Wicked Bronze Ambition

4

I glanced from face to face. Nobody looked like they thought Algarda was pulling my leg. Kevans made a noise that sounded like a bleat of fear, which might be justified if this was on the up-and-up.

“No bullshit, Garrett. Those two have grandkids that could get pulled in. Kyoga’s son, Feder, seems to have gotten the news yesterday. Mother and I, naturally, are concerned for Kevans.”

“You’ve lost me and confused me. Somebody or something picks out kids. . always Hill kids? And they have no choice?”

“Almost always members of the founding families. But some of those don’t exist anymore, as much because of the tournaments as anything, so brilliant outsiders get dragged in to make up the numbers. Or, even uglier, the summons can go out to more than one member of the same family.”

That would be cruel. “All right. Cream-of-the-crop kids. And they’re expected to murder one another until only one is left standing.”

“Yes.”

“Crap. How? Why? And how come the whole damned world doesn’t know about it if it happens all the time?”

Strafa asked, “How can they make them fight? If they don’t want to?”

I said, “That would be a good place to start. Yes.”

“You have no choice. Say you’re a pacifist and you refuse to participate. Someone will cut your throat just because you make it easy.”

“In other words, what it is is an exaggerated and formalized, gamed-up version of what goes on among the ruling class every day, anyway.”

That got me unpleasant looks from members of the ruling class.

Barate said, “Some will fight, always, for the prize or just to survive. Some will try to win so they can get strong enough to end the tournaments forever. Whatever, young people will die, some of them horribly. Not all of the victims will be people directly involved in the game. There’s usually a lot of collateral damage.”

“But the public doesn’t notice.”

“Mostly it doesn’t happen in public. It’s no gladiatorial contest, like a bare-knuckles boxing tournament. It’s a secret war that, by its nature, can’t help having public effects. It leaves corpses and localized disasters. Unexplained magical encounters in the night are common and often lethal.”

Not unusual for TunFaire, really, until recently. Lately the city has suffered gut-wrenching spasms of early-stage law and order.

Barate said, “There is evidence in the historical record if you look. You won’t need to dig for it. We’ll give you a big head start by letting you interview several participants from the last tournament.” He extended his hand to indicate Hauser, the Machtkess woman, and his mother.

Kyoga reported, “My father kept a journal detailing his efforts and that of his two Companions.”

“But. .”

Hauser said, “Families were involved. Families hand down oral histories. We refused to play by the old rules. We sabotaged and aborted the tournament. We attacked the devil in charge instead of our friends. And we thought we had ended the tournaments forever.”

Lady Tara Chayne said, “We were wrong.”

I asked, “All of you?” Kyoga was Barate’s age.

Hauser said, “No. Meyness B. Stornes.”

Kyoga said, “I said my father. I was still in diapers.”

Hauser added, “Five of us rebelled. Meyness disappeared in the Cantard ten years later.”

All right. I looked from face to face. Sooner or later they would get around to explaining how they thought I fit. Sooner, I hoped. I was getting hungry. Strafa’s eyes had gone yellow with impatience. And Kevans was getting restless.

Hauser said, “We wrecked the last game because our grandparents got cut up bad in the round before that. That one didn’t work out according to plan, either, though we never found out why. Everyone involved died before they could explain. Some of us, though, were old enough to understand and friends enough not to want to kill each other over something that we didn’t believe was actually real.”

Lady Tara Chayne said, “There have been six tournaments, none of which went according to design. Something always went wrong, but a lot of people died anyway. When we were young we thought the whole thing might just be an entertainment for devils. I’m no longer as sure as Richt is that there’d never be an actual payoff, but I’m still set on ending the insanity.”

Hauser won no points by adding, “We’re all too old to benefit, anyway.”

Lady Machtkess said, “It’s easier to get in a killer mood when it’s your children at risk. When it’s you yourself, you don’t worry so much because when you’re a kid you know you’re invincible.”

Barate stepped in. “This time we want to abort the thing before it starts and keep on till we end it forever.”

I admitted, “I have to confess to being confused. I still don’t have any idea of who, what, or why.”

Lady Tara Chayne asked, “Isn’t that what you do, though, Mr. Garrett? Find answers? I’m told that you’re the best.” She looked over at Shadowslinger, one eyebrow raised. “Constance would have us believe that you’re a genius with a matchless network of shady connections. And that you’re more discreet than the Civil Guard.”

A rabid mammoth would be more discreet than those guys.

Somebody had been telling tall tales. That it might be Shadowslinger astonished me. She seldom showed anything but contempt. “True.” Barely.

A double-hand squeeze on my left arm hinted that it might be in my interest to talk less and listen more, a skill I have honed for decades with slight success.

Barate said, “Mother believes that the tournament will play out differently this time because it will be heavily influenced by survivors from before.”

“Um?”

“This round may begin with an effort by the Operators to remove those who helped scuttle it last time.”

I pointed a finger at Lady Tara Chayne, Hauser, and Shadowslinger, swinging left to right.

“Us. Yes. Exactly,” Hauser said. “We have been remiss, letting the matter slide for so long. We thought it was over forever. Or at least we hoped next time would hold off till after we were gone. But, honestly, some of us might admit fearing that it would come back to bite us someday.”

Madam Machtkess said, “Someday has come.”

I saw no arrogance here, only confidence and irritation at an outside force that dared try to use them. A common Hill attitude, actually. These were people grown old in treacherous environments.

“So, what shall I do with my special talents and outstandingly shady connections?” Carefully keeping my tone neutral. Strafa had hold of my arm, sending messages by squeezing brutally. In a way, she was thrilled that the man she had chosen, without consulting her elders, was now being welcomed to the family’s conspiratorial heartland.

Shadowslinger watched me as if she were cataloging recipes she wanted to try.

Barate said, “First, we should identify the contestants. If we round them up before the killing starts, the whole stupid competition will fall apart. Nobody will have to die.”

Hauser agreed. “We could save them all. And if we could identify the Operators. .”

Shadowslinger summoned Barate close. She murmured into his ear. He then announced, “Mother has to leave us. She suggests that we all give Mr. Garrett whatever information we have so he can get started, especially with identifying the contestants.”

Right.

Cynical me, I wondered how much actual identifying and rounding up they really intended.