Shadow War - Deborah Chester [18]
Orlo sent him an innocent look. “What a pity. I thought the Madrun was considered everyone’s opponent.”
Nilot’s scowl deepened. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away.
Orlo gestured at Caelan to descend the steps. “Get on with you! I thought you’d have enough sense to get to your bath at once. You can reap your glory later.”
Sighing, Caelan turned in silence and somehow got himself moving down the steps. Orlo flanked him, grumbling and criticizing all the way. He fended off anyone else who attempted to approach them. “Get back! Let the champion pass!”
Leaning closer, Orlo shot Caelan a sideways glance. “What in Murdeth’s name did that snake want with you?”
“Nothing,” Caelan said. “He was angry at the loss.”
“Angry? Him?” Orlo snorted. “Oh, yes, and how innocent you are. You, looking like you meant to tear out his throat. Don’t you have better sense than to threaten a man of his position?”
“He insulted the prince,” Caelan said through his teeth.
Orlo shot him another look, then frowned. “You are a slave,” he whispered hotly, glancing left and right to make sure no one overheard him. “It’s not your place to defend the honor of his imperial highness.”
Caelan shrugged. Now that he had a little distance from the incident with Nilot, he was annoyed with himself. Tirhin was not worth the risk he took. “You’re right, Orlo,” he said meekly. “The prince can defend his own honor. I am a fool.
I have always been a fool. It is likely I will be a fool until I die.”
Orlo’s frown deepened. “I know Nilot. He never does anything without a purpose. Did he make an offer to buy you?”
Caelan snorted, not bothering to answer. There were always men trying to buy him from the prince. Caelan was supposed to be flattered by such offers, but he always found them demeaning and shameful.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Orlo continued. “He will bring an offer from the emperor. Gault, that will be a problem! If the prince refuses to sell you, he runs the risk of offending—”
“Stop worrying,” Caelan said tersely. “Nilot didn’t come to buy me. He wanted to know who taught me the Dance of Death.”
Orlo veered onto that subject immediately like a dog after a bone. “Hah, wouldn’t he just! Wouldn’t we all? You didn’t get it from me.”
“No.”
“And it was a damned stupid thing to try! You—”
“It worked.”
“Oh, yes, it worked, but the risk!”
Caelan’s gaze dropped. “Necessary.”
“You could have killed him several times before you finished him,” Orlo said sternly. “Gods, it was like watching your first season. My heart nearly stopped at the mistakes you made. Besides, have you ever practiced that move? It was invented for bravado by lovelorn officers wanting to duel over their women.”
“It was invented for combat,” Caelan said stubbornly, concentrating on each step. “Later, it was used in duels.”
“Yes, by the officers in the emperor’s Crimson Guard. You had no business using it.”
Caelan threw him a cynical look. “Because I’m a slave.”
“Because you’re not in the Crimson Guard. They’ll be offended. They hold their traditions as high as their honor.”
Caelan frowned. No wonder the prince was displeased with him. Caelan thought he was doing the right thing, but once again he had blundered. It did no good to say he wasn’t versed in military traditions. Neither the prince nor the army was interested in his excuses. Some of Caelan’s anger returned. He hadn’t asked to be involved in this intrigue. He was no good at it. And now he had made things worse.
Someone hailed Orlo from the bottom of the steps, calling out congratulations.
Orlo waved, and swiftly changed the subject with a warning glance at Caelan. “I’ll bet you twenty ducats that putting the Madrun in today was Nilot’s idea. Stupid. If the brute had won, how could they celebrate the victory of an enemy? If he lost, who would care?”
Caelan nodded, conserving his strength against the mists that were blurring everything. He bumped into the wall and had to bite