Page 25 of Court of Talons
I sense Nazar’s gaze on me, but I have eyes only for Caleb. He’s now wearing another borrowed tunic, this one deep yellow, the sleeve cut in such a way to allow for the stump that’s all that’s left of his left arm, without calling too much attention to it. The tunic falls in folds around Caleb’s body, so that if he remains standing just so, you wouldn’t even know he was missing an arm. Is this the tunic of one of the Southern Houses, come to fight in the tournament? Should I worry about who else is paying Caleb…and for what?
“Caleb, yes?” I offer, my voice as quiet and melodic as I can make it. “Your service to my brother has been very kind.”
“He’s a fighter—a warrior even!” Caleb says staunchly. “You should get him to compete. No one gets hurt, not really, and not for long. It really is more for show.”
I nod at him with wide-eyed wonder, which seems to be the right thing. His obvious excitement pokes holes in my worries about him, at least for now. “There’ll be no more exhibitions today?”
“Nope—not sanctioned, anyway. They needed that one to test the battleground, make sure everyone could see and hear, get in and out fast. There’re more people here than ever before. They’ve widened the First House’s balcony too.” He gestures to the thick center ledge, still teeming with people, across the coliseum field. “So, um…will you and Merritt go up to the First House tonight? The culling begins tomorrow, you know.”
“Culling?” That word sounds ominous to me. I try to shake it off, but it slithers along my spine in a whispering mockery.
Caleb doesn’t seem to notice. “Make no mistake—today’s exhibition was one of the grander you’ll see. Not every warrior knight’s Divh is like those. Some are big like that lion, some are far smaller than the fire lizard. The warrior knights too are different. For some, this is their first tournament, and don’t even get me started on the banded soldiers. A few have never seen monsters as big as the ones down there today—but there’re even bigger ones than that.”
“Really,” I say faintly.
“The stuff of legends, I tell you plain!” Caleb says. He looks at me with sudden curiosity. “I hear Merritt’s Divh is larger than them all, though.”
I tense at the pointed statement, but he merely laughs again. “No matter. I now have money enough to spread some rumors of my own about the strength of the Tenth House.”
He pulls out a coin bag, and I leap onto the new subject, eager to turn the conversation away from myself.
“You bet on the outcome of the fight?”
Caleb preens a little. “Where there is a battle, there’s a bet. Never bet against a fire lizard if you’re thinking of making some coin yourself, though. Your money will have a way of eating themselves.” His eyes widen, and he swings toward Nazar. “You know, Merritt should come with me tonight, now that his face has healed up. The fires will blaze high, with the tournament celebration beginning in earnest. I hear they’ve summoned the southern houses. It’ll take a while for everyone to arrive, but the parties will start right away. The pickings are best earlier in the going—more money is spread out with fools ready to lose it. Where is he, anyway?”
I glance toward Nazar, sorely tempted by the idea of walking among all these warriors as one of them—not as a female. But Nazar, fortunately, is fielding Caleb’s enthusiasm better than I am. “We’ve purchased our men, Caleb. We leave tomorrow.”
Caleb snorts. “Those men won’t be ready to leave until midday, earliest. They’ll want to enjoy as much of the tournament as they can before you move out.”
Nazar shrugs. “Then perhaps Merritt can spare some time away. But Talia here…” He frowns, surveying me critically. “You seem fatigued, my lady.”
“Oh, I am,” I agree weakly, lifting a hand to bat at my hair. “I think—perhaps this is all too much to me. It’s all so much.”
“You’re staying at an inn in Trilion?” Caleb asks quickly. “It’s safer there, for sure. It’s a lot for a woman to endure big crowds like this, I bet.”
“It is.” I keep my tone gracious, even appreciative, to hide the fact I want to punch him.
“So, where’s your camp, Caleb?” I ask instead. The crowd has finally thinned enough to allow us to exit the stands ourselves and head back toward the distant ground. We stand and beginmaking our way down. “Where do you sleep after all the money has been made for the day?”
Caleb’s awkwardness is suddenly obvious as he wobbles on the stair. Once again, it’s Nazar who eases the boy’s way. “We have need of a squire ongoing, if you aren’t permanently committed elsewhere,” he says, gesturing to Caleb’s tunic. “Though it will be work, there’s money and lodging in it for you, here and at the Tenth House manor, should you wish.”
Caleb tries to appear nonchalant, but the look he turns on Nazar makes my heart feel suddenly large and ungainly, my throat too tight. “I could do that,” he says, sending me a quick glance. “My commitments elsewhere aren’t so good an offer as that. I’ll just need an hour or so to make arrangements. And then I could go out with Merritt, if he’s of a mind to explore.”
“An hour, then,” Nazar says gravely, and Caleb ducks away.
I swing my gaze to Nazar, whose face betrays nothing. “Hehadnowhere else to stay, despite his new clothes. You knew that.”
The priest shrugs. “Then so much the better that we had need of him. And if your concern about him is warranted, then so much the better that we can watch him.”
I nod, but I don’t like the way my distrust makes me feel, tainting the genuine excitement of Caleb’s eager words and earnest hope. Is this what it means to be a warrior of the Protectorate? To be constantly filled with doubt and suspicion, with the sense that every enemy’s eye was upon you?
For me, it seems it is.
We make our way back to our own camp through the crowds as the music starts up around us, flutes and drums and long horns drawing down the distant night.
It would be relaxing—almost fun, I think—except for the clear assessment and dismissal I receive, time and time again. The same men and boys who hours earlier would have assessedand taken my measure as a warrior now drop me into categories far less worthy of anyone’s time or attention. Irritation sparks and fans, and by the time we near our camp, I itch to pull the wig off my head, to swap out my gown for breeches and a tunic.
Fingers twitching, I reach for the belt of my gown when we’re a dozen paces away, then hesitate as Nazar hisses out a breath.