“Less enlightened?” she pressed.
“So the Imperial historians have it.” She saw how his eyes lingered on a statue as they crested the final step and emerged onto the broad arched walkway leading to the arena proper. It was a bronze figure typical of the many she had seen on her journey here, a man, as they usually were, holding a short sword aloft in a gesture of heroic defiance. She could tell from the lustre of the bronze the statue was relatively recent, but the plinth on which it stood was far older, a finely carved cylinder of red-gold marble, an iron plaque hammered onto its side with little regard for the stone, which was cracked and chipped in several places.
“Someone else stood there once,” she said. “Who was it?”
Varulek turned his gaze away from the plinth, lengthening his stride. “Savorek,” he said in a flat voice. “Greatest of the guardians.”
“Guardians of what?”
He led her to another staircase, this one leading to the upper tier. He remained silent until they had climbed the stairs, and the hum of the crowd became a ceaseless cacophony, almost drowning his reply, but she caught it, “All that was taken from us.”
He led her through a series of hallways, their path lined with guards every ten paces. They were mostly Free Swords here, though their armour and weapons were of a less uniform appearance than the conscripts she had fought in the Realm. Despite their lack of uniformity, however, she noted they all shared the same expression: eyes wider than normal, faces pale and jaws bunching intermittently. They’re all terrified, she realised, her gaze going to the balcony ahead where a slender figure sat in silhouette on a cushioned bench.
The Empress rose to greet her as she was led out onto the balcony, her smile disconcerting in its genuine warmth. She came close, leaning to press a fond kiss to her cheek. “Little sister, how nice of you to come.”
Reva clenched her fists at the closeness, disliking the fact that the Empress’s perfume was a subtle delight to the senses. But any violent impulse was checked by the sight of the five Arisai on the balcony, each greeting Reva with a welcoming grin, infuriating in its familiarity. They think they see one of their own, she thought, sickened by the realisation.
The Empress moved back, turning to Varulek and waving an impatient hand at the crowd. “Shut them up.”
The black-clad moved to the balcony’s edge, raising a hand to unseen eyes below. Almost without pause there came the sound of many trumpets, the notes forming a strident tune rich in implacable authority. The crowd instantly fell to an absolute silence, unbroken by even the faintest cough or wayward call, as if every soul present had taken a breath in unison and feared letting it out.
“Honoured Citizens and sundry scum!” the Empress called to them, moving forward until her bare toes protruded over the edge of the balcony, her voice carrying with almost unnatural ease to the farthest reaches of the arena. “Before I delight your pestilent hearts with yet more blood, I should like to introduce a distinguished guest from across the ocean.” She gestured to Reva, her lips formed in the encouraging smile of an elder sibling. Reva remained still until one of the Arisai gave a pointed cough, stroking his chin with an apologetic grimace, his other hand resting on a dagger at his belt. She moved slowly to the Empress’s side, flinching as she took hold of her manacled wrist and raised it high.
“I give you Lady Governess Reva Mustor of Cumbrael!” the Empress called again. “Many of your sons and husbands no doubt met their end at her hands, deservedly so I might add. Still, even though none of you are worthy to kiss this woman’s feet, I have still ordained that she will entertain you here in due course. Is not your Empress generous?”
Her grip on Reva’s wrists tightened as she stood there, face set in a mask of profound malice. She stood regarding the crowd for what seemed an age, eyes scanning every silent row, darting about as if in search of the slightest expression of disloyalty. Finally she grunted and released Reva, moving back to her bench and gesturing irritably at Varulek. “Get on with it. Little sister, come sit by me.”
The trumpets pealed forth once more, a less strident tune this time, almost joyful. The crowd’s murmur rose again as Reva slumped next to the Empress, hearing no cheers amongst the tense babble of thousands exchanging fearful whispers.