CHAPTER

18

BOOK TWO

Chloe did not send for Skylan the next day. He guessed that she was worried about her father. Acronis could not leave his bed, but he insisted that they hold Para Dix practice.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Keeper was grumpy and irritable from lack of sleep. Aylaen walked about in a daze, distracted and unhappy. Sigurd and the others were sullen and rebellious. Skylan worried about Wulfe, afraid that Raegar would find him, and spent half his time trying to remember everything Draya had said to him about Vektan dragons.

Keeper yelled at them until he was hoarse and used his fists freely on everyone except Aylaen, telling her balefully that he was leaving her to her goddess.

The end came when one of the Southlander players called the Torgun “stupid savages.” Sigurd knocked the man to the ground. The other Southlander jumped him. Grimuir and Skylan both went to his aid and the fight was on. They were reveling in a glorious brawl when Skylan heard Zahakis call his name.

Skylan was tempted to ignore the summons, but sometimes the only way to get information was to give it.

Zahakis spent a moment looking out at the playing field where the soldiers and the Torgun and the Southlanders were beating the crap out of each other. Only Aylaen was not involved. She sat slumped on the grass, her arms resting on her knees, her head in her arms.

“What’s wrong with Aylaen?” Zahakis asked.

“Female trouble,” said Skylan, knowing that would end the questioning. No man ever wants to talk about female problems. Zahakis quickly changed the subject.

“You were going to talk to that boy of yours. Did you?”

Skylan had gone over what he would say, trying to juggle how much of the truth to reveal and how much to keep to himself. “This is the boy’s story. You can believe it or not. He claims that the wolves weren’t wolves. He says they are fae, what the boy calls man-beasts. He’s always claiming to know the fae. He talks to dryads and Oceanids. . . .”

“Like I said last night, these wolves didn’t act like any wolves I’ve ever seen,” Zahakis said, nodding his head. “What else did the kid say?”

Skylan was startled. He hadn’t expected Zahakis to believe him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be believed.

“According to Wulfe, these man-beasts look like ordinary humans when they want to,” said Skylan. “They work as hired killers, using their beast form to murder people, making it seem as if their victims were torn apart by wild animals—”

“Like the guards who were taking the boy to the Temple,” Zahakis said, interrupting.

Skylan pretended he hadn’t heard and kept talking. He knew this next bit of information would capture the Tribune’s attention.

“Someone hired these man-beasts to kill the Legate. Raegar.”

“Raegar?” Zahakis repeated, staring. “Are you sure?”

“The boy saw him talking to the leader of these man-beasts and recognized him. Raegar told the man-beasts where to find the Legate. He told them Acronis would be on his way home from the Palace—”

“Where the Priest-General kept him talking until late into the night,” said Zahakis softly. “It all begins to make sense.”

“Priest-General?”

“Raegar’s only an arse-licker toady. He’s not allowed to think for himself. He’s acting on orders from above. Do you want proof? Those four yellow-bellied litter bearers fled into the night. They have the same tattoos that you have on your arm. Apparently they never felt a twinge when they ran off. Your arm burned, didn’t it? When you tried to defend the Legate?”

No, his arm hadn’t burned. But that was because Aelon wanted him alive because of the secret of the Vektan dragons. Skylan kept that bit of information to himself.

“I don’t suppose that boy of yours remembers the name of the tavern or could show us where it is,” Zahakis said. “I’d like to get a look at these man-beasts.”

Skylan shook his head. “If he does, he won’t tell me. He’s terrified of them. Afraid they’ll come after him.”

“Is he?” said Zahakis. “Who killed those Temple guards, Skylan? Ask yourself that. And then ask yourself if you want to keep that boy around.”

“Wait a moment, Tribune,” said Skylan, as Zahakis was about to walk off, “why would the Priest-General want to kill the Legate?”

“If Acronis dies, his wealth and property go to the Empire. And we all know who is really running the Empire these days.”

“What would happen to Chloe?”

“She would become a ward of the Empress.”

“What will the Legate do?” Skylan asked. “Will he leave Sinaria?”

“Acronis is no coward. He is needed here. Especially now. He won’t leave the people to the mercies of—”

Zahakis stopped, clearly having said more than he intended. “Aelon?” Skylan finished for him.

Zahakis grunted. He started again to walk off, then turned back. “You Torgun are going to disgrace yourself in the Para Dix. You know that, don’t you?”

“Ask me if I give a rat’s ass,” said Skylan.

“You will.” Zahakis smiled. “Because you can’t stand to be beaten. At anything.”

That night, when darkness fell and the soldiers on guard duty around the compound were involved in their gambling games, the Torgun sat on the deck of the Venjekar and talked in low voices about the possibility of escape. They would have their weapons and their shields. But they also had Aelon’s hated tattoo on their arms. Every warrior was strong in the belief that he could overcome the pain with an effort of will.

Sigurd wanted to form a plan, but, as Skylan pointed out, they were venturing into the unknown. They had no idea what this arena was like or where it was located, how many guards there would be, how many people. There were a myriad questions and no answers.

“All we know for certain is that we are Torgun,” said Skylan. “We stand together and if, by the blessing of Torval, a chance to escape arises, we will take it.”