“Do I have to eat you to gain your powers?” Demir asked flippantly.
“You’d have to eat me to get this big. There he is, come on.”
Demir fell back, allowing Montego to cut a path through the crowd. Those that didn’t move out of the way were gently but forcibly pushed to one side, and Demir could hear a trail of whispers in their wake as they passed.
“Holy shit,” one woman said, “is that Baby Montego?”
“I had no idea he was back in town!” a man replied.
“Do you think he’d sign an autograph?”
“Piss on an autograph,” another woman cut in, “what hotel is he in? I’ve heard he’s an absolute monster in…”
Demir chuckled to himself as they met up with the porter, who led them down a narrow hallway, leaving the whispers behind them. Montego had a point. Demir was famous in his own right, but in a cudgeling arena, Montego was a god.
“You found a place for us?” Montego asked the porter.
“Yes, sir! It’s not a perfect view but if you make arrangements for next time we will absolutely clear a box for you.”
They emerged from the hallway into the back of a packed crowd in the courtyard of the old castle. The actual cudgeling ring was on a raised platform in the center of the courtyard, with some tiered seating on the east side, boxes built haphazardly into the north and west walls, and more people watching from a handful of windows and lining the tops of the castle walls.
The porter led them to a spot about halfway between the walls and the ring. As he’d said, it was not a good position to see the actual match, but Demir barely glanced toward the ring. He scanned the walls, windows, and boxes, searching for a woman in her late twenties. He found one, but she was a Nasuud blonde. He kept looking until he spotted an eager-looking woman staring down toward the ring from the window of the corner tower.
The porter shoved people aside until there was room for Montego and Demir, then stationed himself at Montego’s shoulder with the clear intent of someone who’s ready to serve and plans to make some very good tips doing it. Demir hadn’t been to a proper Ossan cudgeling match for over a decade, but Montego acted as if this was all to be expected. Even when people began edging away from him, staring in wonder, he didn’t really seem to notice.
“Why is it so crowded?” Montego asked.
“Special exhibition match,” the porter shouted above the noise of the crowd. “Do you know Fidori Glostovika?”
“The Balkani champion?” Demir asked. “I didn’t see his name on the schedule.”
“Oh, he’s the very last match,” the porter said. “Everyone packed in here will watch the whole afternoon just to get a glimpse of him. Very exciting! He might have even been a match for you in your heyday, Master Montego.”
Montego grunted noncommittally, but Demir could see the way his eyes narrowed. Perfect. Demir didn’t like going into these things on so little information, but he could use this. “Who’s his sponsor?” Demir asked.
“That would be the Magna.”
“Oh? I haven’t spoken to any of them since I returned to town. Is anyone here to watch the match?”
“Lady Ulina Magna,” the porter answered, pointing up at the tower Demir had already suspected was Ulina’s private box. “She’s here almost every day.”
Demir turned toward Montego, feigning surprise. “Weren’t you just saying you wanted to meet Ulina?”
“That I was!” Montego replied, playing along.
The porter made a tutting sound. “I’m afraid Lady Ulina doesn’t like being disturbed during the matches, I…”
Montego leaned over suddenly, putting his arm around the porter’s shoulder as if to take him into his confidence. He said, “I have heard Ulina is very pretty. My friend and I would very much like to meet her. If you could arrange it? As a personal favor to me?”
The porter’s face went red. “Of … of course,” he stuttered, “Master Montego, I’ll do what I can!” Once again he hurried off, and Montego turned to Demir with that same smirk.
“I’ve still got it.”
“Of course you’ve still got it, you big oaf,” Demir responded, “you’re glassdamned Baby Montego. Can you see a damned thing?”
“Enough to see that both the men fighting right now will never get further than regional exhibition bouts. Bah, is the quality in the capital slipping so much?”
Demir stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a view of the arena. He could see the fighters’ heads moving back and forth, the occasional raised cudgel, and nothing else. He gave up and waited for the porter to return. The young man was back soon, looking very pleased with himself, and shouted to be heard, “Lady Ulina has graciously offered to share her box with you today. This way, please!”
Demir allowed himself a flicker of a smile. Perfect.
Once again Montego plowed through the crowd, cutting a path that Demir followed gladly. They were taken back the way they came, through a series of narrow passages, and then up an original stone spiral staircase that Montego barely fit through. They arrived at the box to find what looked like Ulina’s entourage standing outside, pushed out to make room for Montego and Demir. The small group wore unhappy glares that were immediately replaced with surprise.
“It is him!”
“Montego, I saw your last fight! I can’t believe it’s you!”
Hands reached out, touching Montego as he passed. One of the young women actually swooned, while the men stared in awe and fear. None of them objected as Montego entered the box. Demir gave them a smile as he shut the door to the box behind them.
Ulina Magna was a statuesque woman, well over six feet tall, with long, curly black hair that cascaded over a crimson-and-white tunic. She spun away from her view as Demir and Montego entered, somehow managing to sweep across the narrow box. “My dear Master Montego, what a pleasure it is to meet you! I cannot believe my luck!”
“Lady Ulina,” Montego responded, grasping Ulina’s hand in his and kissing it gently. “My friend, Demir Grappo.”
“Ah! The new patriarch of the Grappo guild-family. A double pleasure indeed!” Ulina’s tone cooled noticeably upon greeting Demir, her eyes giving him a quick up-and-down and a silent judgment that indicated she did not think much of either him or his minor guild-family. Her gaze dipped toward his glassdancer sigil, the corner of her eye twitching. Demir pretended not to notice. Her smile remained warm through it all, and she quickly turned back to Montego.
Demir did not mind. He didn’t need attention right now. He needed to observe. The box was small, with just six seats all crammed in together. Ulina deposited herself between them, leaning against Montego’s arm, pointing down to the cudgeling ring below them. The last fight had just finished and Demir could see the two new fighters preparing themselves while blood was mopped up. He settled in to watch, glancing through the newspapers available in the box as well as a pamphlet printed up by the arena for the day’s fights.
He’d heard the names of several of the fighters. No one of particular skill or fame, but men and women who put on a good enough show to get fans into seats. Fidori Glostovika was clearly the draw for most of the crowd.
Ulina talked nonstop, seemingly without bothering to take a breath, a constant stream of anecdotes that was interrupted only by demands for food or drink from the attending porter. Montego danced through the conversation skillfully, interjecting witticisms and occasionally challenging her knowledge of the sport. This was clearly not the first wealthy young fan that he’d watched a cudgeling match with.
Only one thing broke up the conversation, and that was when Ulina ordered a second porter to run to the bookie in the arena foyer to make bets on her behalf. The bets were rapid-fire, sometimes contradicting a previous bet with even more money as the fight wore on. She discussed each decision with Montego in detail, occasionally changing her bet upon his advice.