Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [106]
Some of the men were free men who had chosen to play in the Para Dix. Many were slaves, like Skylan. Or rather, they were slaves like Keeper. They had grown comfortable, even come to enjoy their captivity. They were given good food, treated well, cheered by the masses. Skylan stared at the well-fed slaves in their shining armor and he wondered, with a qualm of cold fear in his belly, if this would be him in a year. Would he grow complacent? At ease? Would he come to enjoy having someone telling him what to do, what not to do? Skylan shuddered.
The evening for him was a long stretch of boredom, waiting with the other players in the arena until they were formed into a line, marched to the palace, and paraded in front of the Empress. Skylan was aware of a blaze of light, the cloying smell of perfume, men and women reclining on couches, twittering flute music that was drowned out by loud, drunken voices. Most of the players were herded into the room and herded out again. Some of the more famous players, those whose skill in the Para Dix had earned them fame and in some cases fortune, were invited to stay.
No one paid any attention to Skylan except Chloe. He saw her waving to him from where she lay on her couch. The excitement had brought some color into her pale face. Her eyes were shining; she was having a wonderful time. Skylan recalled his talk with Zahakis about Chloe, the fact that she was dying.
Skylan remembered vividly the fear of death he experienced every time he took his place in the shield wall—a fear he could never quite overcome, though he told himself repeatedly that when he died, he would be where he longed to be—with Torval. Skylan tried to imagine living with the knowledge day in and day out that death was only days away. Of going to sleep with that fear every night. He smiled at Chloe and stood a little straighter. He was glad he had polished his armor.
Back in the arena, the players talked about the Para Dix or went to sleep or started gambling. Skylan settled down next to Keeper. He nudged the ogre, who was napping. Keeper belched loudly and opened his eyes.
“Did you talk to your people?” Skylan asked. “About the invasion.”
“Keep your voice down,” Keeper grunted.
Skylan glanced around. “No one’s paying any attention.” Still, he moved closer to the ogre and spoke in an undertone. “Well, did you?”
“I talked to some,” said Keeper, keeping his eyes on the other players. “Meeting together is dangerous. We tend to stand out in a crowd.”
Skylan pictured a group of ogres chatting together on a street corner in Sinaria, and he nodded in understanding.
“None of my fellows had heard anything about it.” Keeper shook his head gloomily. “They did not believe me.”
“Acronis told Zahakis the news was being kept secret so as not to start a panic. You believe it, don’t you?”
Keeper shrugged. “I tried escaping once. A friend and I made plans. We found a boat. It turned out to be a trap. I managed to get away. My friend dove in the water. Ogres are not such great swimmers. He drowned.”
“I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with the invasion?” Skylan asked impatiently.
“I was excited when you told me the news, but then I thought it over. I’m not sure I do believe it. It’s too good to be true.”
Skylan was about to say that Wulfe had told him the same thing, but he remembered in time that Wulfe had his news from his friends the Oceanids. The thought of the boy, who was still missing, gave Skylan a pang.
He sighed and said in a low voice, “I believe it. I have to believe it!”
Keeper eyed Skylan. “You know that if my people do invade Sinaria, you will be just another pisspot human to them. They’ll kill you same as the rest of these whoresons.”
“They can try to kill me,” said Skylan grimly. “And at least then I’d die fighting.”
Keeper yawned and belched