I won my way into the room with two honest items, my face and my money. Private security would have been less interested in demonstrations of virtue than the building staff, but Viranz's men were spread all over the city, looking innocent, or at least guilty in an orthodox way.
The seventh-story room had a peerless view of the arena. I'd known that before I came in. It also had oddities on every flat surface, just what the public would expect from the eccentric collector Viranz presented himself as being. I had girded myself with detailed descriptions of certain items, and I found one: Tarmenbi's Wonderfully Efficacious Queasiness Caster.
"Do you think it will work?"
I spun around. There was Viranz, grinning, and one of his boys, grinning even wider. He had a big face. It went with his big fists.
"I don't see why it wouldn't," I conceded. "Which is why you won't use it. There's no point in rigging the annual fight between Old Year and New Year."
"There's a point to winning bets with outrageous odds, isn't there?"
"But you won't see another year to spend it in."
"I suppose I'll have to get used to living as a rich man in this one."
A discourse on temporal philosophy didn't have much promise in it, and I wanted to catch the match (after getting Viranz turned in of course). Aside from a description, I'd gotten instructions too. I used the Queasiness Caster on the heavy and waited for it to be wonderfully efficacious, which it wasn't, and for Viranz to surrender himself, which he didn't. Those preventive measures I hadn't bothered to listen about were making themselves known.
I was in a tight spot. Whether I got out of it or not, well, wait and see if there's another year.
Finis
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