As the man’s followers, glassy-eyed with sleep, blinked at their leader, Ramasu called out the most powerful sleep spell Arram had ever heard him use. The slowly rising spell cast by the mages outside leaped higher as Arram wrote the sigil on his palm that would keep him from falling victim to it. The attackers’ eyes rolled up in their heads, and the swords fell from their hands. Their bodies followed. Ozorne, too, was caught by the spell. He collapsed onto the ground.
Soldiers rushed in and began to put manacles on the rebels. Ramasu glanced at the prince, then sighed. Reaching out, he sketched a sign of invisibility over Arram’s friend. “Make sure he doesn’t get stepped on,” he told Arram quietly. “It’s better if we limit those who know he’s here.” Arram nodded and shifted position to sit directly in front of his invisible friend.
Ramasu and Daleric’s assistant checked the healing gladiators. The danger of the spell that had dropped their captors was that it was risky for men already in a healing sleep. When they were certain that all of their patients were unharmed, Ramasu turned to Arram to heal his still-bleeding cuts.
The captain of the camp’s guard arrived as two of his men dragged the manacled Kottrun to his feet. “Hag’s dice, what happened here?” he demanded. “Master Ramasu, Arram, are you hurt?”
“We are fine,” Ramasu said, helping Arram to stand. Arram swayed. Ramasu propped him up and told the captain, “More important, our patients are fine.”
“But what happened?” the captain demanded.
“Arram thought the sleep was happening too slowly to put the rebels down,” Ramasu explained. “So he opened a fountain in the ground and knocked the leader against the top of the tent.” He touched the ground with his foot. “It’s still a bit damp—we might want to put rugs down to keep the sick from getting chilled, and ask Daleric to put them in dry gowns.”
“Sorry, Master,” Arram mumbled.
“You were rushed,” Ramasu said kindly. “Though you might trust the arts of your elders more next time.” He flicked his fingers at Kottrun, who woke. A guard dragged him to his feet. “The captain—and I—would like to know what you were thinking,” Ramasu said mildly.
Kottrun replied with obscenities.
“They were going to force you to help them to escape, Master,” Arram said.
“Cackleheads,” the captain said with contempt. “Everyone knows we search the healers’ wagons when they go, in case someone tries to sneak out. A week of bread and water for this lot, and they get to play the Sirajit army in the next games.”
“Wait!” Kottrun yelled. “I—”
The guard who had seized him cuffed him into silence. Arram glanced at Ramasu. For a moment he thought he’d felt a spell leave the master and attach itself to Kottrun and his men, but he hadn’t seen it. He staggered in Ramasu’s hold, dizzy again and barely able to stand.
Daleric rushed in and braced Arram’s free side. “Arram, what’s this?” he asked with concern. “You were fine when we left.”
“Apparently Kottrun and his pack took Arram and the wounded as hostages,” the captain explained. “They must have run mad to think Master Ramasu could walk them out of here. Our mages put sleep on them, but before it took, the boy made a fountain that smacked Kottrun silly and then dropped him.”
“Kottrun hit me in the head, too,” Arram said cheerfully. His knees turned to water, and he sagged in the mages’ grips. “But I’m fine.”
Daleric raised his eyebrows. “No wonder you’re wrung out, then,” he told Arram. “Three days of serious healing, a clout on the head, and whatever you just did on top of it. Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
“I am,” Arram protested.
“Mm-hmm,” Daleric said dubiously. He motioned for a soldier to take charge of Arram. “Take him to the healers’ quarters and let him lie down for a bit, will you?”
—
When Arram woke, it was full dark outside the window. He was on his cot, tucked snugly under a light blanket. The touch of soft feathers against his ear told him that Preet was sleeping there.
Movement in the room made him flinch. Preet grumbled and went back to sleep as Ramasu pushed a folding shade aside. He had been reading behind it, using a globe of magic for light. He set his book down and produced a bowl and spoon from a small table.
“Ozorne?” Arram asked, worried.
“Smuggled out while he was still unconscious,” Ramasu told him. “You will have to convince him that he missed nothing spectacular.”
Arram sighed in relief. “Good.”
“Now, I must ask, did you have any part in his surprise visit to this camp?”
Arram sat bolt upright. “No, Master! I didn’t know anything until he crept up on me in the coliseum!”
Ramasu smiled. “Do you know, I believe you. It’s that startled fawn aspect you wear when you have been taken by surprise….I think I shall have to speak to Chioké about giving Ozorne more challenging work, to keep him out of trouble in the future.”
“He didn’t mean to get in trouble,” Arram protested.
“No, and it is the fault of his family for trying to restrict so high-spirited and clever a youth. It will be well, Arram. He is very lucky to have a friend like you.” Ramasu picked up a napkin and unfurled it. “Are you hungry?”
Arram’s stomach lurched, three-quarters with excitement and one-quarter with nausea. “A little,” he admitted.
Ramasu passed the bowl and spoon to him, saying, “Before you try that…” He shaped a glowing sign in the air. Arram’s stomach settled immediately. “Better?” Arram nodded. “Eat, before it gets any colder.”
He said nothing as Arram wolfed the mild soup, but continued to read from his book. When Arram put the bowl aside, Ramasu asked, “Have you any questions about this afternoon?”
Arram scratched his head. “How did they get the weapons? I thought they were counted and locked up after the games.”
“Apparently they bribed an animal seller to bring them in last year. They buried them under their barracks until yesterday,” the master replied. “And they arranged for an accident to happen to the seller the next time he came, with no one the wiser for why it happened.”
Arram yawned. “I’ll be glad to be home,” he admitted.
Ramasu gathered his bowl and spoon. “As will I. It is useful work here, but it is hard on the body and the spirit. You have done very well. I am proud of you.”
Arram smiled. He was asleep as soon as he put his head down.
—
They loaded their things into the wagon first thing the next morning. Only Musenda and Gueda came to see them off. Arram’s heart broke at the dark circles that surrounded Gueda’s eyes, and the slump to her shoulders. He reached out a hand to touch her, then stopped. She might not care for that. “How are you?” he asked instead, walking a little way aside with her.
She shrugged. “They want to give me another cat, but I won’t do it. I almost punched the captain of the arena when he asked me.”
Arram nodded. He’d feel the same if something happened to Preet and anyone offered him another bird the next day.
“But I mean to live,” Gueda said. Her eyes sparkled dangerously. “You’ll see. I’ll have vengeance for Tacuma.”