'You were wondering?' prompted the priest.
'One so misses the city,' said Persis, recovering his composure, 'the theatres and dining houses, the parties and gatherings. Time moves on, and one wonders if everything is as it was in the golden rooms of memory. I always like to hear news from Stone. It lessens the sadness at being so far from home.'
'The city remains beautiful,' said the priest, 'but the cancer of heresy is everywhere, and must be hunted down and cut out.'
'Indeed so,' agreed Persis.
'How many of the Tree Cult thrive in Goriasa?' asked the priest.
'I don't know of any,' lied Persis.
'They are here. I can smell their vileness.'
The door opened and the little slave Norwin entered. Seeing the Priest he bowed low. Then he turned to Persis. 'The Palantes representatives are downstairs,' he said.
Relief swept over the fat circus owner. 'Bring them up,' he told him.
Norwin bowed again to the priest and backed out of the small room. All contracts over one thousand in gold now had to be witnessed by a priest, who then pocketed two per cent of the moneys.
'I understand Rage is to fight again,' said the priest.
'Yes indeed. Are you partial to the games?'
'Bravery is what makes our civilization great,' said the priest. 'It is good for our citizens to see martial courage.'
The door opened once more, and Norwin led two men inside. Both were middle-aged, and wearing expensive clothing, their cloaks edged with ermine. Seeing the priest they bowed. Persis was delighted to see they were as tense as he in the man's presence. Who wouldn't be? he thought. In ten years they had grown from a scholastic order, compiling a history of Stone, to become the most feared organization in the land.
The first of the two men, powerfully built, his long dark hair drawn back into a ponytail, produced two papyrus scrolls, which he handed to Persis. The man bowed. 'The Lord Absicus sends you his greetings. I am Jain, First Slave to Palantes. This is my colleague, Tanyan.'
Even their slaves are better dressed than I, thought Persis, noting the quality of Jain's long, blue woollen tunic, edged with gold, the chest embroidered with an eagle's head in black silk.
Persis offered them seats, then perused the scrolls. They were standard contracts, outlining the amounts payable and the conditions of the day. He read slowly through each of the clauses. Towards the end he hesitated, then looked up at Jain. 'It says here that Circus Crises shall pay the cost of travel and hospitality for the Palantes team. This was not mentioned in our earlier negotiations.'
'That must have been an oversight,' said Jain smoothly.
'The clause will be removed,' said Persis.
'I think not,' said Jain. 'You are receiving a fine sum for your part in this… little tourney. The Lord Absicus made it very clear to me that there was to be no change to the contract.'
'Ah well,' said Persis, 'then what can I say?' He looked into Jain's dark eyes and saw the glint of triumph, and the barely masked contempt. Glancing up at the priest Persis gave a rueful smile. 'I am so sorry for wasting your time, sir.' Pushing himself to his feet he gathered up his cloak and walked towards the door.
'Where are you going?' asked Jain.
'To the bathhouse,' said Persis. 'I shall have a long soak and then a massage. Please convey my respects to the Lord Absicus.'
'You haven't signed the contract!'
Persis paused in the doorway. 'There is no contract,' he said. Then he left.
'Wait!' wailed Jain, rising from his chair so fast he knocked it backwards. He scurried after Persis, catching him in the outer corridor. 'Come, come,' he said, 'we are reasonable men. Let us negotiate.'
'There is nothing to negotiate,' said Persis. 'Either we walk back in, remove the clause and sign, or I leave.'
Jain leaned in close, and Persis could smell the perfume on his oiled hair. 'Let us be frank, sir. You are in debt and close to insolvency. This contract is a life-saver for you. You do not really want to see it fail.'
'Good-bye,' said Persis, pushing open the outer door, and stepping into the sunshine.
'I agree!' shouted Jain. 'The clause will be removed! Now let us conclude our business.'
Persis stood for a moment, then walked back inside.
Later, when all the visitors had departed, Norwin returned to the office. 'If you were as good at running a circus as you are at negotiating, we wouldn't have found ourselves in this position in the first place,' he said.
'That's teetering on the edge of being a compliment,' said Persis.
'Damn, it wasn't meant to be,' said Norwin. 'Perhaps I phrased it badly.'
Persis grinned at him. 'Tomorrow you will see that all our debts are paid, the longest to have interest added. We will need goodwill for next season.'
'We'll need more than goodwill,' said Norwin. 'With Rage dead there won't be a Circus Orises. What is wrong with you, Persis? You are a bright, intelligent man. You were a phenomenally successful merchant. Why can you not see that Orises is a doomed venture?'
'I can see it,' said Persis. 'But I can't help it. I love the circus, watching the crowd applaud, seeing the delight on their faces as the horses ride and the athletes compete. I get a greater thrill from this than any I ever experienced making profits. And I dream of seeing this stadium full of people – all cheering.'
Norwin pinched the bridge of his long, thin nose. 'Yes, yes,' he said, 'nice dream. But let us take a long, cool look at the reality. Goriasa is a conquered Keltoi city, inhabited largely by Gath tribesmen, who have little interest in the circus. Our people number less than three thousand. There are simply not enough Stone citizens to fill the stadium. And, as for watching the horses run, need I remind you that Palantes stole our horse-riding acrobats?'
Persis sat lost in thought. 'That's it!' he said suddenly.
'Horse acrobats?'
'No. Filling the stadium. We must put on shows for the Gath. Find something they would want to see.'
'Sheep-shagging springs to mind,' offered Norwin.
'Be serious, my friend,' chided Persis. 'The Keltoi are not the barbarians we pretend them to be. Their metalworking is exquisite, their culture older than ours.'
'I accept that,' said Norwin. 'However, think on this: they are a warrior race, but even when death bouts were common here the Gath did not come in any great numbers.'
'I know. They did not want to pay to watch men of Stone fighting one another. But would they pay to see one of their own fighting a man of Stone to the death?'
Norwin said nothing for a moment. 'Now that is something to consider,' he whispered.
Magistrate Hulius Marani was bored. Not that anyone in the court would notice, for his sharp, hooded eyes appeared to miss nothing, his heavy face holding a serious expression, as he listened – apparently intently – to every shred of evidence. His gaze only occasionally flickered towards the ornate hour-glass and its trickling sand.
He sat and pretended to concentrate on the case before him, where a young Gath farmer was arguing that his lands had been tricked from him by a Stone citizen. The case was well presented, but since the citizen had already paid a large bribe to Hulius the issue was not in doubt. The Gath was an idiot. Hulius had invited him to his home, giving him every opportunity to offer a larger bribe, but the man – like the rest of his barbarous tribe – had no understanding of the manner in which civilized people conducted disputes. He ranted on about justice and foul business practices – just as he was doing now.
Hulius waited for the man to finish his argument – which was only good manners – then found against him. The man shouted abuse, and Hulius ordered the Court Guardians to take him away, sentencing him to twenty lashes for his impertinence.