But they stopped asking questions.
Xanthus lay on his pallet, though he was too wary to sleep just yet. Kanut and Number Two had taken first watch, and he still didn’t trust either of them. Especially not with the boy. Balius slept at his side. Small as he was, his snores racked his body, making his shoulders tremble with each breath. The sound reminded Xanthus of Albinus when they were younger. His old master used to hit him in the face with a piece of wood when he wasn’t cutting into his skin. The damage to Albinus’s nose had resulted in a particularly resonant snore, especially on cold nights.
Xanthus turned to look at Balius. It was a good thing he’d found him, probably. He wouldn’t have survived another winter on his own. Number Two was willing to spare him, but Kanut still wanted to simplify matters, as he saw it. So Xanthus couldn’t sleep. Not until they’d let the boy go. He was still awake several hours later when he heard the whispers start.
“He’s Timeus’s champion,” Number Two said. “He wants to stay that way and…”
Balius’s snores drowned out the rest.
“… something else,” Kanut replied. It was the softest that Xanthus had ever heard the man speak. “He’s not just lying … hiding something.”
“… he’ll never tell us … damn statue.”
“… statues break.”
“… need more information,” Number Two whispered. “Fido said … and the Ardeans…”
“Small and light … possible?”
They stopped talking, and Xanthus thought they were done.
Then Kanut said, “His horse … before Fido’s men came.”
Number Two’s silhouette stiffened. “… caught him off guard … You think…”
Oh, hell.
“… we were right,” Kanut whispered. Xanthus’s heart plummeted. “Spartacus is a girl.”
CHAPTER 22
I have to kill them, Xanthus thought.
All of them. There was no other choice. Ennius had made the suggestion in jest. But the farce had gone on long enough, and now that they knew the secret of Spartacus, they had to die.
Kanut must have been planning something, too. From the moment the sun began to rise, his eyes were on Xanthus’s face. In that first look, Xanthus understood. Whatever happened would be between them. He’d have to kill Kanut before he could get to the others.
As if to confirm Xanthus’s unspoken thoughts, Kanut gave his orders to the mercenaries—spread out, search the city’s ludi. Information only.
Most of the men nodded their heads, though Number Two hesitated. His eyes shifted back and forth between Xanthus and Kanut. He probably knew what was about to happen, and maybe he wasn’t sure if he should let it. But he was a good boy, and in the end, he did what he was told.
The mercenaries disappeared out the door, and Xanthus put his hand on Balius’s shoulder. “Run,” he said.
The boy took one look at Kanut’s face and fled.
A stillness began to settle over Xanthus, the same dark quiet he’d felt in the clearing when the bandits had attacked. There wouldn’t be any prayers today. No guilt. No remorse. Kanut and his men deserved exactly what was coming to them.
“Consider the boy’s life a gift,” Kanut said. He already held a throwing dagger in his hand.
“How magnanimous of you.” Xanthus had no weapons, but when had that ever been a problem for him?
“Before I kill you, tell me what you heard.”
“Everything,” Xanthus said.
Kanut scoffed. “I said before that you’re a bad liar. Still, this will be a shame. I have come to think that, in spite of everything you are, you are also good.”
“You overestimate me,” Xanthus said.
“No,” Kanut said, tossing the dagger and catching the tip of the blade between two fingers. “I think not.” Before the last word was out, Kanut’s dagger was flying.
Xanthus dodged it by less than an inch and caught the handle before it hit the wall. The first dagger was quickly followed by a second dagger and then a third. The last one sliced Xanthus’s arm before tumbling out the window.
When Kanut saw the blood, he charged at Xanthus and punched him in the gut. All of his body weight was behind the hit. A sharp kick followed, colliding with Xanthus’s shoulder.
Gods, he’s strong.
He was twice Xanthus’s age, but Kanut’s body seemed made of iron. A ringing pain shot up Xanthus’s arm when he hit Kanut’s ribs. He knew he’d broken at least two of them, but the man didn’t stop. Not for a second.
More daggers came out. Xanthus still had the first two that Kanut had thrown at him. Their movements quickly became a flurry of rushing blades. They stabbed at the same time, each cutting edge deflected by the other. Each time getting closer and closer to the other’s throat.
Kanut never pulled back, never tempered his aim or his blows. They weren’t in the training yard. This wasn’t practice. Kanut wanted to kill Xanthus just as badly as Xanthus needed to kill him. And for the first time in Xanthus’s long years as a gladiator, he thought he’d finally met his match. Kanut was easily the best he’d ever fought.
They broke everything around them, smashing into tables, shattering chairs against the wall. No matter how hard Xanthus hit, Kanut wouldn’t go down. And no matter how Kanut attacked, Xanthus wouldn’t stop.
“Having fun yet, gladiator?” Kanut asked.
“Most definitely.”
“I won’t let you leave here,” he said.
Xanthus shook his head. “You’ll never find Spartacus.”
Fury burned in Kanut’s dark eyes, and that actually surprised Xanthus almost as much as when he suddenly dropped his daggers. “You know,” Kanut said, “I think I’d like to kill you with my bare hands.”
Xanthus tossed his own blades aside. “You’re welcome to try.”
Kanut rushed at him again, this time with an angry shout as he raised his leg to kick at the joint of Xanthus’s knee. For some reason, the image of Ennius and his broken leg flashed through Xanthus’s mind. He leapt forward just in time, catching Kanut beneath the jaw with his skull. Pain blossomed through his head, obscuring his vision. Xanthus heard Kanut smash against the wall. The man blinked his eyes up at the ceiling, and it was just enough time for Xanthus to launch himself at him.
He caught Kanut’s neck in a chokehold and started to squeeze. But before he could actually kill him, something sharp stabbed him in the back. Xanthus stumbled away, hands flying up to protect his face from a flurry of feathers and a sharp beak.
The falcon didn’t stop attacking until Xanthus was several feet away from Kanut. Then it swooped down to land on Kanut’s shoulder. Xanthus was too stunned to speak, and Kanut was still too dazed to move from the wall. He raised his hand to gently pet the falcon’s back, and the bird squawked loudly. When the echo of it died down, the only sound left was the men’s fast breathing.
“Your reputation is well deserved, champion,” Kanut said.