Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [97]
The bidding closed with a final bang of the gavel, and an attendant shout from the crowd.
“Sold, to Prince Tirhin!” the auctioneer said triumphantly. “For two thousand ducats.”
“Now,” Ubin said in Caelan’s ear, giving him a push. “Get on the block. Quickly, boy. Quickly. You’re the next lot.”
Caelan walked forward, although the team was still on the block. Ubin gave him a harder shove that sent him stumbling inadvertently into the back of the last man in line.
Swearing, the gladiator whirled with a vicious swing of his fist.
He moved faster than any man Caelan had ever seen, faster than thought.
Startled, Caelan reacted instinctively, shifting to one side. The gladiator’s fist missed him and crashed into Ubin’s jaw.
The old man fell as though pole-axed.
Astonished silence dropped over the crowd; then a babble of voices and questions rose in a tumult.
Caelan ignored all of it, keeping a wary eye on the gladiator who was still glaring at him.
Trainers and handlers rushed up with whips and spears to separate them, but a clear voice called out, “Let them spar!”
The auctioneer wilted on his podium, but with visible resignation gestured for the space to be cleared.
Handlers unchained the last gladiator from the line, although he retained his leg shackles. The rest of the team was moved out and secured in the pens for sold goods. Men dragged the still-unconscious Ubin out of the way.
Caelan found himself breathing too fast, feeling suddenly alone and vulnerable as he faced the brute, who had begun to smile slowly and viciously. The man’s eyes held absolutely nothing but a flat sort of pleasure.
He would enjoy killing Caelan, and he had training and efficiency on his side.
“Weapons?” asked the auctioneer.
“No weapons,” said the trainer, who wore a dark blue chevron embroidered on his leather jerkin. His gaze shifted appraisingly from Caelan to the gladiator. “Quick sparring,” he ordered. “Move!”
The gladiator reacted to the instructions by dropping to a half-crouch and circling Caelan, who nervously circled with him.
The chains on his feet were a problem. Caelan tripped himself and stumbled. Instantly the gladiator seized the moment and lunged.
It was like being rushed by a charging bull. Caelan had an overwhelming impression of size and strength. Fear gripped him, but he had faced worse in the past. Steeling himself, he managed to recover his balance in time to dodge at the last second.
The gladiator’s lethal fists missed him, and the man’s surprise was revealed in the lines of his shoulders as he skidded to a halt and swung around. Cheering went up, and bets began to be laid among the crowd.
Sweat poured into Caelan’s eyes. He shifted lightly on the balls of his feet, his tattered amulet bag thumping against his chest, every sense painfully alert. He could fight with his fists, but his common sense told him he wouldn’t have a chance against this man. All he could do was to keep dodging and pray he didn’t trip.
This time when the gladiator charged, Caelan was ready for him. Only the man feinted one way, then shifted back. Caelan twisted desperately, too late to save himself from his mistake. A fist slammed into his ribs like a hammer blow.
Caelan grunted as the wind was driven from him. He went down hard, fighting off a rush of blackness. The man loomed over him, but Caelan reached desperately for severance just as a mighty kick connected with his side. He felt a rib snap, but severance blocked the pain.
Rolling, Caelan regained his feet just in time to avoid another blow. From a great distance he heard the crowd’s amazement, but he was floating now in the coldness of separation. The gladiator didn’t waste time on surprise of his own. A shift in his eyes warned Caelan, and Caelan surged in straight at the man, getting close enough to touch that mighty chest with his palm before he leapt back.
Using sevaisin, the joining, he learned what the gladiator’s strategy was and moved to anticipate