Still, he had the resources and the time he needed to breach the barrier. He still had his contacts inside the Order, and a good working relationship with the First, should the Cabal patriarch ever return. And the Mirari was still out there, in the hands of one ignorant savage or another.
Laquatus accepted defeat as he did victory. Each was merely a shorter step in his lifelong campaign for greatness. He had been bested and embarrassed in Mer, and it was his own fault. His mistake was to go after the Mer imperial throne and the Mirari at the same time. In the future, he would focus all his attention on obtaining the sphere and then use it to carve out a kingdom for himself. Llawan may have temporarily exiled him from the deep, but that simply meant that he must turn his sights inland. There were a million land crawlers to conquer, a dozen factions to play against one another, and a priceless source of power to be obtained.
First, the sphere. Then Otaria. Then, the empire. After that? Laquatus laughed in his spacious prison.
If his ambition was as bottomless as the seas, why shouldn't his power extend as far?
Kamahl stepped out of the Cabal City arena and squinted in the bright, setting sun. He was preoccupied by thoughts of the Mirari, the way it reacted so swiftly to its handler's thoughts. Therein lay the real danger of it. Chainer's thoughts had been dark and troubled, and Kamahl's own were violent. He wondered what would happen the next time Jeska gave him lip. Would she spontaneously burst in to flames because Kamahl thought about it?
The street was full of surviving spectators and pit fighters. The crowd was murmuring, and all eyes were on the Mirari. "… killed the entire Cabal…"
"… the only survivor… "
"I challenge you, barbarian."
Kamahl looked up at the Order officer who had stepped forward. She was a tall and immaculate aven, almost blinding in her white robes. She drew a long sword and a short dagger.
"For the Mirari," she continued. "I will fight you for the Mirari."
"When you've killed her," said a burly Cabalist, "I will fight you for the Mirari."
"Then me."
"I will fight, too."
One of Kamahl's own people, a barbarian from Pardic, stepped forward. "Forgive me, cousin. But I will fight you for the Mirari. It is our way."
Kamahl stared out at the growing number of challengers. His sword felt heavy, and he had never felt so tired. His burns still ached, and for the first time in his short, brutal life, Kamahl wanted to rest rather than fight. The other barbarian was right, however. It was their way to compete for the things they wanted, to constantly improve their skills and their situation through combat.
Reluctantly, Kamahl drew his sword and almost dropped it from his clumsy, aching hands. He looked at the long line of challengers, growing longer all the time, and the crush of others who edged closer, unwilling to wait for their turn. Warriors and monsters and dementia beasts all jostled for the right to kill him and collect the spoils.
Kamahl snorted a bitter laugh. Improve through combat? If he survived the next few hours, according to the ways of his people, he would be very much improved.
Fulla and Azza made their way through the plains due south of Cabal City without incident. Azza sometimes forced Fulla to get on her back as she was now, but the caster preferred to have her own feet on the ground.
Azza's spirit seemed muted. She was still in mourning for Skel-lum. Fulla was also sad that she would not see Chainer or Skellum again, but Fulla was easily distracted when she was not in the pits. While she remembered that she was sad, she did not always remember why.
For days before the First's surprise announcement that he was leaving, Fulla had strange dreams. They were of a jovial figure who sat on top of a huge pile of money. The figure's voice hurt Fulla's head, and he kept insisting that she should get out of Cabal City and head south. Fulla eventually agreed just to get the figure to leave her alone, and Azza had refused to let her make the dangerous trip by herself. They were hardly outside the city walls when the commotion at the arena began, but they were too far away to make it back in time for the fun.
As they came over a rise in the road, they saw a tall man standing before them in the distance. Many bodies were strewn around his feet, as if his party had all fallen asleep at the same time. When the tall man turned toward them, both Fulla and Azza straightened up. "The Cabal is here," Fulla called. "And everywhere," replied the First. Closer to the scene, Fulla could see that the bodies of four or five snake-men lay dead and blackened around the First's feet, along with a handful of humans in Cabal clothing. He smiled as his children approached, ignoring the corpses around him.
"It seems we are all going to Aphetto," the First said. "Yes, Pater." Azza carried Fulla past the First, slowing her pace but not stopping.
"I would offer you Azza's back, Pater," Fulla said, "but that wouldn't be good for either of you."
"No, my child. You two go on ahead. I have already sent for an escort from Aphetto, which should be here shortly." He dipped his head toward the dead at his feet. "The first three escorts were waylaid on the road as soon as they picked me up. Then their waylayers fell ill. Such a waste."
Azza and Fulla were now completely past the First, and the caster had to turn to continue the conversation. "We shall see you in Aphetto then, Pater."
"Indeed. I have much to ask you about the final Mirari Games."
"The First is wise."
"Long live the Cabal."
Fulla and Azza rode on over the next rise, and the First disappeared behind them. Azza began to trot, but Fulla tugged on her neck.
"We're in no rush, sweet Azza," Fulla said. The hellhound dropped back to a slower pace, and they rode on.