The Song of Phaid the Gambler

by Mick Farren

  'Bring her round, dammit! Bring the nose round. If we take another gust broadside we'll corkscrew for sure.'

  Between buffets the master mopped his brow with a red handkerchief.

  'More, give her more! Keep bringing her round. Sweet Lords, if this gets any worse we're going to have to turn back towards Bluehaven.'

  Solchaim chose this moment to reveal himself.

  "There will be no turning back. I have business in Windlee.'

  The master swung around. The ship shuddered and he slid sideways in the command chair.

  'You're dead! You're out on the ice, dead!'

  'You cannot kill a demon.'

  The master was totally gripped with rage.

  'You're not a demon! You're a twisted unclean elaihi, you're a deformed monster, but you are no demon! You can maybe dabble your fingers in my mind one time, but you'll not do it twice. I'm ready for you, monster!'

  Phaid winced. He would never forget the agony of the punishment after he had made a similar stand.

  The Valentine staggered to the side. It was as though it had been slapped by a giant hand. The skids were having trouble staying on the ice. The master's instincts swung his attention from Solchaim to the helmsman.

  'Loose her, man! Loose her! Let her go, let her run with it, it's our only hope. When you get control back start out of this, we're going back to Bluehaven. It's suicide to try to go through this!'

  'There will be no turning back.'

  The master rounded on Solchaim.

  'You'll not order me on my own bridge!'

  He reached for the blaster at his hip, but he never completed the move. Solchaim froze him. Even the backwash of what happened next was too hideous to contemplate. Phaid had one brief impression that the man's brain was being taken apart from the inside by an awesome vindictiveness. He closed off everything and tried as hard as he could to blank himself out. When Solchaim was finished with the master he let him drop. He flopped to the deck like a sack and rolled as the boat pitched. Solchaim stepped over and sat down in the command chair. With studied casual arrogance he swung one leg over the arm of the chair and lay back. The crew were rigid at their posts. To every human on this bridge it seemed that the devil had take over their ship. There was a red glow in the room.

  Phaid, who was a little more acclimatised to the elaihim special effects found himself a corner where he could brace his legs and wait for the coming shocks. As he had expected, for the next two hours Solchaim guided the boat, with unerring skill, along the very rim of disaster. He ran into a storm of storms, dancing the now dull eyed crew like a set of puppets and pushing the structure of the iceboat to the edge of distintegration. It seemed like a miracle that they neither turned over nor were torn apart. Phaid started to appreciate the miracle even more when the wild bucking died away and the boat ran on all skids with only minor vibration. It meant that they had come through the worst of the gales and were coasting into Windlee.

  Just as Solchaim was making preparations for the final docking, one of the zombie-like crew turned from where he was monitoring the long range aft scanner.

  'A small fast boat has followed us through the storm.'

  Solchaim nodded. Although his face showed nothing but what in a human would be amused boredom, Phaid felt a faint ripple of surprise and concern. It seemed that maybe this boat was another random factor that hadn't been included in his calculations. A loud metallic groaning announced that the scoops were being furled. The impulse engine's throbbing rose in pitch and volume as the boat laboured up to the dock. Finally the Valentine ground to a halt and an eerie silence took over the control room. Phaid and the women looked at each other uneasily. Each new situation seemed to present its own set of traumatic dangers.

  Solchaim briskly unfolded himself from the command chair and stood up.

  'Quickly, quickly, there is no time. We will disembark now and go straight to the flipper hangar. We take the first suitable vehicle. I want no contact with the human population. Does everyone understand?'

  The three humans nodded. Solchaim had a mild hold on their minds that precluded any argument or discussion. They waited in silence while the clamped down and near somnambulist crew opened the huge main port and hauled the walk tube aboard. Immediately it was secured they stepped into it and brushed past a surprised group of officials and cargo handlers. They followed the tube in the direction of the flipper hangar. Windlee seemed to boast a rather more extensive walk tube system than Bluehaven and they had to walk for some time following colour coded signs before they finally emerged into the hangar. At the connection between tube and hangar, however, the whole party stopped dead. They had been expecting to see a few parked vehicles and maybe two or three more under repair. Instead, the interior of the structure was domin­ated by two huge troop transports. They were big, hun­ched and shiny black. Photon cannons poked their snouts from dark plexiglass gun blisters. The transports bore the insignia of the militant arm of the Consolidated Faith.

  Were these the priests that Dreen had promised would be waiting? Phaid had expected only a handful. Instead, they were out in force. Armed priests' militant in black armour and small round skull helmets patrolled the mouth of the hangar. They were checking each and every vehicle that came in and went out. For Phaid, this proved to be an ill advised observation. Solchaim seized him by the collar and dragged him back into the tube.

  'You! Always the petty intrigues of you miserable little humans. Do you see what your deceit and double dealing has done?'

  Phaid was poised to blurt excuses, but suddenly he slumped. He realised that it was all pointless.

  'You can look into my mind, you know what happened. You can only do your worst.'

  Solchaim shook his head.

  'I need you for the near future. It is crucial that I do not fall into the hands of your priests until I am ready.'

  'What do we do?'

  'We will have to go into the underground city. We will have to go down and attempt to elude them. Eventually they will become bored and withdraw all these fighting men.'

  'There is one way.'

  Solchaim looked amused.

  'There is?'

  Phaid nodded eagerly. He was gambling again.

  'I'm certain that they don't know about you. They're looking for Chrystiana-Nex. If you were to lay low and I handed her over, just like Dreen wanted, it might be possible to . . .'

  ' And you would collect your reward.'

  Phaid sighed. He had had enough.

  'And what the hell would be so wrong with that? Every swine with a delusion of grandeur wants to set me up for something. Everyone has a scheme or a strategy or a master plan that involves me getting cut or burnt or fused or rotated or generally reviled, spat on or executed even. What would be so goddamn wrong if Master Phaid got something out of this torturous exercise? Would the sky fall, or would the world crack apart if poor old Phaid made a profit? I don't have any grand design, I do not want to conquer the world or topple governments, be king of the hill or evil dictator of the planet. Lords, sweet Lords, I don't want to be superior, all I want is a comfortable life; is that so much of a crime?'

  Solchaim put a hand on Phaid's shoulder. He seemed delighted.

  'Such a long and impassioned speech!'

  'Don't patronise me. You haven't burned out all the freewill!'

  Phaid could feel soothing waves washing over him but he was determined to resist them. Solchaim gestured down the walk tube.

  'Shall we go to the elevators?'

  Edelline-Lan and Chrystiana-Nex obediently followed. Phaid didn't move and, strangely, he felt nothing compell­ing him to do so. He suddenly realised that, in fact, he was only being stubborn for its own sake. He didn't want to be caught by the priests either, unless he had Chrystiana-Nex to hand to them and buy his safety and freedom. He hurried after the others.

  Windlee was altogether larger, more prosperous and more ambitious than Bluehaven. Instead of just a single street under the ice, Windlee h
ad four, arranged in a doubled cross, two running parallel and intersecting the other two, also parallel. The streets were also fairly crowded. Many of the citizens seemed self satisfied and prosperous. By the standards of an ice town, the percen­tage of thieves, cut-throats and drifters was low. The ones there were were quite efficiently confined to the colder, outer ends of the four streets by a small but heavy handed gang of law enforcement officers.

  Four of these lounged by the lower doors of the elevators. They wore no specific uniforms but had a certain cohesive style about the way they dressed. Back in Chrystianaville, they might have been taken for a gang of Day One killers. Here they were the law. They stiffened as Solchaim stepped out of the elevator. They needed no instruction. They bristled like a dog with lupes in his territory.

  Solchaim knocked them back to docility with a blast of well being and the party hurried on. Windlee was also a great deal better organised than Bluehaven. It was run by a Council of Burghers who had their chambers in the single centre block formed by the four streets. It was the same block that housed the heating and air supply sys­tems. There was even a choice of accommodation - a rough and ready inn, a modestly comfortable hotel and a limited fare bordello. The bordello was nearest to the elevator exit and Phaid suggested that it might be the last place that the priests would come looking for them. Both Edelline-Lan and Solchaim vetoed the idea and they walked on in the direction of the hotel doing their best to mingle with the crowd and look as inconspicuous as possible.

  For Solchaim, mingling was no easy matter. He couldn't have stood out more if he'd carried a sign with the word 'alien' printed on it. They were making their way past the council chambers when they were spotted by a sauntering patrol of one local lawman and two armoured priests' militant. The local law waved arbitrarily at them. 'Hold up there, you.' Phaid and Edelline-Lan both halted. 'Us?'

  Solchaim, however, took instant action. Snatching up Chrystiana-Nex, he spun away and sprinted, legs flying in a lanky, spider scuttle, in the direction of the nearest building. It happened to be the council chamber. Two lawmen on watch outside were tossed out of the way even before Solchaim reached them. While Phaid still stood blinking, he vanished inside.

  Phaid and Edelline-Lan were swifly surrounded by a wedge of priests' militant and lawmen. The original three who had stopped them had been swiftly augmented by others who were curious to see the cause of the disturb­ance. Phaid found himself looking down the important end of half a dozen blasters. He was becoming awfully sick of people pointing weapons at him. He wearily raised his hands as he and Edelline-Lan were disarmed.

  'For the Lords' sake don't do anything rash. Don't burn me. I'm quite harmless.'

  One of the lawmen pointed at the door of the council chamber.

  'Who are the two who ran inside?'

  The two chamber guards were picking themselves up and shaking their heads dazedly. Phaid also shook his head.

  'You wouldn't believe me.'

  A priest grabbed Phaid by the front of his jacket. There was something particularly sinister in the way that a tongue of plasteel jutted down from the front of the militant's close fitting helmet to protect his nose and face.

  'Don't get clever.'

  Phaid took a deep breath.

  'The woman is Chrystiana-Nex, the ex-president of the Republic, the other is Solchaim the elaihi.'

  Everyone around looked at him as though he was crazy.

  'I said you wouldn't believe me.'

  'Are they armed?'

  'Yes, you could say that.'

  'With what?'

  Phaid tried to change the route that things were taking.

  'Listen, before all this gets out of hand, I think you'd better take me to a superior officer.'

  A voice came from behind him.

  'And presumably you must be Phaid the Gambler?'

  The militants and lawmen moved back. Phaid turned and found himsel facing a grim faced, middle-aged priest. His black robe was trimmed with purple and gold. Phaid assumed that this must be the demi-prelate of whom Dreen had spoken. A pair of small hard eyes looked Phaid up and down.

  'So you brought us Solchaim as a bonus, did you? Or did he bring you?'

  Chapter 31

  It was a siege. Despite all Phaid's proffered advice, his Eminence the demi-prelate had gone ahead and deployed his men to surround the block in which Solchaim had taken refuge. To be fair, his Eminence had a great deal of difficulty comprehending the extent of the elaihim power. He was a military man and hardly a subtle thinker. He wasn't one of the devious mandarins of the central hierar­chy. He maintained the orthodoxy by frontal assault. If the faith was in jeopardy, he sent in the troops. This is what he was doing right now. A line of them crouched in the street with their blasters trained on the building, waiting for the next order.

  Events immediately after Solchaim had dashed into the council building must have added to his Eminence's confusion. A few minutes after Solchaim's disappearance, the building's main door had flown open and a crowd of officials and burghers had stumbled and bounced from it as though propelled by an invisible force. They babbled about how demons had taken over the place and seemed close to hysteria.

  The council building had the look of a place that deserved a siege. With a sense of civic pride the first Council of Burghers had had their edifice fitted with facades that caused it to resemble some ornate fake fortress from a long fallen empire. On a miniature scale it echoed the citadel of Harald the Mad at Freeport or the Keep of Odan XXV on the cliffs above Hai Sai. To be perfect it should have been heroically silhouetted against sky and driven clouds. Unfortunately in underground Windlee, it had to support the huge beams and packed ice of the roof. One face of the building was already scarred by blaster burns and most of the phoney stone facia was melted. There had been some loose fire when a Windlee lawman thought that he had seen Solchaim at one of the narrow slit windows. By a fluke, four priests and two bystanders were injured by flying debris.

  It was at this point that the demi-prelate decided he had to take charge. With smooth and regimented efficiency the priests' militant went into action. A twin line ringed the building, the gawping crowds were herded back out of the way and extra equipment was hurried down from the surface. His Eminence set up a command post in front of the main door to the council chamber. He had a hailing unit, lines to the senior man on each of the four sides and a baby photon cannon to protect him and his aides. Phaid and Edelline-Lan were allowed to hang around in the background just as long as Phaid didn't offer any more insights into the psychology of the elaihim. His Eminence had little time for mysteries other than those of the Faith. He was confident that any problem could be solved by an application of firepower.

  Some of the locals had started to object to the demi-prelate's takeover of the town. A number of lawmen started to complain that they ought to be a part of the operation. After the earlier shooting incident, however, they didn't have too much argument and they were restricted to keeping back the curious crowds of onlook­ers. The burghers felt that they ought to approve any action that the demi-prelate might take. The demi-prelate first ignored them and then, when they set up a vocal protest, he curtly informed them that the whole town was under Holy Law. A couple of burghers wanted to argue that Holy Law was invalid under Tharmier jurisdiction, but the others quickly explained to them how anyone with over a hundred well armed troops had their own natural jurisdiction in a small isolated town.

  Finally all was quiet. The line of black armoured men stretched all the way around the building, the crowd waited and his Eminence paced. The only one who didn't appear to have made his move was the one who had caused all the commotion in the first place. Solchaim was both silent and invisible. This upset the demi-prelate more than anything else. According to the book, a siege situa­tion usually involved some participation on the part of the besieged. Finally, after nearly an hour of waiting, his Eminence ran out of patience. The hailer was kicked into action. It came to life in a deafening
yowl of treble feedback. His Eminence scowled as the operator brought the unit under control and made it ready for him to speak. When the noise was reduced to a low hum, he stepped up to the device.

  'This is Demi-Prelate Scourse of the Consolidated Faith. I have placed this town under Holy Law and, under that Holy Law, I order you to surrender such weapons as you have and give yourself into my custody.'

  The amplified voice echoed around the watching streets. Phaid looked at Edelline-Lan and shook his head.

  'He doesn't know what he's playing with.'

  Edelline-Lan shrugged.

  'Do any of us?'

  'I think we probably have a better idea than he does.'

  She searched her pockets for something to put in her mouth.

  'That's debatable.'

  There was no answer from inside the council building. The demi-prelate repeated his statement and then added the usual threat.

  'If you do not come out within the next five minutes I shall order my men to open fire. You are completely surrounded. You don't have a chance. I will say this just once more. You have five minutes to give yourself up. After then I shall give the order to fire.'

  Phaid bit his lip.

  'I've got to stop this. You know how he gets when he's threatened or attacked by humans.'

  Edelline-Lan looked unhappy.

  'I don't think it will do any good.'

  'I've got to try. Who knows what he will do?' He walked quickly to where the demi-prelate was standing, looking up at the building. 'You're making a big mistake. If you . . .'

  The demi-prelate swung around angrily.

  'You're making a big mistake, Eminence.'

  'You're an expert?'

  'I'm an expert on the elaihim and I know that if you start shooting at him he's going to fight back . . . Eminence.'