"As for your so-called professional gladiators, I don't like them, and would never endanger my name and reputation by hiring them to represent me. Regardless of what you might think, being a gladiator is not a desirable profession. A soldier or a thief can have a long and successful career and see little, if any, actual combat. By the nature of his livelihood, a gladiator must risk his life in open combat on a regular basis. If you are a slave, as I was, it's a dubious way to earn your keep, but to choose it freely as your 'professional gladiators' do is unthinkable. They are either fools or sadists, and neither are known to be particularly controllable."
"So you think I'm foolish to hire gladiators?"
"If that's your only criterion. At the very least I would advise that you look beyond training and arena records and study the individuals. Some of the men currently in your employ have questionable backgrounds. You might start looking into that before you place too much trust in them. Further, I would suggest that you find a trainer who can drill your troops in tactics more suited to the street than the arena. They'll stand a better chance of winning."
"I... I'll have to think on it," Chenaya said slowly. "What you say makes sense, but it's all so contrary to what I've been raised to believe."
'Take your time." Jubal smiled. "The time to think is be fore, not after you've committed yourself. Sending men into combat isn't a game."
She looked at him sharply. "I think I hear a hidden warning in that last comment. I take it you've heard of my special talent: the fact that I never lose. It's not potential, and I should think it would count heavily in my favor as a leader... or an ally."
The crimelord averted his eyes as he sank into his chair.
"I've heard of it," he confirmed. "In my opinion, it makes you both arrogant and vulnerable. Neither of which are traits I would want in someone leading me, or guarding my back."
"But..."
"Let's assume for the moment that you're right.. . that you'll never lose. I'll contest that later, but for now we'll take it as a given. You'll win every contest. So what? Start thinking like an adult instead of a child. Life isn't a game. An arrow out of the dark that takes you in the middle of the back isn't a contest. You can retain your perfect win record and still be just as dead as any loser."
Instead of arguing, Chenaya cocked her head quizzically.
"That's the second time you've mentioned archers or arrows, Jubal. For my own curiosity, were you behind the arrow that nicked Zip?"
Jubal cursed himself inwardly. He would have to stop underestimating this girl just because she was young. Her mind was quick to pick up unrelated conversational points and weave them into whole fabric.
"No," he said carefully, "but I know who was. The eye behind that arrow used to work for me, and unless her skills have degenerated badly since her departure, if his ear was hit, that was the target."
He noted the sudden lift of her eyebrow and realized too late that he had inadvertently given away the gender of the archer. It was time to steer conversation back to less sensitive subjects.
"We were speaking of your infallible luck. You seem to feel that if you never lose, you'll never fail. That kind of thinking is dangerous, both for you and anyone who sides with you. There is no such thing as an unstoppable attack or an impenetrable defense. Believing in one or the other only leads to overconfidence and disaster."
"But if I never fail in battle ..."
"... Like your attack on Theron?" The crimelord smiled.
"The attack was a success. We just chose the wrong target," she argued stubbornly.
"Spare me the rationalizations. Anyone who deals with magic or gods gets quite adept with excuses. All I know is that supernatural intervention exacts a price dearer than most intelligent people are willing to pay."
"Of course, you speak with the authority of one who has had a wide range of experience with gods and magic."
In response, Jubal swept his mask off with one hand.
Vanity made him conceal his unnaturally aged features from all but his closest associates, but at times like this his appearance could be far more eloquent than words.
"I have had one dealing with magic," he said grimly, "and this was the result. Years lost off my life was the price I paid to keep from becoming a cripple. While I do not regret the trade, I would think long and hard before entering into further bargaining. Does it ever occur to you that sooner or later you will have to pay for your luck... for ever dice roll that you do so casually to show off your so-called talent?"
The demonstration had the desired effect on Chenaya. She shook her head in mute admission, averting her eyes from the sight of the now-old man she had once cheered.
"Your noble birth gave you a natural arrogance," the crimelord continued relentlessly, deliberately leaving his mask off, "and your belief in your own infallibility has escalated it to proportions that try the patience and the stomach. You seem to believe that you can do whatever you want, to whomever you want, without regard to consequence or repercussion. Perhaps the most arrogant assumption of all is that you think that your undisciplined behavior is not only acceptable, but admirable. The truth is that people find your antics alternately amusing and offensive. If they either tire of being tolerant, or if you ever actually succeed in putting something together that is seen as a genuine threat, the real powers of this town will squash you like a bug, along with anyone who stands with you."
His taunting stung Chenaya out of her shock. "Let them try," she snapped. "I can ..."
Jubal smiled, watching her face as she stopped in mid-sentence, hearing her own arrogance for the first time.
"You see? And that's while you're sitting there in a blanket after being dumped in the middle of the bay. My guess is that whoever did it to you was merely annoyed. If they had been really mad, they would have dropped you farther out. Yet still you persist in feeling that it doesn't matter who you offend."
Chenaya was hunched forward now, hugging the blanket about her as if it could ward off words and ideas as it had the chill. "Am I really that disliked?" she said without looking up.
Jubal felt a moment of pity for the girl. He had also gone through a period when he wanted friends desperately, only to find that his efforts were ignored or misinterpreted. A part of him wanted to comfort Chenaya, but instead he bore on relentlessly, taking advantage of her sagging defenses.
"You've given people little reason to like you. There is new wealth in town from our new Beysib residents, but the citizens still remember how hard money is to come by. You flaunt your wealth, deliberately inviting attack from those who are still desperate, then use your skills or your luck to kill them. Were one of them to succeed in slitting your throat some dark night, I doubt there would be much sympathy expressed anywhere. Most would feel that you deserved it, were asking for it in fact. I would hazard a further guess that there are even those who are secretly hoping it will happen, to teach an object lesson to Rankan nobles who underestimate the dangers in this town. Then, there is your sexual appetite. The tastes in this town are varied and often jaded, but even the lowest whore walking the streets near the Promise of Heaven can approach a man without grabbing his crotch in public."
"You're just saying that because I'm a woman," Chenaya protested. "Men do it-"