Arena 13 Read online

  Suddenly there was a loud knock on the wall above my bed. It was followed by two more.

  ‘I’m number one, Deinon’s number two and you’re number three. Three knocks! That means you!’ Palm shouted with glee. ‘Kwin’s knocking for you. Better not keep her waiting!’

  I stared at him in astonishment.

  ‘Don’t look so miserable,’ he jibed. ‘Kwin can be fun. And if you want to stay on the right side of Tyron, you need to keep her sweet. She argues with her father a lot in public because she likes to be seen as a rebel. But, believe me, they’re pretty close. Cross her, and you’ll be out of here!’

  I got to my feet.

  6

  Kwin

  Her feet practise a tinker shuffle picked up on the street.

  Like a long-legged fly upon the stream,

  Her mind moves upon silence.

  The Compendium of Ancient Tales and Ballads

  A key turned in the lock and I watched the door next to my bed open slowly, allowing a shaft of yellow candlelight into the room.

  I felt the eyes of Palm and Deinon watching me.

  ‘Go on! Don’t keep her waiting. Kwin gets annoyed very easily!’ said Palm.

  For a moment I hesitated. Was Kwin in on the joke too? Would all three of them soon be laughing at me?

  I decided to go along with it. Did it matter? It was surely just a bit of fun; probably some kind of initiation rite that all new trainees went through. So, still feeling foolish, I walked towards the door, opened it wider and entered the next room.

  ‘You took your time!’ Kwin snapped, an annoyed expression on her face. She strode past me to close the door and turn the key in the lock once more.

  I glanced at her angry face, then quickly scanned the room. It didn’t look like a girl’s room at all. A pair of crossed blades was fastened to the wall directly over her bed, and the far wall was covered with sketches – clearly scenes from Arena 13. They immediately drew my attention and I walked over to examine them.

  ‘They’re great!’ I said. ‘Did you draw them yourself?’

  Kwin nodded. A smile lit up her face and she suddenly seemed quite different to the girl who’d scowled at me during supper. For one thing, she was wearing a dress – a purple sheath that fitted her like a second skin. It was short, with small black leather buttons down the front, and only just covered her knees; the long sleeves came down almost to the end of her thumbs. Her hair was loose, softening her face. On the right side it was very long, but on the left it had been cut far shorter, almost as if to draw attention to her scar.

  But the most striking thing about Kwin was her lips.

  I had seen the women in Arena 13 earlier – they had all painted their lips black; that seemed to be the fashion. But only Kwin’s upper lip was black. Her lower lip was painted the vivid red of arterial blood.

  She came very close and took hold of my shirt collar, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger, as if feeling its texture.

  She was so close that I could feel the heat from her body and almost taste the scent of her skin on the back of my tongue. I caught my breath and my heart began to beat faster. I was strongly attracted to her, but I felt embarrassed by my clothes. I knew I smelled of stale sweat.

  ‘You’re dirty,’ she said. ‘I like that. It’s authentic. Some of the kids tear their clothes and don’t wash, but it’s all an act.’

  ‘I’ve been travelling for more than two weeks,’ I explained. ‘I walked here from Mypocine. Your father said he’d find me some clean clothes tomorrow.’

  ‘Shame,’ she said. ‘Try not to make too much noise. My father’s a light sleeper, but this staircase doesn’t pass his room.’

  Without further explanation she led the way out of her bedroom, and soon I was tiptoeing downstairs after her. Moments later, we’d left the house and were walking through the streets at a brisk pace.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘The Wheel, of course,’ Kwin replied. ‘Where else is there to go at this time of night?’

  I wondered why she was taking me there. ‘I’ve just been to the Wheel,’ I told her. ‘Your father showed me round.’

  ‘I’ll show you what he hasn’t,’ she said. ‘There are places there he’d never go.’

  I decided to let her lead for the moment. She knew this city well; there was lots that she could teach me about it. After all, I needed to learn all I could.

  Now that the sun had gone down, the Wheel’s dome was invisible; without Kwin ahead of me I would have struggled to find my way there. We took a winding route that led us through the very darkest and narrowest of streets. We seemed to be the only people out and about. I thought of the danger from Hob and started to feel nervous.

  Where the narrow streets intersected, lanterns hung from cowled wooden posts, but to my surprise they’d already been extinguished. Anything could have been watching us out of the darkness. At one point I thought I heard footsteps following us.

  This was the only city in the country of Midgard, and the streets were unlit; even back home in Mypocine the torches had burned until long after midnight.

  ‘Keep up!’ Kwin called, and I realized I could only just make out her figure ahead of me. I ran, managing to catch up with her before she turned the next corner.

  ‘Aren’t you scared of Hob?’ I asked. He could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows.

  ‘Maybe it’s you who should be scared.’ Kwin sniggered. ‘Hob’s a shape-shifter djinni. He could be living amongst us unnoticed. Watch yourself: I could be Hob!’

  Her flippant response irritated me and I wished I’d stood my ground and refused to come with her. ‘Do you think Hob’s a joke?’ I asked angrily.

  Kwin rolled her eyes at me and didn’t answer; she simply hurried on.

  Rather than making for the front entrance of the Wheel, as I had with Tyron, Kwin led me round to the back. People were gathered outside and I saw that she had been right: this was somewhere the residents of Gindeen came to socialize at night. From the midst of the largest group, a deep male voice called her name.

  He was a tall, well-muscled young man, maybe a couple of years older than me, and Kwin determinedly ignored him. I glanced at him as I followed her through a narrow door and saw that he looked hurt and disappointed. I wondered about the history between the two of them.

  Once inside, she turned and addressed me. ‘This is the level directly below the arenas,’ she said. ‘We could go lower – into the Commonality – but it’s dangerous at this time of night.’

  ‘What’s the Commonality?’ I asked. ‘It’s where most of the lacs are stored. There’s stick-fighting down there almost every night. Serious bets and everything. It’s very big – easy to get lost. You need to go in a big gang to be really safe there. Maybe you could get Palm and Deinon to take you with some of the other trainees.’

  I couldn’t imagine Palm making me his friend and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be his. As for Deinon, he had nothing to say for himself and wouldn’t be good company. I said nothing, and continued to follow Kwin down a long broad corridor, with doors every twenty paces. Most of these were closed, but at last she halted outside an open one.

  I made to step through, but Kwin grabbed me and pulled me back.

  ‘What?’

  She just stared at me as if there was something obvious I was missing.

  I looked about the large, dimly lit room. It seemed to be some kind of bar, and was furnished with huge chairs and couches upholstered in brown leather. Servants in purple jackets hovered, carrying trays of food and drink to the customers.

  ‘It looks expensive,’ I said.

  ‘Of course it’s expensive, but those who enter can afford it. That’s not the reason we can’t go in there.’ There was anger in Kwin’s voice.

  Suddenly I realized why that was.

  ‘There are no women here,’ I said. Females weren’t allowed to practise professionally, either as artificers or as combatants. ‘Can’t you even enter as a
guest?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I can’t! So tell me what you think, Leif,’ Kwin challenged. ‘Why shouldn’t women fight in Arena 13?’

  I couldn’t think of a reply; we stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before Kwin shook her head, obviously as disgusted with me as she was with the rest of the world. I was struggling to find the right words around her – even more so after her next demand:

  ‘What do you think of my body?’

  I opened my mouth but no words came out.

  ‘I’m working hard to perfect it. Look!’

  To my surprise, Kwin began to unbutton the front of her dress, moving upwards from below her waist. I glanced left and right; to my relief nobody was approaching. By now she had undone three of the buttons and pulled her dress wide open to reveal her stomach.

  I managed to nod. The muscles were visible, there beyond all doubt.

  ‘I’m fast too,’ she said. ‘Very fast. If you train all year, it won’t do you any good. I’ll still be faster than you.’

  Her eyes were full of fire. I couldn’t resist responding.

  ‘Maybe we should put that to the test.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Me against you, then!’ she challenged. ‘Shall we see who’s the better stick-fighter?’

  ‘If that’s what you want,’ I said, relishing the idea of something that was familiar. But no sooner had I spoken than I remembered Tyron’s ban. I wasn’t allowed to fight with sticks now that I was being trained by him. However, I didn’t want Kwin to think I was pathetic; I’d spoken hastily and now it was too late to take my words back.

  She held out her hand to me, and there was just a moment of hesitation before I shook it. ‘That’s settled then,’ she said. ‘But not now.’

  I felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment.

  ‘We can’t fight tonight. Come on – I’ll show you the other lounge.’ And she led me on down a flight of stairs.

  This turned out to be more like a cellar; it was certainly less smart than the lounge I’d seen upstairs. There were at least two or three hundred people there; in the background drums could be heard, an insistent rhythm that rose and fell in volume. The kind of drums that forced you to change the pattern of your steps, making walking difficult.

  Everyone seemed to be drinking, dancing or both. A girl gyrated wildly on a table, her legs a blur, to the distant drum-beat and to the claps of the spectators. With a shriek, she launched herself out over the hard wooden floor as if executing a dive into water. She was neatly caught, and another eager woman was lifted up to take her place.

  ‘Buy me a drink,’ Kwin shouted in my ear. Having her so close made me forget how to talk again. ‘A glass of red wine.’

  ‘I haven’t any money,’ I managed, turning red with embarrassment.

  This reminder of another of Tyron’s rules told me that I shouldn’t have come here. It was exciting and interesting to be in such a place – I’d never seen its like before. But I also felt uneasy. I was sure that Tyron would be angry with me if he knew.

  Kwin pushed me towards an empty table in the corner as if I were a child, and then made her way through to the bar. I sat down, and a few moments later she came back carrying two small glasses of red wine.

  She placed one in front of me and sat down facing me, raising her own glass to her lips. After her third sip she leaned forward. I had to lip-read: ‘What’s wrong? Why aren’t you drinking?’

  ‘Your father doesn’t allow it!’ I shouted back.

  ‘One glass’ll do you no harm.’ Her mouth twisted up at the corner in amusement.

  I shrugged, and when I made no move to pick up the wine, she reached across and placed it next to her own. Ten minutes later both glasses were empty and she rose to her feet. She walked away abruptly without so much as a glance at me. For a moment I wondered if she was going back for more wine, but when I saw her heading for the door, I quickly followed her.

  Hearing me behind her in the corridor, she halted and turned to face me, speaking as if I had done exactly what she had always known I would. I wondered if this was all part of the same initiation rites that Palm and Deinon had gone through with her when they were new to Tyron’s house. I didn’t know what the point was, but there was something about Kwin that drew me to her. I wanted her to think well of me.

  ‘Have you got a good head for heights?’ she asked me now.

  ‘Well, I’ve climbed a lot of trees back at home,’ I said, attempting to make a joke of it.

  ‘This is much higher than trees, Leif. I’m going to show you the view from the top of the dome. Follow me – unless you’re scared . . .’

  Obviously I went after her. I couldn’t let her think that.

  She led me along corridors and through doors, using an ornate key to open any that were locked. Finally we began a long hot climb up a staircase that took us through a narrow opening in the ceiling to emerge in the gloom of the high dome of the Wheel. I found it almost impossible to keep up with Kwin on the steep spiral, and the atmosphere was thick with the oppressive odour of dust and ancient wood.

  After about five minutes she halted and looked back at me impatiently, and then I saw beads of sweat on her brow too. I took advantage of the pause to look down into the circular hall that sat on top of the arenas far beneath us, where people scurried about like ants.

  ‘We’ve further to go yet, but at least it’ll be cooler outside.’ Kwin hurried us on, continuing her ascent.

  I was relieved when we emerged at last into the chill, late-evening air of early spring. I looked up and saw that a full moon illuminated the city. On the outside of the dome, with only a slender hand-rail for reassurance, we continued our climb until we came to the apex, where a broken flagpole jutted towards the heavens like a spear-tip.

  I gazed out over the city, marvelling at the fact that I was here on top of the Wheel’s dome; that I’d been taken on by Tyron. So much had already gone according to plan – though I quickly reminded myself that I’d only taken a few short steps along a very long road.

  Far above, the vultures still circled, but my eyes were drawn to the west.

  Here I could see the dark shimmer of the sea and, beyond it, a segment of the Great Barrier that encircled Midgard and sealed it off from the outer world. It looked like a wall of mist or cloud, but it wasn’t a natural phenomenon. It had been placed there long ago by the enemies of mankind; placed after the last battle by the djinn who’d destroyed the Human Empire.

  Kwin gestured at the city. ‘This is a view that few get to see.’

  It was breathtaking. Despite the late hour and the empty streets we’d followed on our way here, I could see narrow plumes of smoke rising from the smithies and, beyond the huddle of wooden roofs, the crisscross patterns of cattle pens. Far above the slaughterhouse, a lone sea-bird was soaring. Judging by its enormous wingspan, it was an aulburte. They could fly for weeks without landing; some people even believed they could soar over the Barrier itself.

  All my life I’d wondered what lay beyond it. Was the landscape changed beyond all recognition? What were the djinn like, and how had they shaped their own world? What did they do? How did they live? Surely they weren’t all like Hob, who so cruelly preyed upon the land of Midgard from his citadel on the hill above Gindeen?

  ‘That’s the Protector’s palace,’ Kwin told me, pointing north towards a tall building with pillars at its entrance. ‘It’s the only building in the city not made of wood. That porch with marble pillars is called a portico. There’s no marble anywhere in Midgard, so the stone must have come from the other side of the Barrier. The barracks is somewhere beyond it.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her staring at me, but when I turned towards her, she looked away. I felt a strong attraction to her. Maybe she felt the same. I wondered why she’d brought me up here.

  We looked out over the city for some time without speaking again, drinking in the magnificent view. After a time Kwin drew my attention westwards, where the stone and
bronze citadel rose on the summit of the hill. Its thirteen bronze spires of varying heights gleamed in the moonlight, some twisted strangely. She jabbed her forefinger towards them. ‘Know what that is?’ she asked.

  I knew what it was – everybody did – but I didn’t answer. I wanted to hear it from the lips of a city-dweller.

  ‘Hob’s citadel,’ Kwin hissed. ‘It’s the lair of the djinni that terrorizes this city.’

  Yes, I knew all about Hob. I had made it my business to learn all I could.

  ‘In answer to your earlier question,’ Kwin said angrily, ‘no, I don’t think Hob is a joke. But you have to laugh and joke, or the fear would drive you mad. Don’t you see that? In winter, during the hours of darkness, people stay in, their doors barred. Well, not me. I do the opposite. I go out! There is real danger, Leif. There are frequent murders. Hob kills people. He drains their blood. Girls disappear, sometimes for weeks. They return whole in flesh but with their minds completely blank, just like a lac fresh from the Trader. All their memory is gone; some return unable to speak.’

  The horror of what she was saying filled me with anger. My hands started to tremble.

  ‘Hob has stolen their souls. And people are right to be scared – but they resort to superstitious rituals that don’t work. Farmers sprinkle pig blood along their perimeter fences to keep Hob at bay. Some city-dwellers believe that he’s afraid of brambles and nail thorns to their doorways.’

  I said nothing, simply waiting for Kwin to continue. My hands were still trembling and I felt incapable of speech.

  ‘Well? Cat got your tongue? Haven’t you anything to say?’

  ‘I may be new to the city but I do know about Hob . . .’ I took a deep breath to keep my voice measured. ‘He’s terrorized people as far south as Mypocine. He’s killed there too.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ Kwin asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘Why have you come here? Looking forward to fighting in Arena 13, are you?’

  ‘Of course I am. That’s what I want more than anything else. That’s why I left Mypocine.’