Ironhold, Trial Eight

CHAPTER ONE

“The senate recognizes Senator Lyra Thornwind.”

I hesitate, then stand in the middle of the senate chamber, looking around at the rest of those who rule the city of Aetheria. There are fewer senators there than there were just a few weeks ago, some of them friendly, some of them anything but.

I wonder how I look to them. I’m wearing the same white toga that all the other senators are, while my golden hair is bound up in an elaborate style that’s only possible because of the efforts of servants here in what was once the emperor’s palace.

My body is still lean and athletic, even if I’m not at the peaks of strength and toughness I was when I was a gladiator.

My fights these days are with words, although there have been more than enough of the physical kind in the time I’ve been a senator.

"My friends," I begin, and now I don't just look at the senators but the people watching from the viewing galleries above. There are plenty of ordinary people there, as well as guards at the doors and servants moving between the senators. "We've come through a lot."

"That's an understatement," Senator Yarrow says.

She's a dark-haired woman in her forties who has features hardened by life working with the gangs of the slums. She's as much a gang leader as a senator, with a whole network of illicit businesses in the poorer parts of the city.

She doesn't like me because I spend at least some of my time trying to reform the conditions of the slums.

I ignore her and keep going. “One of our own sought to overthrow the Republic. Senator Domitian wanted to reinstate an empire, acting in concert with the former arch magistrate, Selene Ravenscroft.”

"We know all this," the noble senator Olivia drawls, lounging on the stone benches that are reserved for us.

She's beautiful and jewel-laden, blonde-haired and blue-eyed like me, but sleek and soft where my time fighting has hardened me.

She likes to use influence in the shadows through money, or seduction, or whispers.

It's easy to underestimate her because she wouldn't last a minute in the colosseum, but she's a dangerous foe in this arena.

“We do,” I say, but I’m not saying it for her benefit.

I’ve learned that sometimes, being in the senate is as much a performance as any of my fights out on the sands.

“We all know what happened, and we all know how it happened. Domitian pushed for the games to be more and more violent. He stoked the aggression of the crowd. He pushed discontent in the poorest parts of the city. He exploited the corruption available within the receiving rooms of the games.”

I can see some of the senators narrowing their eyes now because they can see where my speech is going.

The aging senator Octavio looks annoyed to be going over the same ground again.

Even First Senator Rowan, my friend and fellow former gladiator, looks as though he isn't looking forward to arguing about it again.

Rowan doesn’t look suited to his toga, always seeming as if he would rather be wearing almost anything else.

He’s square featured and auburn haired, with a scar along one cheek given to him by the woman who once claimed to own him.

He has muscles that make him look like he’s carved from the stone that his magic can control.

“We haven’t learned lessons from what happened,” I say. “We’ve rebuilt as much as we can, but we haven’t changed. The games are still going ahead. People still make deals in the shadows.”

“With respect, Senator Lyra,” Octavio says, “the whole senate agreed to reinstate the games for a reason. As I recall, you voted in favor at the time.”

I did, and that’s part of the reason it’s proving so hard to get rid of them again now. That, and there are too many people, even on my own side, who want them in the city. One of those stands now.

Senator Marcus Larius is handsome in a noble, polished way, even though he’s not a former noble, but the scion of a merchant house.

He has a fleet of ships that seeks trade around the world, building better relations than the simple conquest the empire relied on before the Republic.

He's grey-eyed and blond-haired, always with a faint sense of electricity around him.

That might be down to his natural charisma in the political realm, or it might just be a reflection of his magic, which can control the weather.

“Lyra, safeguards have been put back in place,” he says. “You know the games are vital to both the city and the Republic.”

He’s made this argument to me many times before, here and in private.

Marcus thinks the city needs the money the games bring in, as well as the entertainment they give to the ordinary people, giving them an outlet for their discontent.

I even understand the argument that the city needs a sense of spectacle at its heart, a celebration of the magic and martial skill that form the twin pillars of Aetherian society.

I just hate the violence that it brings with it.

I sigh, knowing I’m not going to win this argument.

Rowan stands. “We’ve been through this enough times, Lyra. The reformed games are proving successful, and we don’t have the deaths Domitian was pushing for. We need to discuss other things, such as the rebuilding work in the slums.”

I cede the floor. The games matter to me, but so do the slums. I'm a senator for an area within them, notionally elected by the people there, even if I was put forward by Marcus and Rowan. I want to do the best I can for the people there. For all the people of the city. Domitian’s attack was meant to reinstate the empire and set the wealthy back over the poor, but it’s had one beneficial effect.

Parts of the slums are being rebuilt, finally made into more than just a shanty town surrounding the main city.

If that work continues, Aetheria might truly become the shining, beautiful thing it was always meant to be.

“Which brings us to the cost analyses for the work,” Senator Octavio says, taking out a scroll and starting to drone in his monotone voice.

I let the discussions wash over me for now, knowing that this is something Rowan is deeply interested in, and where the senate might make a difference, but having trouble keeping up with the details of which work gang should go where, which streets should be formalized and which rebuilt.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Rowan says eventually.

Several of the senators sigh in relief. They often have their own business and other interests in the city, and so hate it when the senate discussions run on too long.

Olivia looks particularly bored. I’m sure she has a party or a gathering to throw.

She generally seems to, and it isn’t just a reflection of the debauchery of a certain sub-set of the nobles.

It’s a forum for her to try to influence the other nobles and senators of the city.

We all head out from the senate chamber into a large ante-chamber beyond, where there are tables laden with food and servants waiting with jugs of wine.

There are already plenty of people coming from the galleries, or perhaps ones who’ve waited specifically for this.

This space is a place to mingle and be seen, to talk to senators about problems or to try to gain influence.

Marcus comes up to me, putting a hand on my arm. “I need to talk to a few people here, but will you meet me in my villa for dinner?”

I lean into that touch. “I’d like that.”

There’s so much that’s complicated between us, but not this part.

We have different views on the games and the city.

There was a point where I thought he was in league with Domitian, until I realized that Marcus was only getting close to him to find out more details of his schemes.

Even now, he's a man who thinks the games are crucial to Aetheria, and who sees the old virtues of warrior skill and magic as the keys to building the Republic.

But I'm still attracted to him, still with him, still care about him.

I head back to my rooms in the palace, and as always, when I arrive in them, I'm struck by their opulence.

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to them.

They're a place of delicate marble and gilded ornaments, intricately carved furniture and beautiful mosaics.

I change out of my toga into a simple blue dress, embroidered in silver.

I head out into the evening air of the city, and I must admit, even now, that Aetheria is the most beautiful place I've ever seen.

The city within the walls and, increasingly, the slums outside, are built from white marble.

Statues of famous figures fill the streets.

So does magic. Glowing orbs are starting to light up, providing illumination for the wealthier neighborhoods.

The temple glows with a purple aura, as if reflecting the energies of the magical stones beneath the city.

Noble houses decorated themselves with images of their sigils, or scenes from history.

I make my way through the noble quarter, and as I do, almost reflexively, I reach out with my magic for the minds of creatures all around me.

As a beast whisperer, I have the talent to control them or borrow power from them, to communicate with them or simply to look through their eyes.

I look down on myself through the eyes of a passing owl, searching the city below for signs of danger.

It's necessary these days. Domitian might have failed in his plot to take the city, but I still have other enemies.

And there's a chance I might spot Alaric.

I'm with Marcus, but even now, thoughts of Alaric make my heart ache.

He leads those who seek to stand against the games and against the corruption within the city.

Those the other senators call traitors and rebels.

He and his followers helped to stop Domitian, but I haven't seen him since then, not even through the eyes of beasts.

I make my way to Marcus’ villa, on the boundary between the noble and merchant quarters. His servants let me in, showing me to an elegant couch in a room at the villa’s heart. They’re used to me being there by now, and serve me wine while I wait for Marcus to arrive.

He isn’t long, and somewhere along the line he’s had time to change into a dark tunic, a pendant around his neck in the shape of a ship.

"Did you make all the deals you wanted?" I ask as he comes to sit near me.

“Somehow, you always make that sound as though it’s a vast ocean of corruption,” Marcus replies, but he smiles as he does it. “I was listening to some merchants who were worried that the Republic isn’t opening up trade with Arboria quickly enough.”

Arboria is one of the kingdoms bordering the Republic. It sent emissaries to us before, but doesn’t seem to be opening up trade. I suspect it’s waiting to see if the Republic proves strong enough to be an ally, or is just something to be conquered.

“But we shouldn’t spend our evening talking over senate debates,” Marcus says.

He puts an arm around me, and I feel his strength, the same comforting strength that I delight in waking up next to so often these days.

It feels so natural to be with him, and if he lacks Alaric’s sense of dangerous excitement, I tell myself that’s a good thing.

“We should eat,” I say.

He kisses me, softly. “Afterwards.”

I melt into that kiss, and into the faint tingle of lightning across my skin. Marcus’s magic always seems like a part of him, so that the very sky above tends to reflect his mood. As the kiss deepens and he reaches for my dress, it’s easy to all but lose myself in the moment.

At least until a servant coughs pointedly, forcing us to pull back from one another quickly.

“What is it?” Marcus asks, with a note of exasperation, quickly held in check.

He isn’t some noble, to berate his servants for every small failing.

He treats them with more affection and consideration than most people of his wealth, perhaps because he’s seen harder times as well, when his family fell foul of the emperor.

“Forgive me,” the servant says. “But a messenger has come from Ironhold.”

I feel a growing sense of dread at the mention of the space that used to be used to train gladiators but is now used to train the city's soldiers as well. It isn't just because of the harsh training I endured there, but because I know what the message will be.

“A gladiator’s gone missing,” I guess.

The servant nods. “It appears so. They left without warning and didn’t come back.”

"Another?" Marcus says with a note of surprise.

“That’s three this month,” I point out.

Marcus nods, but tries to make it sound like it isn’t a problem. “They’re probably just slipping away because they don’t want to fight in the games.”

“Do you really believe that’s it?” I counter.

“Or they’ve taken jobs or lovers,” Marcus says. “They’re not slaves. They have the freedom to leave.”

But these have done so suddenly and without any sign of them again afterwards. It makes me certain that more is happening. I’m determined to find out what, and that means going to Ironhold.