“Ah, we’re expanding,” Clavellus explained. “Until we can find them homes. Or help build some. Or maybe they’ll simply stay in one of the barracks’ rooms. That one is called Kura. She’s the wife of one of the once Sujin guards. And that one”—he indicated the one-legged man—“is something of a mystery, but I understand he helped the house while in the city. Gathering information on our behalf, I believe.”
“A spy, you mean?”
Though gone only a day, Clavellus had missed his wife.
“You have plans for him, I suppose?” Nala asked.
“None yet, but we’ll find something for him. Else he perish from boredom.”
“And that one?” She indicated the shorter man in the gray shirt.
“He’s the new armorer.”
“An armorer?” she repeated doubtfully. “He best not be hammering things before midmorning.”
“I’ll make that known to him.” Or at least try to, Clavellus thought, aware of the language barrier there.
“Well,” she said, “it’ll be good to have another lady walking the grounds. If only for a short while.”
“An extra person for you to talk with.”
“Perhaps she’d be interested in taking on household duties?”
“I’ll let you decide that. Oh, and I brought you some things.”
Nala’s expression tightened then, and her husband knew something had gone wrong. “What?” he asked.
“Something happened while you were gone,” she said. “The one called Pig Knot. He slipped away on the wagon delivering wine and such.”
Clavellus’s brow became a knot. “He what?”
“He persuaded Koba to help him.”
That bit of information robbed Clavellus of speech.
“It wasn’t planned,” Nala explained, “but you’d best talk to him. He feels badly for it, though I see nothing wrong. The man––Pig Knot––simply didn’t want to be here any longer. And we are not a prison.”
Before Clavellus could respond, he detected a presence nearby. Machlann had stopped at the taskmaster’s side, a question upon his weathered features.
“Where’s Goll?” Clavellus asked.
*
Leaving the house masters and trainers to talk in a huddle, the guards and gladiators unloaded the wagons. Under the direction of Nala and a sleepy-looking Clurik, the men stowed the supplies away in cellars and storerooms. Once they finished, most of them retired for the night. Junger and a much-hurting Brozz retired to the gladiators’ common room. The Sarlander and the Perician sat down for a mug of water each, taking the time to cool off before bed.
“A long day.” Junger smiled and hoisted his cup. “Your health, Sarlander. May those licks heal quickly. And that wreck you call a nose. That must truly sting.”
“Right and proper,” Brozz whispered. “Your health, Perician. And continued success in the Pit.”
They drank.
“Day is done,” Junger said. “All in all, not a bad showing.”
“Unfortunate about Torello,” Brozz said.
“Unfortunate, but you saw him in the wagon.”
Brozz had. To his and everyone’s surprise, before the Sunjan was unloaded and carried to his bed, he’d reached over and taken Junger’s hand, thanking him for avenging the death of Kolo.
“I did,” the Sarlander said. “Perhaps I’ll have another word with him before he’s asleep.”
“I think he’s asleep now.”
They listened. The odd voice could be heard outside, around the training grounds, but all was quiet in the gladiator barracks. Not even a snore, not that that was surprising. Not many of them were left.
“In the morning, then,” Junger said. “No hurry.”
Brozz grunted. A grimace crossed his face, which didn’t escape Junger’s attention.
“Just wondering,” the Perician began. “How is the gut?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Imagine you will. I was slashed across the guts once. Once. Right nasty cut. Damned near disemboweled me. You don’t think much of the word disemboweled until your innards are bulging through your fingers. Anyway, I held everything in. Got to a healer. Got sewn back together. A near thing, though.”
Brozz listened with narrowed eyes, not feeling better in the least.
They sat in silence then, and all activity outside died away.
Sandals clopped softly across the floor, and Shan wandered in. The healer sat beside the two men and yawned. “All finished,” he announced.
“Have a drink with us,” Junger said.
“Many thanks, but no,” the healer said, chin in his hands and his eyes already half shut. “Busy day tomorrow. And you should be able to sleep for a day and a bit.”
Brozz’s stern expression softened.
“We may not be here in the morning, good Shan,” Junger warned. “Well, suppose I’ll be here. Not so sure about the Sarlander. He could very well perish during the night.”
“He’ll be here.” Shan covered his mouth and yawned. Then he glared at the Perician. “Little late in the day to be making jabs at a man. A wounded man, at that, in obvious punishment.”
“Just stirring up a little fight in him, that’s all.”
“There are better ways to help a person.”
Junger and Brozz exchanged looks.
“Apologies,” Shan muttered. “Tired is all. Many things on my mind. Finally catching me is all.”
“Your missus?” Junger asked.
“My missus. I hope she’ll reconsider coming here.”
“You think she will?”
“The offer’s there. And I’m here. She’ll think about it.”
“What are the other things?”
Shan looked at him as if judging whether or not to say anything. In the end, he decided not. “Nothing. Just that. Well, until the morning, lads… Don’t stay up too late.” He glowered at Brozz. “I’m talking to you.”
The Sarlander didn’t respond.
“Well,” Junger said, “it’s one thing to bring cheer to this one”—he nodded toward Brozz—“but to a healer as well… Anytime you wish to talk, good Shan.”
The healer patted the table and stood. “This is certainly a bloody business,” he remarked under his breath and wandered off to his bunk. In a short time, Shan’s distant snores reached the two remaining gladiators.
Junger smiled. “The man’s in fine tune.”
“He misses his wife,” Brozz said.
“I imagine he does. That’ll resolve itself. Clades now has his wife here. No Pig Knot, however,” Junger said, studying the ceiling. “You overheard that as well as I did. It’ll be strange not to see him around.”
Brozz grunted. “I fully expected to see him drunk. And waiting for us.”
“Maybe we’ll see him again,” Junger said.
“Why did you fight that third fight?” the Sarlander eventually asked.
“Oh. That.” Junger looked to the table. Then his smile returned. “Been waiting to ask that one, I suppose. All the way back.”
“I have.”
“Well. That kind of patience deserves an answer. The Skarrs have orders to… persuade the Free Trained if they refuse to fight. The poor punce I replaced, he couldn’t fight. The Skarrs would’ve killed him right there in the tunnel.”
“Why didn’t you kill them?” Brozz asked.
“The Skarrs?”
Brozz frowned.
“The blood challenges.” Junger shrugged. “Why didn’t you kill your opponent?”
“There was no need.”
“There you have it. You see, Sarlander? We’re not so different, you and I. Though I daresay you have more thread keeping you together.”
Brozz didn’t find the joke amusing.
“It was an easy decision,” Junger stated and sipped his water. “Easy to fight one after the other. Goll wants us to be remembered. Well, we’ll be remembered—for our mercy as well as our skill.”
“You’ll be remembered,
” Brozz corrected.
Junger frowned. “Perhaps. I’d rather not be, truth be known. I fight for the house, so that includes all of us.”
“Not many of us left.”
“No. There’s not.”
“Ten,” Brozz stated quietly. “Now two.”
“Scared?”
The big Sarlander reprimanded his companion with a look.
“Then don’t concern yourself with such things,” Junger said with cheer. “It’s not a war we’re fighting. It’s organized, scheduled combat. Given the choice between that and, say, a battlefield of thousands, I’ll take the arena every time. Just remember, if you can’t continue because of wounds, then you can’t continue. Or if you had your fill and don’t wish to continue, then don’t. Remember that.”
A reflective Brozz inspected himself, placing a hand over his stomach wound. “I wonder what will happen if we’re defeated in the Pit.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that.”
“The house, I mean.”
“Concerned for the house? Your, ah, menacing glow is weakening, good Brozz.”
The Sarlander didn’t comment.
“I don’t think we’ll have to worry,” Junger repeated. “If we fall, the house will do two things. The very worst… it’ll disband. The very best? They’ll recruit new gladiators for the next season. We won’t care either way. Maybe we’ll be remembered on a mural somewhere. I wouldn’t mind that. Something fierce.”
Brozz shook his head at the Perician. He had to admit, the little man amused him.
*
“So you let him go.” Goll glared into Koba’s impassive face.
Clavellus, Machlann, and the two Kree house masters had gathered in the small audience hall inside the taskmaster’s residence. Upon a small table was a single oil-burning lamp casting long shadows on the walls.
“I tried to make him stay,” Koba said in a clear and guiltless voice, “but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Perhaps you didn’t try hard enough,” Goll said. “Perhaps he was becoming a little too close to that girl you’ve been peeking at. Ananda’s her name? Perhaps you wanted Pig Knot removed, and this was the cleanest way to do it.”
“No,” Koba said. “I… favor Ananda, and I’ll not lie about not liking Pig Knot’s interest in her, but I knew you––all of you––wouldn’t be pleased with his leaving. I tried talking to him, reasoning with him, but he wouldn’t have any of it. He wanted to return to Sunja. Said it turned his guts rancid watching whole men train while he sat and baked in the sun. Made him feel worthless. I… could understand that. Then he said he was a house master and questioned who I was to stop him from leaving. I had no answer. So I helped him. Onto the wagon. He had coin to buy his way.”
“Coin?” Clavellus asked, looking at Goll.
“He asked me for a purse of coin,” the Kree admitted. “Said he’d much prefer saving it himself than me holding onto it.” He then fixed Koba with a hard, considering scowl. “Did he say anything as he was leaving? Any words for us?”
“He…” Koba’s head slanted one way, the lamp casting a fearful light across the man’s missing ear. “He thanked me. Wished me good fortune. That was all.”
“Good fortune?”
Koba set his jaw and wouldn’t meet Goll’s gaze. The Kree then realized Pig Knot had wished the trainer well in his pursuit of the girl.
“Well,” Goll said. “Damnation.”
“Pig Knot’s right,” Muluk muttered. “As much as I enjoyed the shagger’s company, he can do what he likes. He’s not a prisoner here.”
“So why would he want to leave?” Goll asked. “This place has everything he needs. A roof over his head. A place to sleep. Food and water. Drink. Lords above, he knows he can drink for free here. But he leaves everything so he can return to Sunja? What’s he going to do there?”
No one had an answer.
“We’ll leave for the city in the morning,” Goll declared. “Organize search parties. We’ll find that stupid punce. Bring him back.”
Machlann and Clavellus exchanged dark looks.
“Sunja is huge,” the taskmaster pointed out quietly, “with a near infinite number of holes and cracks a person might hide, especially if one truly wanted to be left alone. Master Goll, the man’s gone. He’s gone. Let him be. If he found his way to the city, he can find his way back. If he wishes. No amount of searching will recover him.”
Goll fumed, lips twisted into an angry pucker.
“Nothing we can do, my son,” Machlann added. “Except get ready for our next opponents.”
“We might see him in the streets,” Clavellus suggested. “You never know. There’s always a chance of that.”
Goll didn’t think so. “We won’t. Like you said. Not unless he wants us to. If he couldn’t stomach watching our lads train, I doubt he’ll be anywhere near the games. He’ll stay far and away from the Pit.”
“Well,” Clavellus said to Koba, “you did what you could. You’re blameless here, Koba. No wrongdoing in my eyes. Good night, all. I’m off to find my missus.”
With that, the taskmaster left the room. Machlann and Koba followed. Muluk remained, however.
“Far from blameless,” Goll said in Kree. “That idiot. That unfit idiot.”
“Pig Knot will do what Pig Knot wants,” Muluk reasoned. “I’m disappointed he didn’t speak with us, but… he knew we’d want him to stay. Perhaps that’s why he left like he did.”
“Stupid, unfit cow kiss.”
“We’ll see him again,” Muluk said.
“But in what state? What state, Muluk?”
“You’re not happy about this, are you?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Why, then?” Muluk asked. “Answer me that. He did everything you asked of him. Why can’t you let the man go? You did with Halm.”
“Halm will come back. He will. That much I know. Pig Knot’s different. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have any of this. He should’ve stayed here.”
The lack of light made Muluk’s frown all the more intimidating. “So you feel indebted to him? Perhaps even responsible? For what happened to him?”
Goll sighed. “Aye that.”
“I see. Well, I think he’s released you from that. The moment he left.”
Goll’s shoulders slumped as those words reached him.
“As you said,” Muluk reminded his companion, “he had everything he needed here, but he chose to leave it. He didn’t want it. His choice. Not yours. Nothing more can be done.”
Goll remained quiet.
“Nothing more,” Muluk repeated. “As Clavellus said, if the topper can find his way to the city, he’ll find his way back. If he wishes. Maybe he’ll find what he’s looking for. Maybe not. And maybe he’ll return in the end. The best we can do for him, as far as I see it, is to hope he’s well. Hope he’s not hungry. Or thirsty. And has a safe place to sleep.”
A thump from another part of the household, somewhere on the second level, stopped the conversation.
Muluk rubbed the back of his hairy neck and sighed. “Old Clavellus is throwing his boots at the floor. Well, it’s late. And there’s training in the morning.”
Goll regarded the man. “You’re wiser than you look.”
Muluk’s hairy features brightened. “Really? I am? That was wisdom? What I just said?”
“That was.”
Muluk seemed impressed with himself. “What did I say, again?”
Goll shook his head. “Thank you, Muluk. I’m fine now.”
“You might be fine,” the other said ruefully, “but I have an armorer who doesn’t speak Kree or Sunjan.”
17
The door creaked upon opening.
Naulis stepped inside, taking care in the dark interior. He closed the door behind him and swore softly as he groped for a length of wood. He located the plank in short time and slid it through a pair of hooks, barring the door and securing his home for the night. Then he wandered
across the floor, stopping at a small fireplace. There, he dropped to a knee and gathered a small mound of grass and twigs. Upon that he dabbed a little oil from a long-necked container. He fumbled for a flint and stone, righted a candle, and scratched for a light.
In short time, he had a small fire going and lit the candle.
The wick came to life, and he turned around, freezing at the sight of Borchus sitting at a table.
Naulis gasped, his overbite and sunken chin making him appear even more surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you.”
“How you’d get in?”
“That’s a secret,” Borchus said without humor. “One I hope you never find out.”
Naulis slumped against a wall, scratched at a greasy head of hair, and composed himself. He walked into an area lined with cupboards one yank away from falling apart. He opened one, which stayed intact, and fished out a bottle.
“What’s that?” Borchus asked.
“Mead.”
“I’ll have some of that.”
“You’ll get out,” Naulis warned, “and be mindful of the damned door on the way.”
“I’ll leave after we’ve had our talk.”
Naulis faced the man and, after a brief bout of critical thinking, decided to grab two wooden cups instead of one. He sat across from Borchus. “What about?” he asked.
Borchus indicated the mead first.
“You can have a drink afterwards.”
The agent didn’t approve of that, though. Twirling a finger, he insisted his cup be filled.
Naulis reluctantly did so, and when the drinks were poured, they drank.
“Not bad at all,” the agent declared. “Where’d you get this?”
“The market.”
“This is truly good.”
“I get it when I can afford it,” Naulis admitted. “Which is why I’m not so eager to share.”
“I can understand that,” Borchus said and topped off his cup without asking. “To business, then. Naulis, you’ve shown you can be very dependable. Reliable. Even trustworthy.”
Naulis sat in silence, his mouth open. With his large overbite and sunken chin, he looked as if he were in a constant state of gawking.
“So I’ve decided to offer you more work,” Borchus said. “Steadier work.”
131 Days [Book 4]_About the Blood Page 14