03 - The Eternal Rose (37 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fox was the first. The spectators murmured over his tattoo-less state and his golden hair and skin. The murmurs grew to a loud buzz when they realized he was blind. All across the arena, bets were laid. Fox's opponent had his height, but easily twice his weight. He held his hand-and-a-half sword, a third longer than Fox's mountain blade, in tattooed hands.

“Fox's people don't do tattoos,” Kallista murmured to the justiciar. “He's Tibran-born, from their Warrior Caste."

“Ah.” The justiciar nodded as if she knew exactly what Kallista meant.

It took some time for Fox to wear his opponent down, amazing the audience with his nimble escapes, his flashing parries and ripostes. Finally, the courtside judge called halt just before the dedicat ran himself onto Fox's blade. A flag was hung from one of the eight posts below the front of Kallista's box. This was how they determined matters of law? The Reinine did
not
approve.

The next two contests went quickly, a win for Habadra and a win for Kallista. Then the crowd went wild when Genista marched out onto the sand, halberd over her shoulder. They'd seen her parade with the champions at the beginning, of course, but this was absolute confirmation that she would actually fight.

Ruel hadn't come. He'd stayed at the embassy with Keldrey, taking Genista's place guarding the children. He'd said that while he fully expected her to win, he couldn't watch her in the arena with another man.

The other man was a massive brute. His only tattoos were on his face, but his body was crisscrossed with marks—scars from previous combats.

“Kerik hasn't lost a match against any champion not dedicat,” the justiciar murmured.

“Must have fought a great number of dedicats to get scarred up like that,” Kallista muttered back.

The scarred champion roared, showing his missing teeth, and swung his pole weapon in a circle over his head. While he was swinging and roaring, Genista darted in and poked the upper point of her halberd under his chin. Three flags to one. Kallista tried not-so-hard to keep the smirk off her face.

The combats wore on. More flags went up in front of Kallista's box. The audience thinned out. Apparently they found the quick victories boring. Two more Habadra champions won their matches—one through sheer mismatch, the other when his Tayo Dai opponent allowed himself to be distracted. Torchay and Obed won the final two flags.

Kallista was ready to go meet her champions and congratulate them on their victories, have lunch. But there was yet more ceremony to endure. The three white-clad justiciars had their heads together, discussing something. Finally, their spokeswoman stepped to the front of the platform.

“Varyl is the winner of the day's trial, five to three. Tomorrow, at first bell, the mêlée combat will begin. Varyl is handicapped by five. The three dedicat-level champions will face Habadra's eight."

“What?” Kallista jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair, shouting at the justiciars on their platform. “What do you mean,
handicap?
Three against eight? What's fair about that? What kind of people are you?"

The justiciars ignored her, retreating through their archway to wherever justiciars went. The apprentice in the box caught Kallista's arm, tried to restrain her, and found herself facing bodyguard's steel in at least three hands.

Kallista threw her off. “I want to talk to the justiciars."

“It's not allow—"

“To all the seven bloody hells with what's allowed.” Kallista shoved the young woman toward the exit of the box. “Take me to them.
Now
."

Scowling with disapproval at every step, the apprentice did as Kallista demanded, taking her to a room one level up in the bowels of the arena. The door opened onto a large chamber filled with every luxury Daryath's wealth could provide. The justiciar's speaker looked up. “What is the meaning of this?

“Exactly what I would like to know.” Kallista pushed past her guide into the room. “What in all the names of the One is this handicap?"

“How dare you disturb the workings of the court? I'm calling out the guard.” The speaker yanked on a bell rope.

“This looks more like lunch than court, and while I know you'd rather watch others spill their blood than do any honest—"

"Kallista."
Viyelle's fingers dug hard into Kallista's arm, and she realized Vee had been squeezing for a while.

Kallista also realized Viyelle was thinking more clearly than she. They did not need to antagonize the very people who could determine the outcome of this trial. She took a deep breath, reaching for control. A trickle of magic seeped through the links without her calling it, tasting of Viyelle's worry and Joh's cold anger. That helped more.

“I beg forgiveness for this disturbance.” Kallista bowed low, Adaranstyle. “But I know nothing of this
handicap
business. You claim justice in Daryath is fair, but three men fighting against eight? How is that fair?"

“Ignorance of the law is no excuse for—"

The white-haired justiciar cut off their speaker. “She is from another land that does not know our laws and she is ruler there, where she can demand and receive what she demands."

That was far from how it worked,
but Kallista didn't owe them any explanations. They owed her.

“It does no harm to answer her questions.” The old woman looked then at Kallista. “Is it fair to force those who have faced each other once already and
lost
to fight again with nothing altered? Circumstances must change to even the odds."

“Why? Why must circumstances change? How does ‘evening the odds’ benefit anyone but the betting shops? How does it show ‘the will of the One'?"

“By removing the influence of money. One side may have been able to buy better champions. This eliminates that advantage, so that the One's will may more clearly be seen."

“
My
champions do not fight for money.” Kallista let Joh grab her hand, used his grip to keep her seething rage under control. From the corner of her eye, she could see Aisse holding onto Leyja the same way.

The old one's response was a shrug. Nothing more.

“Whybothertowinintheindividualcombatsthen?"Kallistademanded. “Why should anyone win if they're going to be penalized for it?"

“Today's wins are still credited to your case.” The old woman sipped at her cha, her quavering hand taking its own time about it. “Tomorrow's results will be weighed against today's victories. If your dedicats are as skilled as today's matches showed, they should have no trouble against these opponents."

“But—” Kallista cut off the temptation to shout that they were all mates and she loved them. The justiciars would likely just shrug again and go back to their meal. If they didn't call out the mob, or have them all tossed into the jail with Sky.

“You have had your questions answered. We are done.” The white-haired justiciar waved a hand, dismissing them rudely.

But then it had been rude for Kallista to barge in on them, and it had done no good whatsoever. Might even have done them harm. Nothing had changed. Torchay, Obed and Fox would stand alone in the arena tomorrow against all eight of Habadra's ruthless champions.

Kallista bowed in grudging apology and allowed Joh and Viyelle to escort her out of the room. Aisse had to almost drag Leyja out. The little justiciar-apprentice led them back through the warren of corridors to the space inside the plaintiff's gate where the champions waited with the horses.

“Where were you?” Torchay demanded when Kallista finally let go of him. “We've been waiting an age."

She grabbed Obed by the shoulder of his robe and shook him. “Why didn't you tell me about the handicap?"

“Handi—?” His eyes narrowed. “
What
handicap?"

“It seems that since you won today's matches so easily, tomorrow, the three of you will face all eight Habadra champions by yourselves."

"What?"
Shock and outrage came from a hand of throats at once, Obed's foremost among them.

Kallista could sense his surprise through the link, now Leyja had calmed a bit. “You didn't know, did you?"

“No, of course not. What—How—?” Obed's mouth opened and closed another time or two without finding the words he wanted.

“Let's go.Backto theembassy. Wecan talk about itthere."Kallista swung onto her horse. “They must have changed the rule since you left Daryath."

“Yes, but
why?
"

“No reason that makes sense to me, but I'll tell you what they told me when we're out of all this.” Kallista clucked to her horse, heading for the gate, forcing Obed and a few of the others to scramble to keep up.

* * * *

That night, during all the explaining and all the complaining, Obed let everyone know exactly how senseless and unfair he thought the rule change was. His opinion: they'd changed it to increase the likelihood of someone actually dying in a tournament, for the thrill of the crowds. Kallista thought it likely inspired by the demons still hiding from them. Demons fed on death, destruction and misery. The three remaining fighters held strategy sessions late into the night to develop three-man tactics rather than eight.

The next morning, they retraced their path through Mestada's center, over the Bafret Canal, through the busy market squares to the court arena. All those who had made the trip on Firstday were back again. The champions not in the arena today wore their red robes over their Adaran uniforms. Kallista suspected they might be wearing those robes the rest of their lives as a boast that once they'd had the honor of fighting for their Reinine in a foreign arena.

Their young escorts were back, eyeing the black-clad, red-robed Tayo Dai with suspicion. “Why are they here?” one of the justice-apprentices dared ask. “They do not fight today."

“They are bodyguards,” Kallista said. “Adaran soldiers. Not freelance champions. They are part of my household."

The young woman didn't seem to know whether to be impressed or disdainful. Kallista turned to embrace her kilted iliasti.

“Stay safe.” She couldn't get her arms around all three of them at once, so hugged them one at a time. “We can find another way to get Sky away from that woman."

“Are you saying you don't think we can win?” Horror and hurt shuddered in Fox's voice.

“No, of
course
not.” Kallista rushed to reassure him before she saw the tiny quiver at the corner of his mouth, and clouted the back of his head for teasing her so. “Mean, cruel man."

“Me? You're the one that's hitting.” Fox rubbed the back of his head piteously.

“We will win,” Obed said. “We are that much better. Habadra's champions are stupid, clumsy and slow."

“They're also brutal and ruthless,” Kallista added.

“And we're not?” Torchay lifted an eyebrow at her and she had to admit his truth.

“We're soldiers,” Fox said. “Not champions."

“Which means?” Kallista looked from one to the other for an answer.

“We know how to fight together, as a team,” Torchay said. “Even Obed, who
was
champion and dedicat andspenthislife fightingalone.He's learned soldiering these past seven years. He's one of us. Part of us, like we're part of him. It's no’ eight against three today. It's three against one and one and one, to the end of them. Those other lads, Habadra's champions—they're each one of ‘em standing alone. They're no’ soldiers. They're no'—” He broke off, but she still heard the word he wouldn't say.
Ilian
. The others weren't ilian.

Silence ruled in the plaintiff's yard a long moment, seeming the more profound because of the hum of voices coming through from the public areas.

“Right.” Fox broke it. “Exactly. What he said."

“It is time,” the escort called from her place.

“Yes. So—” Kallista took a moment to hug them all again.

“Be especially careful,” she whispered to Fox. “I can't lose any more of my Tibrans.” She brushed her fingers over his eyes. “I wish I could help you somehow."

He smiled, captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “And I wish I could see you. Any of you. All of you. But we don't get everything we want, do we?"

“We get what we need.” Kallista called magic. She shaped it for vision, quickness, cleverness, wisdom, and she let it go. She didn't direct it. Any who had need of those things was welcome to them, even if they were Habadra's champions.

The world seemed to pause while the magic settled out over it. Then Kallista made herself walk away to go watch her beloved defend themselves against more than twice their number.

The opening ceremony was much the same today as yesterday, save only three in red kilts stood on the arena's sands. Habadra's box seemed more crowded today than yesterday, and it heightened Kallista's sense that something was not right.

She beckoned her duty-guard over. “Samri, does Habadra's box look different to you today?"

“There are twelve more people, my Reinine."

“Ah. Would you have Night take a look to see if he knows who they are, and why Chani might have brought them with her? Have him report to me, yes?"

The young guard bowed and stepped back a pace, beckoning the red-robed ex-Habadra over so Samri wouldn't have to leave his post guarding his Reinine.

The petition had been read. The spectators were rustling back into their seats. The champions stepped out to return to their respective arming chambers and retrieve their weapons when the justiciar speaker held up her hand.
"Hold."

The champions stopped. A buzz rippled through the arena. What was this? More rule-changing? Kallista held her temper. Time enough to let it go when she knew what was happening.

“It has come to our attention that one party in this trial is a nathain of very powerful magic,” the speaker stated. “One who could easily interfere with the working of this court."

The crowd's hum grew louder as a young man in black robes over black Daryathi shirt and trousers strode onto the justiciar's platform, a staff in his hand. “This man is Nur im-Nathain,” the speaker said. “One of our own, a truthsayer. He will determine whether unauthorized magic is being used."