Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1)

by Angela Angelwolf

  They both laughed. Pashera’s good humor was genuine this time.

  “What I’m saying is that when you’re young, sex and love can seem like one and the same,” Kro’brin said. “I loved my wife at first. I was having sex with her, wasn’t I? But then I found out she was only fulfilling her marital duty. And then I found out what she really thought of me.”

  He looked sad again. Pashera put her hand on his arm again.

  “Tol’zen should never be sending you to the arena,” Kro’brin said. “There must be another way.”

  “Apparently it’s quite safe in the arena until the stabbing starts,” Pashera said. “And he’s going to get me out before that happens.” This time, she actually slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she should never have let that slip.

  Kro’brin realized instantly. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he said. “The arena is supposed to be a one-way ticket.”

  Pashera said nothing. She kept her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

  “You’re afraid I’ll blab?” He patted her shoulder. “I tell you what. I’ll tell you a secret about me. That way, we’ll know secrets about each other. And so we’ll never dare tell anyone.”

  Even in her panicked state, Pashera was intrigued. “What secret?” she asked through her hand.

  Kro’brin nodded. “My uncle expects my support in the upcoming election. Kro’tos even plans to have me speak at the summer games in his support.”

  His eyes twinkled. “But I am not going to support my uncle. I will speak in support of Tol’zen at the summer games. And I will cast my vote for him.”

  Pashera was shocked. “Why would you do that? Kro’tos made you Serdar.”

  Kro’brin shook his head negatively. “He did that for himself, not me. I’m a statistician, not a warrior. I deal with tallies and ledgers, not spears.

  “Anyway, our nation needs a change. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see. The Remnant has been in decline for a long time; aye, for nearly a thousand years, with zigs and zags. But Kro’tos has reigned for 40 years, and it’s been all downhill. He’s a fat slug who keeps everything for himself and his cronies, while the farmers go hungry, the merchants go bankrupt, and predators prey on the nests with increasing boldness!”

  Kro’brin’s voice got louder at the end, and he stopped himself. He looked around, but saurians and human slaves alike were congregating toward the other side of the square, where political speeches were starting.

  “Anyway, that’s my secret,” he said. “And that’s another reason why I would like to speak to Tol’zen before I leave for the South. Is that a good enough secret to safeguard yours?”

  Pashera nodded. She was starting to like Kro’brin.

  U’Chan walked up, looking harried. He had parchment clutched in one hand. “That took longer than I thought,” he said. “What with the slave uprising, everything is in chaos.” Then he saw who sat beside Pashera on the bench.

  “Oh, hello, Kro’brin,” U’Chan said coolly.

  “He must speak to Tol’zen,” Pashera said. “You can arrange that, yes?”

  “Just half an hour,” Kro’brin said. “I need to … go over plans for my expedition against the bandits in the south.”

  “It’s more than that,” Pashera said, then lowering her voice. “Tol’zen has friends he didn’t know about.”

  U’Chan cocked his head and considered. Finally, he said. “We need another male for dinner tonight, Kro’brin. The ladies come at eight bells. Why don’t you come at seven?”

  “Thank you,” Kro’brin said gratefully.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” U’Chan said. “You may be dead by the dessert course. Now, come, Pashera,” he took her by the arm, and led her off down the street. She turned to wave goodbye to Kro’brin. He looked very nervous again.

  They walked down the street, then took side streets until they were in an area where shops and homes mixed. Exotic cooking smells, all spicy and warm, drifted tantalizingly from doorways, only to be replaced seconds later by the industrial smells of a tanner or laundry. Finally, they turned a street and saw a huge, circular structure block out a part of the sky.

  “That’s the amphitheater,” U’Chan told Pashera. “The arena is inside.” She trembled, and he squeezed her hand. “You might train there, but you won’t fight there. And most of your training will be in the women’s ludus. Come, I’ll take you there.”

  “Why didn’t Tol’zen himself see me off?” she asked suddenly. It had bothered her all afternoon, but only now did it bubble to her lips. She’d kept expecting to meet him along the way, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

  “Do you jest? He’d be a weeping, hopeless wreck,” U’Chan said, and Pashera suddenly felt better. “That’s no way for a candidate to behave, and especially so since he’s supposedly sending you away for good.

  “Remember,” and U’Chan pulled Pashera aside, out of the flow of foot traffic, and stared intently into her eyes. Only now, did she see the striking facial resemblance between U’Chan and his bigger brother. “Remember, you must tell no one that Tol’zen is going to rescue you. That is the one thing that might prevent him from being pulling it off. If Kro’tos gets wind of his plan …” and U’Chan trailed off, and led her down the street again.

  Panic stabbed a dagger into Pashera’s stomach. She had done the one thing that Tol’zen didn’t want her to do. She had shared her secret with Kro’brin! Never mind that palace slaves now condemned to the arena could proclaim she was part of their conspiracy. Panic twisted her guts again.

  When U’Chan had proposed his plan to hide her among the gladiators being trained for the summer games, she’d leapt at the chance. Males weren’t allowed in the female quarters, and forced sex would be frowned on anyway. The trainers wanted the women ready to fight, not cowering and broken.

  But now that she was in the shadow of the amphitheater, it all came home to her that she was going to see the rebellious slaves … who might indeed think she had betrayed the uprising, and might rat her out in any case. What in all the hells had she been thinking?!

  She bitterly reminded herself that she’d been thinking she wouldn’t have to suck saurian faroos or worse. But now she couldn’t tell U’Chan the real reason for her trepidation. He and Tol’zen didn’t know that she’d been part of the rebellion.

  They arrived at a large, three-story structure with a gated courtyard. She could hear the shouts and sounds of women inside the gate. U’Chan looked at it, then led Pashera further down the street, to a two-story, red-brick building trimmed with official-looking colors and bunting.

  “Try to show courage,” U’Chan told Pashera, squeezing her shoulder one last time. “You don’t want to come off as timid in this meeting. But don’t be a smart-ass either. Wait for them to talk to you first.”

  She nodded, and straightened her spine. And they went inside.

  Chapter 13. The First Day of School

  Inside, a meeting with a series of functionaries ended in yet another meeting, this time with a tough, crew-cut, battle-scarred old male human, and female saurian who would have been qualified as “matronly” if not for her obvious muscle, and facial scarring adorned with an eye-patch.

  The man wore a brown tunic and kilt, with an ornate leather belt, and he carried a crop; the female saurian was dressed similarly, but she allowed herself the elegance of lipstick and a two-bunned, multi-colored style of head-feathers. The man’s name was Kodo, while the female was Ang’ess. Both of them sported wicked-looking scars. The man, Kodo, in particular had crisscrossed and ugly scars running up both arms and across his chest.

  The female, Ang’ess, had a hard glint in her remaining eye, but it sparkled as she looked Pashera over. Her leather kilt had red highlights, and she wore leather bracers on her arms with the same crimson touches. But she was not one of the fashionable ladies of the court. Everything about her clothes looked functional, with the potential for brutality.

  Both Kodo and Ang’ess greeted U’Chan
courteously, and sized up Pashera with interest.

  For her part, Pashera tried to stand tall and stare ahead. U’Chan explained that Pashera was a good slave, but there was no place for her in the house now that Lord Tol’zen was getting married. The Lord wanted to sponsor some events at the summer games – what candidate wouldn’t? – and Pashera was his good-faith offering.

  “What’s that thing she’s wearing?” Ang’ess asked.

  “Oh that?” U’Chan looked at Pashera’s “bounce absorber” as if seeing it for the first time. “Pashera, jump up and down.”

  While Pashera jumped, U’Chan explained that the garment of weaver silk held human teats snugly in place. If nothing else, it would make the women more agile and even up the odds in arena contests with men.

  The old man and the saurian female looked at each other. “That’s an interesting twist,” Kodo said.

  “Lord Tol’zen has offered to pay for another two dozen such garments for human females fighting in the arena,” U’Chan said, producing a piece of parchment to attest to the fact. “He’d like them adorned with his purple dragon sigil.”

  Both Ang’ess and Kodo smiled. “I’m sure he would,” Kodo said.

  “You can stop jumping now,” U’Chan said to Pashera. She stopped.

  “She’s obedient,” Ang’ess said approvingly.

  Kodo waved his hand. “We can’t call it a bounce absorber, that’s a stupid name,” he said. “ ‘Battle top’, that’s the ticket. The girls will jump at the chance to wear something called a battle top.”

  “Lord Tol’zen has sent along a list of ideas on other events he could sponsor. Perhaps you could quote me some prices?” U’Chan said.

  “Sure,” Kodo said. “I’ll go over the list with you. And Ang’ess will see to Pashera.”

  “Do you wish to say goodbye?” Ang’ess asked U’Chan.

  U’Chan surprised Pashera by turning to her and giving her a warm hug. “Don’t worry,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s all in hand.”

  Pashera held the embrace, if only because she knew that U’Chan and Tol’zen shared the same scent, and this was the last time she would smell Tol’zen’s scent for a long time. Finally, Ang’ess put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her away.

  “One more thing,” Ang’ess said. She reached over and unhooked Pashera’s collar with one quick move. She handed it to U’Chan. Ang’ess then took a rope collar – really just a simple braid – and put that around Pashera’s neck.

  Ang’ess tightened it, but not tightly. “You don’t want it getting in the way,” Ang’ess explained to Pashera. “You’ll get a better one once you pass your training.”

  Pashera looked at the silver collar in U’Chan’s hands. That was her last link to her life with Tol’zen. Despite the fact that she hated being a slave, she found it hard not to cry.

  Ang’ess led her out of the room and down a hallway. Ang’ess told Pashera, “Don’t worry. You’re probably thinking that the arena is a death sentence. It doesn’t have to be. I fought in the games for 10 years. Kodo fought for 16 years before they forced him to retire.

  “The fact is, you’ve come in with a rich patron, and we need trained fighters, now that we’re swamped with the slaves from the rebellion. We’ll find out what your talents are and toughen you up. You’ll fight three or four festivals a year, no more than two or three times per festival. And considering that most of your opponents will be criminals and bandits, as long as you work hard and don’t get careless, the odds are in your favor.”

  Here, Ang’ess leaned in to Pashera conspiratorially. “And I don’t want to scandalize you, but the professional matches have arranged winners many times. Somebody gets stabbed, but as long as it looks good, everybody is still breathing the next day.

  “You’ll get money for every match you win. Not a lot, but some. More for championship bouts. The school keeps 20 percent of it, but we give half of that back to you when you win your freedom.”

  “Freedom?” Pashera asked.

  “Oh yes. Survive as a champion for 10 years, and you’ll be free.”

  “What about the slaves who rebelled?” Pashera said. “Will I be training with them? Will they get a chance to live, too?”

  “You should always address me and your other trainers as ‘teacher’,” Ang’ess said. “Or ‘mistress’.”

  “Will I be training with the rebel slaves, Teacher?”

  “Oh, you might train with them,” Ang’ess said. “But no, they don’t live out a year.

  “Such is the price,” the female saurian added, “of rebellion. They are the lowest kind of criminals. You’d do well to remember that.”

  A twisty maze of corridors ended in a room where a saurian female was going over books with two human female attendants. This saurian looked tough as nails, too. Ang’ess introduced her as Ang’kim. Ang’kim declared Pashera filthy and ordered her off to the baths. The human attendants led Pashera away, followed by Ang’kim and Ang’ess.

  In a steam-filled room, centered around a pool, Pashera was ordered to strip. She didn’t like stripping in front of so many prying eyes, but there was nothing for it. The others gently joked about her shyness as she tried to cover herself.

  One of the other humans stripped also, and led Pashera into the pool, which was the hottest water Pashera had ever been in. It was so hot she tried to hesitate, but the other woman dragged her along relentlessly. Animal-headed spigots on the walls spouted water that ranged from hot (a bear-headed spigot) to icy cold (a fish). Her bather mostly chose to torment her with hot. As soon as she was wet, Pashera was ordered into a side pool, where Jolee (the human attendant) soaped her up with a sponge. Then it was under the spigots again, then back into the pool for another scrubbing.

  Any touching was non-sensual. But it was also rigorous. She was thoroughly inspected, and had to account for every bruise. When asked about her black-and-blue-and-reddened backside, she simply said: “My master paddled me before sending me away,” and the others laughed at this.

  “So you DO have a naughty side,” said Ang’ess. “I was starting to worry you didn’t have spirit.”

  At the end of the bath, Ang’kim declared Pashera hopelessly undernourished and without a worthy muscle in her body. “But,” she added with a wink, “we have two moons to fix that.”

  After the bath, Pashera did not get her clothes back. She was issued a loincloth, showed how to put it on as if she was a toddling child, and marched off to the kitchen, where she was fed a heaping chicken stew and slices of rich brown bread. Raised in a tribe whose agricultural skills only extended as far as plucking fruit off trees and growing herbs, Pashera had never had bread before. But after some tasting, she ate it up. It was delicious.

  Ang’ess nodded approvingly. “You’ll find the first few days here will be trying many new things. Sometimes you’ll be instructed in things you already know; relearn them, even if you think you know better.”

  Pashera nodded.

  After the meal, Ang’ess went back to her duties, while Ang’kim showed Pashera around. She would sleep in a cell that was fairly roomy. “It’s yours alone, unless we get a rush of recruits. As a new fish, you’ll be expected to double up,” Ang’kim said. She was issued toiletries including a chew-stick to clean her teeth, as well as extravagances like a hairbrush and oil for her skin. Pashera expected the oil was more important for the saurians, but kept her views to herself.

  The rest of the day was a tour of various training facilities. The gladiator school was old, the stones well-worn, the wood mis-matched from countless replacements over the years. The entire place stank of sweat and bodies. It was lit by globes of cool light set in the walls and ceilings. But in some places, the lights had burned out, and there seemed to be no hurry to replace them.

  Each training session was led by either a saurian female or a human woman. They were all tough, even dangerous looking. The older ones ran to fat, but that fat was layered over muscle. The humans all wore their hair long, held bac
k while they trained. The saurian females did their top-feathers in tall mohawks of various colors.

  Each of the “professionals,” as Pashera came to think of them, led a group of recruits or prisoners in various exercises.

  The majority of the prisoners had been involved in the slave revolt. They were easily identified by the date in saurian script branded on their chests. This marked the date of their first day at the arena.

  By the time another year rolled around, those bearing the mark were expected to be dead.

  However, there were also new recruits into the professional ranks. About a third of these were saurian females. The others were the toughest females screened from new slaves brought into the House of Obediance. If Pashera had to make a guess, she’d say they were chosen by weight. A couple were fat AND tall, which, she reasoned, would probably make them formidable opponents in any contest of strength.

  All the humans wore the rope collars. Almost none of the saurians wore a collar.

  But fat or skinny, tall or short, prisoner or recruit, they were all being led through exercises. The trainees, Ang’kim, explained, would focus on one of three areas each day.

  Strength – this included …

  Weight training

  Climbing ropes with hands and feet

  Hanging by the arms as long as possible

  Holding the arms out to the sides

  Climbing stairs

  Jumping while holding weights

  Trying to hold an opponent, or alternately trying to break those wrestling holds.

  Physically pushing against an opponent

  Walking while carrying another person

  Speed – this included …

  Running back and forth over short distances

  Moving the arms up and down rapidly

  Trying to touch targets that jut out of a wall with increasing speed

  Throwing and catching small balls the girls hurled at each other

  Dodging and twirling

  Violence – this included …

  Punching a bag as fast as possible