Shadow War - Deborah Chester [1]
Stupid to be here in the first place. This wasn’t part of the regular season, which had already ended. The public arena was for the dregs of the fighters, men broken and desperate, prisoners of war, criminals who were condemned to spill their life’s blood for the enjoyment of the masses.
Like all privately owned gladiators, Caelan held little but scorn for a ramshackle place like this. It was beneath him to be brought here.
But he had no choice in the matter.
In honor of the coming coronation of his empress, Emperor Kostimon was holding a day’s worth of games offered free to the public. All businesses had closed. All workers were dismissed for the day in order to attend the games. This was the biggest arena in the city, and the emperor’s personal favorite. As champion, Caelan had to appear in today’s contest, unless his owner wanted to cause a riot. Caelan was the citywide betting favorite, known to everyone. There would be thousands of people present today who ordinarily could not afford the entrance fee to see Caelan fight. Through the generosity of the emperor and the graciousness of Prince Tirhin, Caelan’s owner, the people would have this single opportunity to come and watch the fighter whose fame was growing across the empire.
According to the guards, the arena was packed to maximum capacity and beyond.
Why did no one come for him? Caelan’s frown deepened, and he resumed pacing. It took but five minutes to clear corpses from the arena and rake the sand. Why sound the trumpets if he wasn’t going to be let out?
His hands worked at his sides, and he longed to have a weapon in his grip. As champion, he’d earned the privilege of carrying his weapons into the ring. It helped calm him to have his sword in hand ahead of time. But here, the strict rules forbidding such liberties remained, with no exceptions.
Even Orlo hadn’t returned, and he should have been back long ago. Caelan reached out and struck the door with his fist as he paced past it. Even as he did so, he knew he should have curbed the urge. He was expected to stay loose, to keep his mind clear and empty.
Instead here he was, making another circle, feeling increasingly grim and impatient. Bad enough to wait all day for the last event. But this delay was an insult.
As champion, his responsibility was to keep nerves of steel. If he let himself look worried or nervous, the odds changed immediately. There were bookmakers’ spies everywhere; impossible to keep them out when even the guards were willing to take bribes to turn informer. Banging on the door should give them something to talk about.
It was the mark of an amateur, not a veteran such as himself. Orlo would be furious when he heard about it, but then his trainer should have been here instead of wandering off to spy on Caelan’s opponent.
The door burst open. Even as Caelan turned, Orlo— bald, stocky, and swinging his club—came striding inside with a scowl on his face.
“Murdeth and Fury!” he said and kicked shut the door in the faces of onlookers crowding behind him to catch a glimpse of Caelan. “Damned tricksters! No wonder the emperor’s entry was kept such a close secret.”
Caelan hated to talk just before he went into the arena. It spoiled his mental preparation. However, now he stared at his trainer with a frown of his own. “Who is the challenger?”
“An unknown.” Orlo spat in the corner and shook his club as though he wanted to bring it down across someone’s shoulders.
Once he used to regularly beat Caelan with it. No longer.
Caelan shrugged. “What does it matter? If he’s green—”
“I saw the brute. He’s a Madrun.”
Caelan’s careful edifice of detachment crumbled. “Great Gault!” he said in astonishment. “How did he get one of those?”
“Prisoner of war,” Orlo said bitterly. “Brought in chains, with half of his handlers clearly afraid of him. He’s not even gentled, by the looks of him. Certainly not trained for the arena. Bah! I hate these political gestures. Why couldn’t you be pitted against a decent fighter instead of a barbarian?”
In spite of his alarm, Caelan had to smile. There was a time