Reign of Shadows (49 page)

The
protector stepped away, sheathing his sword with an ill-tempered snick of the
blade.

The
emperor snapped his fingers. “Well, victor, look at me again. Look!”

Slowly,
Caelan straightened his aching back and met the emperor’s gaze. Legend or not,
he looked to be a man like nearly any other. Kostimon had been handsome once,
but his face was now weathered and creased. Dissipation had carved unfriendly
lines around his mouth and eyes. His hair was white and thick. It sprang back
from his forehead in unruly curls. His eyes were yellow like a reptile’s and
frightening somehow, for all the amusement alight in them just now.

“Not
many would dare correct me, much less in public,” the emperor said softly.

Caelan’s
face burned and he bit his lip, wondering how it was he still lived. Would he
never learn?

“Trau
is
loyal to me, as I recall. I
have not been there in years. A rude, stiff-necked people not much given to
hospitality.”

People
chuckled around them. Caelan gathered the emperor had made a joke, but he dared
not smile.

“Do
you have a name?”

“Caelan
E’non.”

The
emperor sipped wine and settled back in his chair. “Well, Caelan E’non, you
have pleased me today. You’re a terrible fighter, nothing consistent about your
form at all, but you’ve cournge and heart and the guts to use them. I’ll grant
you a reward. What do you want?”

Torhin
frowned and looked disgruntled. Many of the others grinned and exchanged
glances.

Caelan
hesitated very little. “I want the chance to train with a champion team, so I
can fight for my freedom.”

The
emperor sat boll upright and hurled his cup away. “Damnation! What kind of
request is that? Why not ask for your freedom outright?”

Even
now the temptation to do that was choking Caelan. But according to barracks
tales, slaves who asked the emperor for freedom were always killed. It was said
to be the emperor’s favorite irony, in that death was the only genuine freedom
a slave could ever know.

Caelan
struggled to answer well: “Majesty, how can I ask such a request when I am not
your property?”

Standing
behind the throne, Tirhin relaxed visibly and even begun to smile. The
protector ran his hand suddenly across his mouth.

The
emperor’s yellow eyes smoldered. Glaring at Caelan, he leaned forward and gave
him a little kick. “You have the slick tongue of a courtier, arena dog! How did
you come to be a slave?”

Caelan’s
brows knotted with the old rage, checked just in time by his own prudence.
Fighting down the emotion, he lowered his gaze. “The answer would displease
your majesty.”

“Hell’s
garden, I’m displeased now as it is! Give me your answer!”

Caelan’s
own temper rose to meet his. Setting his jaw, Caelan looked the old man in the
eye. “Thyzarene raiders burned my home and sold me into slavery, majesty.

Thyzarene
raiders assigned to your eastern army, but set free to plunder loyal subjects
as though we were enemies—”

“Enough!”
the protector shouted.

Abashed,
Caelan bowed low. Silence hung over the box, and during it Caelan dared not
move.

“Well,
Tirhin,” the emperor said at last, snappishly. “He’s your property, as he’s had
the stupidity to point out. What say you to his request to train for a
championship?”

“I
am not opposed to it. He’s an ill-bred dog, but he does have potential. My
trainer—”

Caelan
looked up sharply, but just in time managed to curb his tongue.

Still,
the emperor noticed. He sighed and raised his brows at Caelan. “Truly you are a
fool. Do you have an objection?”

Again
the courtiers laughed, but Caelan treated the question as though it were
literal.

“If
it please your imperial majesty and your imperial highness,” he said
breathlessly, “I would prefer to be trained by Orlo.”

Tirhin
snorted, and the emperor slammed his hand down on the arm of his throne.

“By
the gods, I’ve not seen the like in years! Not only does he dare to correct me,
but now he has specific instructions in how he’d like his request to be
honored.”

“He
needs his tongue barbered,” Hovet muttered darkly.

“Perhaps,”
the emperor said, eyeing Caelan with displeasure. “Were I not in such a good
mood, I might have you cut into dog meat to feed my hounds.” He snapped his
fingers, and a slave put a victor’s crown of ivy into his hand.

Leaning
forward, the emperor squashed it onto Caelan’s head. It was scratchy and
smelled pungently where some of the leaves had been crushed.

“Hail,
victor,” the emperor said, suddenly sounding bored, “Take your wretched
property away, Tirhin. I’m tired of the fellow.”

Caelan
somehow managed to swallow the knot of disappointment in his throat, he had
gambled and lost. He tried to
remind
himself that today had been far from a failure. He
would somehow persevere.

Standing
up, he backed awkwardly away from the emperor.

Tirhin
and the emperor exchanged a brief conversation in low voices, and Tirhin
flushed.
frowning,
the prince exited the box without looking back. Caelan followed, with the
soldiers flanking him again as though he might suddenly go mad and spring at
one of the concubines who tittered at him.

Out
of sight of the crowd, nearly halfway down the ramp, Tirhin suddenly stopped
and turned around. His eyes held something unreadable.

“Are
you worth the trouble of defying my father?” he asked aloud.

Caelan
stared at him, not understanding what he meant and knowing he wasn’t supposed
to.

Tirhin
rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps. He wants me to sell
you to him for his own team.”

Caelan
held his breath.

After
a pause Tirhin laughed unpleasantly and gestured at an arena guard. “You,
there. Have Orlo brought to me.”

In
moments the trainer came running, still carrying his cattail club, his head
bowed respectfully, his eyes shifting up in quick, furious glimpses at Caelan. “Yes,
sir?”

“I
have decided to take my property home to my own arena,” Tirhin said loftily.

“Yes,
sir.” Again Orlo glanced at Caelan. His gaze could have frozen meat.

“My
trainer doesn’t have time for additional men,  especially new recruits as raw
as this one. Yet I have seen courage today, and my property has acquitted
himself well.”

“He
fought better than I expected, sir.”

“I
ask you to rejoin my service, Orlo,” the prince said. ‘To work as an assistant
in my arena, but chiefly to train new recruits such as this, who need hours of
basic drills. Will you consider it?”

Orlo
bowed low, his face expressionless. “Your highness honors me,” he said in a
toneless voice. “I will consider it.”

“Your
answer tonight, or nothing,” the prince said. Giving them a general nod, Tirhin
walked away with the imperial soldiers behind him.

As
soon as he was out of sight, Orlo moved Caelan down the ramp and shoved him
over into a corner out of everyone’s way.

“Are
you mad?” he asked furiously. “What did you ask for?”

Caelan
said, “To fight where I could win my freedom.”

Orlo’s
anger didn’t soften. “Gault, you have the nerve. It’s a wonder the protector
didn’t cut out your tongue.”

“It’s
what I want,” Caelan said simply.

“A
sane man would have asked for money or a dancing girl.”

Caelan
raised his brows. “In a place like this, where would I put either?”

“Why
your stupid games during training?” Orlo asked, with a rapid change of subject.
“Why the fooling about, pretending you couldn’t fight? Did you think it would
deceive your opponents?”

“I—”
Caelan found himself without an answer he thought this man would understand, or
accept. Since his beliefs were forbidden, it was impossible to explain.

“No,
don’t tell me it was because I took your amulet away. I’ll never believe
that.”
Orlo snorted. “Your ruse
worked, but don’t count on it again. Rumor spreads fast. They may not see the
conflicts, those locked below, but they hear about them. You understand? Great
Gault! You killed Amarouk, the best man in my barracks. The best! Do you know
where that ranks you now?”

“Yes,”
C’aelan said.

Orlo
glared at him. “And me? Why me? Why the hell, after all this time, does Tirhin
ask me to serve him again?” Orlo paced back and forth, fuming. “Why does his
sublime highness think I’d want to go back to wearing his colors? You tell me
that!”

“Because
I asked for you to be my trainer,” Caelan
said.

Orlo
swung around to face him, his mouth open. “You?” he said, his voice almost
squeaking. “You
asked!”

“Yes.”

Orlo
flung his hands up in the air. “I do not believe this. You are mad. Truly.”

“They
asked what I wanted.”

“And
you mentioned me,” Orlo said. “Before the emperor and before the prince. You
mentioned
me.”

“Yes.”

Orlo
stared at him. “Do you know what lies between me and the prince? What have you
been told?”

“Nothing,”
Caelan answered honestly. Orlo turned half away from him and stared into space,
oblivious to the bustle passing them. The arena still had to shut down. The
crowds were leaving now, and there were lighters to be fed and secured for the
night, the arena to be cleaned, a thousand tasks requiring supervision.

But
Orlo stood there and stared at nothing, his jaw working in time with his
thoughts.

“I
do not know that I can go back,” Orlo said softly. “But for him to give me the
chance ... it is a peace offering and a great honor. I owe you for this, Giant.”

He
faced Caelan again, frowning as though he did not know what to think.

Caelan
met his gaze squarely, feeling hope rising once again. “Then help us both,” he
said and dared to hold out his hand.

Orlo
hesitated, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one saw. Then slowly he
gripped Caelan’s hand in the shadows.

“It
is a bargain,” he said. “If you want to be a champion, I’ll take you the
farthest I can. Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed before I make my
fortune with you.”

It
was Caelan’s turn to stare into the distance, into the future. What lay before
him, he did not yet know. He only understood that since this afternoon,
everything had changed. By breaking through the ice wall in his vision with his
father, he had crossed some threshold or passed some test that he did not as
yet fully comprehend. He suspected, although he did not know how or why, that
there were other tests still to come.

“Did
you hear me?” Orlo said sharply, bringing him back to the here and now. “You’ve
got to learn to concentrate, otherwise you really will find yourself bleeding
on the sand.”

Caelan
shook his head with a faint smile. “That is not in my plans,” he said softly.