Chloe once more looked directly into his dark eyes.
‘I grew up with soldiers. I used to watch them at practice, and the captain of my father’s guard is a friend. When I saw you the other day . . . I have never seen another move like you.’ She swallowed. ‘Tomarys, I want you to teach me to fight.’
He frowned, his expression more puzzled than anything. ‘But you are a woman.’
Chloe set her jaw with determination. ‘Then they won’t expect me to fight back.’
34
A week passed with no further sightings of Chloe, while Dion spent his days building ships with Roxana at the harbor. Anoush came to him at the end of every day and gave him a report. Meanwhile Algar demanded more money. Dion’s supply of coin dwindled until he had just a handful of coppers left.
Despite the boy’s promise, Dion knew Anoush couldn’t watch the palace all the time. Dion contributed where he could, watching the streets near the palace until late into the evening. He knew that Chloe was inside, and that Solon had taken his army to Shadria and would be gone for weeks. There would never be a better time to free her.
But there was the issue of the huge warrior by her side. Dion knew he would have to kill the intimidating guard who was her escort. Once the man was dead and Chloe freed, he would take her to the Calypso – he had checked: the boat was still safely hidden outside the walls – and flee.
But then duty called. Reports came in that a wildran, a giant this time, had emerged from the mountains high above the village of Nara on the island of Amphi. It had killed a goatherd and his family, devouring its victims one by one.
Captain Roxana summoned the crew of the Anoraxis.
Dion knew it would be at least another week before he returned to Lamara.
Tomarys led Chloe to a dilapidated structure in the shape of a wheel, on the outskirts of the city’s poorest quarter. As she found herself at one of several entrances tall and wide enough for a giant to pass through, Chloe tried to fathom what it had once been.
She followed the tall warrior into the shadowed interior, walking along dusty passages long disused, staying silent for fear of disturbing old ghosts. Dust particles filled the air in Tomarys’s wake, swirling over each other, reflecting the few rays of light that made their way into the passage. She smelled wet stone as she heard faint dripping echoing through the corridor.
A cavernous opening beckoned ahead and she emerged into bright light. She shielded her eyes as she climbed steps to her left and joined Tomarys, where he waited for her approach.
She realized she was in the interior of the wheel, standing on one of many seats that also doubled as steps. All around her, to the left and right, ahead and behind, as well as on the wheel’s other side, were tiers of the steps, stretching from the high circular perimeter all the way to the bottom.
The floor was a circular space guarded by a partly fallen rail. Tomarys began to walk down to the floor, having no difficulty despite the steps’ uncommonly large size, and she hurried to follow. He reached the rail and pushed some loose timbers aside to enter the sandy floor. Chloe followed him to the middle, joining him in the epicenter.
‘What is this place?’ she asked. Her voice was instantly swallowed by the void.
‘The Arena. Not so long ago, in the time of Solon’s predecessor, men fought here to entertain the people of Lamara. It is now abandoned, but one day it may come to be used again.’
‘Fought? In battles?’
‘A better word is bouts, but yes, you could call them battles.’
‘To the death?’
‘To the death,’ he said grimly.
Chloe examined the sandy floor, almost afraid to find old crimson patches but unable to prevent herself looking. As far as she could see it was just sand.
‘Why here?’ she finally asked.
He raised his arms and gestured to the open space. ‘It is a good place to fight. No one will hear us or see us.’ He smiled, but then the smile faded away. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Chloe nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Then for now, watch, listen, and learn.’
She clasped her hands behind her back and waited in the center of the floor, Tomarys standing opposite her.
‘The first lesson’—Tomarys held up a single finger—‘and the most important of all, is thus. The seeds of victory are sown before the fight begins.’
‘So it’s best to prepare,’ Chloe said, nodding. ‘Better armor, better weapons, more training, more practice, good leadership—’
‘Girl,’ Tomarys interrupted, scowling. ‘I told you to listen, not to talk. Today I am the master and you the student. Understood?’
She reddened. ‘I understand.’