Anyone who disobeys will answer to me.’
Saliman drew a breath to answer, then saw the look in Jubal’s eyes and nodded in
silent acceptance.
Jubal studied his guide covertly as they left the mansion and headed towards the
town. Though he had not shown it openly, he had been impressed with the boy’s
spirit during their brief encounter. Alone and unarmed in the midst of hostile
swords … men twice Mungo’s age had been known to tremble and grovel when
visiting Jubal at his mansion.
In many ways, the boy reminded Jubal of himself as a youth. Fighting and
rebellious, with no parents but his pride and stubbornness to guide him, he had
been bought from the slave pens by a gladiator trainer with an eye for cold,
spirited fighters. If he had instead been purchased by a gentle master … if
someone interceded in the dubious path Fate had chosen for Mungo …
Jubal halted that line of thought with a grimace as he realized where it was
leading. Adopt the boy into his household? Ridiculous! Saliman and the others
would think he had gone soft in his old age. More important, his competitors
would see it as a sign of weakness, an indication that Jubal could be reached by
sentimentality … that he had a heart. He had risen above his own squalid
beginnings; the boy would just have to do the same!
The sun was4iigh and staggering in its heat as Jubal followed the boy’s lead
into town. Sweat trickled in annoying rivulets from beneath his blue hawk-mask,
but he was loath to acknowledge his discomfort by wiping them away. The thought