Borrowed Levels

Chapter 20: A Cup of Tea with the Devil

Voss was waiting for him in a cafe on the harbor road.

Ren had not expected that. He had imagined a throne room, or an arena, or a shadowed alley with guards in every doorway. Instead, he found a bright little shop with blue shutters, a chalkboard menu, and a single table by the window where a thin man in a gray coat sat drinking tea.

Halvane Voss looked up and smiled.

"Mr. Calder. How good of you to come. Please, sit. The honey cake is quite remarkable."

Ren did not sit. "Where is she?"

"Ms. Hesk is perfectly comfortable. She is in a private suite, eating well and refusing to speak to anyone." Voss sipped. "Remarkable woman. I rather like her."

"You took her to get to me."

"I did, and I regret the means." He set the cup down. He looked older than Ren remembered, thin and gray, his collar slightly too loose. A faint blue line still ran under the skin of his throat. "But I could think of no other way to bring you here without Lord Mael learning of it."

"You work for Mael."

"I advise him. A subtle difference." A tired smile. "I was freed from the Veyran cells by an old colleague of mine, who owed me a favor. I crossed the sea in a cargo hold. Lord Mael was kind enough to give me a desk and a title. He believes I serve his ambitions."

"And you don't."

"I serve what I always served. The city's survival." Voss folded his hands. "I did not lie to you in Vault Zero, Mr. Calder. Every word was true. The god needed feeding. The city needed power. You broke the system, and you were right to, but you did not ask what would come after."

"People are free."

"People are lost. Veyra has no Bank, no levels, and nothing to replace them. In five years, there will be famine and war, and every young man with a sword will carry it for whoever pays him." Voss's gaze sharpened. "Mael's Concord is a worse system. But it is a stable one. Do you see the problem?"

"I see a man selling children's lives for bread."

"I see a man who has not yet found a better answer." Voss leaned back. "Which is why I want you in that arena."

Ren stared at him.

"The Grand Tournament is the only event in Calloway where Mael's authority is formally limited," said Voss. "The champion may demand a boon, and the Treasurer must grant it, or lose the faith of the houses. If you win, you can ask for your friend. You can ask for much more."

"And if I lose?"

"Then you lose your Ledger. Mael will have it extracted." He said it quietly. "I will not be able to stop him."

Ren felt the cold anger rise in his chest. "Why would you help me?"

"I am not helping you. I am making an investment." Voss rose and left a handful of coins on the table. "Think of it as an audit, Mr. Calder. You wish to learn what the Concord really is. I wish to see whether you can survive it."

He paused at the door.

"One more thing. The champions fighting for Mael carry power borrowed from Ms. Vance, drawn from her old links. I have not been able to cut them. But you might."

Then he was gone, the little bell over the door chiming behind him.

Ren stood alone in the cafe for a long time. The tea on the table was still warm. The honey cake sat untouched.

He walked out into the street, and down toward the harbor, and across the plaza to a stone building with a bronze scale hanging over the door. A long line of volunteers waited there, shuffling forward under the eye of the guards.

He joined the end of the line.

When he reached the desk, a clerk with tired eyes slid a form across the table. Ren filled in his name. He hesitated over the line marked Declared Abilities, then left it blank.

The stamp came down.

[ REGISTERED: TOURNAMENT ENTRANT 214. ] [ STATUS: CHAMPION CANDIDATE. ]

Somewhere beyond the walls, a great bronze bell began to ring, slow and deep, calling the city to the games.