Chapter Ten
It felt like harpy eagles were beating their giant wings inside my stomach and my lips tingled in anticipation.
He smiled. “I can imagine that stealing a kiss from you would be extremely satisfying. And enjoyable.”
This was a bad idea. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember exactly why, but I knew that I had to stop.
Someone knocked over a stack of plates and they crashed to the floor. Zain turned his head and I took the opportunity to slide down the wall and under his arms, walking several feet away.
He didn’t follow me but turned and leaned against the wall. Occupying the same space that I just had.
I should have been proud of myself. I had wanted to stay in control and I had managed to. Barely.
But instead all I felt was frustration.
Needing to fill the silence, I said, “Tell me about the other competitors.” I was sure he had spent time studying them, and I wanted him to talk until I could regain control of my limbs and breathing.
Thankfully, he did as I requested. “You know about the Sagari.”
“A people who spend all their time drinking and reveling will not be serious competition,” I said.
“To the contrary, this tournament is extremely important to Sagaris. They want it to be greater than the Pythian Games and so they spend an exorbitant amount of money to train their athletes with the best coaches and trainers they can purchase. They will be more formidable than you imagine. And they don’t play for the prize.
They don’t care about the bag of money because they’re so well compensated. ”
“But you care about the money.”
“I do,” he said. “I suppose I could just steal it from whoever won but I thought it would be more challenging to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“With actual effort?”
“Exactly.”
Why did I find that charming?
“There are Daemonians here,” he said, his head tilted in their direction.
Daemonians? I had seen them fight against the Carians in Ilion. That could be a problem. I wasn’t sure how well I’d be able to hold my own against them, even with my gift.
“But they don’t compete,” he said. “They’re trained to fight to the death and they kept killing other competitors, which is frowned on. They were given several warnings and didn’t stop. So now they come and watch and seethe.”
“Seethe?” I repeated.
“Take a look at their faces. Seething.”
He was right. The Daemonians looked ready to kill someone.
Zain pointed to a new group. “Sasanians. They ride elephants into battle.”
I didn’t know what an elephant was and I was not about to admit that to him.
“They all have the same tattoo on their right wrist.”
That I knew about from Rokh and Suri.
“And they wear their wealth—their jewels are stitched into their clothing. You would not believe how easy it is to steal . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he’d remembered who he was speaking to.
Someone who did not think his thievery was admirable.
He cleared his throat. “Over there is the lone Epirian.”
“You’d think there’d be more than one.” My experience with them was that they tended to travel in packs.
“You never want a group of Epirians. For me, it’s bad for business, but for everyone else, they will steal an inordinate amount before they leave.”
I agreed with him. My experience with groups of Epirians had been a lot of death.
There was something I had always wondered about with Epirians. Perhaps Zain had the answer. “What are those lines?” The Epirian had thick black lines that swirled all over his skin.
“That you’re curious about?” he asked with a laugh. “All Epirians have those tattoos. It’s a gift from their god. One appears for every time they’ve managed to successfully steal something.”
“Every Epirian? What about infants?”
“They have at least one.”
How would they be marked? “What do babies steal?”
“Their mother’s hearts the moment they are born,” he said.
That was sweet, and I didn’t want to think good things about Epirians. “It seems counterintuitive to me that Eramis would mark his people. Those lines advertise that they are thieves.”
“If they can’t steal in spite of their marks, then they’re not very good thieves and they lose the ability to worship their god and be rewarded by him. It’s a way for Eramis to challenge his followers.”
“There are only two things I know about Epirians,” I said. “The first is that I’m never to marry one.”
“What?” he asked, sounding delighted by this.
“My grandmother always told me, ‘Never marry an Epirian.’ I don’t know why she felt the need to say that when they are our enemies. I obviously wouldn’t marry one.”
“What’s the second thing?”
“That Epirians cannot read maps to see where boundaries are and cheat when they fight.” That was actually two things, but they went together.
“How can you cheat? In a fight anything goes.”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that he felt that way, but it did. “You should fight with honor.”
“Men who fight with honor usually end up dead.”
This should have made me dislike him, but unfortunately it didn’t change anything.
He went on, “My job is to survive the fight. By any means necessary.”
That also didn’t dampen my attraction and I felt as if that meant something was wrong with me.
I went back to my original hypothesis—I was sleep deprived. Once I had a full night’s rest, I would be annoyed by what he was saying and my desire for him would go away.
The Epirian stood next to a statue that I didn’t recognize. The statue’s feet were hobbled together, and it had a blindfold and wings. “Is that the Sagari god?”
He nodded. “Plouton. The god of wealth. He was blinded by the king of the gods so that he would give wealth freely to everyone and not favor a particular people. His feet were bound so that he would be slow to arrive and his wings are so that he can leave faster than he came. The Sagari seem to forget the last part.”
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and realized the Epirian was marching toward us. I hadn’t brought a weapon with me, as I had been foolish enough to imagine it wouldn’t be necessary. I quickly grabbed one of Zain’s knives and put it behind my back.
“Why are you staring at me?” the Epirian demanded.
“We were actually admiring the statue of Plouton,” Zain said in a tone that seemed to calm the Epirian down. “My name is Theogenes. And you are?”
Theogenes? Why had Zain given that as his name?
I quickly realized that it was most likely the name on the invitation that he had stolen and suppressed a sigh.
The Epirian glared at both of us before answering. “Levern. Aren’t you the one sharing a room with that Thracian? I can take her off your hands and she can room with me.”
I’d never been this close to an Epirian before without killing him. But given that I still didn’t know the rules regarding killing fellow competitors, I thought it best to hold off.
Zain shifted slightly to his left, as if moving to protect me. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he said. “You’re liable to wake up with your throat slit open.”
“I’m not worried about a little girl,” Levern shot back.
I was neither little nor a girl, but I decided to let it go and take my revenge in another way. “I am going to beat you. And then you’ll live the rest of your life knowing that a ‘little girl’ bested you.”
He narrowed his eyes on me. “Would you like to bet on that?”
“Yes. Five hundred staters that I will beat you in every event at the tournament.”
Zain made a choking noise. That was a lot of money.
“Fine,” Levern said. “Five hundred staters. I will expect payment after you lose the first event tomorrow.”
“And I will expect payment after they crown me the winner of the tournament.”
He spit at my feet to disrespect me and I had to grab Zain by the arm as he lurched forward, presumably to fight Levern. It wasn’t needed. I would take care of him by myself.
The Epirian left and Zain asked, “Do you have five hundred staters?”
“No.”
His eyes widened. “I thought Thracians didn’t gamble.”
“It’s not a gamble if I know I’ll win. And even if I don’t win the entire tournament, the wager was that I would beat the Epirian. Which I will. I’m always happy to relieve a thief of his stolen money.”
Zain watched Levern as he moved across the room.
“He’s a fool for underestimating you. I make it a rule to never underestimate women.
In my line of work they’re better thieves.
They’re quieter, more agile, and able to sneak through smaller openings.
Men don’t see them as a threat, so they can steal from right under their noses and they’re never the wiser.
” He turned toward me. “The rest of these men are going to underestimate you and I’m going to enjoy every moment of you making them regret that. ”
That was even better than him telling me that I was beautiful. I felt myself preening under his praise. My hand seemed to raise of its own volition and came to a rest on his upper arm. “Thank you.”
He glanced down at my hand and then back at me and I saw the way his eyes darkened. I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat. “Where were we? What other competitors do I need to know about?”
I could feel his stare but I didn’t look at him.
I was afraid of what I might do if I saw his expression.
After a few long moments, he finally spoke.
“There are Lemnians here. I would recommend steering clear of them. They hate women. They lock up their own women and don’t let them outside.
They say the only time in a woman’s life when she stands under the sun is during her wedding ceremony, when she leaves her parents’ home and moves to her husband’s. ”
“That is awful!”
“It is,” he agreed. “But it makes the Lemnians very easy to steal from. Their poor women are so starved for attention that they . . .”
I was glad he didn’t finish his sentence. I did not need more of a mental picture than I already had. “Where are they so that I know to avoid them?”
“There. The ones wearing yellow.” He pointed to the far corner of the room and I realized with a start that I recognized those men.
“I know the Lemnians.”
“How?”
“The night before I came to the tournament, they tried to rape me.”