But already he was quite sure the boy was far too late for challenging. Even so, he slid two fingers down to the windpipe to check for a carotid pulse. None. And the wound, oh – down beneath the ribs, down by the kidneys. A deep rip. Lethal. But the boy had tried. He had scrabbled this far, struggling inward, striving for the safety at the heart of the Combat College, the cure-all clinic. And had died far short of his goal.
Hatch stood up, and hastened down the corridor. The dorgi did not come lurching out of its lair to challenge him. He gave it a glance in passing. It was silent, stolid. Sleeping? Sulking? Dead?
He gave it a heartbeat's thought then forgot about it as he hurried on toward Forum Three.
Chapter Seventeen
The student body: Dalar ken Halvar's Combat College accepts 30 new students per year, entrance age being typically 11, though older students are sometimes accepted. Students who begin the standard course at age 11 graduate at age 27; imperial levies, such as Hatch, break their training for seven years of service with the imperial army. The number of Students of all ages now in training in the Combat College is 353. Of these, 29 are Startroopers and the remainder, of course, are Combat Cadets.
So young in youth the would-be warriors
Dream desire as blithe abandon -
Till drawing days from days the war
Lights monotonies of dust,
And lighting lights
Encasement of routine.
On entering the Combat College, Asodo Hatch naturally headed for Forum Three, for that lecture theater was where Paraban Senk habitually dealt with matters of communal discipline or communal crisis.
Forum Three was a steeply banked amphitheater in which seating and desking was ranked in a semi-circle above a small stage. The backdrop to the stage was a large communications screen, which was at present displaying the image of a lotus in full flower. There was seating for as many as 680 people in Forum Three, but at the moment it had fewer than five dozen occupants.
Hatch remembered the last crisis of common concern, when Paraban Senk had summoned all students after Hiji Hanojo had been found dead – dead at the age of 40, in the thirteenth year of his instructorship. Forum Three had been positively crowded then. But now, with trouble on the loose in Dalar ken Halvar, some students were fighting with the Free Corps, others were guarding their homes, and some had doubtless joined in the lawless rioting.
The few dozen students gathered in Forum Three evidenced both apprehension and excitement. They had trained for war, and so should have had a grasp of its realities; but the heroic fantasies of the Eye of Delusions had overmastered their training, so that they had found themselves ill-prepared for the realities of the misfortune which had come upon their city.
In Forum Three, politics was in the ascendant. Where was the Silver Emperor? Was he prisoner? Was he dead? Was Treasurer Berlin dead? Was it true the officers of the Imperial Guard were fighting amongst themselves? Would Manfred Gan Oliver really become the next emperor?
'Hatch!' shouted someone, as Hatch entered Forum Three.
'So here he is,' said Lupus Lon Oliver. 'The man who tried to make himself the master of Na Sashimoko. Who tried, but failed.
They say he ran at a speed a very rabbit would have envied.'
The rabbit was a creature of the Nexus, a beast unknown to Dalar ken Halvar but said to be possessed of an extraordinary turn of speed and a streak of cowardice which encouraged it to put that turn to frequent use. But Hatch did not feel insulted, for he had absolutely no idea what Lupus was talking about.
Hatch said as much.
'What are you gabbling about?' said Hatch.
'Your inglorious encounter,' said Lupus. 'That's what I'm on about.'
But Hatch was none the wiser, for he had not heard of the rumor which claimed that Asodo Hatch had been ignominiously outfaced, humiliated and defeated while endeavoring to singlehandedly put down the coup which had seen a parcel of Imperial Guards seize control of the palace of Na Sashimoko. Hatch was equally ignorant of a variety of other rumors, variously claiming that Hatch had started the revolution of the Unreal; that Hatch had personally murdered the Silver Emperor; that Hatch was dead; that Hatch had fled the city; and that Hatch had plunged into the Hot Mouth, taking Lupus Lon Oliver down to destruction as he leapt to his death.
'You're talking nonsense,' said Hatch.
'So,' said Lupus, 'you don't admit it.'
'If you won't tell me what I'm supposed to have done,' said Hatch, 'then I cannot reasonably either admit or deny it. Accuse me, and I'll account for my performance. Meantime, account for your own – what are you doing sitting here on your backside while our city burns?'
'What are you doing?' retorted Lupus.
'I came here to organize a response to the present chaos,' said Hatch. 'Inside of the night I'll do as much. But I'm fresh arrived, you seem to have been here all night.'
'Not so,' said Lupus. 'I was out in the city, but returned in response to the messengers, just as you did.'
'The messengers?' said Hatch in bewilderment, wondering if Lupus was suffering one of those illnesses where the deluded victim starts hearing imaginary voices speaking inside his head.
'Senk's messengers,' said Lupus.
And by diligent questioning, Hatch learnt that Paraban Senk had despatched a number of Combat Cadets as messengers, telling them to recall Asodo Hatch and Lupus Lon Oliver to the Combat College.
'Then perhaps Senk wants us to jointly organize a response to the present crisis,' said Hatch.
'Perhaps,' said Lupus.
At this, a couple of Combat Cadets entered Forum Three. They were flushed and panting, scratched and bruised, and Hatch immediately zeroed in on them, thinking them hot from the battles of Dalar ken Halvar. But before Asodo Hatch could begin his interrogation of these fresh witnesses, the full-flowering lotus adorning Forum Three's communications screen disappeared, and was replaced by the olive-complexioned features of Paraban Senk, the Teacher of Control. Senk called the room to order.
'It seems,' said the Teacher of Control, 'that there is a degree of disorder in the city tonight.'
This pronouncement was greeted with hoots, howls, jeers, and cries of feigned disbelief.
'Nobody can say where this disorder will end,' said Senk. 'In as little as a day, conditions may become far worse. Therefore, I am bringing forward the competitive examination for the instructorship. Tomorrow may be too late. Accordingly, we will proceed with the competitive examination for the instructorship as soon as possible. Asodo Hatch will fight with Lupus Lon Oliver on this very night. To the victor, the spoils.'
Both Hatch and Lupus were on their feet immediately, protesting. Hatch out-bellowed Lupus:
'But I haven't slept!'
Thus protested Hatch, and in perfect sincerity.
Thanks to his Combat College training, Hatch was capable of maintaining a studied tortoise-faced inscrutability under interrogation, and of telling undetectable deadpan lies during such interrogation. But there was nothing inscrutable about Hatch right now. He was emotionally open, revealed, exposed. Under such circumstances, Paraban Senk could read Hatch to a nicety, and knew Hatch to be telling the truth.
Hatch had not slept.
So Senk believed, and so likewise did Lupus Lon Oliver, for that was what Hatch himself believed. In the heat of the moment, Asodo Hatch had entirely forgotten the fact that he had laid himself down to sleep in his empty house in the afternoon just gone, and had not been roused until early in the night.
For his part, Lupus Lon Oliver certainly had not slept. In the morning, he had been courting the statuesque Penelope Flute, and his subsequent embroilment in the alarums of the afternoon had made sleep impossible.
'We are warriors,' said Lupus stoutly. 'We need no sleep. At least, I don't. But if Asodo Hatch is too old for the rigors of war, why then, let him withdraw from this competition.'
'Hatch,' said Senk. 'Do you choose to signify your withdrawal?'
