Jubal expected an angry retort to this, or at least an argument as to her value as an ally. Instead, the girl lapsed into silence, her thoughts obviously turning inward before she answered.
“If you are uninterested in me as an ally,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “then perhaps I can impose on you as an advisor. You’ve been monitoring my actions, and know what I have and what I can do. But where I see strength, you will only acknowledge potential. Could I ask you to share your thoughts with me that I might leam from your experience?”
The crimelord studied her as he drank from his bottle. Perhaps Chenaya was wiser than he had given her credit for.
“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said in this meeting. Very well, if for no other reason than to encourage your newfound humility, I’ll answer your questions.”
The girl took another sip from her own bottle as she organized her thoughts, unconsciously grimacing as if the sour bite of the wine was no longer pleasant to her tongue.
“1 have nearly a dozen gladiators under my command and am currently recruiting more. I’ve always believed that gladiators, such as you yourself used to be, were the finest fighters in the Empire. Am I wrong?”
“Yes.”
Jubal came out of his chair in a fluid motion and began pacing. “Every fighting force or school sincerely believes that its style is the best. They have to in order to muster the necessary confidence for combat. Your father trains gladiators, so you’ve been raised believing that a gladiator can defeat any three fighters without similar training.”