The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 41





Blood was in the air. Renee could feel it. It was in the eyes of green-clad young men who diced on street corners, in their words as they muttered over cheap ale. The innkeeper at Hunter’s Inn tensed each time the king’s name sounded in the half-empty common room. Alec said the veesi trade dropped—dealers had other concerns. The armorer’s shop stood empty, its door battered open and merchandise gone. The two days since the Crown’s arrival had cleared the cobblestones of children and the elderly, drove nobles to visit relatives. Even Diam stayed put without being told.

At the end of the second day, the evening before Savoy’s fight, Lord Palan returned to Hunter’s Inn. If walking amidst snakes bothered the head of the Family, there was nothing in Palan’s face to suggest it.

“Uncle Palan!” Diam grabbed the man’s ring-ladened hand the moment he moved past the doorframe. “Come see what I can do! Do you want some water?” The boy carefully filled a large cup, but in his enthusiasm to bring it over, sloshed the contents onto Palan’s starched shirt. The lord pretended not to notice and claimed a chair, Diam settling cross-legged on the floor before him. Renee sat too, unnerved by their growing familiarity.

“Watch me,” Diam instructed, and closed his eyes. Nothing happened at first. Then, infant wisps of blue flame touched the boy’s fingertips, played there, and died away. His eyes flew open. “Did you see?”

“I did.” Lord Palan smiled. “You’ll grow to quite the mage.”

“Yes.” Renee forced her way into the conversation. “You can register in Atham. They will have the post rebuilt by that time, I wager,” she added for Lord Palan’s benefit, although whether registration would be possible given the bond, even Zev had no idea.

Palan smiled again, but it failed to reach his eyes. “Not something to worry about until your thirteenth birthday, my boy. Just stay safe and enjoy yourself for now.”

Unable to contradict him, Renee scowled.

Diam looked from his uncle to Renee, and hugged his knees as if smelling the undercurrents of the exchange. When neither spoke, he bit his lip and picked at the rug. “Uncle Palan, why doesn’t Korish like you?”

Renee stiffened.

Lord Palan sighed. “Because Master Verin does not like me.”

“Why?”

“A difference of philosophies. Yes, yes, I know you’re about to ask what kind.” He pursed his lips and brought his hands together under his silk shirt collar. Renee leaned forward to listen, but several seconds passed until he spoke. “Imagine that we have ten very sick people, but only one dose of medicine.”

Diam crinkled his nose and nodded.

“Who should get it? This is where Master Verin and I differ in opinion. I’d give the medicine to the person I cared for most. For example, you, if you were one of the ten. Master Verin, however, would choose whoever he thought most valuable to Tildor, even if his own mother ailed.”

“But what if all the sick people were bad, like bandits?” Diam asked. “What would he do then?”

Lord Palan stroked his chin. “Hmm. Destroy the medicine, most likely.”

Diam frowned. “Would Korish do that too?”

“Your brother keeps his own council,” Renee interjected, sparing them Lord Palan’s assessment of Savoy. “What would you do, Diam?”

He ran his hands through Khavi’s fur and looked out to the streets. “I’d make more medicine.”

A knock sounded at the door, announcing that Cory and the Seventh had arrived to make final preparations for the following day. The sergeant popped his head in and, seeing the lord, hesitated.

Renee rose. “Thank you for your company, Lord Palan.”

Taking the cue, the man lumbered to his feet. “Korish fights tomorrow,” he said, stopping at the door. “I do not wish for Diam to attend.”

Neither did she, but the gods damn her if she let Palan use Savoy’s fight to snare Diam closer. The boy would wait at Zev’s. “We’ve covered this ground, my lord. Diam stays with me while Korish lives.” The words made her wince.

“I do not ask to take him, only that he not watch. In fact, my lady, permit me to recommend your lack of attendance as well.”

“My lack?” The hairs on Renee’s neck stirred at his tone. “I fear I cannot fulfill that request either.”

“Not a request, my lady. Only a suggestion.” His bow encompassed her and Cory both. “Forgive my intrusion. I will leave you to your planning.” He hesitated, adjusting a ring on his finger. “One more suggestion, if I may. If you do attend tomorrow’s festivities, bring water and towels.”

Wrinkling her forehead, Renee waited until Cory’s companions filed into the room and closed the door. She glanced at him. “Towels? What for?”

Cory’s face grew dark. “To clean up blood.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe yer friend intends to leave the rescue on our shoulders alone.” He pulled the writing table to the center of the room and spread Renee’s map on it while the other men crowded around. “It will be as it will be. For now, we might review what we do know.”

* * *

Outside the arena the following day, the crowd, as big as last time, shoved and jostled. Vendors shouted their goods. Entertainment of this sort, it seemed, suffered little from the concerns otherwise plaguing the city. The scent of meat pies and honey sweets nauseated Renee. Beside her, Cory munched a bit of bread-wrapped cheese. “Lure the mage outside,” he reminded her quietly, letting her ahead of him into the arena entrance. “We’ll handle him there. I want the boy hand-walking us in. If you dinna think he’ll go, signal Mag.” He jerked his chin at the Seventh’s archer hiding a crossbow beneath his cloak. “He’ll kill the opponent if the commander can’t handle it hand to hand.”

She frowned at the cage standing in the belly of the underground while Mag took his post near the exit. “He’ll never make the shot.”

“He’ll make it. But the bolt may pierce bystanders on its way.” They pushed their way down the rows. People parted for Cory the way they did not for Renee. He continued speaking. “Dinna worry about Mag. Your mark is the mage boy.”

Jasper. She looked around. None of the fighters or staff had yet arrived. Lord Palan’s warning of the previous night nagged at her, but before she could give them voice, the trumpets called out and the crowd roared in anticipation.

* * *

The trumpets blared. A hand between Savoy’s shoulder blades shoved him into the holding pen. He shielded his eyes from the light. His mouth was parched after over a day without water. The Vipers left little to chance.

“Anger Boulder; he’ll kill you quicker.”

Savoy turned and lowered his arm enough to see Den step into the pen. “Brilliant plan.”

The trainer’s head bowed. “I told you, no one leaves the Vipers.”

“Return to your fighters.” Savoy stretched his back.

“In a moment I must.” Den hesitated. “Something’s wrong with the crowd today. I cannot say what, but something feels off. And your girl came.”

Renee. Savoy forced his gaze to the stands. Hundreds of crammed bodies fidgeted in their seats. “Alone?”

“No, with a young man, broad shoulders, dark curly hair. They sit at the top.”

Savoy traced the rows of benches rising toward the ceiling. Faces and figures blended together. At the top, a cloaked figure standing beside an entrance raised a hand in signal. Friend in sight. Then, another. Target in sight.

Savoy turned to the other entrance and found a second sentry signaling his report. Military. Someone he knew? Savoy tried in vain to find who the sentries were signaling to. “Be careful, Den,” he said under his breath. “I’ve a sense that Boulder and I won’t be the only ones fighting today.”

* * *

“Mag sees Savoy,” Cory whispered to Renee. “He has a shot at the man beside him. Ye know him?”

She leaned forward, squinting over the spectators’ heads, and winced at Savoy’s worn look. Had the Vipers bothered to give him food? “Den, a trainer. Savoy trusts him. And there is Jasper.” She fingered the knife hidden up her sleeve. The boy was herding his fighters into the eastern pen. “He sat with the spectators the last time.” Renee frowned at the bars separating the fighters from the public.

A moment later Jasper disappeared from view. He reappeared at a side door on the spectators’ side of the bars.

“There is a passage, then.” Cory inclined his head toward the door. “But I dinna think it direct. The walk took him a bit of time. Ye ready?”

With a nod, Renee stood and waved like a dolt. “Jasper!”

He didn’t look up. A tall blond woman dressed in green and gold—his mother the Madam—was talking to him between blowing thick rings of white smoke from her tobacco stick. Beside her slender, athletic build, the boy seemed a scrawny kitten. A serving girl rushed by them. Like a trained fighter, the Madam shifted her weight just enough to clear the path, while Jasper lurched out of the way. Renee called his name again, but the words lost themselves in the din of the crowd.

“Boulder preys on Cat, first round!” a bookie shouted in her ear. The reek of stale beer drifted from his coat. “Place your bets, place your bets! What does your heart tell you, my lady? Will today pass the five-minute mark?”

First round. Seven Hells. Ignoring the now irritated bookie, she pitched her voice over the arena. “Jasper!” Nothing. She turned to Cory. “I must go down to him. No.” She touched his rising shoulder. “Alone.”

Ignoring Cory’s bristling, Renee picked her way between the benches. Her clean trousers collected stains and spills, her sword’s scabbard knocked against shins. She needed to beat the trumpets. She needed to get there before Boulder started tearing at Savoy’s limbs. Faster. She pushed past the shouting people, already tipsy with excitement and cheap wine. Curses and catcalls followed her.

“Lookin’ for a seat, my kitten? Plenty o’ room on my lap.”

“Wiggle on over for a kiss, darlin’.”

Other voices joined in with more descriptive offers. Renee kept her focus on Jasper and her feet moving.

A waitress carrying an overfilled tray scurried down the aisle. Renee pressed herself against the spectators to let her by. Instantly, a hand pinched the curve of Renee’s hip. Bloody wonderful.

“Ah!” yelped a male voice. “Whaddya do that for?”

Renee turned to find the man behind her, presumably the pincher, holding a bleeding nose. His neighbor lowered his hand. “That be m’lady,” he said to the bleeding man. “You touch her again, and you won’t need to be watching no fighting. She’ll cut you wide open, she will. Isn’t that right, m’lady?” He looked at her and grinned.

It took a moment to recognize the man from the alley. “You’re right, Nino.” She schooled her face to a cool smile. As she let out a breath and moved on, she heard Nino educating his friends.

“. . . and then she turns to me, her sword all dripping with blood and I think I’m next for sure. But no, she looks at me and says, you’re a great man, Nino. I want you to live! Just like that, and . . .” The story continued, detailing how she summoned a pack of wolves and slaughtered a dozen armed giants.

By the time Renee reached Jasper, the Madam was gone. Renee glanced toward the west exit and received a ready signal from Mag. She took a breath. “Jasper!”

He turned, his smile lighting with recognition. Then a tightness came over his face. “Cat’s match is first,” he told her.

“He’s but one pup.”

“Of course,” Jasper said, but there was no heart in the words.

For an instant Renee considered bringing the boy in on the plan. No. Jasper was putting down a prize horse. He would mourn the loss, but he would not uproot his life for it. “Would you spare a moment for me?” She motioned toward the door.

“Certainly.”

Relief washed through her.

“Just after the first fight,” he added. “Sit beside me. This won’t take long.”

Renee’s nails dug into her palm. After the first fight was one fight too late. “No. We must go now.”

He shook his head. “I cannot. The trumpet will call in but a moment. Sit.”

“But . . .” The words died in her throat. The trumped wailed. People behind her hissed that she stop blocking the view.

And the crowd raised its voice in cheer.

“Crush him, Boulder. Crush, crush! Crush him, Boulder. Crush. Crush!”

Renee barely had time to signal Failure before someone pushed into an empty seat.

* * *

Savoy watched Renee dance around Jasper, her face dark with frustration. The trumpet called. The girl’s hand rose above her head. Failure.

“Cat, wake up!” Den pushed him from behind. “Go!”

Savoy stepped forward, but his attention remained with the signals. He followed Renee’s gaze up bench rows. It was easier to see now that people were seated. And he did see. Blood rush to his face. The figure at the door was Mag, who now signaled, Ready to fire.

Without time to ponder how the Seventh got here, Savoy accepted the fact and calculated the consequences. Fire at whom? From their perspective, the threat was either Den or Boulder, neither of whom Savoy wished pierced. “Take cover,” he called to Den before launching himself at Boulder, trusting that no arrow would fly with him in the line of fire.

Boulder absorbed Savoy’s collision without a stagger. The crowd roared, laughing. Boulder scowled at the stands, his eyes filled with hurt, like a teased child’s. “They mock me,” he whispered. “But I don’t wanna fight you, Cat.”

Thank the gods for that. In the ample time Savoy had had to think, he’d conjured nothing more brilliant than theatrics. That was, after all, what the crowd sought. “Pretend, Boulder,” he whispered, his voice calm. “Pretend to fight me.”

“Hit him, you moron,” growled the referee. He held a rope’s end to encourage action, but had yet to strike.

“Cat?” Boulder sucked his knuckle. He shuddered when the crowd laughed again. “Cat, what do I do?”

Savoy ground his teeth. “Hit me. Big swing, little hit. Now. ”

The large man shut his eyes tight, raised up his fist, and swung.

Ducking a right hook that would’ve broken his jaw, Savoy circled around. Now what?

The crowd hissed, agitated at the lack of blood. Boulder’s eyes darted chaotically. An animal seeking refuge. The referee yelled in his ear, and Boulder flailed his fists. One clipped Savoy’s side, stopping his breath. When he could gulp air again, he staggered from the sharp pain of cracked ribs.

Boulder’s gaze turned wide and wet. “I did bad.”

“Fight!” The referee hefted his rope. When the threat failed, he swung his lash across Boulder’s shoulders.

The giant howled.

Savoy took a step back, understanding the danger. Enraged with pain, the already upset Boulder would turn uncontrollable. Deadly. Exactly what the Vipers wanted. The referee hefted the rope again, his gaze sharp; no good to anyone if Boulder turned on him. Savoy had to do something. Now.

He shot in, locking one hand behind Boulder’s head and the other around his waist. The action momentarily satisfied the crowd. There wasn’t much time.

“Boulder. Boulder, look at me.” Savoy kept his voice calm. “Good. Can you trust me?”

“He hit me!” Boulder sniffled. “My shoulder hurts.”

The crowd resumed restless booing. The moment of reprieve was slipping away. The referee cocked his rope. Swearing under his breath, Savoy spun the pair so the lash cut him instead. “Boulder, look at me,” Savoy repeated. “Can you trust me? I will make your shoulder not hurt.”

The giant nodded.

“Good. Be still.” While Boulder frowned in confusion, Savoy spun behind him and snaked an arm around the giant’s thick neck. He tightened his hold, squeezing the arteries with his bicep and forearm. “Sleep now.”

Boulder jerked upright, clawing at his neck. Savoy swore and readjusted the choke to stay clear of the windpipe. This had to be painless.

“Easy. Sleep now,” he whispered again, gently tightening the hold. Boulder stopped fighting. Another few seconds passed, and the large head darkened from the diminished blood flow. Continuing to whisper, Savoy walked the dizzying man toward the cage wall and braced against it. Shutting away the crowd’s roar, he focused on his task: balancing the risk of Boulder awaking too early and not awaking at all.

“Korish!” An unfamiliar voice just beyond the bars demanded his attention. “Korish!”

He glanced up to see a small, mouse-like man scurry forward. Before the guards could reach him, the man thrust a wrapped package between the bars. He stared Savoy in the eye. “A present from your uncle, Korish.” The man hissed and ran off.

“What uncle?”

Savoy received no answer. Because just then, all Seven Hells broke loose.