Midnight Falcon (25 page)

'Nonsense, my friend. You have been ill, and your well-being is far more important to me than small matters of ego. Sit yourself and be comfortable.'

Nalademus bowed, and lowered his massive frame into the gilded chair.

Horath breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his place. Nalademus was introduced to the other guests, and then the party returned their interest to the events in the stadium. A precision cavalry display was followed by a lion hunt. Two beasts were set loose in the stadium, and two horsemen, armed with hunting bows, galloped out. The first lion was killed swiftly, but the second, wounded and enraged, charged at a rider. The horse reared, throwing the man to the sand. Instantly the lion was upon him, and the beast's talons ripped open his back. The satisfied roar from the crowd startled the lion, which swung its great head just as the second rider bore down, sending an arrow into its heart.

The audience applauded wildly as slaves ran out to carry the mutilated rider from the stadium. The bodies of the lions were dragged clear and slaves with buckets of sand and long rakes covered the blood.

'The riders are men of great courage,' said Horath to Bendegit Bran.

'The lions were starved,' said Bran, 'their strength almost gone.'

Horath smiled and turned away, casting his eyes over the crowd, which was more than two thousand higher than at the last event three weeks before. Circus Occian was close to becoming the most profitable circus in Stone. Ah, thought Horath, how that must taste like poison to the owners of Palantes. Part of the success was due to the tribesman, Bane, who had become immensely popular with the crowds, but the greater part was the influence of Rage, who now trained all the gladiators, driving them hard, building their strength and speed. It was rare now for an Occian man to lose a death bout.

The trumpets sounded for the intermission, and the party rose and moved back to the Long Room, where food and drink had been laid out on a twenty-foot table. Nalademus engaged Bendegit Bran in conversation, while Jasaray stood talking with Fiallach. Horath hovered close by, close to the silent guards lined up across the doorway.

'I understand you have children,' said Nalademus to Bran.

'Three now,' said Bran. 'All boys. The youngest is but four months.'

'The children are our future,' said the Stone elder. 'They should be cherished.'

'Indeed,' agreed Bran, visibly relaxing. 'It is a joy watching them grow and learn. Do you have children?'

'Sadly, no. The priesthood demands total abstinence from all desires of the flesh. It is a source of regret to me, which is perhaps why I take such joy from the happiness of family men such as yourself.'

Horath wandered away. The honey dripping from Nalademus was almost nauseating. Another figure moved into the room, the guards stepping aside for him. He was tall and wide-shouldered, wearing armour of black and silver. Horath hurried over.

'Lord Voltan, many, many thanks for taking the time to attend. Circus Occian is honoured by your presence.'

'Fetch me some wine,' said the tall warrior.

'Indeed so,' said Horath, holding to his smile. As he filled a goblet Horath became aware of a change in the atmosphere within the room. He glanced back to where the former gladiator stood. The guards looked nervous and ill at ease, and even the emperor was watching him closely. Jasaray strolled over to where Voltan waited. For a moment it seemed the Stone Knight was not going to bow, but then he dipped his head. Jasaray summoned the captain of his guards. The man stepped forward.

'The Lord Voltan', said Jasaray, 'is a loyal and good friend, and I can see from the dust on his cloak that he has ridden hard to be with us today. Which is why I excuse him for coming into my presence armed with a sword. In his haste to pay his respects he probably forgot he was wearing it. What, then, pray, is your excuse for allowing him to enter?'

'I am sorry, Majesty,' said the man. 'It will not happen again.'

'Indeed not. You are dismissed from my service. Report to your commander and await my pleasure.'

'Yes, Majesty,' said the man, bowing deeply. He backed away.

'Before you go,' said Jasaray, 'be so good as to remove the weapon of which we were speaking.'

With a speed that made Horath blink Voltan's sword flashed into his hand, and for a moment the air was charged with danger. Then Voltan reversed the blade, handing it to the disgraced captain, who swiftly left the room. Horath stepped in, handing the goblet to Voltan, who received it without a word of thanks. Nalademus introduced him to the guests, and Horath saw his gaze lock to that of the mighty Fiallach. 'Ah yes,' said Voltan, 'you fought at Cogden Field. I have heard of you. Are you not the general who beheaded captured Stone officers and raised their heads on poles at the Cenii border?'

'The very same,' said Fiallach.

'A sound strategy,' said Jasaray. 'Terror is a potent weapon in war. The placing of the heads on the border sent a clear and concise message to the enemy, while at the same time instilling fear in them. Now let us take a little refreshment before the main events.'

Bane grunted as Telors probed the injured rib. Blood was still oozing from the four-inch-long gash on Bane's left side.

'The rib's broken,' said Telors. 'You were lucky, Bane.'

'Oh yes, I feel really lucky,' said Bane, wincing as Telors wiped away the blood.

'Damn careless,' snapped Rage. 'I spent many hours watching Dex, and I told you how fast he is on the counter-attack. Did you read the notes I left with you last night?'

'Yes, I read them,' lied Bane. 'And I didn't fail. Dex is dead, isn't he?'

'Yes, he's dead,' agreed Rage, 'but a better man would have cleaved your ribs or disembowelled you. A man like Brakus, perhaps.'

Suddenly Bane grinned. 'You are never satisfied, are you? After my last duel you were telling me how if I fought like that when I met Dex he would cut my head off. And before that there was the deadly Kespus. Now both are dead.'

'Perfection is what we strive for, boy,' said Rage.

'No-one achieves perfection,' said Telors. 'You know that, Vanni.'

Rage sighed. 'If it could be achieved, it wouldn't be worth striving for. The object is to get as close as you can.' He looked at Bane. 'You fought well for most of the bout. Good footwork, fine concentration. But right at the start he lured you in with a feint. Only your speed saved you, and even with that he snapped a rib. An extra ounce of pressure and that rib might have pierced a lung.'

Telors opened a small leather medicine bag, removing a crescent needle and some dark thread. For some moments he tried to thread the needle. Finally Bane took it from him, threaded it, then handed it back. 'My eyes aren't what they were,' grumbled Telors.

'That's because you're getting old,' Rage told him.

'I'm ten years younger than you,' Telors responded.

Rage smiled at him. 'That's true.' The big man sat down alongside Bane. 'Don't mind me, boy. You frightened me out there. For just a moment I thought he had you.'

'I thought so too,' admitted Bane. 'And you are right. I was careless. But the shock of seeing Bendegit Bran and Fiallach with the emperor rocked my concentration.' He swore as Telors tightened the first stitch.

'Be brave, little soldier,' said Telors, with a grin.

Rage patted Bane's shoulder. 'Well, you are Gladiator Four now, and you are almost at your best. You've done well, Bane.'

'Well enough?'

'To take Voltan? I don't think so. Ask me in three months. If you beat Brakus, we'll talk again.'

'I promised you two years. I kept that promise.'

'Just three more months,' said Rage. 'Give me that, and then make your decision.'

Telors finished the stitches and snapped the thread. Bane lowered his arm. 'What is troubling you, Rage? Be honest with me.'

'There's a time for honesty, boy, and this isn't it. Now wash the sweat and sand from yourself. We've been invited to meet the emperor and his guests.'

'I don't know that I want to,' said Bane.

'There isn't a choice, my friend.'

Bane rose and walked through to the rear of the Sword Room, and the bathhouse beyond. Telors put away his needle and glanced at Rage. 'What is it, Vanni?'

'The boy is good. Very good; fast, strong, courageous. But he isn't ready for Voltan.'

'Why don't you just tell him?'

'No point, my friend. He will fight him anyway at some time. I don't want to destroy his confidence.'

'You might be wrong, Vanni.'

'Let's hope so.'

'Am I invited to meet the emperor?'

Rage laughed. 'Why would he want to talk to an ugly bastard like you?'

Telors chuckled and began cleaning Bane's sword and helm, before packing them away, with his wrist guards and greaves. Minutes later Bane returned. His blond hair was combed back and tied in a ponytail, and he was wearing a pale blue tunic, grey leggings and riding boots of the softest leather. At his waist was a silver-edged belt, from which hung a hunting knife with a hilt of engraved horn.

'You'll have to leave the knife behind,' said Rage. 'No-one enters the emperor's presence armed.'

Bane lifted the knife from its sheath and handed it to Telors. Then the two men left the room, climbing the stairs to the second level, and emerging out into the stand. The last of the crowd were moving down the aisles as Bane and Rage made their way ever higher towards the Royal Enclosure. Several people recognized Bane, and called out to him. He responded with a wave and a smile.

A guard in silver armour met them at the Enclosure door, searched them for weapons, then ushered them inside. A second guard led them along a corridor, through a food hall, and into a large private room. Expensive rugs adorned the mosaic floor, and there were a dozen beautifully crafted couches set around the walls. The emperor was reclining on a couch below a high arched stained-glass window. Bendegit Bran and Fiallach were sitting on either side of him. On a couch opposite sat an enormous figure in crimson robes, his huge head framed by a mane of white hair. And behind him stood Voltan.

Bane tensed, his hand moving unconsciously to his empty knife sheath. Rage gripped his arm. 'Bow to the emperor!' he whispered. Bane's hands were trembling, but he fought for control, took two steps forward and offered a deep bow to Jasaray.

'I thought you might like to meet your countrymen while they visit Stone,' said Jasaray.

'That was . . . most thoughtful, Majesty,' said Bane.

'Good to see you, lad,' said Bran, rising and offering his hand. Bane shook it. Fiallach remained where he was, and folded his arms across his enormous chest. Jasaray rose from his couch.

'Let me introduce you to my friend Nalademus.' Taking Bane by the arm he walked him across the room. Bane bowed to the Stone elder.

'An entertaining duel, young man,' said Nalademus. 'You are certainly not dull to watch.'

'And this is Lord Voltan,' said Jasaray. 'He leads the Stone Knights.'

'We have met,' said Bane, his voice cold.

'Have we?' asked Voltan. 'I do not recall.'

'We only spoke briefly,' said Bane, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. 'You had your sword buried in a young girl's heart at the time.'

Voltan looked closely at him. 'Well, well,' he said. 'The tribesman from Accia. Did I not say you had potential?' He smiled broadly. 'And here you are as the new Gladiator Four. I always was a good judge of fighting men. Good to see you again.'

'You have no idea how much I have been looking forward to meeting you,' said Bane.

'Gratifying to be so highly thought of,' said Voltan.

Bane tensed, but, just as he was about to attack, Rage's hand clamped to his shoulder. 'There is a time and place for all things, boy. This is not the time, and it is certainly not the place.'

'I had no idea there was a history between you,' said Jasaray. 'How interesting. However, I fear we are neglecting our other guests. Come, Bane, and sit with your friends.'

Jasaray led him back to the two Rigante warriors, then turned away and strolled across to speak with Rage.

'What was that about?' asked Bendegit Bran, leaning in and speaking softly.

'He is my enemy,' Bane told him. 'It is a personal matter.'

'You always were good at making enemies, Bane,' said Fiallach.

Bane looked into the man's hostile gaze and smiled suddenly, feeling the tension drain from him. 'There was a time I would have gladly killed you. There would not have been a moment's regret. I am older now, and a little wiser.' He took a deep, calming breath, and returned his attention to Bran. 'Why are you here?'

'The emperor invited Connavar to send ambassadors for talks. The king agreed. We have been here ten days, but there have been no talks so far. But what of you, Bane? How are you enjoying life here?'

Bane shrugged. 'I am wealthy, but I miss the mountains. When I have accomplished what I have set out to do I will come home.'

'You'll not be welcome,' said Fiallach.

'I never was,' said Bane.

Bane was silent for most of the way home, and sat back against the leather seat of the open carriage, staring out over the city streets. Beside him Rage was also quiet, lost in thoughts of his own.

As the carriage moved out onto the main avenue, leading to the hillside and the eighteen-room villa, a small commotion broke out in the crowd some way ahead. Lanterns had been lit, and in their glare Bane saw armed Knights dragging several men and one woman from a doorway. Someone in the crowd shouted 'Burn the traitors!' but mostly people stayed silent, watching the prisoners hauled away.

'They won't succeed,' said Rage, as the carriage moved on.

'Who won't?' asked Bane.

'The Knights. Nalademus. Religion is a strange creature. It thrives on persecution. After three years of burnings, hangings and torture there are probably now more followers of the Tree Cult than there were at the start.'

'That seems to make no sense,' said Bane.

'I agree. But it's true. Religions that die away are those absorbed by society's rulers, not those damned by them.'