‘Doesn’t matter,’ I grate out in answer, somehow feeling more emboldened now that I’m not down in the pit. ‘Punishment will only come if I lose.’
He snorts, shaking his head a little and his plaited hair falls over his face.
‘You think you’re going to win?’
I nod and he laughs.
‘Win fights. Get food. Leave the bottom,’ I say, my throat sounding less hoarse from the steamy air.
‘Don’t count your chickens, human. Your kind don’t survive this place for long. Not even the ones who come up. One chance is all you’ll get and, even then, you’ll find it’s not what they promise. Your kind fight, and sometimes win, but still never leave the pits except to go to the arenas and you don’t look like the type to win anyway. Besides, Kobeth already said you aren’t destined for them. You’re for the smaller parties.’
Isen takes a leather cord from his belt and ties his reddish hair back at the nape of his neck, not seeming to be in much of a hurry now that I’m not luxuriating while he has to stand guard.
He’s chattier now. I wonder if he’ll let anything else slip if I keep him talking. I used to do that with Ogdan’s guards in The Barrack all the time and I got to know lots of little tidbits the others didn’t.
‘What happens there?’ I ask. ‘At these parties?’
He yawns. ‘You’ll fight other females in a small pit for some rich cunts’ pleasures. Whichever one of you wins will take orders from the guests.’
‘Orders?’
‘Aye. You’ll be told what to do with the loser. Cut off her hair, or a finger perhaps, do…other things.’ He lets out a huff. ‘Wish I was rich enough to be that much of a depraved fuck, but, alas, here we are.’
I frown at him, not sure what to think as my heart beats erratically. That’s not what I’ve hearddown. You come up if they think you can win. If not, you’re just fodder in the pits to train the ones who have potential. I’ve never heard of theseparties.
I don’t like the sound of them at all. Even the winners sound like they lose in the end.
‘I thought if humans come up, they fight in the arenas,’ I say, my voice stronger now. ‘I’m nopleasureslave. I’m notfor parties.’
He looks at me sharply, eyes narrowing. ‘Not up to you, human.’
Then he shrugs. ‘In truth, I don’t know why they brought you up. Don’t know why Kobeth is bothering to spend coin on you. You don’t look much out of the common way to me. Certainly not the beauty he thinks you are. Bere and him are mates though. Throwing him a bone, maybe. But en’t for me toquestion. Not my place. Not yours either, slave. We all must do as we’re told. You especially.’
He nods his head for me to go across the long room. I turn, doing as he silently orders. There’s an open door that leads back to the walkway we started on. It’s open on one side. I can peer deep down into the pit, see the other humans so far down that I can barely hear them.
I frown. ‘But I didn’t climb that many steps,’ I say aloud, glancing back at the orc.
He grins, showing me a row of golden-capped teeth that match the cuffs in his long hair.
‘Of course not. That many steps would take the better part of a morning to walk.’ He lets out a sound of derision. ‘Your kind have no vision. It shows why you humans deserve no magick of your own,’ he sneers. ‘Go now. No more dallying. No more talk.’
We get to an opening a little while later, and when I pause at the archway, I’m thrust over the threshold with a firm grip to the back of my neck. Inside, the room is spacious and the warm light is low. It comes from yellow balls that float above round platforms jutting out of the walls like odd, torchless sconces.
I’m so focused on the effortless magick that I don’t realize there are others in the room at first.
They’re sitting in chairs. Four of them. Kobeth, the other orc, the fae called Bere, and another fae in black that I’m sure I recognize as well.
‘Bring the female forward.’
I’m pushed in the middle of my back almost gently and my eyes look beyond the group.
In front of them is a window-like opening but there’s no glass nor shutter. Inside the next space is a square room where a large male paces. He’s human, as far as I can tell, tall and bulging. His flesh is littered with almost as many scars as I have.
One of the fighters, I comprehend with a sinking feeling. A true one. A gladiator of the pit fights. One who wins more than he loses. What did Kobeth call him? Maldred?
I, a small human female who has only fought in the training pits, am meant to fighthim?
Or, I remember what Isen said. Perhaps I’m not meant to fight him at all.
