CHAPTER NINETEEN LYRA
"Will it be ready?" I ask. I stand on the sands of the Colosseum, staring up at the empty stands around me. The damage done to it during the rebellion has almost been repaired now, but even so, it takes a lot of work to put on a set of games.
“The stonemasons and the carpenters assure me that it will,” Marcus says. He stands beside me, wearing a tunic and sandals today rather than the toga of a senator. I’m dressed in similar fashion, because today is a day for practical preparations, not arguing in the senate chamber.
I can see builders working in the stands, trying to get everything ready.
I can also see white and gold armored guards, obviously there to make sure that Marcus and I are safe.
After the riots and the attack on me in the slums, I can’t deny the necessity of it, but I still don’t like having to spend my time hiding behind guards.
“There are still so many preparations to be made,” I say. I hadn’t thought that, when I volunteered to make sure that the games were safe, I would also be volunteering to help with every arrangement needed to bring them about.
But I need it right now, because it gives me a chance to forget about Alaric.
If I throw myself into my work enough, I can pretend I didn’t see that last, lingering look my way before he walked away.
I can pretend there isn’t a knot of hurt within me at his loss. Maybe with enough work, that will fade.
“It will go more smoothly than you think,” Marcus says. “The people of Aetheria know how to put on games, know how to produce a spectacle.”
“They know how to put on the old games,” I say. “But these are meant to be new ones, safe ones, Marcus.”
“They will be,” Marcus assures me. “And the preparations aren’t so different. We need people to provide food and drink, to manage the gates, to run the betting. A hundred different functions, but there are plenty of people willing to do them, for the right price.”
“The city has the money for that?” I ask.
“I have the money,” Marcus says. “And a few of the others who see potential profit in the games. It’s worth it, for the benefits it will bring to Aetheria.”
Is Marcus really prepared to put that much money behind the rejuvenated games? I know he believes in them, but this is an impressive demonstration of that belief, and the depth of his commitment.
“There’s still the question of how we’re going to keep things safe,” I say. “We discussed armor and blunted weapons. Will it be enough?”
Marcus nods, as if he’d been expecting this question all along. “Armor is a part of it. I’ve had people working on versions that will make for safer games than before. Let me show you.”
He leads the way through the colosseum, to an armory stocked with weapons and protective equipment.
It’s a place I’ve been in before, to choose my armaments for the Champions’ Trial.
The weapons look similar, spectacular things, rather than the practical weapons given to an army.
I lift a spear, testing the weight, then the edge.
It’s carefully blunted, partially sharp at the edges, but dull at the point. I frown at that.
“What’s the idea of having the weapons partially sharp?” I ask. “I thought they were meant to be blunted?”
“We blunt the points, because thrusts are the things that might kill quickly,” Marcus says. “The crowd will want to see a little blood, so we have to keep the edges sharp in spots.”
“How is this meant to be safe if the weapons are sharp?” I ask.
“Part of the answer to that is the healers we’ll have nearby,” Marcus says. “And there will be mages using planes of force to blunt potentially lethal blows. But more of it is about the armor. Look, Lyra.”
There is armor set out on stands. At first glance, it looks similar to the armor I was given for so much of my time in the Colosseum: it's partial armor rather than the full protection given to soldiers.
It's revealing, leaving large areas of skin open, while the scales and partial plates shine in the light.
But there are differences. I can see the way the armor here truly does protect the most vital areas. It allows for superficial wounds, for the appearance of blood and violence, but not for mortal blows.
“Would you like to try some of it on?” Marcus asks me, raising an eyebrow, as if looking forward to the prospect of me changing into it before him.
“Not right now,” I reply. Probably not ever. I have no wish to put on the armor of a gladiator again. But I can see how this armor is an improvement over the old version.
“We can give the crowd the spectacle they want and still keep people safe,” Marcus says. “But now, we have another duty to perform.”
I'm not looking forward to this part, but it's necessary. Somehow, by setting myself up to ensure the safety of the games, I've become the face of them as well, at least alongside Marcus. By speaking up for the reformed games in the Senate Chamber, I've attached my name to them.
It means I must walk up through the Colosseum with Marcus now, memories flooding through me as I do so.
Memories of being brought through its corridors to Lady Elara or the emperor.
Memories of going down to its beast pits to be with the creatures there.
Memories of being hurt, and watching others die.
I feel Marcus's hand on my shoulder, supporting me.
I'm surprised by how quickly I've come to rely on his presence beside me, here, in the senate chamber, and increasingly everywhere else as well.
His touch feels electric on my skin, and not just because of the small sparks of lightning that flicker to me with every touch.
It's different to the way things were with Alaric, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing.
Being with Marcus has been another way for me to try to forget about what I've lost with him.
We head up through the colosseum, to a balcony that looks out over the city, and the broad promenade beyond, lined with statues of the arena’s great heroes.
There’s one of me down there now, along with Alaric and Rowan.
As much as I’ve been trying to get over Alaric, the sight of his statue fills me with pain, and also a little fear.
I worry about what he might do now. Will he leave the city, or will he do something else?
Something more dangerous? He’s always been unpredictable.
There are people waiting below, a whole crowd of them. I think I recognize some of the faces from the riots before, with plenty of the poorer people of the city there. People who want the return of the games. People who are prepared to resort to violence if they don’t get it.
“My friends,” Marcus calls out, and his voice is amplified by some magic woven into the balcony. “You know Lyra Thornwind, the former champion of the games.”
The crowd roars, and it’s a familiar feeling, a rush of adrenaline that comes with the approbation of the crowd. I could be standing on the sands again, with the spectators roaring around me. I wave reflexively, and the volume of their approval only intensifies.
“Lyra and I have been working on preparations for the thing you’ve all been waiting for: the return of the games!” Marcus calls out.
I speak up. “These will be a different games, a safer games! One where people will only risk their lives if they wish to.”
The crowd doesn’t respond to that in the same way, but Marcus speaks up.
“Which means that the people fighting there are eager to fight for your entertainment, eager to spill their blood if necessary. The games will be more than they ever were, with fighters who have chosen to give their all in the arena!”
Now the crowd cries out in response, their need for blood and violence obvious.
“Our first games will be a series of exhibition matches,” Marcus says. “The best gladiators of the colosseum mixed in with the finest up and coming fighters of the city.”
The crowd looks expectant, obviously wanting to hear details of the bouts to come. I don’t know those details, but it seems Marcus does, taking up a scroll.
“The highlight of these first games will be a contest between the old and the new, between a former gladiator of the colosseum and a young fighter fresh out of the fighting pits of the city. Representing the colosseum that was, the gladiator, Glacius!”
Another roar comes from the crowd, louder than ever.
It’s easy to ride on the wave of their approval.
I think I know Glacius, he was a tough gladiator whose magic gave him control over ice and cold.
It made him a potentially dangerous opponent, one no new fighter should underestimate.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like him would want to keep fighting, given the chance.
Or maybe he was just well paid to bring him back to the arena.
“Facing him will be the star of the underground fighting scene that has grown up in the city over the past year,” Marcus says. “A young man who has dreamed of fighting for your pleasure. A fighter who has gained the attention and respect of the crowds throughout the city: Kai!”
This time, the sound of the crowd is enough to make the balcony shake. It’s obvious they want this fight. That they want the return of the games more than anything.
I head back inside, and then go back down through the arena, while Marcus stays to continue addressing the crowd.
I’m surprised to find Alaric waiting for me in one of the hallways. He’s wearing noble clothes, his eyes shrouded with anger, but worse is the way he’s holding it all in check, not showing a flicker of emotion on his face.
“Alaric, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“I wanted to see if you would go through with all this,” he says. “I hoped, even now, that you’d put a stop to the games. But you won’t, will you, Lyra?”
“The only way to make them safe is-”
“There is no way to make any of this safe,” Alaric says. “But I’m not here to have that conversation with you again, Lyra.”
“Why are you here, then?” I ask.
“To tell you I’m leaving,” Alaric replies. “My family… things didn’t go well, and I can’t stay here with you. I can’t stand by and watch you bring back something we both fought to destroy.”
“You’re leaving, just like that?” I ask, barely able to believe it. His words hurt far too much.
"It's not 'just like that, '" Alaric counters. "You've betrayed everything we stood for, Lyra. And it isn't like you want me here. You have him beside you now. I hope he makes you happy. I wish I could have.”
I know he means Marcus, and I wish I could deny it, but Alaric isn’t done.
"This is goodbye, Lyra," he says. He turns, and he walks from the Colosseum. I wonder if I should stop him, but I can't bring myself to do it. There's something broken between us, and I'm not sure I can fix it.