“She’s fine, or was when I left. Sicariusfigured it for a trap before we went in. She’s going to visit Deretfor dinner and still might get in trouble that way. You know howshe likes to take risks.” Maldynado lowered his arm and swatted atree branch brushing his hair. “I helped buy her groceries, but I’mirked at Deret. I always thought him a decent fellow. Sure, I couldsee him feeling compelled to set the enforcers on Sicarius’s tail,but the boss doesn’t deserve that bounty.”
Agreed, Basilard signed. Weshouldn’t drink if she’s coming here. She might expect us to beworking.
Maldynado shrugged. “We can’t find magicstuff.”
Let’s check the stadium for anythingsuspicious. We haven’t yet, and the athletes should have stoppedtraining for the day.
His prediction proved true, and nobodyoccupied the arena or the tiers of seating surrounding it. Lanternsburned at periodic intervals, providing enough light for walking.He and Maldynado did a lap of the track, though Basilard did notknow what to look for. Without Akstyr’s nose for magic, they wouldhave to search for mundane clues.
It took Maldynado only a few minutes to growbored of investigating. He wandered into the middle of the arenawhere the furnace powering the Clank Race still burned. Someonemust have been out training recently.
Maldynado threw a couple of levers. Gearsturned, pistons clanked, and a moan of releasing steam sounded asthe massive machine powering the obstacle course started up. Whilethe wood and metal structure remained stationary, the moving partscreated a strange sight in the darkness. Arms and spindles rotatedand turned, propelling sharpened axes and battering rams out tothwart someone crossing spinning logs and tiny moving platforms. Inmore than one spot, bloodstains spattered the sand beneath thecontraption.
Anyone ever die at your Games?Basilard signed.
“Oh, sure,” Maldynado said, “but I thinkthere are more injuries in the wrestling. Most of the people crazyenough to do this thing are agile as foxes. But, yes, someone diesmost every year, and others lose arms and legs. People get carelesswhen they’re trying to earn the best time.” Maldynado tapped apaper stuck to the side of a support post. “Looks like some cockyathletes have posted their times already. Hm.” He eyed the machinespeculatively.
What?
“Want to try it?”
What? Basilard signed. After youjust told me it’s killed people?
“Come on. Odds are good Sicarius is going tomake us try it at some point anyway.” Maldynado mimicked Sicarius’sstony face and monotone to say, “Good training.” The serious facadelasted almost a second, before he grinned and said, “Doesn’t itlook fun?”
Basilard eyed the swinging blades, clankingmachinery, and the puffs of steam escaping into the darkness withsoft hisses. The long lost boy in him admitted it might beenjoyable. They were not competing with anyone, so they did nothave to sprint through recklessly.
“Ah, you’re tempted, aren’t you?” Maldynadogrinned and trotted over to a giant clock, its hands visible evenin the dim lighting. “Let’s see, how do we time ourselves…. Herewe go. Loser buys the winner drinks tonight. Ready? Go!”
Maldynado threw a lever on a giant time clockand darted up a ramp leading into the course.
What? Basilard had not agreed to the terms,but he sprinted after Maldynado anyway. They did not get paidenough for him to buy drinks for that bottomless gullet.
He raced up the ramp to a wooden platformseesawing up and down. Two spinning logs stretched ahead. Maldynadohad taken the left, so Basilard ran right. He darted across as fastas he could, staying light-footed on the rotating wood, knowingthat going slow or with tense muscles would be more likely to causea misstep.
He caught up with Maldynado at the nextplatform.
“Look out,” Maldynado barked.
Half expecting the warning to be a trickdesigned to slow him down, Basilard almost missed the man-sizeddummy swinging down at him on a series of ropes. Spikes protrudedfrom all of its wooden sides.
Basilard flung himself to his belly. Thedummy swung past, the draft stirring the hairs on the back of hisneck.
When he rose, Maldynado was already jumpingonto a rope that dangled from a beam. Something-spikes? — protrudedfrom the ground beneath.
Basilard growled and chased after Maldynado.After the rope climb, they had to traverse along pegs sticking outof the beam, thirty feet above the ground. A net took them to thenext obstacle. Tiny circular platforms, some only a few incheswide, rotated about while axe blades and battering rams swung outof the darkness. Basilard jumped and darted, relying on instinctsmore than thought. By luck more than design, he reached the nextseesawing platform before Maldynado. He clambered up a mesh wall,over a beam, through a rope swing course, and finally hurledhimself into a net where he scrambled to the bottom and toward aten-foot wall.
He burst over that last obstacle and sprintedto a finish line, beating Maldynado by several seconds. Hestaggered a couple of weary steps and collapsed in the sand torest.
Stars had come out overhead, though they werenot as bright as those he had once known in his mountain home. Heinhaled deeply; here, surrounded by grass and trees, the air wascleaner than in the city core, but it still smelled of burning woodand coal. A homesick twinge ran through him, an aching for a lifeto which he could never return.
“Great time, Bas.” Maldynado stood by thegiant clock. “You were as fast as some of these athletes. Prettyimpressive considering this is your first time doing it. Of course,I would have beaten you, but I was a touch weary from my earliervigorous exertions.”
Basilard was about to sit up when a darkfigure loomed over him. Sicarius.
The flickering illumination from a lanternhanging on the obstacle course frame cast his face half in shadow,half in light, enhancing his hard, angular features. When he stareddown, Basilard struggled not to cringe or show any nervousreaction. Sicarius could not know what he and Akstyr had beendiscussing earlier. He had just arrived.
“What’s going on, gentlemen?” Amaranthe’svoice came from a few paces away. “Finding anythinginteresting?”
Basilard jumped to his feet and faced her,glad for the excuse to turn his shoulder toward Sicarius. He hadsensed Sicarius’s suspicions toward him since the incident in theshaman’s hideout, and now he knew why. He must suspect Basilardwould one day find out about his crimes in Mangdoria. That warinesswould make it all the more difficult to surprise him.
“We found out Basilard can run the Clank Raceas fast as some of these pampered athletes,” Maldynado said.
“Oh?” Amaranthe regarded him with moreinterest than Basilard thought the statement warranted. “That mightbe perfect,” she said, talking more to herself than him.
What? Basilard signed.
“It seems the winners of each event get tohave dinner with the emperor. That’ll be…thirty-six people, butmost of those youngsters won’t have anything to talk about.”
Maldynado smirked. “I like how you talk aboutyoungsters as if your twenty-six years make you venerable and wise,boss.”
Basilard smirked, remembering her memorablebirthday party at the Pirates’ Plunder.
Amaranthe, eyes bright, continued her visionwithout acknowledging Maldynado. “Those young athletes will likelybe cowed by Sespian’s royal presence. If you won, you could angleyour way in there and talk with him about your people, about theunderground slavery that still exists in the city.”
Basilard almost sank back down to the earth.Was that possible? For him to win an interview with the emperor? Inone night, could he truly bring awareness of the slave problem toSespian? Basilard glanced at Sicarius, abruptly regretting his vowto kill the man. That was a task he was not sure he could carry outwithout being killed himself. Maybe it could wait until after theImperial Games? But perhaps his mind was spinning too quickly. Whatwere the odds of him actually winning an event? Against agile youngathletes half his age?