Arena (27 page)
For a time Cephelus feared all was lost. Since their new link with Elhanu would provide his human adversaries with a power and understanding even greater than his own, how could he ever get them to do anything but trust and obey the one they were bonded to? About to cry foul again, he realized Elhanu, ever the gentleman, would allow his human witnesses the same liberty he allows his Aggillon. They could use the link only if they wanted, only if they learned by their own choice how to use it. And it was Elhanu’s way, always to give his subjects the freedom to say no. Cephelus would exploit that freedom to the fullest.
Cursed with an inflated sense of their abilities, humans had a predilection toward self-reliance and disliked depending on anyone else. Curious, emotional, and immensely distractible, they were easily duped, even with the link inside them. And the Tohvani took full advantage. Free to sculpt the Arena for their purposes, they set to work, eradicating much of the white road, re-engineering the original bioforms into dangerous predators, and developing a new, more potent line of fire curtains for Arena-wide distribution. All the dangers and deceptions participants encountered in the Outer Realm—sucker paths, rock dragons, mites, temples, false benefactors, fire curtains—came courtesy of the Tohvani. More of the same awaited in the Inner Realm.
Even Changed, many would fail to reach the Exit. But every now and then a group of participants came through who did not fail, who learned to use everything Elhanu had provided for them, who understood exactly why they were in the Arena, who even came to ally themselves with his cause and make it their own. These were the victors in this contest, the truest, brightest witnesses of who and what Elhanu was, not merely Changed but devoted servants and friends. Men and women who, though inferior to the Tohvani in almost every way, could understand and love what the Tohvani would not. For this their reward would be very great.
But to become victors, Pierce said participants must understand that the true struggle, the true advance lay in the mind. They must set aside their self-reliance and learn to access the link, then make the consistent and conscious decisions to use the power it provided no matter what the circumstances. Such learning would take time, effort—and lots of practice.
Of course, no one wanted to hear that, and for two agonizing weeks Pierce and his message were ridiculed unmercifully. People were interested in routes and defensive fortifications and how much opposition they might expect. They did not want to hear about learning to control their emotions and their thoughts, and they most especially did not want to hear about how weak and helpless they were without their alien sponsor.
Pierce’s audience dribbled away to a third of Rimlight’s residents. He began to brood and snap. One day Callie was working with him on an early draft of the map, and when she offered in idle conversation a suggestion to improve his public presence, he’d gone ballistic—yelled hateful things, thrown the manual across the room, and stalked out of the office, vanishing into the steep, forested slopes outside the compound.
He had returned three days later, at peace.
That was when he shaved his beard, as if to mark the change. After that, he threw himself into studying, and let the rejections roll off his back. Gradually a quiet conviction took hold of him. His speaking confidence increased. He looked at his listeners and stopped fidgeting with the podium. He grew more committed to Elhanu every day, and the more confidently he explained, the more his explanations made sense.
In addition, he was constantly unlocking computer files that gave credence to his teachings. The coup had come when he discovered a cache of logs from previous expeditions—not only of groups that left from Rimlight, but of those who had embarked from the other training compounds scattered around the rim, as well. A shocking number of the records detailed gruesome debacles wherein many of their participants were taken captive and tortured. Though death itself was no longer a threat—whether they “died” in the Arena or walked out the Exit, all who had been Changed would return to their lives on Earth— the prospect of capture was. Many of the Trogs in the Inner Realm were Changed participants, taken prisoner en route to the Exit and tortured or enticed until they agreed to submit to the fire curtain. It did not take many exposures to develop addiction. And though the possibility of recovery did exist—if the effort was begun soon enough—it was a long and painful process, fraught with danger and uncertainty, and few negotiated it successfully.
The records effectively squelched any ideas of leaving without the appointed Guide. Within a week most were giving Pierce another chance. Somehow they’d stuck with him all winter.
Now, as Mr. C took his seat in the front row, Pierce sat in one of the platform chairs and Tuck approached the podium to make the announcements. The armory, he informed them, had shut down that morning—surely a good sign. The current standings for the obstacle-course competition had Morgan and Gerry in contention for the lead. Callie was one of the medal contenders in the shooting tournament. The Aggillon entertainers who had encamped outside the compound’s lower gates two weeks ago were hosting a celebration after tonight’s meeting. There would be entertainment, food, and drink for all. After a few more odds and ends relating to cafeteria and maintenance schedules, Tuck yielded the stage to Pierce.
The silence electrified with anticipation.
For a long moment Pierce regarded them with that stone-faced expression that was so exasperatingly unreadable.
“I know what you want to hear from me,” he said finally, his amplified voice echoing through the auditorium. “I’m afraid I can’t oblige. I’ve told you from the beginning, we leave when we’re told to. Until then, it’s business as usual.”
“But Pierce—” Morgan stood up several rows behind Callie. “Aren’t
you
supposed to decide that? As our ‘leader’?”
Pierce regarded him evenly. “I’m to decide when Elhanu tells us to go, and so far I’ve received no such clear directive.”
“What about the armory closing?”
“It’s only one of many criteria to be considered.”
“And the stats I gave you? Are you just going to ignore those?”
“I appreciate the work you’ve done, Morg, but the fact remains—” “The fact remains—if we don’t leave now we’re going to run into a swarm of mutants!” Morgan’s voice, grown loud and emphatic, echoed in the shocked silence that followed it.
Then Pierce said calmly, “We can’t know that for sure. And if we do run into them, I’d assume we were supposed to.”
Morgan laughed incredulously. “Oh, now
there’s
a plan.”
“Forget it, hon,” Rowena said, standing beside him. “His mind is made up. And I don’t think this has a thing to do with stats. I’d say the problem is a lack of courage.”
Callie’s heart constricted, but before Rowena could elaborate, Tuck burst out laughing. “Courage? I’d like to see you get up here and teach this group anything.”
“At least
I’d
listen to people,” Morgan snapped.
“You’re just jealous,” Tuck cried, “because he was chosen and you weren’t.”
“That’s enough!” said Pierce, his voice low and firm over the speakers. “Morgan, if you aren’t interested in what I have to say, perhaps you should leave.”
Rowena tugged his arm. “Come on.”
“Yeah. It’s not like we’ll learn anything new.”
They picked their way past the row of knees to the aisle.
“Anyone else?” Pierce asked. A few more followed, but the majority remained.
Pierce braced both arms on the podium and regarded his audience. “I didn’t ask for this job,” he said. “But the fact is, I have it. And I answer to Elhanu, not you.” He shook his head. “This is the kind of thing the Tohvani delight in—divide and conquer. If we can’t maintain our unity here, what are we going to do out there?”
No one answered him. After a bit, he readjusted his notes and said, “Well, you came for a lesson, so let’s get on with it. Tonight has turned out to be an excellent time to review what we know about our enemies.”
“Psst! Callie!” Evvi jabbed her arm. “Do you have a pen? Mine are out of ink.”
Stifling her annoyance, Callie pulled an extra pen from her pocket and handed it over, keeping her attention on Pierce.
An hour later he concluded. As people filed out, Evvi stood beside Callie, clutching her notepads and struggling to pull her coat out of the crack behind her chair. “He makes them sound so scary,” she said as she tugged at the jacket. “I almost don’t want to leave. Morgan should’ve heard this.” With a grunt she pulled the garment free, and it slapped Callie in the face. “He’s such an arrogant jerk.”
“He
has
spent a lot of time with the video logs,” Callie said. “He knows the Inner Realm.”
“We need to know Elhanu.” Evvi’s gaze fixed upon the knot of people surrounding Pierce, and she got the same distracted expression Meg had evidenced earlier. “See you at the fair,” she said absently. And she was off, trailing papers.
As Callie picked one up, LaTeisha leaned close. “Better watch your flank, girl,” she said, eyeing Evvi as she pressed into the crowd around Pierce. “I think someone’s moving into your territory.”
“Territory?” Callie stuffed the paper into her own notebook. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?”
LaTeisha only laughed and moved off down the row, leaving Callie to frown after her, annoyed all over again. Everyone seemed to think she and Pierce had some kind of romantic relationship going, when that couldn’t be further from the truth—they were friends, nothing more. Maybe if she encouraged Evvi in her “move,” people would finally believe her and quit with the oblique comments and sly winks.
Tuck intercepted her as she headed for the door. “Pierce wants to see you. Something about the map.” He drew back to let people pass. “You coming to the party?”
“I doubt it.”
He grinned. “You’ll miss the best meat pies on Earth.”
“We’re not on Earth, Tuck.”
He laughed and left her.
Pierce was in his study, fielding the last few questions as she came in. Seeing her, he thanked the questioners for their interest and herded them into the hall.
“I think some of them would wash your feet if you asked them,” she said as he closed the door behind them.
He frowned. “I know. I’ve tried to dissuade them, but . . . well, at least they’re eager to learn. You can’t fault that.”
“I guess not. . . . What’d you want to see me about?”
“More changes to the map.” He went to the desk and picked up a rolled parchment.
“I’ll put them in tonight,” she said, taking it from him.
“Tomorrow will be fine.”
“I don’t mind.” Unrolling it, she checked the revisions. “Is this all?”
“Actually, no.” He straightened the papers beside his keyboard. “The Aggillon are leaving for Rimtruth tomorrow, you know, and I thought . . . well, that is . . .” He drew a deep breath, then looked her in the eye. “Would you like to go to the fair with me tonight?”
Callie was caught completely off guard. Her automatic response was negative, but she realized a flat refusal would hurt him, and she swallowed it unspoken. Annoyance flared. First Meg, and now Pierce. What was this? Some kind of conspiracy?
“I know you don’t like parties,” Pierce said. He leaned against the desk and puttered with the papers again. “Neither do I. We can always leave early.”
“Why go at all?”
He looked up at her. “I’m curious, for one, and . . . it might be fun.” He smiled, and as always she melted before it. “Will you go?”
It won’t hurt you
, she told herself.
And you have to admit you’re curious,
too
.
“Oh, all right. For a little while. Let me drop this stuff off in my room first.”
“Fine. You’ll need to change clothes, anyway. Aggillon rules,” he added when she frowned at him. “No uniforms in their camp.”
“Oh yeah.” Well, that had happened neatly. Now not only was she going to the party, but she also had to wear the dress. And wouldn’t the rumors fly after this! She’d better encourage Evvi’s pursuit of Pierce as soon as possible or she’d never hear the end of it.
When Callie returned to the lobby half an hour later, only three people remained in the main salon—a couple watching a video on the large freestanding screen and a man in western garb facing the window. He turned as she stepped off the elevator, but only as he approached did she recognize him.
“Wow!” Pierce said as he joined her. “You look terrific.”
She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush. “You don’t look so bad yourself, cowboy.”
“All I need is my hoss.” He doffed his hat and grinned, and she wondered how she had ever thought him ordinary looking.
The Aggillon had parked their gold-gilt wagons and colorful tents in the flat outside Rimlight’s front gates. Electric heating columns warded off the chill, and strings of tiny lights festooned the wagons, their soft light glinting off the booths and tables of wares—clothing, jewelry, trinkets, audio discs, vid-discs, knickknacks, gadgets, and food, food, food. Meat pies, fruit pies, fry bread on sticks, French fries, tacos, hot dogs and hamburgers, soft drinks, beer, mulled wine, and cider— the air was redolent with the mingling aromas, alive with laughter and the music of roving minstrels.
Pierce had long been easy company, and Callie quickly relaxed. Friends and acquaintances jostled around them, calling out congratulations or greetings or witticisms. They ate meat pies and honey-glazed fry bread on sticks, drank mulled cider, and watched jugglers and tumblers, then listened to a minstrel with a voice so exquisite it raised goose bumps on Callie’s arms. A tooler worked intricate designs into a silver bowl, while beside him an Aggillon illusionist performed the deftest sleight of hand she had ever seen.
At the end of the performance Pierce confessed he’d drunk too much cider and went searching for a bathroom. Callie waited for him by a glassblower’s stall, first watching the man finish a delicate blue vase, then turning her attention to the crowd as it milled between the booths and streamed in and out of the red-striped tent set up for dancing. Music drifted from the tent in a lively, foot-tapping tune.
