Page 11

I stumble back to Ironhold at the conclusion of the games for the day, marching with the other gladiators who have survived in procession while my mind reels with the things Vex said to me. Was he serious about representing a group of nobles who want to change the current system of the empire? Who wants to overthrow the emperor, perhaps?

He has not said as much, but the implication was clear. I don't know what to make of it, whether he's serious or whether it's a trap. I feel as though I'm bobbing on a small boat, seeing a storm approaching and not knowing which way to turn to avoid being swept away by it.

Carts carry the injured and the dead back to the fortress. I wonder about that briefly, about how much of the dead is brought back, to be buried unceremoniously in the depths of Ironhold. Again and again I have been told that the magic of the dead flows into the stones beneath Aetheria, feeding them and ensuring that they continue to pump out power. Those who fall are as much sacrifices as simply victims of the cruelty of the arena.

It's a troubling thought, but then, everything about my situation is troubling. I am caught up in the games, but now I don't even have the opportunity for freedom that everyone else has. I will keep fighting, keep taking part in the games, until the emperor tires of me. I doubt he will simply let me go then either. Probably he will have me killed. But if this is my only way of keeping Alaric from being killed for saving me, what choice do I have?

Lord Darius is waiting when we get back, for a ceremony that he repeats every night of the games.

“You have come through the first day of the games, but many have not. It is our custom to honor those who have died. The fallen!”

He slams his fist to his chest and raises it in salute.

“The fallen!”

we repeat, copying the gesture. There is a moment of silence that follows, each of us remembering those who have died. I find myself remembering Aya in the moment when I killed her. The pain of having to do that is still fresh. I grieve for her, even as I take responsibility for having done it.

The next part is every bit as familiar. Those of us who can go to the practice posts and training rooms, going through our fights either alone or with others. Normally, I would go through the day with either Rowan or Alaric. Alaric is not here, and Rowan keeps away from me, as if afraid I will drag him into a conspiracy he does not want to be a part of.

It means I must train alone, going through my fight step by step, trying to work out what I could have done differently to avoid the wounds I suffered. Clearly, I should have taken the sight of the birds earlier, but how much earlier? The fact that I could not see on my way out made my performance more convincing to the emperor and others. It hid the fact that I still had my powers more completely than if I had used the sight of the birds to guide me in those early phases.

There is a broader question there: how am I going to use my powers through the rest of these games without it being obvious? If it is a matter of life and death, then I will have to use every scrap of power at my disposal, but if I can do it any other way, I must disguise my actions. I must make people believe that I am fighting without access to my powers, surviving purely because of my physical skills.

There is a way to do that, but it is not one I like. Lady Elara has taught me the skills of the beast whisperers, and some of those skills are dark and dangerous, dominating animals rather than soothing them, taking attributes from them, setting them against one another. It is possible to borrow the strength or sight of an animal, its claws or its teeth. It is a skill that I have been cautious about beyond borrowing the sight of a few birds, and with good reason. If I take too much, I might kill the animals I borrow from. If I am too cautious, too slow about the way I give that strength back, I might find myself transformed, losing track of my own shape.

It is a precarious balancing act and one I hope I can avoid. I have gotten through fights just with the additional sight the birds have given me, and a few reflexes borrowed from them. I hope I will not need more than that, even as I fear that I will.

I keep working for a while, then head to the bathhouse to clean the grime from me. The water turns briefly red with blood, some of it my own, some of it that of Aya. The stains of the sand fade away from me, and finally I'm able to head back to the dining hall.

There is music here and some degree of celebration. There are always those who like to drink and dance on the nights of the games. To slip into one another's rooms and seek solace in any arms they can. For the most part, the more serious gladiators hold back until the games are done. It is better not to overindulge when we will have to fight again tomorrow.

I take one small cup of wine and some stew, eating alone in a corner. It seems that everyone is either afraid of me or dislikes me. Even Rowan doesn't want to be around me at the moment. I sit there and I watch the others, but there is only so long I can watch other people celebrating as if it might be their last night of life. Especially when some of them will undoubtedly be proved right in the morning.

I slip away from the celebrations, not heading for my room for now, but instead moving up through the fortress, towards the space that serves as both the gallery and a temple, filled with statues of the gladiators who have gone before, each marked with their names and their deeds. It is the place where I first met Vex, and his actions today make me wonder what I should do next. I suspect I will have to wait to see what his intentions truly are. If he is trying to entrap me, then his patience will not last long.

When that patience runs out, what then? Will he have me dragged into a torture chamber? Will he simply have me killed?

I'm not sure exactly why I have come to the gallery space. Perhaps it has something to do with the statue of Valerian, most famous of all the beast whisperers who has passed through the colosseum in the past. Her image shows her sitting atop a pile of slain creatures as if they are a throne for her. The statue stares out with what seems like unforgiving cruelty at the world. I wonder if she was really like that, or if the sculptor merely decided that was the story he wanted to tell about her. Did she ever have doubts about the use of her powers? The stories I've heard suggest that she didn't, that she was happy to be a thing out of nightmares.

Is that what Lady Elara will show to the city in her coup? Will she unleash that side of the beast whisperers on them?

It occurs to me that, if I were to ask the people of the city about beast whisperers, it would not be Valerian’s name that they say. I would be the one they speak about. My fame has grown, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. There is something powerful about hearing a crowd chant my name, but I also hate that they only know an image of me crafted by the emperor and others. Even Lady Elara has sought to craft that image to her own ends, from the rumors that we are lovers, designed to hide our real aims, to her insistence that I must be loved by the crowd in readiness for her and the spectral covenant to make their move.

I sit by the statue of Valerian, tucked away in the corner of the room behind several other statues, contemplating her past and my future. I'm still there when I hear voices coming from another part of the room. People come in, and I wonder if I should make myself known. If this is some couple who is looking for a quiet place to be together I don't want to be in here.

“Are you sure no one more will overhear us here?”

a man asks.

“This is as good a place as any,”

a woman replies. “Have you managed to persuade many of the others?”

I shift my position, wondering if I can sneak out without being seen.

“Some,”

the man says. “But to incite open rebellion is-”

“Wait,”

the woman says. “There's someone here. Who's there? Show yourself! Come out now.”

I step out from the shadows of the statues, wondering what will happen next. After all, I've just heard them talk about rebellion. Can they let me go after that?

The woman is vaguely familiar. She was a rebel before she was put here. Her name is Bella, and she was forced to fight one of her fellow rebels out on the sands. The winner got to live but only as a slave within Ironhold.

She looks at me with suspicion for a moment, but then seems to recognize me.

“I know you,”

she says. “Lyra Thornwind. The beast whisperer.”

“Not much of one,”

I reply, lifting my left wrist to show the dampener there. I need to maintain the lie.

“I’d forgotten that part,”

Bella says. “Although I haven't forgotten that it wasn’t so long ago that the emperor was your patron.”

“To try to control me,”

I say. “And he put me aside quickly enough.”

“I heard that you killed your last patron,”

the man says.

I don’t reply to that. It's the kind of thing I can't admit without condemning myself.

“Edron, don't be stupid. Of course, she's not going to admit to that,”

Bella says. She looks me up and down. “But it occurs to me that you might be the kind of person who wants to join our cause.”

“What cause?” I ask.

“We've heard the rumors of rebellion around Aetheria. I was a part of it all. It’s the reason I was caught, the reason I was put in here. I didn't think I'd have a chance to do more. I thought I would just die here. Now though, maybe there will be a chance to rise up, to overthrow the people who keep us in chains.”

It's a dangerous thing for her to say. If I were to go to the guards with it, Bella would be punished, possibly even executed. If I don't and someone learns that we are having this conversation, the same might happen to me.

“So you want me to join your… what? Escape attempt?” I say.

“Not just that,”

Bella insists. “The gladiators here are some of the best trained fighters in the city. If we rise up, and the gangs join us, we can rip the throne away from the emperor, kill the nobles and run the city for the benefit of those who matter.”

“And you want me to be a part of this?”

I say, trying to hide some of my surprise. Lady Elara asked me to stir up the gladiators towards rebellion, but it seems that there is a group of them who are already on the brink of it. It doesn't sound as though they would have much time for Lady Elara, though.

“People will listen to you,”

Bella says. “And yes, you might not have much power now, but when we cut that thing from your wrist… then you will be able to do a lot for the cause.”

“I… I’ll need to think about it,”

I say. I can't give her a commitment, because I know that the moment I rise up against the empire, the emperor will have Alaric killed.