eyes.
“A hundred prisms Catsu will win,” the Emperor announced in a voice just loud enough for all in the Imperial Observatory to hear. “Any takers?”
The number surprised Blaise. Most Citizens lived their entire lives without acquiring even half as many of the prized crystals. He kept his expression neutral and stared down at the sands.
“I’ll take you up on that,” someone said from behind him. “But, a hundred on the boy, but he won’t take the contest.”
“Agreed. What about you, Bishop?”
Blaise didn’t look away from the slave facing off against two men bigger and stronger, both holding weapons with a longer reach. Without any sign of fear, the boy ducked beneath their guard.
The first fell, cut from groin to chest. When the second lunged, the slave rolled behind his prey and ran him through from behind. The crowd screamed, and the drumming of their feet on the stone matched the throb in Blaise’s head.
“I’m a pious man, Your Imperial Majesty, but one would like to hope that the young would have a chance to prove their worth in the days to come.”
The Emperor clapped him on the back. “Well said, well said! Pious men don’t gamble, or so I’ve heard, but perhaps an arrangement can be made. Should these young ones have worth and can prove it, I’ll grant the Church a boon. I’ll double the number allowed in both my Palace and the Arena. Of course, if they prove worthless,” the Emperor continued, pausing to allow the snickers of the Citizens around him to add weight to his words, “then, of course, I shall halve the number allowed.”
Blaise’s cheek twitched and the corner of his mouth twisted upward. If only he could indulge, if only he could reveal what was trapped beneath the thin barrier of human skin, then he could rip the smug look from the Emperor’s face. “You’ve my thanks and appreciation for your generosity, Your Imperial Majesty.”
The rancid taste of his words left him nauseated and disgusted.
With another laugh, the Emperor stomped his feet and lifted a scrap of red silk high over his head. “Win, Catsu!”
Red dominated the arena, and all signs of green vanished from the hands of the Citizens.
With his mouth opened in a pant, the green-eyed boy fell back to where the other children waited. The pleasure slave put her back to his and the two tensed in anticipation of the convicts’ attack. She said something that was answered with a jerked nod, and both stared at one of the older boys cowering with the youngest children.
The respite didn’t last long. The tallest of the remaining men led the charge, letting out a whooped cry. The crowd quieted.
“Wind, breath of God, blow so that all might live!” a man’s tenor called out, the tone sharp with authority and demand.
A gust of wind erupted from the center of the pit, tugging at Blaise’s clothes. Sand spiraled upward to darken the sky. Shielding his eyes with one arm, Blaise leaned against the rail and stretched out his other hand. “When man believed the world would drown ‘neath the fury of the storm, the winds stilled and the seas calmed,” he Spoke.
The sandstorm and the will of the other Speaker fought against Blaise, and he was aware of the whispered echoes of power despite the terrified screams of those around him. Curling his lip, Blaise let out a snarl, his bones aching with the need to punish the mortal who dared to defy his will.
The sands fell to the ground in a rain and the winds fell silent. Several forms lay still below, but no shimmering of the Gates or scent of roses marked the bodies.
Abandoning the staff, Catsu took up a sword and lifted it high. The crowd cheered for the hero of the Arena. With a wild grin, the man plunged the blade through the back of the nearest convict.
Catsu’s victim slumped, mouth and eyes wide from shock.
The Gates opened to welcome the souls of the men slaughtered as Catsu cut a path to where the slave children stood stunned from the winds that had
“A hundred prisms Catsu will win,” the Emperor announced in a voice just loud enough for all in the Imperial Observatory to hear. “Any takers?”
The number surprised Blaise. Most Citizens lived their entire lives without acquiring even half as many of the prized crystals. He kept his expression neutral and stared down at the sands.
“I’ll take you up on that,” someone said from behind him. “But, a hundred on the boy, but he won’t take the contest.”
“Agreed. What about you, Bishop?”
Blaise didn’t look away from the slave facing off against two men bigger and stronger, both holding weapons with a longer reach. Without any sign of fear, the boy ducked beneath their guard.
The first fell, cut from groin to chest. When the second lunged, the slave rolled behind his prey and ran him through from behind. The crowd screamed, and the drumming of their feet on the stone matched the throb in Blaise’s head.
“I’m a pious man, Your Imperial Majesty, but one would like to hope that the young would have a chance to prove their worth in the days to come.”
The Emperor clapped him on the back. “Well said, well said! Pious men don’t gamble, or so I’ve heard, but perhaps an arrangement can be made. Should these young ones have worth and can prove it, I’ll grant the Church a boon. I’ll double the number allowed in both my Palace and the Arena. Of course, if they prove worthless,” the Emperor continued, pausing to allow the snickers of the Citizens around him to add weight to his words, “then, of course, I shall halve the number allowed.”
Blaise’s cheek twitched and the corner of his mouth twisted upward. If only he could indulge, if only he could reveal what was trapped beneath the thin barrier of human skin, then he could rip the smug look from the Emperor’s face. “You’ve my thanks and appreciation for your generosity, Your Imperial Majesty.”
The rancid taste of his words left him nauseated and disgusted.
With another laugh, the Emperor stomped his feet and lifted a scrap of red silk high over his head. “Win, Catsu!”
Red dominated the arena, and all signs of green vanished from the hands of the Citizens.
With his mouth opened in a pant, the green-eyed boy fell back to where the other children waited. The pleasure slave put her back to his and the two tensed in anticipation of the convicts’ attack. She said something that was answered with a jerked nod, and both stared at one of the older boys cowering with the youngest children.
The respite didn’t last long. The tallest of the remaining men led the charge, letting out a whooped cry. The crowd quieted.
“Wind, breath of God, blow so that all might live!” a man’s tenor called out, the tone sharp with authority and demand.
A gust of wind erupted from the center of the pit, tugging at Blaise’s clothes. Sand spiraled upward to darken the sky. Shielding his eyes with one arm, Blaise leaned against the rail and stretched out his other hand. “When man believed the world would drown ‘neath the fury of the storm, the winds stilled and the seas calmed,” he Spoke.
The sandstorm and the will of the other Speaker fought against Blaise, and he was aware of the whispered echoes of power despite the terrified screams of those around him. Curling his lip, Blaise let out a snarl, his bones aching with the need to punish the mortal who dared to defy his will.
The sands fell to the ground in a rain and the winds fell silent. Several forms lay still below, but no shimmering of the Gates or scent of roses marked the bodies.
Abandoning the staff, Catsu took up a sword and lifted it high. The crowd cheered for the hero of the Arena. With a wild grin, the man plunged the blade through the back of the nearest convict.
Catsu’s victim slumped, mouth and eyes wide from shock.
The Gates opened to welcome the souls of the men slaughtered as Catsu cut a path to where the slave children stood stunned from the winds that had
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