Ivory Lyre (19 page)

The first game was a teaser, designed to
heighten their lust to new frenzy.

A naked, bound prisoner was dragged into the
center of the arena, a man jailed two months before for annoying a
palace guard when he tried to deliver cabbages. He lay staring at
the gate, shivering and exposed, as two dozen maddened,
steel-spurred gamecocks, raised on a diet of raw meat, were dumped
out of baskets onto his prone body. The crowd’s cheering excited
the roosters further.

Kiri could see through the arrow slits in
the low stone wall below the seats as she moved beneath the stands,
but she did not look. The victim’s screams were enough, alone, to
make her sick; that, and the crowd’s insane shouting.

It was damp under the stands, and smelled of
urine. She knew that, somewhere above her among the crowded
benches, Garit watched the bloody games. So did a handful of rebel
soldiers, though the bulk of the rebel forces had remained outside
the gate, milling and shouting with the rabble that could not get
in; they were more mobile out there, and might be of more use.
Prince Tebriel was the first prisoner for whom the rebel armies had
come out of hiding in force. He was perhaps the only prisoner for
whom they would have shown themselves so openly. They had counted
on reinforcements from other countries, time to arm more heavily
before they declared open war. It was all happening too fast.

She approached the cages beneath the stands
warily, for Sardira’s soldiers were thick around them, keeping the
rabble back. They let a few street folk through, those wild with
drugs and armed with sharp sticks to tease the captives. A horse
screamed, and there was a deep bellowing that must be the bear. The
crowd was so thick around the bars she could not see Tebriel. As
she pushed her way through, she could see a herd of old, lame
horses being driven out of a pen into the arena. They were followed
by a spotted bull forced out with spears. It kept charging the
fence, maddened from the cadacus it had been given.

Then, looking down through the cages, she
saw the silver bear. It was sitting on its haunches, silent and
still, watching the arena.

Had they given cadacus to the bear?
Sometimes the drug produced rage, and sometimes lethargy. Had they
drugged Tebriel? In humans, the cadacus stirred false power, making
them foolhardy; then soon they would collapse into a depression of
terror.

A knot of men forced her back from the bars,
and one of them pinched her crudely. She flung away from him, her
wound searing her with pain, then slipped into a crowd of laughing,
drunken couples. She fought her way back to the cages, away from
the pinching men, and grabbed up a stick as if to prod along with
half a dozen others. She pressed against the bars, staring down
though the row of cages, and could just see the great bear. She
backed away when the caged black bull charged her, hitting the bars
like an earthquake. The bull’s tormentors jeered.

As she worked her way to the left toward the
bear, she could see a dozen horse-sized brown lizards writhing
beyond. In the last cage stood Tebriel chained to the wall, his
leathers stained with blood. She began to push toward him, but five
drunken boys blocked her, laughing, and one grabbed her arm. She
kicked him in the leg, kneed him, and spun away, tunneling through
the mob, ducking and shoving.

The prince stood with his back to her,
watching the stadium, where, now, the spotted bull charged
blood-hungry lizards among the bodies of the dying horses. Kiri
watched the crowd. No one seemed interested in Tebriel; all were
watching the bloody game. She whispered to him. He seemed glued to
the spectacle of killing. When she spoke again, he turned.

His eyes were filled with fury; his face was
drawn; his fists were clenched white. Such anger filled him that he
did not recognize her at first. Then his eyes changed. He came to
the bars to look down at her.

“Kiri! Oh . . .” His eyes searched
hers, puzzled at the emotion that flared between them. He was
tired, wounded, sick with the killing in the arena, straining to
keep his head when he knew he might die soon.

“A man with red hair sent me,” she said
softly.

“Garit,” he whispered. Then a flash of
suspicion showed deep in his eyes. She reached to touch his
hand.

A man glanced at her and turned away. A rag
woman wandered by close to her and didn’t look, one of Garit’s
trusted spies. Kiri made as if drunk, trying to throw up against
the cage bars as a group of girls moved near.

When she and Tebriel seemed ignored again,
she said, because she knew Garit would expect it, and to prove
herself to Teb—but not because she needed proof, now, “What hangs
on the walls of your palace?”

His eyes flared with interest. “Tapestries.
They were bright once, but now they’re ruined, maybe gone. Do you
know what they showed?”

“Other worlds,” she said, “that you had
never seen.”

He nodded.

“What color dress did your mother wear
most?”

“Red. A red dress brighter than the flowers
of the flame tree in her walled garden where she sat with us. Do
you know the name of my first pony?”

“Linnet,” she said. Their eyes held. The
crowd surged around them. He turned away, pretending to watch the
arena. She could see the scar on his arm, twisting a small, dark
blemish that must be the mark of the dragon. Her own mark was where
she could not decently show it. She wanted to tell him what she
was. She felt shy and awkward. When the crowd had passed, she spoke
softly, watching his leather-clad back. “You and Camery used to sit
in the walled garden together.”

He spun to face her, his face open now and
eager.
“Camery!
It
was
Camery who had escaped from
Vurbane. Where . . . ?”

“She will come soon. She is safe.” Then,
“Garit is in the stadium. He will help you. We will all help you.
Our people . . .” She hardly breathed the words.

His own voice was so low she had to press
her face to the bars to hear him. “The resistance . . .
you are . . . ?”

She nodded, then backed away as the crowd
pressed around them.

Beyond, in the arena, mounted soldiers were
dragging away the carcasses of dead lizards and horses. Kiri caught
the eye of the rag woman who had lingered, and nodded. The old
woman faded into the crowd. She would pass the word to another, and
so to another. It would reach Garit quickly through the milling
crowds:
Tebriel! Yes, he is Tebriel.
And rescue plans would
begin.

Had Garit had time to do more than organize
archers to mount the outer stadium walls and shoot the animals that
attacked Tebriel? Maybe mounted rebels would crash the gates. War
in the stadium would erupt quickly, Kiri knew, into all-out war
across the city. There was no way to prevent it.

More old, crippled horses had been turned in
with the bulls. The carcasses dragged away would be divided among
the crowds. That, too, she supposed was reason for the excitement.
If they ate drugged meat, what was the difference?

Teb started to speak, but guards thronged
around his gate. Three pushed inside to unchain him. She backed off
at the first movement, but their eyes met and held; then she faded
back into the crowd that was now shouting for the blood of the
prince.

They stripped him nearly naked as the crowd
stamped and shouted. They prodded the bear until it roared and
struck at its tormentors. They forced it into the arena, forced Teb
in behind it. Would the bear, pain-maddened, drug-maddened, turn on
its master? In the ring now were the bear and two bulls, a dozen
lizards, a few horses still on their feet cowering at one end, and
one young dragonbard stripped and weaponless, a chain dragging from
his ankle. Kiri stared up at the stands hoping for a glimpse of
Garit, then felt a hand on her arm. She spun, her knife
raised—Summer stood close, staring past her toward the arena and
Teb.

In the arena, Teb turned as if someone had
spoken his name. Behind him the bulls pawed. He stared at Camery,
their looks frozen—then he saw her alarm, turned fast as the bulls
charged. He stood in front of one. It roared down on him. He
stepped aside so it passed him. The two bulls charged one another,
locking horns, sparring, forgetting Teb for a moment. The bear had
risen over Teb—but only to protect him.

Camery’s voice was choked. “I came too late.
Oh, Kiri, it
is
Teb. The army—could we attack now? Where is
Garit?” Her pale hair was hidden by a dirty scarf, her face smeared
with soot. “Oh, what is Garit doing? Teb will be killed. We
. . . Come on!” She grabbed Kiri’s arm and pushed through
the crowd toward the gate that led into the arena, her hand on her
sword. Kiri started to follow, terrified, knowing this was not the
way yet that they must help him quickly. But suddenly another power
touched her, another knowledge. She grabbed Cameras arm and tripped
her. Camery turned on her with fury.

“Wait,” Kiri whispered. “Wait.” Her thoughts
were stirring with a power that made her tremble. She turned and
stared up at the stands. . . .

She began to drag Camery toward the stairs
that led up. Camery fought her at first, then began to run, her
eyes wide with the strange, unbidden knowledge. Something was
drawing them upward toward the top of the stands where the king’s
box rose—some power they could not resist.

Yet, behind them, Teb faced death.

He was a tiny figure now below them in the
yawning arena. The spotted bull charged. The crowd roared; the iron
gates heaved as resistance soldiers fought their way forward. Kiri
battled the crowd upward with Camery, falling over feet, stepping
on hands, until they reached the satin-draped royal box. They dove
into a narrow space behind it.

It was dark behind the low wall of the box,
and smelled musty. They could not see the arena, only hear the
shouting, muffled by the two walls between which they crouched.
Light came through the space above them, between the top of the
wall and the satin-draped roof. Directly above them, they could see
sky. Kiri didn’t know why they had come, but she knew they had to
be here. Power had called them. Power for them to seek and use
. . . Power that could help Tebriel.

Kiri could hear Accacia’s voice through the
space above the wall, then General Vurbane’s. At the sound of his
voice, Camery went pale and pulled her scarf farther over her face
and hair and, kneeling, scraped up a handful of dirt to smear her
face darker. Accacia’s salmon-pink veil had caught across the top
of the wall above them, where it ended some inches above Kiri’s
head.

Vurbane said in a flat voice, “Perhaps the
bull will kill him. No, I will bet on the bear. Though it seems
rather dull. Didn’t they give it drugs?”

“It spit out the drugs,” Accacia said. “It
injured five men when they tried to force it.”

Then Sardira’s low voice, muffled by the
wall. “It has been prodded and burned all morning. It is an
extremely stupid bear.”

“Yes. The creature seems to be defending the
prisoner,” Vurbane said. “I could have better entertainment in my
own pasture.”

“Wait,” Accacia said, her scarf bobbing.
“Patience, General. Wait until the lizards kill the bear; then the
bulls will have the prince to themselves.

“Bets on that,” said Vurbane lazily. “Bets
. . . fifty to one . . . New bets, my
dear.”

“Ninety to one for the bull.” Accacia
laughed. Kiri could hear Roderica’s laughter, too.

Camery pressed close to Kiri, her fists
clenched. When she glanced at Kiri, her look was still puzzled. “A
power to help him,” she whispered. “The bard’s power—try, Kiri.”
But already Kiri was trying with everything she knew to bring
strength around Tebriel, a strength to increase his own.

“The bear,” Vurbane shouted. “Chain the
bear.”

Suddenly they saw the king’s black-sleeved
hand lift above the wall as he signaled. The crowd stilled. Quiet
spread as if time itself had frozen.

In the stillness, chains rattled.

Suddenly the silence was shattered with the
crowd’s wild shouting.
“Chain the bear . . . chain the
bear. . . .

The bear was roaring, its rising voice
thundering. A man screamed.

“Kill it!” someone shouted from the box. “If
you can’t chain it, kill it!”

“Chain the prisoner!” a woman yelled. The
bulls bellowed. The crowd started to stamp, shouting,

“
Blood! Blood!”

Kiri nudged Camery, then climbed up the
rough-lumber wall, quickly past the opening and onto the canopy,
Camery close behind, both hoping the noise of the crowd hid their
commotion.

The satin-covered roof was usually filled
with servants and pages who had climbed up secretly, but now it was
deserted. Maybe they had been routed earlier. Lying flat on their
stomachs, Kiri and Camery could see the arena clearly.

The black bull lay dead. The bear was
standing on its hind legs swinging its bloody paws over three giant
lizards that lay torn open at its feet. But the bear was bleeding,
too, from a gash in its side. Teb crouched near the center pole
covered with blood. The spotted bull moved toward him pawing, the
steel tips on its horns catching the light. Camery’s fists were
white, her lips moving with her effort. Kiri fought harder. She
watched the bull circle Teb shaking its metal horns, saw Teb rise.
The bear moved to protect him, stood rearing over the bull so the
bull backed away. But suddenly the bull staggered uncertainly,
nearly fell—more than the bear had made it cower. Every creature in
the arena cowered down except the bear. A fierce power touched the
gaming field. Kiri gasped as she felt that power joining with her
own, with Camery’s, violent and strong.

Every creature in the arena was frozen
still. Kiri and Camery were caught in a power much greater than
their own, had become a part of that power that had stopped the
killing. . . .