‘The Lord Voltan’, said Jasaray, ‘is a loyal and good friend, and I can see from the dust on his cloak that he has ridden hard to be with us today. Which is why I excuse him for coming into my presence armed with a sword. In his haste to pay his respects he probably forgot he was wearing it. What, then, pray, is your excuse for allowing him to enter?’
‘I am sorry, Majesty,’ said the man. ‘It will not happen again.’
‘Indeed not. You are dismissed from my service. Report to your commander and await my pleasure.’
‘Yes, Majesty,’ said the man, bowing deeply. He backed away.
‘Before you go,’ said Jasaray, ‘be so good as to remove the weapon of which we were speaking.’
With a speed that made Horath blink Voltan’s sword flashed into his hand, and for a moment the air was charged with danger. Then Voltan reversed the blade, handing it to the disgraced captain, who swiftly left the room. Horath stepped in, handing the goblet to Voltan, who received it without a word of thanks. Nalademus introduced him to the guests, and Horath saw his gaze lock to that of the mighty Fiallach. ‘Ah yes,’ said Voltan, ‘you fought at Cogden Field. I have heard of you. Are you not the general who beheaded captured Stone officers and raised their heads on poles at the Cenii border?’
‘The very same,’ said Fiallach.
‘A sound strategy,’ said Jasaray. ‘Terror is a potent weapon in war. The placing of the heads on the border sent a clear and concise message to the enemy, while at the same time instilling fear in them. Now let us take a little refreshment before the main events.’
Bane grunted as Telors probed the injured rib. Blood was still oozing from the four-inch-long gash on Bane’s left side.
‘The rib’s broken,’ said Telors. ‘You were lucky, Bane.’
‘Oh yes, I feel really lucky,’ said Bane, wincing as Telors wiped away the blood.
‘Damn careless,’ snapped Rage. ‘I spent many hours watching Dex, and I told you how fast he is on the counter-attack. Did you read the notes I left with you last night?’
‘Yes, I read them,’ lied Bane. ‘And I didn’t fail. Dex is dead, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he’s dead,’ agreed Rage, ‘but a better man would have cleaved your ribs or disembowelled you. A man like Brakus, perhaps.’
Suddenly Bane grinned. ‘You are never satisfied, are you? After my last duel you were telling me how if I fought like that when I met Dex he would cut my head off. And before that there was the deadly Kespus. Now both are dead.’
‘Perfection is what we strive for, boy,’ said Rage.
‘No-one achieves perfection,’ said Telors. ‘You know that, Vanni.’
Rage sighed. ‘If it could be achieved, it wouldn’t be worth striving for. The object is to get as close as you can.’ He looked at Bane. ‘You fought well for most of the bout. Good footwork, fine concentration. But right at the start he lured you in with a feint. Only your speed saved you, and even with that he snapped a rib. An extra ounce of pressure and that rib might have pierced a lung.’
Telors opened a small leather medicine bag, removing a crescent needle and some dark thread. For some moments he tried to thread the needle. Finally Bane took it from him, threaded it, then handed it back. ‘My eyes aren’t what they were,’ grumbled Telors.
‘That’s because you’re getting old,’ Rage told him.
‘I’m ten years younger than you,’ Telors responded.
Rage smiled at him. ‘That’s true.’ The big man sat down alongside Bane. ‘Don’t mind me, boy. You frightened me out there. For just a moment I thought he had you.’
‘I thought so too,’ admitted Bane. ‘And you are right. I was careless. But the shock of seeing Bendegit Bran and Fiallach with the emperor rocked my concentration.’ He swore as Telors tightened the first stitch.
‘Be brave, little soldier,’ said Telors, with a grin.
Rage patted Bane’s shoulder. ‘Well, you are Gladiator Four now, and you are almost at your best. You’ve done well, Bane.’
‘Well enough?’
‘To take Voltan? I don’t think so. Ask me in three months. If you beat Brakus, we’ll talk again.’