As promised, here is the first chapter of the new multi-author story set in the city of Zanth.

Chapel's Story:
Don't Believe the Hype


by: Dennis Bumb

At midday I took a break from training the men to bolt down a couple of sandwiches. Then I sat down in the bleachers to watch them spar and to drink the rest of my lunch. There were some Zandir sitting in the stands with me, using a part of their midafternoon siesta to get the lowdown on the newest and toughest stable of fighting-men in the city. Malachai wanted me to hold closed practices, claiming it would frustrate our competition, but I refused. Malachai is one of the best killers I've ever met, almost as good as me, but he doesn't know much about promoting a fighting stable.

Dismal joined me in the bleachers after lunch. He had a good sweat going and it made the Marukan's white and black face-paints run. We watched the practice and talked business. He'd been putting up broadsides and spreading some word-of-mouth in the bad parts of town, and the response was good. A few more days of work and we'd have standing room only for the first bout.

We talked about business -- practice schedules, margins, advertising -- for a good while before Calliope came to the arena. I can't say the visit was a surprise. Zandir law is a contradiction in terms, but Calliope is a causidian and a one-woman force for order in a city that doesn't have any. She should have been an Aamanian and I suspect she wishes she was.

I heard her sit down behind us, but didn't bother to move because there's not much you can do about harrassment other than sit there and take it. Dismal kept talking, unawares, and jumped out of his skin when she leaned her head into our conversation.

"Well, boys, now I've seen just about everything," she murmured right into my ear. I didn't say a word. Dismal stammered momentarily, then clamped down and followed my lead. She spoke into the silence we left behind.

"You've posed as salvage operators and expedition guides. You've claimed to be bounty hunters. Ha! -- I even remember the time you pretended to be mercenary recruiters. Mmm, a lot of viziers got taken on that one. And each and every time I could smell the wrong all over you and there was never a thing I could do about it."

I took a swig of aquavit from my flask. It was like I wasn't hearing a word. Dismal watched the bouts, looking calm except for the bobbing of his adam's apple. Calliope looked back and forth between us, then draped her arms over our shoulders.

"Last I heard, you boys were running kesh to the outpost of Akmir while posing as military suppliers. The word is that one got a little ugly."

I almost touched the new scar stretching from my cheekbone to my chin. It was an unpleasant reminder of mutinies and plans gone awry. But I'm a professional. I took a drink instead. Calliope shook her head and sighed.

"But now...now you're fight promoters? Come on, guys. Do you really think you can pull this one off?"

I couldn't help it. I smiled. Calliope groaned.

"Chapel? Dismal? Do you have any idea the kind of people who get involved in the Clash of Champions? Do you know the kind of money they throw around? Do you honestly believe you'll be able to scam the most powerful men on the continent?" She let go of Dismal's shoulder and pulled a hand through her thick auburn hair. "I just hope there'll be enough of you left to bury."

I took her arm from my shoulder and stood up. Calliope's a pretty one, though not exceptionally so. She's a little on the short side, but nice, and a pretty face. She met my gaze, her back stiffening just a hair. A lot of women go blushy and stammering when I stare at them, but Calliope's got a lot of spine.

"Sweetheart," I drawled, "there's no scam this time."

"Really?" The look on her face spoke volumes.

"Really. I've got the best fighter Talislanta has ever seen sitting in my stable. And I don't need to do anything but ride him all the way to the championship." I gave her my best smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "You believe me, don't you, Cal?" I reached for her hand, and she stood up and stepped away.

"Zzabul has been the Champion for three years now," she snapped. "He's unbeatable. He'll beat your fighter...if your fighter's for real, which I doubt. If you try to work an angle, Chapel, the players in this game will kill you."

"The Sauran's good," I granted her, "but my guy--"

"Our guy," said Dismal.

"--can beat him. He's the best. He's absolutely unstoppable. He's going to rip that lizard to pieces. I don't need an angle, Calliope. You don't need to fix the race when you've got the best runner."

She stared at my face for a while, tracing all of its sharp planes and angles and the scars that flowed around them. Evaluating me. "Zzabul is the best," she finally said. "In three years no one's ever come close to taking him. Don't get over your head on this one, Chapel."

"I'm not," I told her, "there's my guy right there."

He was sitting in the shadows cast by the arena wall, his face blank, his four arms hanging limply at his sides. He didn't move and he didn't watch the sparring and fighting in the sand in front of him. He just stared into space and did nothing.

"An Ahazu? He looks drugged."

"I think he's always like that," I said, "except when he's fighting. I really don't understand it myself."

"Why is he fighting for you? What have you got?"

"My little secret," I said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Zzabul would tear him apart," she said, "if your Ahazu could even get that far in the tournament, which I'm sure he can't. What's the plan this time, boys? Your man wins three or four fights, then takes a dive at heavy odds? You collect your winnings and pack up your tents before anyone realizes they've been hustled?"

"Calliope--"

"Chapel, I warn you up front, this time you will not win. I personally will not rest until you and the rest of your little boys' club sees the inside of the Sultan's dungeon."

"You say the sweetest things," I said, but I was having a hard time holding the smile.

"Yes I do, Chapel, and believe me it's for your own good. Prison is a lot better than the things these people will do to you if you try to con them. They will bury you...literally."

I took her hand and to her credit she didn't even flinch. I stared at her for a moment, then kissed her palm.

"You haven't seen him fight," I said.

She yanked her hand free. "Last chance, boys. Pack up your sideshow and leave town."

I gave Dismal the flask while we watched her walk away. He took a very long swig. "Do you really think he's good enough to beat Zzabul?" he asked.

"Beats me. But who cares? He wins four fights, then takes a dive at heavy odds." I smiled, watching Calliope's walk. "We collect our bets and get out of town before anyone realizes what happened."


All right folks, that's it -- Chapter 1. We've got the Clash of Champions coming up, we've got single elimination tournaments in Zanth, and the drug-smugglers from the Akmir story are in town doing their best imitation of Don King. Who else is in the fights? What's happening on the Aamanian side? What's happening in the other parts of town? What do you want to happen? Write about it, and post it up! Use my characters or make up your own. Adam, Monk, Matthew, Mustafa...I know you're out there, so let's see it! And anyone else who wants a piece of the action, you're welcome to join us.

Now, on a "rules" note, the PCs in this story are:

There's a whole bunch of other gladiators in the boys' stable. You can cut 'em to mincemeat for all I care.

DRB

II A Matter of Pride.
III Beauty and the Beast
IV A Quiet Little Celebration with a Few Friends
V The Lurker in the Shadows

Next:Street Show


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