face to face with Baran. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mind lacked any suitable retort with which to supply her lips.
"Forgive me, Tanys," Baran said. His smile was no longer the gallant smirk that had fueled the rage of her imagination but rather a gentle, honest look of friendship, "I wanted to talk to you."
"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she said.
"I wanted to apologize for what Varkaa did," he said, "That was not sanctioned by our house, and not by me."
"What about what you did?" Tanys said, feeling her cheeks flush.
Baran let his eyes fall and rise over her body, a bit of the old cockiness returning to his smile. "You set foot in the arena against me! You were fair sport!"
"You won't find me such sport next time we meet!"
His eyes narrowed, measuring her. "No, I suppose not. After what you did to Varkaa's trolls, it seems you may have finally discovered the strength within yourself."
"Did they recover?"
"Berra still hasn't woken up yet, but, even if she does, you need not fear her retribution. You've been placed off-limits, at least 'till after the Prince's match."
"Then why are you here?" Tanys asked, wondering if his presence really bothered her. Seeing him for the first time not covered in gold paint, he did not look so much like a golden idol. This was a living man, handsome and strong. His knee brushed against her leg when he leaned close. She did not pull away.
"I must warn you," he whispered, "There is more to the Prince's match than simple bloodsport. The Malchesse wants everything to go according to his plan, and your master would do well to watch his step."
"My master!" Tanys scoffed, "And what is the plan? Me dying dutifully to the knives of Brecia?"
"Yes, that's part of it," he smiled, "but there's more to it than that. The Malchesse has been meeting with the heads of the other prime houses. They're planning something."
"What do I care?" Tanys asked, "I'm a dead woman, remember?"
"I don't know," Baran said, staring out over the arena, "I don't really know why I'm telling you this. It's just..."
"What?"
"I hate to see you wasted."
Tanys gave him a crooked smile. "I may surprise you yet."
"I've no doubt," he laughed, "but it's Brecia you need to surprise."
"How do I do that?"
"You have to make her afraid."
"I can be pretty intimidating when I need to be," Tanys said.
"I remember," Baran said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey!" She punched him in the arm. "You were distracting me with your... animal spirit." Her eyes flickered unconsciously to his bulging loincloth.
"Well, you're in luck then," he said, "Brecia doesn't have any animal spirit, or any soul at all for that matter. She's just an empty husk that eats fear. The only way to beat her is to starve her."
"Well then," Tanys asked, "what is the little bitch afraid of? Should I smuggle in a jar of spiders?"
"I'd like to see where you'd hide them," he laughed, "But, honestly, I've never seen Brecia afraid."
"Are you scared of her?"
"Me? Scared of her?" Baran scoffed, "...I'm terrified of the little freak."
"How would you fight her?"
Baran looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd probably do like the last poor bastard I saw fight her. He screamed like a demon and charged her, hoping to land a lucky blow."
"What happened to him?"
"Brecia sidestepped him and tossed his own ballsack to him when he turned around."
Tanys winced. "You should probably try something else then... I'd hate to see them wasted."
Baran grinned. Neither spoke as they watched the newborn gladiators retire from the field, drenched in the blood of their former companions. At last Baran broke the silence, "What are you doing here anyway? You enjoy watching this farce?"
"My friend is in the next match," Tanys said.
"The dwarf? He fights well. Where did you find him?"
"I met Jorva in the slave pits of a troll city far to the north," Tanys said, "He's saved my life more than once."
"How did the two of you wind up in Cashuun?"
"We rescued our satyr
"Forgive me, Tanys," Baran said. His smile was no longer the gallant smirk that had fueled the rage of her imagination but rather a gentle, honest look of friendship, "I wanted to talk to you."
"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she said.
"I wanted to apologize for what Varkaa did," he said, "That was not sanctioned by our house, and not by me."
"What about what you did?" Tanys said, feeling her cheeks flush.
Baran let his eyes fall and rise over her body, a bit of the old cockiness returning to his smile. "You set foot in the arena against me! You were fair sport!"
"You won't find me such sport next time we meet!"
His eyes narrowed, measuring her. "No, I suppose not. After what you did to Varkaa's trolls, it seems you may have finally discovered the strength within yourself."
"Did they recover?"
"Berra still hasn't woken up yet, but, even if she does, you need not fear her retribution. You've been placed off-limits, at least 'till after the Prince's match."
"Then why are you here?" Tanys asked, wondering if his presence really bothered her. Seeing him for the first time not covered in gold paint, he did not look so much like a golden idol. This was a living man, handsome and strong. His knee brushed against her leg when he leaned close. She did not pull away.
"I must warn you," he whispered, "There is more to the Prince's match than simple bloodsport. The Malchesse wants everything to go according to his plan, and your master would do well to watch his step."
"My master!" Tanys scoffed, "And what is the plan? Me dying dutifully to the knives of Brecia?"
"Yes, that's part of it," he smiled, "but there's more to it than that. The Malchesse has been meeting with the heads of the other prime houses. They're planning something."
"What do I care?" Tanys asked, "I'm a dead woman, remember?"
"I don't know," Baran said, staring out over the arena, "I don't really know why I'm telling you this. It's just..."
"What?"
"I hate to see you wasted."
Tanys gave him a crooked smile. "I may surprise you yet."
"I've no doubt," he laughed, "but it's Brecia you need to surprise."
"How do I do that?"
"You have to make her afraid."
"I can be pretty intimidating when I need to be," Tanys said.
"I remember," Baran said, rolling his eyes.
"Hey!" She punched him in the arm. "You were distracting me with your... animal spirit." Her eyes flickered unconsciously to his bulging loincloth.
"Well, you're in luck then," he said, "Brecia doesn't have any animal spirit, or any soul at all for that matter. She's just an empty husk that eats fear. The only way to beat her is to starve her."
"Well then," Tanys asked, "what is the little bitch afraid of? Should I smuggle in a jar of spiders?"
"I'd like to see where you'd hide them," he laughed, "But, honestly, I've never seen Brecia afraid."
"Are you scared of her?"
"Me? Scared of her?" Baran scoffed, "...I'm terrified of the little freak."
"How would you fight her?"
Baran looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd probably do like the last poor bastard I saw fight her. He screamed like a demon and charged her, hoping to land a lucky blow."
"What happened to him?"
"Brecia sidestepped him and tossed his own ballsack to him when he turned around."
Tanys winced. "You should probably try something else then... I'd hate to see them wasted."
Baran grinned. Neither spoke as they watched the newborn gladiators retire from the field, drenched in the blood of their former companions. At last Baran broke the silence, "What are you doing here anyway? You enjoy watching this farce?"
"My friend is in the next match," Tanys said.
"The dwarf? He fights well. Where did you find him?"
"I met Jorva in the slave pits of a troll city far to the north," Tanys said, "He's saved my life more than once."
"How did the two of you wind up in Cashuun?"
"We rescued our satyr
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