A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [46]
Until now, he realized, he had never fully appreciated the impact of the Conflicts-the extent to which they could capture the hearts and minds of the masses. He had thought he understood, but his understanding had been a superficial thing. A cold and distant observation.
Now he was seeing it for himself-the eruption of violence for which there was no other outlet in Lower Caste society; the sharing in that violence that bound one man to another and all of them to the warriors on the screen. Now he truly understood.
“Can I get you something, Brother?”
Dan’nor looked up, a little startled. He found himself staring into the hovering face of a serving woman.
“What?” he asked dumbly.
“A drink,” she explained. “This is a tavern, you know.”
He frowned. “I’m aware of that. Yes, I’ll have a drink. M’tsila, I think.”
She smiled wearily. “Sure. I’ll have some sent right over from the estate of Councillor Orian’tuc. Now what do you really want?”
He was surprised. It hadn’t occurred to him that the liqueur wouldn’t be available to everyone. In the Military, it was a common libation. As he cast about for another choice, he noticed another serving maid heading into a narrow hallway off the main room. She had a tray full of drinks and one of them looked like beer.
“How about a beer?” he suggested.
“Absolutely,” she said. “A fine choice.” There was still a hint of mockery in her tone, and it annoyed him-though he knew it wasn’t meant to. That was just the way Lower Casters spoke to one another. Not like in the Military, where words were always carefully chosen. “Something to chew on with that?”
The thought of eating in this place repulsed him. “No,” he said. “Nothing.”
With a shrug, she turned sideways and disappeared into the crowd. Dan’nor was glad to have gotten rid of her.
But when he resumed his study of the viewers, he saw that their mood had changed. Their raucous calls were complaints now rather than encouragements. It seemed that the scene had switched from the battlefield to a construction site. Some participants were building a bridge.
Of course, this was only a prelude to something else. More than likely, a raiding party would swoop down out of the hills, destroy the bridge and take the builders captive. Or a counterforce would intervene and destroy the raiding party. Dan’nor had seen variations on the theme a dozen times or more in the weeks since he became a civilian.
As he was thinking this, he saw the other serving maid emerge from the hallway. Her tray was now empty.
It piqued his curiosity. To whom had she brought the drinks? And why weren’t they in this room, which contained what was supposed to be the main attraction?
He eyed the hallway, even more dimly lit than the rest of the place. Could there be a gambling den back there? He had heard that such things were becoming more popular, though no one he knew had actually seen one. Of course, until recently, everyone he knew had been in the Military-and since gambling was illegal, they would hardly have been invited to attend.
Dan’nor decided to investigate-to see for himself. If there was a gambling operation here, and he helped the authorities break it up, it might bode well for his reinstatement.
Leaning forward, he rose carefully from his untrustworthy chair. He looked around, but his serving woman was still nowhere to be seen.
Should I wait for her to return-and then slip into the hallway? Or should I make sure my prey doesn’t elude me-and make use of what time I have now?
His impatience got the better of him. He chose the latter option.
The hallway was longer than he thought-and darker, once he got past the part that adjoined the main room. What’s more, it took a left turn before he saw any doors. One was on his immediate right, just past the turning. And it was ajar.
He peered inside. It took his eyes a moment to penetrate the shadows. And when they did, there was nothing to see. Only some kegs of beer, some mops, a bucket. And a shelf full of cleaning supplies.
The other door, farther down the corridor