A single trumpet sounded, and the flames were lit beneath Nalademus. His terrible cries were pitiful, and the crowd hooted and yelled abuse at him. The Veiled Lady turned towards the tortured man and raised her hand. The Stone elder’s head came up and he stared through the rising smoke at the frail woman in blue. His screams ceased, and he rested his head back against the stake. Rising plumes of smoke covered him.
‘What did you do?’ whispered Bane.
‘I took away his pain,’ said the woman.
Without his cries of agony there was no entertainment for the crowd, and they began to shout for the Veiled Lady’s death. Bane took her arm and led her across the sand towards the gate to the Sword Room. Her clothes were slick with lantern oil, the smell sweet and pungent. She walked silently beside him, saying nothing. Once the mob realized she was not going to burn they began to yell and scream. A fight broke out in the western stand. Soldiers moved in to quell it. Seats were ripped from the stone, and someone hurled a cushion at the Royal Enclosure. More and more soldiers poured into the stands. Bane reached the Sword Room and ushered the Veiled Lady inside.
Rage was sitting there, a surgeon stitching his wounds. His face was grey, and he was holding a blood-covered towel to the wound in his chest. The Veiled Lady moved to his side. Taking the towel from him she dropped it to the floor, then laid her slim hand upon the bleeding gash in his chest. The wound closed instantly. The surgeon stood by astonished, for where there had been an open cut, bleeding profusely, there was now a long white scar, perfectly healed. She did the same for the cut on his temple and the wound in his shoulder. As Bane watched he saw the colour return to Rage’s cheeks.
‘I thank you,’ said Rage, taking her hand and kissing it.
‘And I thank you, Vanni,’ she said, ‘for without your sacrifice I would have burned.’ She turned slowly towards Bane and lifted her veil.
He gasped and almost fell back. ‘Sweet heaven!’ he whispered. His limbs began to tremble and shake, and he sank onto a bench seat.
The Veiled Lady was Lia.
The door burst open and Telors ran in, followed by the gladiator Brakus. ‘There is a riot outside,’ said Telors. ‘Mobs are gathered at every exit. They are shouting for her death. And the soldiers have been withdrawn.’
Rage heaved himself to his feet and reached for his sword. ‘There will be no need of weapons,’ said Lia. ‘Trust me!’ Rage stood still for a moment, then turned his attention to Bane, who was sitting slumped on the bench.
‘Are you all right, boy?’
Bane ignored him, and stared straight at the young woman in the glistening robes. ‘I saw you die,’ he said. ‘I saw his sword cleave your heart.’
Lia sat beside him, taking his hand. ‘I remember being stabbed by Voltan, and then my eyes opening in a wagon. The surgeon, Ralis, was beside me. The next face I recall was of an old woman, hooded and veiled. It was a dream. We were walking in a forest, a place of exquisite beauty. There was someone else there, a shining figure, whose face I could not see. The shining figure reached out and touched the wound above my heart. The wound healed, and I felt something flowing into my veins. It was as if all my life I had been a dry well, and now the water of life was filling me. When next I woke I was in the house of Ralis, and he told me that the old woman had come to the Death House and saved me.’
‘Why did you not come to me?’ he asked, gripping her hand tightly.
‘Ralis told me you had been killed. Two days later I boarded a ship for Goriasa. When next I heard of you it was as a killer in the arena, a man of blood. We took different paths, Bane. When I saw my father killed I wanted an end to violence, and set out to achieve it. When you saw me struck down you wanted blood and vengeance and death.’