CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I creep through the dark, waiting by my statue for Thalia. The night air is crisp enough to make me shiver, or maybe that's just the thought of what I might see in the fights tonight.
No matter what I do, Aetheria has a current of violence within it.
There are always those who want to bring back the games as they were, who want to control the city through violence, who want to turn the Republic back towards the cruelty of the empire.
I'm starting to think that Alaric was right when he told me that I wouldn't be able to achieve anything as a senator.
I spot Thalia approaching through the darkness, but only because I'm watching through the senses of the animals around me. I turn to face her as she comes closer, wrapped in a dark cloak and armed with a couple of daggers.
“You're expecting trouble?” I ask.
She flashes a grim look in the moonlight. “Always. And especially from the kind of people who put these contests on. Do you think they'll hesitate to kill people to keep making money?”
I haven't considered just how much danger I'm in by going to look at this fight tonight.
I've faced plenty of danger in my life, but mostly now, I get to sit behind the safe walls of the palace, protected both by guards and by my status as a senator. If Thalia and I are caught tonight, we’ll have to fight our way out.
It's a sobering thought, but it's not enough to stop me.
“Come on,” I say. “Show me this fight. Show me what's happening.”
Thalia nods and starts to lead me through the city.
We keep to the shadows, away from the glow of the magical orbs that mean Aetheria is never truly dark.
We avoid contact with the others who walk the nighttime streets, either on their way to work through the night or seeking entertainment somewhere in the city.
But in doing so, maybe we make ourselves more suspicious because, as we reach the entertainment district, a voice calls out.
“You there! What are you doing skulking around?”
A couple of guards are watching us. I sense Thalia tensing beside me, ready to fight or run, but I know running will only make them chase us, and attract the attention of others. It's easier for me to step forward into the light.
“I'm trying to make last-minute preparations for the games tomorrow,” I say, as recognition crosses their faces. “But it's something Marcus and I don't want too much attention for. I'm sure you understand.”
I use Marcus's name because these days, it carries more authority than my own.
Especially for anything connected to the games.
Rowan doesn't attend them, so Marcus has become the face people are used to seeing in the emperor's box, overseeing the events.
I'm there, too, but he's the one with the political connections.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if he ever decides that he would like to be emperor.
Would he have enough backing to take the city?
Would I be willing to stop him?
“Yes, of course, Senator,” the guard who called out before says, stepping back with a slight look of concern as if worried that he might be about to lose his job.
I hurry off into the entertainment district with Thalia.
“It must be nice to have the power to make people afraid of you,” she says.
I shake my head. “But in this case, it means we get to keep going without having to answer awkward questions. Tell me, why doesn't Alaric trust me enough even now to see me?”
“You really need me to answer that?” Thalia asks.
“You're sleeping with one of the senators who’s a symbol of the games and what the city's becoming.
You literally just used the threat of him to get the guards to back off.
How does he know you haven't been convinced by Marcus to the point where you'll give away the fact that you're meeting Alaric?”
“You really believe that?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I believe that Alaric is getting more and more cautious and that he's not going to risk himself. You think he should come out of hiding just for you? You're with someone else.”
The truth of that hurts. There used to be so much between Alaric and me, but we aren't together anymore, and I don't have any claim on him. No matter how much I find myself thinking about him and missing him.
Thalia and I head to a point in the entertainment district that connects to the city beneath the city, the catacombs and tunnels that honeycomb the space underneath Aetheria.
It's a place of long-lost buildings that have been built over, of natural caverns, and of burial spaces filled with the bones of the dead.
We go down into it with Thalia leading the way.
“There's only so close we can get to this one,” she says. “The fights are invitation only, and to get an invitation, you need to know the right people. I think we can get close enough to observe them at least, find out what's going on and maybe work out more about who's running it.”
“I assumed we were going to be going into the fights,” I say.
“Like this?” Thalia says, gesturing to herself and then me. “We'd be spotted in a second, and then we'd have to run or fight.”
She has a point. We haven’t disguised ourselves, and there’s nothing we could do now that would stand up to even a passing inspection.
We keep going through the tunnels instead, squeezing through a small gap, and it’s hard to keep track of which way we’re going, but it seems Thalia knows the way perfectly.
We reach a spot where there’s a small break in the tunnel before us, and through it, we can look down into a cavern below. Someone has set up benches in that cavern, on which people sit, looking down on a pit where two people are fighting.
The spectators are a mixture of nobles and merchants, mixed in with their servants and entourages.
There are gang members and common people at one side, away from the others, but there aren't the mass ranks of them there would be at the Colosseum.
They seem like a carefully selected crowd of people who can afford to be there, people who can be trusted not to give away the truth of what's happening.
There's a festive atmosphere in the space below. Servants carry food and drink. Most of the nobles have groups of friends with them. Courtesans move to this or that noble, obviously trying to catch their attention.
But the truth is that most people aren't concerned with anything but the pit below.
Two figures fight down there, a couple of young women in armor that's little more than a token gesture.
One slender woman with her blonde hair tied back fights with a trident and net, the other, a shorter, stockier woman with dark hair, fights with a sword and shield.
The one with the trident thrusts again and again, circling so that her opponent can’t get too close. The woman with the sword blocks those thrusts with her shield, the clash of metal-on-metal ringing through the cavern.
The trident-wielding gladiator swings her net low, aiming to tangle the other woman's legs, but her foe jumps over the attack.
Neither of them is using magic at the moment, suggesting that these are nulls without any powers to employ.
Or maybe their powers are more subtle, adding to their speed and power, or maybe giving them some small control over the mind of their opponent. It's often hard to tell.
The woman with the sword and shield is fighting methodically, moving forward smoothly, trying to cut down the space in which her foe can fight.
The crowd is calling out, demanding blood, expressing their approval, and jeering anything they don't approve of.
The atmosphere around the pit is tense, people leaning in close, trying to catch every nuance of the violence below.
The woman with the trident thrusts with it again, buying herself more space and time. She manages to open a wound on her opponent’s arm, but it doesn't seem to slow her down. The crowd are baying for blood now, wanting to see more violence. It makes me feel sick.
But not as sick as what happens next.
The woman with the sword overextends slightly with her shield, and her opponent tangles that shield with her net, trying to pull her into a thrust of the trident.
But it’s a trap. The woman with the sword uses that connection to pull her opponent close, headbutting her and stunning her, then knocking the trident from her hand.
She slashes her sword across her opponent’s leg, sending her tumbling to the ground.
The trident wielder scrambles back, raising her hand. “I yield!” she calls out, obviously recognizing that she’s lost. “I yield!”
“Blood! Blood!” the crowd are chanting around the pit.
A figure steps up to the edge of the pit, dressed in the robes of a priest of Aetheria.
They have always stressed the importance of the magic emanating from the stones beneath Aetheria and, in the days of the empire, coordinated the sacrifices to the stones beneath the city.
He looks down into the pit and says just two words.
“Finish her.”
The trident wielder continues to scramble back, and I feel horror at the thought of what’s about to happen. I start to reach out for every animal I can feel around the pit, hoping I might be able to create a distraction, to stop this, to do something. But it’s far too late.
The woman with the sword steps over to her opponent, pinning her in place with a foot on her chest. She sets the tip of her sword to her opponent’s throat.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
She lifts the sword up, and then slams it down into her opponent. Blood sprays. The crowd roars as a wave of anger and disgust flows over me. Thalia is pulling on my arm, but it takes her several seconds to drag me away from the scene of the violence.
“Alaric believes that there are more fights like this all around the city,” Thalia says. “As you can see, some of the disgruntled priests oversee them, and selected crowds attend.”
Of course, the priests would oversee these fights.
The games started as an outgrowth of sacrifices to the stones of the city, bleeding magic back into them in the name of the gods.
They promoted the emperor almost as another god.
Ostensibly, they're neutral figures, but it's no wonder that many of them don't agree with the Republic, which seeks to overturn so many of the traditions of the old empire.
“And people die,” I say. Thalia nods.
It explains why fighters are leaving Ironhold and not coming back. They’re going to these fights. They’re dying. Someone is using them as fodder for pit fights.
We need to stop them, but I'm all too aware that tomorrow, I will be attending a fight that could go just like this. Selene Ravenscroft will fight for her life in the Colosseum, and if she falls, she could be slain exactly the way one young gladiator has been killed here tonight.