The Gladiators mingled.
Sadira, in spite of her war-like attire, found herself the constant centre of attention in every room she entered, surrounded by admirers, well-wishers, and sycophants. Amoura appeared often beside her, steering her toward important personages and introducing her to Gladiators, ministers, and two Chosen holding court in well-hidden rooms. Sadira was glad of Amoura's presence; the other woman made the evening much more bearable. Everyone was polite and smiling, laughing on cue, and ever so curious about her, leaving her to wonder what thoughts hid beneath their features.
Gavin followed her dutifully at first, but often found himself on the outside of the little groups that surrounded her, too polite to claim his place, too unimportant to those who sought his love's favour. Sadira offered him apologetic glances when this happened, and he understood she liked it no better than he.
For her part, this was the first time Sadira truly understood how it might be for Gavin to live in her shadow, and she wished she knew of some way that she might change this; she still felt a strong desire to give up her grand designs, just to be with him. What good was glory if it cost her love?
Late in the evening, she claimed him for a long, slow dance. Afterwards, she released him from his lover's duties. "Go mingle, my love, enjoy yourself and I will find you when I can."
He protested, of course, but she merely kissed him and whispered. "Dear one, these people bore me, I can't imagine what it must be like for you to watch from the sidelines. Please go and have fun, for my sake."
So he did, but she could tell that he did not like parting from her; she smiled at the thought as she watched him leave, before the circling admirers moved in on her again.
-----o
Gavin, who much preferred a good book to a party like this, sought out each of his friends in turn. Ravius was entertaining a gaggle of giggling golden-dipped attendants, plying them with jokes, lulling them with stories, all the while steering them slowly to a more secluded area. The smiling skirmisher threw him a wink. Gavin just nodded at his friend and moved on, smiling and shaking his head. Pale Cleothera and bright-eyed Vintia had somehow managed to consume enough alcohol to make even a Gifted tipsy, no small feat. They put a drink in his hand and led him to the centre of the rose-filled marble ballroom where he danced with both of them, earning jealous glances from several young men and women, until they decided they wanted to dine and he made his excuses and moved on. He caught a glimpse of Karmal talking to a woman whose gaze seemed striking even from across the room, but he lost sight of her in the crowd. Sulius was eating and entertaining a small group of well-wishers. Lina was not with him. Gavin wondered where the scarlet-haired vassal was, but decided not to go looking for her.
And so, long after mid-night, Gavin found his way to a simple wooden gazebo on the sands. Something about the spot called him, and he wished very much that he could separate Sadira from the crowds that followed her and bring her here to enjoy her company in peace. He sat down on a cushioned seat, closing his eyes, enjoying the sound of gentle waves made by the waters of the oasis. Perhaps one day he would hear the rhythms of the ocean again. He drifted on that thought...
Abruptly, he became aware of a presence nearby. The sense of profound serenity, however, prevented him from feeling any real alarm as he opened his eyes to find a man standing at the threshold of the structure looking at him.
"Mind if I join you?" said the stranger, stepping into the light.
"I guess not," said Gavin. He was a little put off that his privacy had been disturbed, but didn't feel like giving up his spot. Perhaps he could out-wait the stranger.
Gavin motioned to the newcomer to take a seat. The man was dressed in a simple tunic, well-cut and made of fine, but plain, material. His worn face and slightly receding hair seemed to indicate that he was in his forties, in spite of his athletic, almost Gladiator-like, build. He seemed strangely familiar, but Gavin could not place him. A soldier perhaps, maybe a General, grown wealthy but still accustomed to a less opulent lifestyle. The stranger looked out into the night at first, saying nothing, and paying no heed to Gavin's examinations.
"I enjoy parties," said the man after some time had passed, turning to Gavin. There was something odd about his eyes. "I can't get enough of them, and yet I much prefer to watch them from the outside: to listen to the sounds of people enjoying themselves, to soak up the contentment of others, and to watch as a thousand little dramas unfold like theatre right before my eyes without feeling the need to interfere. Don't you agree?"
"Yes." Gavin cocked his brow; it was strange that the man had not introduced himself yet. He felt he knew the man from somewhere, that the stranger might be playing some sort of trick.
"The duty of a good host is to ensure that all of his guests enjoy themselves. I fear I may have failed on your account, Gavin..."
Gavin's heart skipped a beat as he heard his own name. Then the rest of the sentence fell into place in his mind. And finally, at that moment, staring into the stranger's eyes, recognition hit him like a giant's hammer-blow: a face seen in a hundred pictures, a statue on the streets of Krass, an engraving in the back of a favourite book. He blinked. How could I not have recognized this man, he asked himself. He stood, bowing low, face red.
"Chosen Marius!" he stammered, "I did not recognize you; I apologize for this mistake, Chosen."
"Please friend, this is not a formal occasion, do not be embarrassed; there is no need for protocol." The Chosen chuckled, genial amusement showing on his face. Oddly, instead of feeling like the Chosen was laughing at him, Gavin felt as if he were in on some private joke shared between two old friends. "Few people recognize me unless I clothe myself like a statesman, and I prefer to keep it that way. I've found that people are more honest with Marius the Farmer or Marius the Soldier than Chosen Marius. Don't worry yourself, I am not here to play games like Giselle or lead you to your doom like Moltar; surprising people with my true identity is game enough for me."
Gavin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then released it, clearing the tumult in his mind. The Chosen watched him. Gavin realized that a Grey-Robe watched them as well, respectful in distance but always present.
"Chosen, you honour me," he said at last. "I have studied your works. I have admired you since I was a young man..."
"So I've seen, Gavin," said the Chosen, settling back and smiling. "I had the good timing to catch you performing one of my moves in a match while I was passing through the Campus Martius. I have taken an interest in your career since that time. It is a good feeling to see others benefiting from my writings. I've been thinking about making some revisions to those works, bringing them up to date. Perhaps you could offer me some of your own insights?"
"I would love to," said Gavin, smiling now and genuinely pleased to have the chance to talk to one of his boyhood heroes. "Although I don't know how I could contribute..."
"Ha! You are too humble, young Gladiator!" said the Chosen. "I have seen you fight; I know you are a thoughtful man. Let’s invite that Grey-Robe to come over as well. She must be rather bored watching over us... might as well make her duties a little more interesting."
They talked until dawn; the Chosen, the thoughtful Gladiator, and the officer of the Deliberative in a little Gazebo. Their conversation drifted from historical works to the role of the Factions in the politics of the Domains. As they conversed, their voices mingled with the sounds of the water and those of the party in the background, a subtler, softer but no less vital rhythm amidst the merrymaking.
-----o
As the evening wore on, the party took on a dream-like quality for Sadira. She was separated from Amoura and lost track of Vintia, Karmal, and Minerva. She was continuously surrounded by new groups of people, men and women who wanted to discuss her future in the arena, her fashion sense, her encounter with Chosen Giselle, or simply to wish her well or be seen with her. Some seemed to want to talk to her just to satisfy their own curiosity; others desired to enmesh her in
their circle of contacts.
For a Gladiatrix, who has little contact that is not watched, regulated, and ritualized, the idea of people whose lives were based entirely around who they knew was very new. Sadira had heard of such things, and understood the theory, but seeing all the social spiders weaving their webs up close was still a learning experience. She wished she could observe it from afar instead of being caught in the middle, like just another spider or perhaps a juicy bit of prey. She slipped away, seeking moments of privacy whenever she could.
It was during one of these brief respites, while she was in a little private room, made up for amorous couples trysting she guessed, that Valaran found her. She was nearly calm and ready for the next long round of high society party chatter when he entered the room. She felt his presence even before she heard his movements, and turned, smiling, thinking he was one of the Chosen who had sought her out.
She recognized him immediately; his fame had only grown since Gavin first described him to her. He was handsome, beautiful even, his every chiseled feature speaking of power, ambition, and arrogance. He was dressed plainly, having come to the event without an invitation, but still seemed more princely than those who had worn their most opulent finery. Once, she would have found herself immediately, profoundly attracted to such a man. But now she could read the ugly, oppressive nature that lurked beneath the perfect features of this peerless warrior. As if to emphasize the point, she noticed Lina at his side, pale and trembling in his massive shadow. Valaran’s hand rested on the girl’s shoulder, close to her throat. Sadira felt anger beginning to rise, burning away her fatigue.
"I caught your little…" he started.
"Let her go!" Sadira cut him off, voice conveying her rising ire, scouring him like a blast of desert air. "Lina is at this event with a proper invitation; you are not."
Valaran was taken aback. Only Moltar had ever dared to command him or speak to him harshly. His hand fell from Lina’s shoulder and the Vassal girl quickly moved away from him. He marvelled at the natural command in Sadira’s voice, even as he bristled against it; here was a woman worth mastering.
Sadira was proud to note that her assistant tried to walk slowly and worked hard not to show her fear. Lina rarely spoke of her time training as a Vassal in Volcanus, but the young woman’s attitude and history spoke of harsh, systematic abuse. She was plainly terrified of her former master.
Sadira locked eyes with Valaran, putting her arm around Lina as she did so. She said nothing, staring hard. It took the princely, imposing Valaran a few moments to compose himself; he did not like being the focus of that withering gaze.
"Your beauty is even greater up close than I had imagined, Sadira." He gathered his confidence as he spoke; no woman had ever been able to resist him. "You are like a bright red rose amidst the wasteland; your glory makes everything around you seem desolate by comparison. I have desired you since I first saw you in Camp Valorous. I have thought of little else. At first I was just content giving you gifts, but it is no longer enough. I must have you."
"I am not a woman that you can ‘have’, Valaran," her tone was polite and even, but unmistakably cool. "I have chosen the man I want to be with; I love Gavin and will not give that up, no matter what life throws in our way."
"But...," Valaran could not believe what he was hearing. He’d been sure that she would succumb to his charms, everyone did. Even Moltar rarely denied his favoured protege. "I am better than him."
Sadira laughed; the sound was cruel, and pure, and beautiful. Valaran diVolcanus frowned, sensing that her laugh heralded defeat for the first time in his life. It was greatly at odds with his unwavering sense of his own destiny.
"You are bigger than him and prettier than Gavin, a better Gladiator in most people’s eyes," she said, her tone that of a judge weighing a crime. "You offer me a place at your side, but only as an adornment, because my glory and beauty would enhance your own."
"Yes!" he said, in a voice breaking with hungry desire, eyes alight with lust. Sadira felt Lina tense beside her. "As my glory would reflect on you. We are the best, Sadira, the greatest of our time. It is only proper that we unite. A man should choose the woman who best reflects his own desires and accomplishments in life. I am the best and I want the best."
"I do not agree," she responded. "A woman should choose the partner that best completes her, the person who will help her become better than she is. Gavin works with me. We are a good team. He supports me and challenges me. He has helped me to become a better fighter, to control my anger, and to expand my mind. You have nothing to offer me in this regard Valaran. Your love is like a highly polished mirror; you look at me but you only see yourself. You could never be my other half."
"You diminish yourself, woman!" snarled Valaran, looming over Sadira before reigning himself in with an effort of will. Sadira regarded him with hawk-like contempt. "You are like a queen rutting with a farm-boy!"
"Enough Valaran," she said. "I have made my choice. Love is not a reasonable beast; you cannot win me through argument. You must respect this even if you do not understand. Go now; you are not welcome here today."
The giant's face darkened, his noble features becoming remarkably ugly as rage consumed him. She met his burning gaze without fear. He turned and stalked toward the door, putting his hand upon it.
"I will kill your Gavin, in the arena," said Valaran without turning, his voice so thick with anger that he seemed likely to choke on his own words. "I will have you, one way or another."
Her voice hounded him as he stalked out into the corridor. "Then you will have me in the arena, Valaran, and I swear I will end you if you harm any of my friends."
A pair of surly looking Grey-Robes fell in step behind Valaran as he left. They looked more like servants than escorts.
-----o
Her surprise encounter with Valaran left Sadira ill at ease and flustered; she tried to find Gavin or Cleothera but immediately became entangled in the conversational webs of the grand event, losing track of time until she saw the tip of the sun spilling over the clear blue waters of the Oasis outside. She had been introduced to so many people that she felt as if she were riding a ship across a rough sea of faces agitated by a tempest of names. She remembered meeting the darkly handsome Chosen Arturo, who in spite of all his aristocratic finery turned out to be versed in Druidic magic as well; they had talked about gardens of all things; apparently many of the roses filling the rooms were bred in his domain. Amoura had also introduced her to Chosen Trilla Endweaver, a fearsome, muscular Orcish woman whom she'd taken a liking to immediately. She had even run into Camille Caesaria, the woman who had recruited her into the Red faction in the first place. There were so many people to remember, all with their own agendas. Sadira was not the type of person who was wont to forget people she did not find useful, a trait that served her well with her fans, but frustrated her here.
Sadira felt drained as she stared at the unflinching golden orb rising into the sky. She could no longer match the names and faces of any of those who currently surrounded her. None of them seemed to notice. She felt ensnared by the web of connections and obligations, trapped in discussion; she wondered if this was part of being a Chosen.
"Sadira my dear, there you are," said Amoura, putting an arm around her, steering her out of the conversational maze. "You looked tired, my friend. Your loyal Gavin is still here; let me take you to him so he can escort you home for some much needed rest."
"Amoura, how in Ezuis' name do you still look fresh and energetic after all this?" said Sadira, almost resentfully. "I feel like a vampire’s blood-pet; my head is straining trying to remember all these people. How do you do it?"
Amoura laughed vigorously, tossing her head back, startling a panting trio engaged in an amorous wrestling match in a nearby alcove. "I often wonder how a woman like you can train for twelve hours a day, every day, and decapitate giants in the arena," said the Gifted woman. "The truth is I live for days like this. You dream of winning the gran
d championship in front of a roaring crowd in the Grand Arena of Krass; I dream of stealing the scene at the glorious after-party I throw in your honour..." They stepped outside and the morning air, still crisp with a hint of desert night, washed over them. That air felt glorious to Sadira, rejuvenating her. Amoura led her onto the beach, weaving through small groups of tired party-goers, amorous couples, and the human debris of over-consumption. "Besides," continued Amoura, "I don't have a Grey-Robe escort following me around everywhere I go. Imagine all the mischief you could get up to with a little more privacy."
"Ha!" exclaimed Sadira. "I made that choice long ago. We both did."
"True enough," said Amoura. "And regretting choices made long ago is a dark path; let us not travel it today my dear. Our menfolk are just up ahead in that little wooden gazebo, waiting for us to brighten their dawn. I really admire the way you handled Giselle, you know."
"Thank you," said Sadira. She was still enjoying the afterglow of that moment herself. "I'm just glad that I could buy some extra time with Gavin and my team without making an enemy of her. If you'd told me as a young Gladiatrix that I would lock horns with one of my childhood idols over a man, I'd have laughed."
Amoura smiled, "I know exactly what you mean."
Sadira caught sight of Gavin, his face animated and expressive, engaged in deep discussion with an oddly familiar looking man. She felt a pang in her heart, wishing she could have spent the night here, with him. Why was she being forced to choose between the man she loved and the path she had chosen?
She pushed the thought away and put on a smile. Beside her, Amoura was gazing at the proverbial stranger with an expression of unguarded tenderness, signalling to Sadira that they should pause a moment and listen. The two men did not notice them, being deep in conversation with a Grey-Robe, who eyed Sadira and Amoura but said nothing.
Bloodlust: A Gladiator's Tale Page 43
