Arash-Felloren

by Roger Taylor

  Playing with us, Pinnatte realized. The thought burst into his mind with extraordinary vividness. It was as if he should have known it all his life. That was the Master’s job – not simply the controlling and adjudicating of the fights, but the sensing of the will of the crowd and, by his control of the rhythms of the fights, the manipulating of it.

  To what end?

  To the profit of those who employed him, of course – those who owned the Pits. It was obvious. Why had he never seen it before? Why had he not noticed this subtle, vital underplay in the great game of wringing money out of people?

  Briefly he felt the distant detachment he had experienced at the heart of the fight. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t noticed it before. He noticed it now, and it intrigued him. He had been right to search out a new future for himself, and he had been right to come here as the first step – finding himself at the first Loose Pit at the Jyolan! And meeting Rinter, who knew Fiarn! As Rinter himself had said, it was almost as if someone were looking after him – manipulating his destiny the way the Master was manipulating the crowd. And more would happen tonight, he knew.

  He could feel it.

  He rubbed the back of his hand.

  Below, a hooded figure at the Pitside turned and looked up at him.

  Chapter 16

  Barran dropped down heavily into a chair, leant back, and looked at the elaborate array of angled and irregular-shaped mirrors lining the wall in front of him. By each one was a decorated circular grille. He had been there for some time, but still he could barely believe what he was seeing. It was the culmination of an incredible day.

  Even without this room, the whole of the Jyolan building was amazing! How could the Kyrosdyn have owned it for so long and done so little with it? When he had been merely a casual Pitside spectator he had seen the potential of the place, with its remarkable arena and enormous, largely unused audience space. Later, as his interest had grown, he had done careful calculations to assess its real worth. But, as today had passed, these calculations had been set at naught and his estimate of the value of the place had grown considerably. And the discovery of this room had set even his new evaluation at naught.

  The Kyrosdyn’s neglect of the Jyolan puzzled him, but their failure to use this room defied him utterly. It needed no sophisticated thinker to see its value in the scheming world of Arash-Felloren’s incessant power struggles, yet the lock had been rusted almost solid and, when it was finally freed, the door had opened into a room that was thick with dust. No one had been in it for years.

  He smiled broadly. It was a sight few had ever seen. So much had come to fruition so quickly. Even now he found it difficult to grasp all that had happened in one day. It was as though a boulder blocking a choked river had just been torn free and he was being swept along on an uncontrollable torrent that would carry him from high and spartan mountain plains down into lush and fertile valleys.

  For months he had been quietly pushing at the owners of the Jyolan – or those he thought to be owners – and there had been no response. Nothing but evasiveness and indifference. It was a perfect reflection of the way the place was run, but it made no sense. As a business it was obviously bumping along, barely making a profit, and slowly, but quite perceptibly, deteriorating in every way. He had offered them all manner of different deals, from various forms of silent partnership to outright purchase. He would put money into the place, get a decent Master, some better animals, smarten the place up. He had threatened and cajoled, gently and reasonably persuaded… but all to no avail. He had been on the verge of resorting to direct violence when, during one of their routine meetings to discuss the crystal trade, Rostan had made a casual remark about the one-sided negotiations. It was unusual, because Rostan did not make casual remarks – especially when discussing business. Barran, as was his way, had confined news of his interest in the Jyolan to only his immediate officers, so Rostan’s comment had been to tell him that the Kyrosdyn were involved and were interested in his proposals. This having been declared, albeit covertly, Barran knew that the negotiations should continue.

  He was both impressed and concerned by Rostan’s timing – the Highest must have been watching developments keenly, but was he, Barran, becoming so predictable? It was a salutary reminder that although he had a long and relatively stable relationship with the Kyrosdyn, he should never take them for granted. He did not remotely understand what drove them but he knew that their power was far greater than they allowed generally to be known, and their commitment to their own self-interest was total. All were pawns in Arash-Felloren.

  The peculiar reticence of the Jyolan’s apparent owners now made sense. The Kyrosdyn were obsessive in all things, rarely doing anything openly or directly. Barran knew then that his pursuit of the Jyolan would go the way of all his negotiations with them – it would be convoluted and slow. He had learned to deal with that through the years, and he immediately abandoned his intention for more direct action. Nothing would be gained from it, and much could be lost. The Kyrosdyn would deal with him, either directly or indirectly, when they were ready and not before. All he had to do was persist with his approaches and ensure that he assessed their financial need accurately when they finally succumbed – and, for all he did not understand their motivation, he was good at that now, his normally taciturn exterior disguising an obsessive deviousness of his own.

  Why they should be interested in having him involved with the Jyolan was a question that he knew was not worth pursuing. Perhaps they wanted to keep close to him because of his increasing control over the mining and distribution of the crystals. Perhaps it was for some completely different reason. Still, it did not matter – it was sufficient that both parties now knew where they stood. All that would be needed now was patience and watchfulness.

  He had thus been more than surprised at the startling suddenness of the Kyrosdyn’s actions today. It was unprecedented and, even now, he wondered what vital signals he had missed in all the confusion.

  There had been the summons to attend on Imorren. That was a fairly rare event in itself, but being marked ‘urgent’ made it unique. There was, of course, no indication of what she wanted to discuss, but he had gone to the Vaskyros immediately and without questioning the messenger. He had met Imorren several times in the past. In the early days she had tried to oppose him as he had begun taking control of the distribution of the crystals, but she had been too late. By then, having carefully studied the demand for the strange rocks, he had quietly dealt with almost all the disparate groups who dominated the miners, and replaced them with his own men. He had allowed a few to remain and operate, on the grounds that should he gain absolute control, his various enemies would almost certainly unite against him. As it was, there were sufficient crystals being traded outside his control to keep them all divided.

  Since his first meeting with Imorren, when he had shown her the benefits of stability in the crystal trade, he had had no serious problem with the Kyrosdyn; each had an interest in ensuring the well-being of the other, and though never overtly stated, this was clearly understood. Nevertheless, Imorren disturbed him. Over the years, he had seen no change in her physically – no subtle, hardening lines in her face, no filling out of her form. And she had always looked far younger than the age that her known history in the city indicated. But more than that, he had always found her unsettling to be with. For a long time he wondered why he felt no attraction to her. She was undeniably beautiful but, whenever he was with her, a coldness rose up inside him to forbid all thoughts of desire. Was it something in those searching grey eyes? Or that fine, too-symmetrical face? Or that serpentine quality in her movement? He had never found the reason, and he had long given up searching for it. Perhaps it was no more than his natural instinct for survival. To be in any way emotionally attached to Imorren would have soon seen him under her sway, and turned from a near equal into a mere vassal. He would not have won the wealth and power he had today. Indeed, he could have been dead.

&nbs
p; Still, it was curious. And insofar as he could pretend to understand her – the most impenetrable of the Kyrosdyn – he sensed too that she was as puzzled as he by this strange distance between them.

  Meeting her today however, he knew that he had the advantage in whatever bargain was to be struck – and there was a bargain to be struck or she would not have contacted him in such a manner. As she entered the room, he could feel her agitation, even though her appearance was as calm as ever. He stood up and paused deliberately, looking squarely at her.

  ‘You asked to see me, Ailad.’

  ‘You wish to acquire the Jyolan?’

  Sitting staring at the mirrors, Barran congratulated himself again that he had managed to avoid any reaction to this brusque question. Such directness he had never known from any Kyrosdyn, not even from the novices whom he occasionally met in his day-to-day dealings with them.

  Having taken this first assault without responding, he had been tempted to make an evasive reply to see how much further Imorren’s directness might go. But a wiser part of him reminded him who and what she was, and that if she was being so blunt, she was telling him that she had a genuinely urgent need and if he did not fulfil it, and fulfil it now, someone would be found who would. He knew well enough that his worth to the Kyrosdyn was a matter of balance. If, for example, they considered anarchy in the crystal trade to be to their advantage, they would not hesitate to have him assassinated. Thus he must accept her message and reciprocate.

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

  There was no hesitation in what followed.

  ‘It is yours for…’ She quoted a price that was almost exactly what he had hoped to pay in the end. Again he wondered how predictable he was becoming. ‘But…’

  The word pinioned the elation that was starting to well up in him.

  ‘You must open it tonight – fully, and with a Loose Pit. We shall provide you with suitable animals for the closing contest.’

  Looking back, he felt a twinge of regret for his slight faltering at this point. He should have just bowed and left. As it was, he fumbled into details. ‘I shall need the full co-operation of the present staff,’ and it was she who bowed and left, answering the request with a curt nod – and was that a hint of irritation, or triumph? Details were for other, lesser fry to deal with.

  He had lost that part of the confrontation certainly, but he had no serious regrets. It had been a well-laid ambush and he had handled himself quite well, all things considered. Years of secrecy and deviousness on the part of the Kyrosdyn had made him ignore the possibility that one day they would resort to directness. He shook his head and smiled to himself again. There was always something to be learned – or, more correctly – to be re-learned. Whatever Imorren had gained from their bargain, he may or may not discover in due course; it was of no great concern. All that mattered now was that he had the Jyolan, and for the price that he wanted.

  Not that the scaling of the bargain had been easy. Imorren’s demand for a Loose Pit in a matter of hours had been a taxing one, and Barran’s current euphoria was tempered by physical fatigue as a consequence. Tentative plans, made in anticipation of the ultimate acquisition of the Jyolan were dragged out, ruthlessly pruned, and implemented with unprecedented vigour; Barran himself at his finest, coaxing and menacing alternately, as each problem required.

  The least of these had been announcing that a Loose Pit was to be held. As Rinter had told Pinnatte, news somehow seemed to travel amongst the followers of the Loose Pits faster than it could be carried by a good horseman, and so it had proved. More problematic had been the gathering of decent animals. Here, the senior Kyrosdyn Brother who had appeared from nowhere to give him a bunch of keys and, ‘to be of service, friend Barran’, had proved to be invaluable. His actions had confirmed finally to Barran the truth of the long-established rumour about the Kyrosdyn’s considerable interest in the fighting animals themselves. He was also heartened by the man’s arrival because it clearly indicated Imorren’s desire for his success in the venture. However, the thought of the Ailad’s directness after so many years of intricate deviousness, buzzed about him all day like an unseen and irritating insect, though he dared not take the time to pause and think about it.

  The most difficult problems had arisen from the neglected condition of the building and the revelation of its confusing and complex layout. Even now, Barran was not entirely certain that everyone had returned from the crowds that he sent in to move years of accumulated rubbish, and to hang lamps and mark the ways to the various balconies. And, despite Imorren’s tacit agreement about co-operation, the existing staff had been precious little use. Sluggish and dilatory by dint of years of practice, they did not fully grasp Barran’s sense of urgency until he sent two of them sprawling. Even then they added little but confusion, seeming to know almost nothing about the building other than what lay on the ground floor and basement where the animals were held before fighting.

  Only one was of any real value – a frail, wizened individual who remembered ‘the place, like it used to be. Long before they came, with their frosty ways.’ He it was who guided Barran’s men through the maze of passages to the different balconies, though, to his initial alarm but subsequent delight, they had to carry him much of the way.

  When they returned him from this tour of the building he refused the handsome sum that Barran offered him with an airy wave. There was a sparkle in his eye that Barran hoped would be in his when he reached that age.

  ‘Put it away. Put it away,’ the old man said excitedly. ‘I should be paying you. Waited years for this. Seen the place going down – tragic.’ He cast a significant glance at the back of the Kyrosdyn, talking to someone nearby, and, laying a confidential hand on Barran’s arm, beckoned him to bend down. ‘There’s other places here thatyou need to know about,’ he whispered, giving a massive wink and touching a finger to his lips. ‘One, very special.’

  ‘Show me,’ Barran said quietly.

  The old man had led him along more twisting, winding tunnels, showing him lines of small rooms that, to Barran, could have been private quarters, and a series of larger rooms which might once have been dormitories.

  ‘What are these?’ he asked, as they came to one of them.

  The old man shrugged. ‘I’ve seen them used as store rooms, junk rooms, meeting halls, quarters for special guests, all sorts of things, but what they were originally, I’ve no idea.’ The admission of ignorance seemed to offend him and his manner became defensive. ‘Course, no one knows what this place was built for… or even when.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But it’s a queer place, you know. There’s some say these tunnels actually move.’ He put his hand into one of the circular openings in the wall. ‘Especially these small ones.’ He removed his hand and wiped it on his trousers. ‘Can’t say I believe it myself, but I’ve seen and heard more than a few things here over the years that didn’t make any sense, so…’ He left the sentence unfinished and looked up at the arching ceiling. ‘And I’ve always had the feeling that the place is bigger inside than outside.’

  ‘It’s just confusing,’ Barran said, becoming a little impatient at what he took to be the old man’s ramblings. ‘I don’t think there’s a straight line in the place. It’s difficult to keep your sense of direction.’

  But the old man was not listening. He was wandering off again, motioning Barran to follow. As they neared the door at the far end of the corridor, the Kyrosdyn came through it. He gave a display to indicate that he had been looking for Barran for some time and, ignoring the old man, walked fussily up to him and took his arm to direct him back the way he had come. ‘I think you should look at the large cats that have just arrived. I’m not sure…’ He staggered slightly as Barran did not respond to the pressure on his arm.

  ‘In a moment,’ Barran said, catching a plea in the old man’s face.

  ‘But…’

  ‘In a moment,’ Barran said sharply, with a look that forbade any further debate.

  There was
a brief flash of anger in the Kyrosdyn’s eyes, but he turned away quickly and gave a sulky shrug.

  Then they had come to the room he was now sitting in. As they neared it, the Kyrosdyn became increasingly agitated. ‘I’ll look at the animals shortly,’ Barran told him, though more by way of a goad than a reassurance, sensing that this was not the cause of the man’s concern.

  At the door the Kyrosdyn had stepped forward and, taking the keys from Barran, had selected one and inserted it in the lock. His manner was one of strained helpfulness and, to Barran, seemed to be covering something approaching desperation. This continued as he made a half-hearted attempt at turning the key before he yanked it out, announcing, ‘It won’t move. It’s probably broken, or rusted.’ He turned to walk away, adding off-handedly, ‘Besides, this room was never used.’

  Intrigued by the man’s anxiety, Barran laid a gently restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll have someone work on the lock. It won’t take a moment. Some of my men are very good at that kind of thing.’ He became hearty. ‘Failing that, we’ll break in.’

  Though the Kyrosdyn said nothing further, Barran could feel his nervousness. He took some delight in it. He traded with these people, but he had never liked them. They were a cold, twitchy lot, and to see one struggling to conceal ordinary human emotions appealed to him.

  ‘They never liked this place,’ the old man whispered to him as his men were working on the door. ‘It scares them. Don’t know what it is, but when they first came here, they took one look at it, then sealed it, and never came near it again.’ Barran nodded.

  When the door finally creaked open, the old man grabbed a lamp from one of the men and with a command, ‘You lot wait here,’ stepped inside, drawing Barran after him. At first, the room seemed no different from many others he had been shown, though along one wall was a decorated timber panel. Before he could speak, the old man took hold of the edge of the panel and heaved on it. Barran watched for a moment, then helped him. The panel slid reluctantly to one side.