“Lookit this,” Blaedroy said, grinning. “He can’t even make a wee bird mind ’im. He’s arena bait for certain.”
Ramasu walked up behind the man. “He is my assistant,” the mage said coldly. “I require his services in the infirmary. Should you become injured while he is here, you may wish you had reconsidered your jokes.”
“You two, get to the gate,” growled their captain, who had followed Ramasu outside. The guardsmen hurried to undo the locks and shove the leaves of the gate open, inward toward the training ground. “Escort Master Ramasu and the cart to the infirmary and unpack it when he lifts the magic. Then stand guard there,” he added. He whistled sharply in two bursts. Another pair of guards trotted over. “Escort the cart to the infirmary and guard it while these two pieces of gallows bait unload. You may then take the cart and horses to our camp. Master Ramasu, I hope you and your assistant will be so good as to take supper with me this evening?”
“I am pleased to do so,” the master said. “Now tell us, what do we face?”
“We got two new loads of fighters yesterday,” the captain replied as he walked to the gate beside Ramasu. “A third from other arenas, the rest New Meat.”
Arram urged the mules forward. He kept his eyes on their shoulders as he heard the clank of chain and the scrape of metal on dirt as the gates were opened. A handful of gladiators were idling in the yard, moving slowly toward them, seemingly without plan.
A hard crack brought his head up. A guard on the gate had produced a whip: four feet of rigid stick tipped by several tapering feet of braided leather. He raised and snapped it at the gladiators. They halted, their eyes going from the mages and their wagon to the guard and back. One of them had new red stripes on his arm. After a long pause the group broke up and returned to training.
“We are perfectly able to defend ourselves, guardsmen,” Ramasu said, his voice at its most gentle. “There is no need for the hard whip.”
“The New Meat don’t know that, Master,” the whip wielder said. “They ain’t been broke in. Once they learn the stick, we can teach them rules and they’ll obey.”
“Yet if those stripes you just made get infected, you will have created more work for your healers, which means me,” Ramasu replied.
Goosebumps rippled along Arram’s arms. There was a touch of iron in the master’s voice.
“Should that happen, I shall feel it incumbent upon me to teach you the folly of using your hard whip when it is not absolutely necessary,” Ramasu continued. “That would be unfortunate, but not for me.” He walked on, the captain at his elbow. Arram noticed that the captain glanced at the whip-bearing soldier but said nothing to him.
Arram followed the two men and the guards to a long, one-story brick building with barred windows and shutters. It sported a wooden porch over the entry, which had a barred door. The regular healer waited there, a satchel by his feet.
“Ramasu, welcome, welcome!” he cried, embracing the mage.
Ramasu smiled and returned the embrace. Then he indicated Arram. “Healer Daleric, may I present my student, Arram Draper? Arram, Daleric and his assistants will rejoin us in time for the games.”
“And we will be the better for that wonderful time away,” Daleric said, nodding to Arram. “Before I go, let me offer you a taste of the best Maren red wine I’ve had in years. Your Arram can help the boys unload the cart. Captain, will you share a glass?”
The captain refused the offer of a drink and returned to his headquarters. “Let me supervise,” Ramasu insisted. “Arram is new. He has to learn to watch for nimble fingers. Then we can relax.”
“Very well,” Daleric said. “I shall assist.” The healer drew Ramasu into the infirmary.
Once the cart was unpacked the two healers retreated into Daleric’s small office, a box-like room set on one side of the infirmary. Inside the main room, Arram inspected the healer’s stillroom and its tidy shelves of supplies, each spot neatly labeled. He stowed their own medicines, ointments, and bandages, appreciating that Daleric kept the place clean and orderly. Only the magical creations and poisons were left unshelved. He suspected they went behind a door that had a number of magical locks on it. Most, if not all, of them he could undo, but it seemed polite to wait for the healer or Master Ramasu to take care of that.
He heard voices in the main room. He emerged in time to hear Daleric tell Ramasu, “And I am off.” He nodded to Arram. “The goddess’s good luck, youngster.” He bowed to the figure of Hekaja, whose small shrine occupied the western corner of the room. “Don’t let them trap you. They’re beasts, when all’s said and done.” He picked up a packed bag and walked out to the waiting wagon.
Ramasu closed the door behind the healer. “Daleric will talk about them as human beings by the time he returns from his holiday,” he said. “They wear him down over the course of a year, but he is dedicated to working with them, or he wouldn’t stay.” He walked over to the shrine, bowed to the figure of the goddess, and lit some orris incense with a touch of his finger.
Arram did the same, though he lit his incense from the master’s, not trusting his ability with a touch of fire. “How long has he—Daleric?—been here?”
“Five years. Most last two years or less, but Daleric has family in Thak City. Some of them are healers, some guards. Let’s see how you managed.” Ramasu only glanced over the shelves where Arram had placed supplies already. “I expected you to do this well,” he explained. “You could have entered the locked room yourself.”
“It didn’t seem polite to do so without permission,” Arram said.
“You can never fail with good manners,” Ramasu commented, pleased. “Go ahead. Without damage, open the room now.”
Arram touched a bit of the oil he carried in a vial in his belt purse to his eyelids. It allowed him to see magic without spending his own Gift. A couple of blinks showed him the spell letters on the locked door. They weren’t the signs of complex spells, but he undid them carefully, in case anything nasty was hidden under a mild sign.
He and Ramasu had just finished stowing the magical and poisonous supplies when Preet came flying in, crying out in alarm. Arram followed her into the main room and heard the unmistakable sound of a man screaming. It was drawing close.
“Master!” he called as Preet flew up to a perch on a roof beam. Looking around, he spotted a cupboard on the wall with the word “Linens” burned into the front. Beside it was a second cupboard labeled “Bandages.” Arram threw open the linen cupboard and grabbed one of the bundles. He shook it out to get an idea of the size of the cloth, quickly folded it double, and placed it on a table. While he was in the front room, he opened the door.