordsmen settled into their places, sound in the playing areas died down, except for bitter grumbling from several swordsmen, unhappy that they had not snagged weaker opponents.

Karl put that out of his mind, trying as well to tune out the increasingly loud roar of the crowd. He had to win; there was too much riding on it to let himself be distracted.

And if he was going to win the event, he would need to conserve his energy for the later rounds, He hadn't counted the contestants, but it was vanis.h.i.+ngly unlikely that their number was exactly a power of twoa"and that meant that some would be awarded byes, now or in the later rounds. Likely the byes would go to contestants with winning records; in order to be ready for the last rounds, Karl would have to win the early ones quickly and easily so that he wouldn't be winded in the later ones.

From behind him and to his left, Khoralt's voice boomed, "Prepare to fight!"

Karl gripped his sword carefully.

And then, "Fight!"

Karl's opponent moved in cautiously, his sword weaving, ready to block or strike. The smaller man lungeda"

Karl dropped flat on his back, his right foot kicking up toward the other's hands. The sole of his sandal connected with his opponent's wrists; Karl was rewarded by a cry of pain and the sight of the other's sword flipping end over end out of their playing area.

As he bounced to his feet, Karl's own sword lashed out, drawing a big, black X across the front of his opponent's tunic.

The other sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "d.a.m.n me!" He shook his head. "Not as clumsy as you look, big mana"that should teach me to try and take advantage of a tyro." As Karl accepted his extended hand, he brightened. "Although, now that I'm out of it, I might put down a coin or two on you. Think you can make it to the final round?"

Karl shrugged. "I think I might manage to do that."

"It gets harder from here on, you know." He walked away.

Karl counted the remaining contestants, as the losers walked off the field. Sixty-two were left. One of the judges beckoned to Ohlmin and a beetle-browed dwarf, giving them byes, as Karl squared off with his a.s.signed opponent, a tall elf, almost half again Karl's height. He was light-skinned and blond, almost an albino. But not nearly as frail as he appeared; it took several tiring minutes of sparring for Karl to work his way inside the other's guard and smack the sword out of his opponent's hands.

Thirty-two left. Karl was paired off with the dwarf who had been given a bye the previous round. The dwarf fought with a sword longer than Karl's, and with physical strength much greater.

Fortunately, he was just a bit slower, and a sucker for a false opening.

Karl came out of that match limping. Before he'd been able to mark the dwarf twice, the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d had connected with a wicked slash to Karl's right knee.

Sixteen left. Karl favored his injured knee as he limped over to the playing area a judge indicated. This time, his opponent was a human, a long-haired, smooth-shaven man who fought in a bizarre two-swords style. It took a bit of time for Karl to weave his sword in between the long slas.h.i.+ng sword and the short parrying onea"and it cost him another blow to his knee.

He ended that round with a stroke to the other's temple; the man dropped as though he had been a puppet, his strings slashed.

As the harried slaves ran out to daub the remaining contestants off, Karl forced himself to breathe slowly, shallowly. With a bit of luck, he would have three rounds lefta"and that G.o.dd.a.m.n Ohlmin hadn't even worked up a sweat. Karl s.n.a.t.c.hed the slave's rag. wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead, He set his sword down for a moment and rubbed at his swollen knee. It would support his weight, but just barely.

Eight contestants left. His opponent was a hulking creature, seemingly a dwarf-human hybrid: He had the heavy brows, huge jaw, and oversize joints of a dwarf, but he stood almost six feet tall, grinning with yellowed teeth as he raised his sword in a mocking salute.

Too tired. I'm just too tired. At the command to begin, Karl swept up sand with his bad leg; his opponent ducked under the spraya"

a"right into Karl's stroke. The blow to the hybrid's jaw knocked him out of the playing area, out of consciousness, and out of the compet.i.tion.

Four. Facing an elf, Karl staggered under a preemptive slash, then barely connected with a backhanded stroke that had been aimed at the elf's midsection, but connected with his throat. Gasping for breath, the elf stumbled into a pole, and then into Karl's winning stroke.