Page 12 of Ironhold, Trial Two

“We nobles?” Lady Elara says, with a slight smirk. “You have been hanging around with lots of us then? Is there another patron I need to worry about?”

I shake my head. “There are enough nobles in Ironhold. Half of them talk like you.”

“Ah, the whelps of the wealthy. Do you know one of the great lies of the Colosseum?”

I suspect she's about to tell me, so I shake my head.

“That they somehow have more choice in being there than you do.”

“They are free gladiators,” I point out. “They did not have to choose to be in the arena.”

Lady Elara laughs lightly. “You actually believe that, don’t you? Do you really think that someone like Vex could have avoided his family tradition? Or that Lady Ravenna would be there if she didn’t think it was her only chance of netting a wealthy husband when she is done?”

I’m about to point out that Ravenna has other reasons for being there, but I suspect she wouldn’t want me to share those.

“What about Alaric?” I ask. “If anyone is in it just for the glory, he is.”

“And we have sold our young nobles a dream of glory. A fantasy where the way to fame, power, money, or simply honor is to go into the Colosseum and fight to the death.” Lady Elara looks saddened by that. “Aetheria is not what you think, Lyra.”

“And what is it?” I counter.

“Perhaps you should see for yourself.” She leans out of the window for a moment. “That's far enough, thank you. Go ahead to the house. We will be fine from here.”

I feel the palanquin being lowered to the ground. Lady Elara gets out, pulling a dark cloak around herself. I step out to join her.

“I thought you said that a noble woman walking the streets alone was likely to be robbed and killed?” I say.

“But I am not alone,” she says. She passes me a similar cloak. “I have you to protect me. A gladiator with a whole season behind her.”

I can't tell if she's mocking me, but it seems that she's serious about walking. We are on the fringes of Aetheria, still not inside the walls. I wrap the cloak around me, following Lady Elara as she sets off along the streets.

When I have walked the streets of the city it has been as part of a procession of other gladiators. People have lined the route, calling our names and throwing flowers. Today, people are just going about their ordinary business.

There is filth and squalor all around in these areas beyond the walls. The city has slums on its fringes, without the benefit of the magic that seems to make life so wondrous in the center. Obviously some of the people here have magic. I can see a vendor using small sparks of flame to heat scraps of meat to sell,see a fishmonger whose catch is kept cool in spite of the heat of the day by the efforts of a small boy standing near.

Magic is useful as savory purposes as well. As I pass a squalid gambling house, I can feel a faint pull on my mind, trying to draw me inside. I see a stall of rotten meat where the proprietor is using illusions to make them seem more palatable. I see a coin lift itself out of the pouch of a passing worker, floating over to where a street urchin is waiting to pocket it.

Lady Elara and I keep walking, heading for the walls. Around me the city is rich with pungent smells, from the scents of spices brought in from around the world, to sweat and blood. The houses around me are covered in graffiti, proclaiming allegiance to this or that faction or gang, sometimes simply decorating homes with profanity. I am surprised to find my own name up there on one of the walls, along with a crude drawing of me setting a cat on someone.

“You didn't know you were famous through the city by now?” Lady Elara asks, catching the direction of my gaze.

I shake my head. “I've only fought three times.”

“A season is all it takes sometimes,” she says. “People latch onto their favorites quickly. Of course, should they die, they discard them just as swiftly.”

It’s a reminder that my situation is precarious, that whatever fame I have is potentially ephemeral and fleeting. That’s fine; it isn’t something I asked for.

We keep walking, finding a spot in the walls where the stone has crumbled slightly. Wooden scaffolding is up, while workers seek to repair it, although they don’t seem to be doing much. It takes me a moment or two to spot that they are all wearing scraps of blue cloth somewhere, on their wrists or necks, their ankles or sword belts. And several of them arewearingsword belts.

“A gang?” I say to Lady Elara.

She nods. “The various factions control different facets of the city. The blues hold open smugglers’ entrances, ways to enter and leave the city without attracting the attention of the guards.”

I wonder why she's showing me this. Is she giving me a potential way out of the city if I ever decide to escape? Or does she really just need a way in without being spotted? She passes a coin to one of the gang members there, who looks us over.

“Seems to me the two of you could give us a lot more than that,” he says.

Lady Elara looks over to me, pointedly. I understand what she wants. I push back the hood of my robes, letting them fall open enough that the gang member can see the brand mark of Ironhold.

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