Tournament of Losers (17 page)

"All right, let's walk along the beach until we can climb back up to the path without either of us risking death."

Yuri nodded, wiping tears from his eyes before he threw himself at Rath and held him tightly. Rath hugged him back, hoping his own trembling wasn't apparent. "Come on, let's get moving. I'm sure people are worried sick about you." Even if they hadn't been worried enough to
do
anything.

By the time they found a spot to climb up and then hiked back to where Rath had left his belongings, the other people were gone. Rath wasn't at all surprised to see his belongings were gone as well. His pouches, his lunch, his newly-bought handkerchiefs—thank the Fates he hadn't carried anything valuable with him today and his coins were safely tucked inside his shirt.

Still, the jacket alone would be costly to replace, never mind the pouch he'd just bought and the old one he'd had for years and been rather fond of. Stifling a sigh, he turned to the boy. "Where is your family? Isn't anyone traveling with you?"

Yuri nodded. "My brother. He ran back to get a rope, but that was ages ago—"

"Yuri! Yuri!" A young man came rushing up, wearing a guard's uniform. "Thank the Fates, you're all right." He hugged Yuri tightly, kissed his brow and the top of his head over and over until Yuri finally shoved him away in disgust. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," Yuri said. "Rath saved me."

"Rath—" The guard's eyes flicked to Rath, widened, then dropped to his ring. Looking back up, he said, "You're a competitor."

Rath nodded. "Yes, and as happy as I was to help and that Yuri is well, I should be on my way now."

"You have to let us repay—"

"Not at all," Rath said, shaking his head. "Though if you see some bastard wearing a brown jacket with blue and red patches at the elbows, it belongs to me, and I want it back. Fates bless your path, be well." He walked off before they could delay him further, half-tempted to just give up and go back and declare his defeat.

But the day was already too far gone to find work, and there was no certainty he'd be able to see Tress again, so he may as well at least
try
to finish the challenge.

Hopefully without losing anymore of his damned belongings. Rath shoved the thought aside, because if he dwelt on it, he'd be in a foul mood for days.

He hadn't gone much farther along the path when he was stopped again, this time by a woman who was tired and hungry. Rath used some money to buy her food and drink at one of the carts, then headed out once more.

The next person to stop him was an old man who could barely walk and had broken his cane. Rath helped him the rest of the way to the temple, where priests came forward to take over.

"You look exhausted yourself," said one with a soft smile. "Come, I'll see you're well-fed and given a bed. You can stay the night and leave tomorrow."

Rath shook his head. "That sounds wonderful, and I appreciate your kind offer, Priest, but I am here to see Their Most Holy Eminence for my tournament challenge."

"Oh!" The priest's eyes fell on Rath's hand. "I did not see your ring. I thought all the competitors had long since come and gone. This way, please, Most Holy will be happy to see you."

"Thank you," Rath replied, and followed the priest through the beautiful temple. Outside, it was impressive, but not much different from the city temples, the only difference being the dark stone that sun and salt had turned pale gray. Inside, however, it was white and gleaming, with beautiful, colorful statues of the three Holy Fates in the center of the open sanctuary, where people could gather around it all hours of the day and night to pray, seek solace, or simply find respite. Fate lines decorated every surface, weaving into intricate patterns on the columns and a few patches of wall.

There were statues of the saints in every nook and cranny, elaborate tapestries on the walls, beautiful colored glass in almost every window. Some of the walls were covered in fancy gold writing, while others had pictures that helped tell the stories for people who couldn't read.

The priest led him down a long, wide hallway full of the colored-glass windows, and into a room with a blue tile floor and walls scattered with rugs and tapestries to help keep back some of the chill. A stately-looking person sat at a table covered in papers and books. A beautiful map hung on the wall behind them. Rath and the priest knelt and bowed their heads; he could hear the person stand and come around the table, the bells sewn into the hem of their long, heavy over robe chiming softly. "Who is this, Merri?"

"The last competitor, Most Holy."

"Oh, I see. I had wondered. Thank you, Merri, you may go."

"Yes, Most Holy." The priest rose and with a brief smile at Rath, slipped quietly from the room.

"Rise, please. I am Eminence Dathaten, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's an honor to meet you, Eminence Dathaten," Rath said and obediently stood. Dathaten was beautiful in that imperious, untouchable way that seem common to all high-ranking priests, gray hair bound in a coiled braid at the back of their head, a heavy silver ring on one hand.

Dathaten resumed their seat, glancing at a piece of paper off to one side. "You are the last competitor to reach me, Master… Rathatayen, isn't it?" Rath winced, but nodded. "What has caused you to arrive so late?"

"My apologies, Most Holy," Rath said, angry that he felt disappointed, because this was exactly what he'd wanted. Out of the tournament, back to his normal life, no more time wasted playing stupid games that would never amount to anything. "I was headed here steadily, but there was a woman who needed help…" Slowly, he explained all that had delayed him.

"On the cliff face!" Dathaten cut in when he got to that part. "Oh, my Fates. Are you both well? Were either of you hurt? Why was no one else helping that boy up?" They shook their head. "Never mind. Continue with your tale."

Rath nodded and did so, though it took him some time as he kept cutting himself off with yawns he could not hold back.

Dathaten smiled when he finished. "You've had quite the day, Master Rathatayen."

"I'm not eager to go cliff-climbing again, and I wish I hadn't lost my jacket, but otherwise it wasn't so bad," Rath replied. He wasn't getting beaten in an alleyway or struggling to come up with fifteen slick.

"Well, I think your first task is to go find food and drink. When you've done that, come see me again."

Rath frowned, but he wasn't about to argue with that kind of order. "Yes, Most Holy. Thank you." He bowed low, then left and went back the way he'd come. In the general sanctuary, another priest directed him to where he could find food.

He'd never been so happy to sit down in his life, and the food put in front of him almost made him cry. He wolfed it down, barely noticing when more was piled on, save to say thank you. Only after he'd cleared the plate three times did Rath finally stop eating.

"You were hungry a bit, weren't you, then?"

Rath looked up, smiled sheepishly at the priest grinning at him. "A touch, maybe."

The priest chuckled and took the empty plate, refilling Rath's cup with pale, steaming tea. "If you need anything else, please let us know."

"Thank you." Rath sipped at the tea, looking around the dining hall at the other visitors. Some were obviously from the city, others from out of town, and others must be from other countries entirely. One woman had skin so pale it was like she was made from snow, and her companion had a pink flush to his skin that made him look like a spring rose. They wore wildly colorful clothing, and there was a fluffy white dog at their feet.

Another trio wore lots of beads and wild feathers, and wildest of all, they were bare-chested. The woman had heavy gold rings in her nipples, and the man's chest was covered in tattoos. They probably garnered more looks than anyone else in the hall, though they seemed unbothered by it. But if Rath were accustomed to walking around half-naked all the time, he supposed very little would bother him.

When his tea was finished, he carried the cup to the collection area then slowly returned to Eminence Dathaten's office.

Dathaten smiled when he entered and knelt. "Stand, stand. Are you fed and at least somewhat rested, Master Rathatayen?"

"Yes, Eminence Dathaten."

Chuckling, they said, "You wince every time I say that. Do you not enjoy being named after one of our most beloved saints?"

"I am honored to be bestowed such a noble name," Rath replied. It was long and obnoxious and who wanted to be named after the Saint of Romantic Fate? He'd been born during the holy week celebrating Sacred Temina and the Saints of Temina, though. It was called the Celebration of Loving Fate, and even his Counter-Fate mother had not been able to resist what she called the sweet charm of it. The idiocy of it, if anyone asked Rath, which no one ever did, of course. "But I confess, Most Holy, that I prefer 'Rath' to my full name."

They laughed again. "Master Rath it is, then. I'm sure you would like to get on with your day, so your second task is this: find my priest Nella and have them take you to the collections; pick out whatever you like to replace what you've lost."

Rath frowned, but bowed and said, "Yes, Most Holy."

It took him a few minutes to find Nella, a pretty priest with a serious demeanor, but who showed Rath to 'collections', whatever that was, without fuss. Unlocking the door, Nella motioned Rath inside, then opened the shuttered windows. "This is where we store all the belongings that visitors leave behind. Two or three times a year, we take it all into the city for the temples there to hand out to the poor. We'll be doing that in another month or two. Take what you like. It won't be missed by anyone. Find me when you're done, and I'll lock it all up again."

Alone, Rath looked over the room, at a loss. Why were his tasks to eat and choose a new jacket? Did Eminence Dathaten feel sorry for him and so was doing what they could, since he'd obviously lost? Well, that wasn't so bad a thing, and it was kind of them.

Moving further into the room, which was comprised of a large table in the middle and shelves all along the walls, everything covered in clothes, sacks, even things like books and shoes. There was even a small case, which proved to be filled with jewelry that the temple probably sold for the money, since it would go a lot further that way than simply handing the jewelry out.

He found a pile of jackets and began to try them on, pleased when one made of fine, dark blue wool, lined in red linen, proved to fit well enough. He also found two pouches, one made of fine brown leather, the other of sturdy black cloth, both much, much nicer than any he'd ever owned.

Leaving a couple of pennies in the jewelry case, he once more returned to Eminence Dathaten. "Thank you for the clothing, Most Holy."

"You're welcome," Dathaten said with a smile, settling back in their seat and folding their hands in their lap. "Your third task is to answer this question: if you were to win the tournament and marry into the royal family, what would you do as a prince?"

Rath frowned, shook his head, shrugged. "I don't know. I know nothing about being a prince. I've worked as a laborer or a whore my whole life. What do I know about being royalty? I suppose the first thing I'd do is learn. Past that, it's impossible to say."

Eminence Dathaten nodded. "An honest answer; I respect that." They opened a box set in front of them on the desk. "Come here, Master Rath, and receive your token."

"Token—" Rath snapped his mouth shut and approached the desk, heart beginning that thud-thudding it was doing more and more of late. Even struggling to appease Friar did not alarm him as much as the damnable tournament.

Standing, Eminence Dathaten placed a small, black velvet bag in his hands. "That is your token for completing the challenge." They picked up a small, sealed envelope. "If you will give this to Lord Montague, for me, I would appreciate it. Would you like to borrow a horse to return to the city?"

Rath tucked the bag into his jacket. "I appreciate the offer, Most Holy, but I've never ridden a horse in my life. Isn't helping me against the rules, anyway?"

"You've completed the challenge, and the time it takes you to return is irrelevant. As much walking and climbing as you've done, I would hate for you to have to walk back as well. Come on." Dathaten didn't give Rath a chance to reply, and simply moved around the desk and strode off, hurrying him along with a wave of a hand.

In short order, Rath somehow found himself sitting on a horse. It was
terrifying
, but he seemed to be the only one who realized that, so he held tightly to the waist of the priest taking him back, closed his eyes, and prayed to the Fates that today not be his day to die. He had survived a cliff; surely he could survive a horse.

He expected the priest to stop at the gates, but they kept going all the way down to the fairgrounds—and right up to the stage, at which point Rath wished fervently that he were still at the bottom of the cliffs. "Thank you," he said and mostly toppled from the horse. He winced as he started walking, and merciful Fates, he would give anything for a day where he did nothing but lie in bed.

But he managed it, stumbling only a couple of times as he reached the table where Lord Montague and a trio of clerks awaited him. He pulled the bag and letter from his jacket and held them out to Montague. "I was told to give these to you, Lord Montague. I apologize for my late arrival."

"You're not late at all," Lord Montague replied with a smile. He broke the seal on the envelope and quickly read the contents, brow shooting up and eyes widening to the size of saucers as he read. "Holy Fates," he muttered, glancing at Rath. He gestured sharply to the clerk, handed the letter to him. "Take this to His Majesty at once."

"Yes, my lord." The clerk ran off, neatly leaping up into the spectator stands and dashing up the stairs to the silk screen. After a moment, he vanished through it.

The other competitors turned their eyes on Rath, most of them looking puzzled, Jessa looking annoyed. Why the man hated him so much, Rath didn't know. So far as he knew, Jessa was doing at least as well in the tournament—and Rath had been the last to return, so he was obviously done. Finally.