When the footsteps had gone, Chainer said, "Forgive him, Pater." "There is nothing to forgive. He is set in his ways, and we must find someone else to fight in his place. I only regret that we won't be able to rely on him as an ally." "He is still our ally, Pater. He just-"
"Chainer," Skellum interrupted. "We're not here to discuss your unwilling partner."
Chainer's face fell. "No, Master."
"Master of the Games," the First said. "Can Chainer alone deliver the result we're seeking?" "Yes, Pater."
"Master Skellum. Is your pupil ready to provide that result? And will he survive it?"
"Yes, Pater." Chainer and Skellum spoke together. "Nothing fancy," the Master of the Games told Chainer. "Just get in there and roll over. It doesn't need to be a good fight, it just needs to be an Order victory."
"Understood," Chainer said.
"Master of the Games, you are dismissed."
"Thank you, Pater." She slipped quickly out of the room.
Chainer stood nervously before the First. Skellum fiddled with his hat beneath his arm. The First watched them both through steepled fingers.
"You have something to add, Master Skellum?"
Skellum cleared his throat. "I do, Pater. Chainer has made excellent progress as a caster. There is only one more thing I can teach him, one more lesson before he graduates from my academy."
Chainer fought off a gulp of surprise. This was news to him.
"This would be the dementist's shikar you've mentioned?"
Skellum began to walk back and forth, between Chainer and the First. "Yes, Pater. It is a rite of passage. A spiritual journey combined with a physical trial." He pulled himself up to his full height and spoke with as much dignity as he could muster. "It is something that separates dementists from mere casters."
"I am familiar with the ritual. Yours was a great success, if I'm not mistaken."
Skellum beamed. "Thank you, Pater."
"And you believe your student is ready for this trial."
"I do, Pater. As his mentor, I would want to accompany him. For the last time, of course. When we return from shikar, there will be nothing left for me to teach him."
"How long does it take?"
"Two days to walk to the site. Three days of trial. Two days to return."
The First considered. "Very well. As soon as Chainer discharges his obligation with the Order, you and he will take a leave of absence from the pits. You will experience shikar."
"Thank you, Pater."
"Thank you, Master," Chainer whispered. Skellum glared at him, but winked also.
"There is one final thing," the First said, "concerning the Mirari. Doubtless by now you are both aware that my predictions came true. The Mirari led to major upheavals in both the Order and Mer, and then it came back to us. I made one error, however. I expected the past few months to thin the field, as it were, but just the opposite is true. More and more people are following its trail, which will lead them here. This is both good and bad for the Cabal. Even as we speak, the crusat death squads are reforming in an effort to drive us out of our strongholds. Cabal City, Aphetto… even our minor pits in no-name villages are being targeted. They make the same old claims. We corrupt the innocent, mock the law, and generally impede the Order's righteous progress.
"The era of coexistence is over. When you return from shikar, you both will assist me in neutralizing the crusat threat." "With pleasure, Pater."
Skellum whispered teasingly to Chainer, "A dementist at last." "Ambassador Laquatus also continues to seek the Mirari. Today he contacted one of the crusat officers to sound him out for an alliance against us. It would be best if we could fix his attention elsewhere while we sort out the Order problem ourselves." "We could postpone shikar, Pater."
"No, Skellum. Chainer's apprenticeship is over. It's time we made that official."
"You have something in mind, Pater?"
"I do. Since Laquatus will not stop complicating the situation until he gets a crack at the Mirari, I will announce the next games immediately. They will be held in three month's time, to coincide with the anniversary of the founding of Cabal City. The Mirari will be the grand prize, awarded to the strongest fighter in the pits. Laquatus is currently in need of a thrall. Apparently his amphibian was killed along with Aboshan. With the games scheduled, he will redouble his efforts to find a replacement thrall. This alone would not be enough to occupy a busy mind like Laquatus's, but this on top of… other circumstances I have yet to arrange… it will more than suffice.
"Chainer, I want you to meet with the ambassador to determine what sort of creature he wants. Promise him anything, but do nothing without my permission. In three days you and Skellum will begin the shikar. We will ask Laquatus to wait until you return before you create this new thrall for him."
"Laquatus will have more and better options for his thrall after Chainer experiences shikar," Skellum said.
"So much the better. Chainer. You have been a valued and trusted servant of the Cabal. Are you ready to be rewarded and carry our cause even further?"
"I am, Pater."
"Outstanding."
The First waved his hand dismissively. "The Cabal is everywhere," he said, "and so are my thoughts. You may leave me now to my meditation, my children."
The First watched Skellum and Chainer go through dry, milky eyes. Before they were even out of the room, his thoughts folded in on themselves as he dissected each infinitesimal bit of information.
Apart from Kamahl's refusal, everything was right where the First wanted it. The barbarian was absolutely devastating in combat and always made for a good show. He was also useful as an influence on Chainer. Skellum was in danger of spoiling the boy, blunting his killer instinct. Kamahl encouraged that rough, pragmatic side of Chainer, qualities he was going to need over the next three months.
The First came back to himself. Yes, the longer he considered it, the more sure he became. Skellum should stand aside and let Kamahl complete Chainer's training. With his mentor at his side, Chainer would simply become another Skellum. Teamed with Kamahl, he would return from shikar as the ancient ritual intended, as a hunter. A predator. A dangerous adversary and a valuable friend.
The First waved and a skull attendant came forward. "The mentor must set his pupil aside," he said, and the attendant copied the words onto a tablet she wore on a cord around her neck.
A knock sounded from outside the chamber. The First called, "Enter," and a hand attendant came forward bearing a silver mirror on a silk pillow. The First waved the attendant forward, and the shuffling man ascended the throne. He held the mirror up to the First's face, abjectly turning his aside.
In the mirror, a cephalid's face filled the screen. "Hail to you, Cabal Patriarch."
"You honor me, Empress Llawan. How fares the empire?" "It fares well. Have you considered our proposal?" "I have, Empress. I have not yet reached a decision." "But you will continue to extend your… hospitality to Ambassador Laquatus?" "As we agreed."
Llawan turned one eye to the mirror. "And the Cabal will remain neutral as we transition back into public service?"
"The Cabal has no interest in the internal affairs of the Mer empire," the First assured her. "Our relationship with all concerned parties is merely professional."
"Very well," Llawan pulled back, framing her face in the mirror. "But remember that relationships with the deep are not like those on dry land. You don't build a relationship like a house, you ride it like a wave. The wave is always changing, always moving. You must be very careful when you get off, or on."
The First smiled graciously. "Words I have already taken to heart. We have far more in common than you suspect, Empress." "We hope so, Patriarch. We hope so." Llawan's image faded. The First dismissed the mirror-bearing attendant, steepled his fingers under his chin, and sat in silent meditation for a time. When he next moved, it was to speak to his attendants. "Send for the Master of the Games."