131 Days [Book 4]_About the Blood

by Keith C. Blackmore

  Looking back at the audience, Nexus drank again. “Lords above. The day I wish to introduce a once gladiator to civilized business is the day I perish. Perhaps by having sea crabs dig their way into my hole and snap away at my spine until it severs.”

  Curge studied the man’s profile, seeking signs of lie-telling. He couldn’t discern anything of the sort.

  “Stop looking at me with love in your eyes,” Nexus warned without turning.

  Curge did, but he wasn’t satisfied with the merchant’s admission.

  “Have you drunk to Gastillo’s memory?” Nexus asked.

  “Ah yes, we were great friends,” Curge said sardonically before a scowl crossed his face. “Really, Nexus. I despised every moment in the man’s presence. Much like you, in fact.”

  “Tread lightly, Curge.”

  “The only thing that upsets me is something you’ve already touched upon. Prajus. He’ll pay for that killing.”

  That quieted the wine merchant. “How do you mean?” he asked guardedly.

  “Prajus. The man’s season is finished. No one will take him in, not after what he’s done. And if he does fight as a Free Trained, every gladiator will be hunting for his head. A trophy head, I might add. Especially Gastillo’s pack. I might not have liked his company, but his men were loyal.”

  That made Nexus chuckle. “Loyal enough to kill him.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Perhaps the Chamber will do something about him.”

  “Prajus?” Curge shook his head. “They’ve no reason to. The killing happened outside of the Pit. Truth be known, the other houses will absorb those fighters wishing to continue. The ones they want, anyway. In a very short time, Gastillo’s name will be forgotten. If he’s smart, Prajus should leave the city for the lesser games. That is, if word of him killing his house master doesn’t reach the houses in those parts.”

  Nexus studied his goblet. “A pity. Prajus was a fine warrior. Very capable.”

  “Still is,” Curge allowed. “But he’s all alone now.”

  Nexus didn’t respond.

  That aroused Curge’s suspicions. “Something troubling you, Nexus?”

  “Gastillo’s death,” the wine merchant answered easily enough. “That’s all…”

  *

  Halfway through the last fight, Nexus stood and left Curge’s company without a word. He thought about Gastillo’s death, had been thinking about it ever since his agent informed him of the killing and the man responsible. What he hadn’t divulged to Curge was that Prajus himself and a small pack of loyal followers had graced his audience chamber that very morning, just after Nexus enjoyed a breakfast of boiled eggs and fresh grapes.

  The four brutes had all resembled worried children. Nexus smiled at the memory.

  He granted them permission to stay upon his property until he returned from the day’s events. In truth, he was curious about the arena’s mind on such matters. It secretly pleased Nexus that Curge hadn’t known about the gladiators’ place of hiding. Gastillo was an idiot, a gullible topper hiding behind a mask of gold. Whatever had driven the man to attempt killing a beast like Prajus was a mystery in itself. Nexus wondered if Gastillo’s lapse of reason had been a result of their negotiations. If so, the man was weaker than he’d suspected.

  Still, Nexus supposed formal thanks were in order to his human weasel Bojen, for locating Prajus and his outlaw gang before they fled the games entirely.

  The man’s season is finished. No one will take him in, not after what he’s done. And if he does fight as a Free Trained, every house fighter will be hunting for his head.

  He should have thanked Curge for saying that. That kind of information would make the approaching discussion much more interesting.

  His koch awaited him, surrounded by a dozen personal guards. A manservant opened the transport’s door and closed it behind the wine merchant. There, in the warm shadows of the interior, secret delight spread through Nexus’s person. It remained with him all the way back to his private properties, situated near the well-guarded and patrolled estates belonging to the nobility.

  Upon arriving home, he gave instructions to a waiting Bojen. He then marched directly to a chamber brightly lit by a wagon wheel of burning candles hanging overhead. Rosemary scented the air, though not too heavily. A large square table, pitted in places from the slamming down of mugs or goblets, dominated the main floor. Rich Sunjan and Marrnite tapestries adorned the walls, covering the otherwise bare timbers. The hanging cloth depicted various scenes of nature, except for one in which a heavy hammer fell upon a waiting anvil. It seemed odd, especially when one considered the surrounding silver-threaded stags charging through forests.

  That was how Nexus liked it, though.

  He sat at the table’s head, settling into a striking chair of polished wood.

  In short time, his white-bearded agent entered, leading four of the most sullen and dejected faces Nexus had ever seen in a long time. The way they walked in, wary and hollow-eyed as if about to receive judgement, made him even more pleased.

  “Stand,” he commanded them, the word echoing in the room. “There. The end of the table. Let’s have a look at you.”

  Prajus held his head higher than the others, not yet ready to submit to the merchant. Nexus smiled inwardly. He’d break him soon enough.

  His trainers, Bernd and Rezzo, entered, and Nexus indicated they wait close by. The trainers eyed the foursome reproachfully. Word traveled fast amongst the houses and the schools.

  “Well,” Nexus began and sat up in his seat. “Dead men can apparently walk after all.”

  Silence answered that.

  “I’ve just come back from the games, where I conversed with Dark Curge. You know who Dark Curge is, correct?”

  The four men nodded, though Prajus just barely. Nexus noted a faint slip of the brave face. The man was worried after all.

  “You know what he had to say of Gastillo’s death? He said––which one of you dogs is Prajus, by the way?”

  The three indicated Prajus as he lifted a hand.

  “Ah. Well, according to Curge, your season is over. There’s not a house or school or stable within Sunja that will take you in after what you’ve done. Did you hear me? No one. You three? By association alone, you are probably equally finished. In fact, I’m not even sure my training staff would want anything to do with you. Any of you. And yet, because of my generous nature, I’ve granted refuge to you all, especially you, Prajus.”

  “Thank you for that,” the gladiator replied quietly.

  Nexus leveled his icy gaze at the handsome Sunjan with the short white hair. “You address me as Master, you white coil of maggot shite,” he warned with iron in his voice. “You address me as befitting my status, and you don’t forget it, else my guards spread your rosy cheeks and prod you with their spears. Repeatedly.”

  Prajus’s face tightened around the jawline, and his eyes narrowed. In the end, however, he lowered his stare.

  Not so bad at all, Nexus thought. “As I was saying, according to the Dark One, you’re finished. My man Bojen has said as much. Said no one will even look at you for what you’ve done. No one will allow you to fight under their name in Sunja. Not you. If you continue to fight as a professional gladiator, the best you might be able to do are the games in Vathia. And that’s only until they discover who you are. What… you’ve done. Do you agree?”

  Appearing like worms feeling the hook, Prajus and his pack nodded.

  “You actually killed your last owner,” Nexus continued with forced wonder. “The very man who fed you; provided you with shelter, weapons, and armor; and trained you. You killed a man who, by all accounts, invested a large sum of coin into your miserable hide, and you killed him. I don’t know what brought that about. I don’t care who brought it about. He challenged, and you killed him. Gastillo’s dead, and you are as unwanted as…” Nexus’s eyed the ceiling, searching for a suitable simile. “As blood ticks suckling a dog’s blossom. Am
I right?”

  “Yes, Master Nexus,” they muttered, aware of their situation.

  “Well…” The wine merchant leaned forward, placing his elbows upon the table. “What should I do with you? How will you profit me? Your very presence here will cause a considerable amount of ill will from the other owners. It’s wiser if I simply turned you away. But I saw an opportunity in you. Truth be known, and fortunate for you, I don’t care what the other owners think of me. I’m searching for talent. My own gladiators are enjoying a degree of success within the Pit, but…”

  He allowed that to hang.

  “You, Prajus. I’ve seen you fight. I actually have reason to kill you now, simply from the monetary loss invested in the men––my men––that you killed. But I’m a merchant. I’ve a sense for worth and opportunity. Perhaps we can come to an understanding of sorts, make it so you’ll have a room this night. By the way… how is it you got away from Gastillo’s gladiators and guardsmen?”

  No one answered, but eyes flickered to Prajus, who said, “A passing Street Watch heard the commotion. Thought it strange. They demanded entry into the grounds and, after a round of questioning, decided I was innocent and let me go. These men followed.”

  “Innocent?” Nexus barked and hid his smile behind a hand. “You’re far from innocent, Prajus. Not guilty of murder, I suppose, but far from innocent.”

  Despite the rebuke, Prajus straightened, sensing a change of fortune upon the air.

  “You other three,” Nexus said in a dead tone. “Get out. Now. Never come back.”

  The dogs behind Prajus stiffened and looked at their leader. To Nexus’s secret glee, the indifferent bastard didn’t even so much as glance at them—a true snake if Nexus had ever seen one.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” Nexus warned, scalding them with his eyes. “Bojen.”

  Upon hearing his name, the agent, who had quietly made his way to the rear, rapped upon the main doors. The doors swung open, and the household guard, in full fearsome battle armor, presented themselves, swords and shields at the ready.

  The four men had nothing but the scant clothing on their backs. Three of them tensed, poised to run or fight to the death.

  “Prajus?” one of them asked, his tanned face becoming angrier with every passing beat.

  Six armed guards marched into the room. At least that many were waiting outside.

  “Prajus?” the tanned pit fighter asked a second time.

  “Be quiet,” Nexus said with disdain. “Guards, if these three speak anywhere between here and the main gates, you have my permission to gut them.”

  That stunned the three pit fighters into silence.

  “See to it they leave without damaging anything in a fit of despair or anger,” Nexus continued. “If they do…”

  He chopped the air with an open hand.

  “As you wish, Master Nexus,” one of the household guards said. He stepped aside, as did the others behind him, creating a lane.

  On cue, Bojen gestured for the expelled gladiators to leave. Their expressions amused Nexus. He was even more impressed with Prajus’s indifference.

  The three rejected men followed the guards outside, glancing back in hopes Nexus might change his mind.

  He did not.

  Once the room cleared, Nexus studied Prajus. “I’ve wanted you dead for some time now. But as I’ve said, I recognize opportunities when they present themselves. If you were to fight for me, under the School of Nexus, what would you give me?”

  Prajus didn’t hesitate. “I’d give you the honor of housing a champion these very games.”

  Nexus took his time considering the offer, even flicking his eyes to the trainers present.

  “Would you oversee him?” Nexus asked, knowing the answer.

  “We would,” the trainer called Bernd replied at once.

  “Would our lads accept him?”

  “They would if it was your wish.”

  Nexus allowed time for that statement to reach full flavor.

  “The riches would be considerable,” Prajus said, brow lowered and watching his potential house master.

  The wine merchant scoffed. “I know that, you treacherous cord of gurry. Coin is the only reason I’d take you in. Have no doubt there.”

  “I can give you that,” the gladiator said.

  Nexus grimaced, making a scene of being tortured with the decision. In his mind, he’d already won. “Doesn’t it give you fear,” he asked, genuinely curious, “knowing that no one will stand behind you after what you’ve done? And that once you do fight, every house will be after your head?”

  Prajus didn’t hesitate. “Let them. It won’t be my head rolling in the sands. And no, I’m not fearful. Perhaps worried that my season might be done, but not fearful. I know what I’m worth. At the very least, I’ll find employment elsewhere. A war, maybe.”

  “Then perhaps I’ll leave you to it.”

  “If you’ll have me,” Prajus offered, “I’ll fight for the School of Nexus. I’ll bring you victories and the heads to prove them. Truth be known, I’d kill Gastillo a second time if I could. And if the Street Watch hadn’t happened by when they did, I would’ve killed whoever challenged me afterward.”

  Nexus gripped his almost nonexistent chin. “I believe I’ll take that chance,” he finally decided. “I’ll back you. You are now under my banner, Prajus of Sunja. Sunja, correct? Good. Just making certain. Some of these shaggers from far-off lands speak the language as naturally as any. Twists my guts. But heed my warning, Prajus, you insolent, rebellious maggot. You do as I say. You do as they say.”

  He stabbed a finger in the trainers’ direction.

  Nexus’s gaze settled upon his newest gladiator. “I’ll say this once. I’ll warn you of this once. I’m not Gastillo. My fortunes aren’t resting upon your shoulders. I’m in these games because it pleases me to win. I think you might do that. But understand: if you displease me, if you show the slightest hesitation for one of my commands, one of their commands, I’ll have my lads hold you down while I personally screw my thumbs into your screaming head… by way of your eyes. You serve me, now. And I am a harsh master. Do you understand me, you brazen ring of a dog blossom?”

  A somber-looking Prajus didn’t flinch. “I understand.”

  “Your companions”—Nexus pointed toward the door—“I cast them out. What do you think of that?”

  “They weren’t my companions.”

  Cold, Nexus thought in admiration while struggling to keep his face impassive. The pit fighter was cold, ruthless, even. He’d be a success in any business venture. Nexus could tell.

  “Bernd. Rezzo,” Nexus said.

  The trainers came to attention.

  “Take this hellpup away, and show him his quarters. Inform Tino. Make it known he’s one of us now. Anyone who takes offense to that may leave immediately. Place guards about the barracks in case of any words. Give them permission to discipline if necessary. Prajus.”

  The gladiator and wine merchant regarded one another.

  “Welcome,” Nexus said. “To my school. Such as it is.”

  The man dipped his head, not taking his eyes off his new employer. “Thank you, Master Nexus.”

  He said it with genuine respect, which was a good sign, but Nexus wondered if Prajus knew he was serious with his threat of blinding. Truth be known, Nexus would yank the man’s tongue from his head if he detected the slightest insolence.

  When the trainers and newly acquired killer departed the audience chamber, Nexus desired to indulge in some very expensive wine from his private stock. He offered a silent thanks to Gastillo. To think I’d been prepared to pay good coin for the services of Prajus.

  How the world surprised him at times.

  45

  After spending the night at Shan’s house and offending his wife yet again with the crowd, Goll recruited Clades to accompany him back to the arena. The Kree wanted to see if the Madea had kept his word about delivering scrolls to their private c
hambers. He had discussed his intentions with Clavellus, who, with the rest of the Ten, would later meet the house master before the Gladiatorial Chamber.

  People cluttered the street, making walking tiresome and allowing the morning sun to bake them just a little longer. Goll stopped for children darting before him, paused for clusters of old Sunjan men and women, and threaded a slow, dangerous path amongst farmers leading cows, sheep, and horses.

  “How did you ever do it?” Goll asked Clades upon barely dodging a stream from a voiding cow.

  “What?” the soldier asked.

  “Live here.”

  “I grew up here,” he answered simply. “It’s home.”

  “And you married here?”

  “Fortunate enough, yes.”

  “Brave man.”

  “You’re not married?”

  Goll shook his head. “Not to a woman. Not yet. To the profession, yes. Time enough for women after.”

  “You hope.”

  “Not really. If it happens, I’ll pursue it. If it doesn’t, I’ll probably be dead.”

  “Master Goll, thank you again. For allowing me to serve the house. Even Pratos and Valka are pleased with their positions.”

  “Thank you,” Goll said, directing the gratitude back while avoiding an open cart filled with fragrant chickens. The farmer sitting high in his wagon’s perch and steering a team of two horses studied the Kree with a puzzled frown.

  “We appreciate having you,” Goll said.

  “I fought in the Pit once, did you know?”

  A pair of short elderly ladies armed with walking sticks and pointed elbows cut across Goll’s path, halting him.

  “You did?” he asked. “Is that how you met Shan?”

  “No. He’s the regular healer of my wife and me.”