Had Garit had time to do more than organize archers to mount the outer stadium walls and shoot the animals that attacked Tebriel? Maybe mounted rebels would crash the gates. War in the stadium would erupt quickly, Kiri knew, into all-out war across the city. There was no way to prevent it.
More old, crippled horses had been turned in with the bulls. The carcasses dragged away would be divided among the crowds. That, too, she supposed was reason for the excitement. If they ate drugged meat, what was the difference?
Teb started to speak, but guards thronged around his gate. Three pushed inside to unchain him. She backed off at the first movement, but their eyes met and held; then she faded back into the crowd that was now shouting for the blood of the prince.
They stripped him nearly naked as the crowd stamped and shouted. They prodded the bear until it roared and struck at its tormentors. They forced it into the arena, forced Teb in behind it. Would the bear, pain-maddened, drug-maddened, turn on its master? In the ring now were the bear and two bulls, a dozen lizards, a few horses still on their feet cowering at one end, and one young dragonbard stripped and weaponless, a chain dragging from his ankle. Kiri stared up at the stands hoping for a glimpse of Garit, then felt a hand on her arm. She spun, her knife raised—Summer stood close, staring past her toward the arena and Teb.
In the arena, Teb turned as if someone had spoken his name. Behind him the bulls pawed. He stared at Camery, their looks frozen—then he saw her alarm, turned fast as the bulls charged. He stood in front of one. It roared down on him. He stepped aside so it passed him. The two bulls charged one another, locking horns, sparring, forgetting Teb for a moment. The bear had risen over Teb—but only to protect him.
Camery’s voice was choked. “I came too late. Oh, Kiri, it is Teb. The army—could we attack now? Where is Garit?” Her pale hair was hidden by a dirty scarf, her face smeared with soot. “Oh, what is Garit doing? Teb will be killed. We . . . Come on!” She grabbed Kiri’s arm and pushed through the crowd toward the gate that led into the arena, her hand on her sword. Kiri started to follow, terrified, knowing this was not the way yet that they must help him quickly. But suddenly another power touched her, another knowledge. She grabbed Cameras arm and tripped her. Camery turned on her with fury.
“Wait,” Kiri whispered. “Wait.” Her thoughts were stirring with a power that made her tremble. She turned and stared up at the stands. . . .
She began to drag Camery toward the stairs that led up. Camery fought her at first, then began to run, her eyes wide with the strange, unbidden knowledge. Something was drawing them upward toward the top of the stands where the king’s box rose—some power they could not resist.
Yet, behind them, Teb faced death.
He was a tiny figure now below them in the yawning arena. The spotted bull charged. The crowd roared; the iron gates heaved as resistance soldiers fought their way forward. Kiri battled the crowd upward with Camery, falling over feet, stepping on hands, until they reached the satin-draped royal box. They dove into a narrow space behind it.
It was dark behind the low wall of the box, and smelled musty. They could not see the arena, only hear the shouting, muffled by the two walls between which they crouched. Light came through the space above them, between the top of the wall and the satin-draped roof. Directly above them, they could see sky. Kiri didn’t know why they had come, but she knew they had to be here. Power had called them. Power for them to seek and use . . . Power that could help Tebriel.
Kiri could hear Accacia’s voice through the space above the wall, then General Vurbane’s. At the sound of his voice, Camery went pale and pulled her scarf farther over her face and hair and, kneeling, scraped up a handful of dirt to smear her face darker. Accacia’s salmon-pink veil had caught across the top of the wall above them, where it ended some inches above Kiri’s head.
Vurbane said in a flat voice, “Perhaps the bull will kill him. No, I will bet on the bear. Though it seems rather dull. Didn’t they give it drugs?”
“It spit out the drugs,” Accacia said. “It injured five men when they tried to force it.”
Then Sardira’s low voice, muffled by the wall. “It has been prodded and burned all morning. It is an extremely stupid bear.”
“Yes. The creature seems to be defending the prisoner,” Vurbane said. “I could have better entertainment in my own pasture.”
“Wait,” Accacia said, her scarf bobbing. “Patience, General. Wait until the lizards kill the bear; then the bulls will have the prince to themselves.
“Bets on that,” said Vurbane lazily. “Bets . . . fifty to one . . . New bets, my dear.”
“Ninety to one for the bull.” Accacia laughed. Kiri could hear Roderica’s laughter, too.
Camery pressed close to Kiri, her fists clenched. When she glanced at Kiri, her look was still puzzled. “A power to help him,” she whispered. “The bard’s power—try, Kiri.” But already Kiri was trying with everything she knew to bring strength around Tebriel, a strength to increase his own.
“The bear,” Vurbane shouted. “Chain the bear.”
Suddenly they saw the king’s black-sleeved hand lift above the wall as he signaled. The crowd stilled. Quiet spread as if time itself had frozen.
In the stillness, chains rattled.
Suddenly the silence was shattered with the crowd’s wild shouting. “Chain the bear . . . chain the bear. . . .
The bear was roaring, its rising voice thundering. A man screamed.
“Kill it!” someone shouted from the box. “If you can’t chain it, kill it!”
“Chain the prisoner!” a woman yelled. The bulls bellowed. The crowd started to stamp, shouting,
“Blood! Blood!”
Kiri nudged Camery, then climbed up the rough-lumber wall, quickly past the opening and onto the canopy, Camery close behind, both hoping the noise of the crowd hid their commotion.
The satin-covered roof was usually filled with servants and pages who had climbed up secretly, but now it was deserted. Maybe they had been routed earlier. Lying flat on their stomachs, Kiri and Camery could see the arena clearly.
The black bull lay dead. The bear was standing on its hind legs swinging its bloody paws over three giant lizards that lay torn open at its feet. But the bear was bleeding, too, from a gash in its side. Teb crouched near the center pole covered with blood. The spotted bull moved toward him pawing, the steel tips on its horns catching the light. Camery’s fists were white, her lips moving with her effort. Kiri fought harder. She watched the bull circle Teb shaking its metal horns, saw Teb rise. The bear moved to protect him, stood rearing over the bull so the bull backed away. But suddenly the bull staggered uncertainly, nearly fell—more than the bear had made it cower. Every creature in the arena cowered down except the bear. A fierce power touched the gaming field. Kiri gasped as she felt that power joining with her own, with Camery’s, violent and strong.
Every creature in the arena was frozen still. Kiri and Camery were caught in a power much greater than their own, had become a part of that power that had stopped the killing. . . .
Camery touched her hand and pointed behind them. Someone in the box below them gasped. Kiri felt the power and saw the source of it approaching them.
Coming through the king’s private gate were four soldiers carrying a litter chair. In the seat rode a thin, wrinkled old woman dressed in the royal purple and green, her skin like parchment, her wild white hair so thin her scalp showed through. Kiri had not glimpsed the queen in years. The soldiers carried her toward the royal box, but when she raised her hand they paused. She looked up directly at Kiri and Camery, and a force linked them that left Kiri breathless. This woman—she had called them here. She was the source of the power. . . .