The first wolf had recovered and was circling. Move, Matthias, she thought desperately. He got to his feet, but his movements were slow, weary. His heart wasn’t in this fight. His opponents were grey wolves, rangy and wild, but cousins to the white wolves of the Fjerdan north. Matthias had no knife, only the bloody rock in his hand, and the remaining wolf prowled the arena between him and the pile of weapons. The wolf lowered its head and bared its teeth.
Matthias dove left. The wolf lunged, sinking its teeth into his side. He grunted, and hit the ground hard. For a moment, Nina thought he might simply give in and let the wolf take his life. Then he reached out, hand scrabbling through the sand, searching for something. His fingers closed over the shackles that had bound his wrists.
He seized them, looped the chain across the wolf’s throat, and pulled, the veins in his neck cording from the strain. His bloody face was pressed against the wolf’s ruff, his eyes tightly shut, his lips moving. What was he saying? A drüskelle prayer? A farewell?
The wolf’s hind legs scrabbled at the sand. Its eyes rolled, frightened whites showing bright against its matted fur. A high whine rose from its chest. And then it was over. The creature’s body stilled. Both fighters lay unmoving in the sand. Matthias kept his eyes closed, his face still buried in the creature’s fur.
The crowd thundered its approval. The ladder was lowered, and the announcer sprang down, hauling Matthias to his feet and grabbing his wrist to raise his hand in victory. The announcer gave him a little nudge, and Matthias lifted his head. Nina caught her breath.
Tears streaked the dirt on Matthias’ face. The rage was gone, and it was like some flame had gone out with it. His north sea eyes were colder than she’d ever seen them, empty of feeling, stripped of anything human at all. This was what Hellgate had done to him. And it was her fault.
The guards took hold of Matthias again, pulling the shackles from the wolf’s throat and clapping them back on his wrists. As he was led away, the crowd chanted its disapproval, clamouring “More!
More!”
“Where are they taking him?” Nina asked, voice trembling.
“To a cell to sleep off the fight,” Kaz said.
“Who will see to his injuries?”
“They have mediks. We’ll wait to make sure he’s alone.”
I could heal him, she thought. But a darker voice rose in her, rich with mocking. Not even you can be that foolish, Nina. No Healer can cure that boy. You made sure of it.
She thought she would leap from her skin as the minutes burned away. The others watched the next fight – Muzzen avidly, flexing his fingers and speculating on the outcome, Inej silent and still as a statue, Kaz inscrutable as always, scheming away behind that hideous mask. Nina slowed her own breathing, forced her pulse lower, trying to calm herself, but she could do nothing to mute the riot in her head.
Finally, Kaz gave her a nudge. “Ready, Nina? The guard first.”
She cast a glance at the prison guard standing by the archway.
“How down?” It was a Barrel turn of phrase. How badly do you want him hurt?
“Shut eye.” Knock him out, but don’t actually hurt him.
They followed Kaz to the arch through which they’d entered. The rest of the crowd took little notice, eyes focused on the fighting below.
“Need your escort?” the guard asked as they approached.
“I had a question,” said Kaz. Beneath her cape, Nina lifted her hands, sensing the flow of blood in the guard’s veins, the tissue of his lungs. “About your mother and whether the rumours are true.”
Nina felt the guard’s pulse leap and sighed. “Never can make it easy, can you, Kaz?”
The guard stepped forward, lifting his gun. “What did you say? I—” His eyelids drooped. “You don’t—” Nina dropped his pulse, and he toppled forward.
Muzzen grabbed him before he could fall as Inej swept him into the cloak Kaz had been wearing
just moments before. Nina was only mildly surprised to see that Kaz was wearing a prison guard’s uniform beneath it.
“Couldn’t you have just asked him the time or something?” Nina said. “And where did you get that uniform?”
Inej slid the Madman’s mask down over the guard’s face, and Muzzen threw his arm around him,
holding him up as if the guard had been drinking too much. They deposited him on one of the benches pressed against the back wall.
Kaz tugged on the sleeves of his uniform. “Nina, people love to give up authority to men in nice clothes. I have uniforms for the stadwatch, the harbour police, and the livery of every merch mansion on the Geldstraat. Let’s go.”
They slipped down the passageway.
Instead of turning back the way they’d come, they moved counter-clockwise around the old tower, the wall of the arena vibrating with voices and stomping feet to their left. The guards posted at each archway paid them little more than a glance, though a few nodded at Kaz, who kept a brisk pace, his face buried in his collar.
Nina was so deep in thought that she nearly missed it when Kaz held up a hand for them to slow.