CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
For several seconds, I freeze as Marcus steps forward.
“My friends, in this place we see the true virtues of Aetheria. We gather, and we grow in strength. Please enjoy your evenings. Let the first bouts commence.”
I pull back into the crowd of people, heading for the spot where Thalia sits. Rather than sitting next to her where Marcus might be able to spot my features, I kneel beside her like some obedient servant waiting for instructions.
“Someone's getting a little too much into her role,” Thalia says.
“Because Marcus is here,” I whisper to her.
“I saw him. I heard him.”
Thalia says it as though it's nothing she didn't expect, whereas it tears my world apart. Marcus… he was involved in pit fights before, but that was just to get close to Domitian. Now, it seems clear that he's the main organizer and that everything I thought I knew about him was a lie.
Except… in some ways, he's been remarkably honest with me. He's never made a secret of his enthusiasm for the games or for many of the old ways of the city. What he's failed to mention is just how far he's prepared to go with it.
And that hurts. This is a man who knows how I feel about the games and about the old ways of the empire, but he's still prepared to do this while being in a relationship with me.
More than that, he proposed marriage to me.
Was that just to distract me and keep me occupied with thoughts of him rather than the illegal fights he's running?
Why is he doing all this when he's already a senator and a respected merchant?
That's hard to answer with any certainty unless I confront him, but the moment I start to rise to do that, Thalia put her hand on my shoulder.
To anyone watching, it probably looks like a wealthy employer chastising a servant for moving out of place, but I can feel the tension in her and see the fear.
“Don't do anything stupid,” she whispers sharply to me.
“I get that this is all some shock to you, that you've been naive enough to believe that a man like him can be good.
But if you blow our cover now, we're both dead.
There are too many people here to take on, even with everything I've heard about you as a fighter.”
I push against her, restraining her hand for a moment, but I know Thalia is correct. I can't give away our disguises like that.
“Then I don't confront him,” I say. “I find proof of his involvement. I show Rowan and the other senators exactly what he's doing.”
Thalia hesitates, but nods. “If you think it will make any difference. I don't have a lot of trust in them doing anything about this.”
“With the right proof, they will,” I insist. I hope it's true.
I still don't know why Marcus is doing this as I stand and move into the crowd, mingling carefully. I play the part of an awestruck fan as I move up to one of the servants.
“Who's that?” I ask, pointing to Marcus.
“You don't know Marcus Larius?” the servant says.
“That's him?” I feign a note of surprise. “He organizes all this?”
“You didn’t know that already?” the servant asks, sounding a little suspicious. I guess the only people invited to this place are the ones who are already in the know. Thankfully, I have an excuse ready.
“The woman who brought me here, a merchant, didn't tell me much about it at all. She isn't really interested in talking to me.”
The servant looks me up and down, then shrugs, obviously realizing what I'm meant to be. “I suppose she wouldn’t tell you much. You understand it would be dangerous for you to talk about this place?”
It sounds less like a threat and more like she's trying to help me by warning me of the dangers.
I nod, making myself look excited. “I'm not interested in causing trouble. I just… it's really him? Really Senator Marcus?”
It's hard to make myself act as if I'm excited and breathless and awestruck when inside, I'm mostly just hurt.
Marcus has betrayed me with this, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for it.
My heart feels as though it's breaking, and I can't show any of that heartbreak because it would get me and Thalia killed.
“Are you looking to trade up?” the servant says. “I wouldn't bother trying. He has a lover already, and from what I hear, he talks about her standing beside him, holding power next to him so much it's obvious he's not interested in anyone else.”
So he hasn't betrayed me that way, but in some ways, it doesn't make it better because of the rest of what the servant said.
Marcus wants someone to stand beside him as he gains power.
I can start to see some of the pieces fitting together.
I can see what he gains from these illegal fights now.
Money obviously, but also influence and respect with large groups of those connected to the old empire, and who long for a return to aspects of it.
Marcus makes sure that he's seen during the normal games.
He's the most visible member of the senate.
And he wants me by his side because it's a good alliance.
Is Marcus contemplating making himself into an emperor? At least turning himself into the first senator in place of Rowan?
I have no time to ask more questions because the servant wanders off to take food to a noble. I set off back into the crowd, hoping I can learn more, but the first of the fights is about to begin.
Two men walk out, both blindfolded, both holding staffs with a blade at either end. Marcus speaks up.
“We're lucky today to have two fighters who are evenly matched in their talents. Tressus has hearing so acute that he can pick out the world around him without sight. Marcellus can feel the pressures of the air so that the whole world is a map around him. Both have the skills to fight like this, blindfolded, but we will see who is best. Begin!”
The two fighters start to circle one another, weapons whirling in a deadly display of skill.
Each seems to have a good sense of where the other is, but I know from experience that such blindfold matches can be tricky, because it's not just about where an opponent's standing.
It's a question of exactly where they're swinging their weapon, about inferring the whole of an opponent’s strategy from limited information.
It means such fights are chaotic and bloody, especially with a crowd around, cheering and calling out.
Both of the fighters have wounds in the first few seconds, but they don't stop, and they don't ask for mercy.
They know what this is: only the most impressive fighters are going to be given a chance to survive if they lose a fight like this.
I hate watching it, and not just because of the blood, or even because of the expressions of the nobles and the merchants looking on.
What I hate is how little has changed since the overthrow of the emperor.
Aetheria is still the same as it ever was, only its worst excesses have been driven into the shadows.
Supporters of each of the fighters are trying to put the other one off now.
One group cheers loudly to try to inhibit the enhanced hearing of Tressus, while another group stamps their feet to try to put off Marcelus.
Maybe it isn't even about support for one fighter or another.
Maybe it's just about distracting both because the watching crowd realizes that there will be more blood that way.
I force myself to keep moving around the fighting arena, determined to learn as much as I can about the people who there.
I'm steadily making my way towards the back room the fighters came from, because I suspect there's a chance there will be evidence there I can bring to Rowan and the other senators.
Slipping through the crowd is hard. A man reaches for me, and I dodge the movement the way I would an attack in the Colosseum.
I can see a couple of guards on the doors leading to the backrooms, and I know I'll need a distraction to get past them.
I reach for the mind of a rat, wondering if I can bring it into the path of a nearby servant to startle them and make them drop the tray they're carrying.
That should buy me a few seconds at least, but will it be enough? Maybe I need a bigger distraction.
I hesitate, though. My path has brought me closer to the spot where Marcus is standing with some of the other dignitaries, watching the fight.
Despite everything, I find myself staring at him, still trying to work out how he could do this.
The pain of his betrayal floods through me once again, forcing me to take a second to keep my emotions under control as I continue to creep closer to the doorway.
Something catches my attention, though. My magic is stretched out, feeling for the animals nearby, and that means I can feel some of them scattering.
I take control of the eyes of a bird above, and through those eyes, I can see Alaric’s people closing in on the temple structure.
They aren’t hanging back, aren’t merely staying nearby and waiting to back up me and Thalia.
They’re armed with clubs and saps, chains and other weapons that seem designed to hurt and stun rather than kill.
I hurry back to Thalia. “What’s going on?” I demand. “Why are Alaric’s people closing in?”
She shrugs. “There must have been a change of plan. Did you really think we were going to just stand back and try to gather evidence, hoping that would be enough to shut this down?”
I realize that, in a very different way to Marcus, this is another betrayal. Alaric has decided that he can’t trust me to take care of this and stop the underground fights, so he’s going to have his people do it.
Or maybe he’s going to do it himself. Because one of the merchants there stands from his couch, drawing a pair of long daggers, even as his entourage start to reach into their clothes to pull out saps and brass knuckles.
The merchant shimmers, his bulky frame becoming slender, his balding visage giving way to sharply handsome features and midnight black hair.
Alaric stands there, his eyes locked onto mine for a moment as I stare at him in shock, realizing that he’s used his illusions to get himself and a few of his people into the fight, even as more close in from outside. He bows to me as he lets his trickery fall away.
Then he charges forward at one of the guards. This isn't a fact-finding expedition or an infiltration; this is a raid.