Jean Lorrah - Flight to Savage Empire

Zanos stopped, set himself with legs spread, and beckoned to Massos. “Come on, plow-ox. Even you can do better than that.”

The six slave-gladiators in the spectators’ seats sucked in a collective breath, but said nothing. For Zanos to challenge Massos to a practice match was one thing-to ridicule him in front of others was to invite injury or death.

Slowly, warily, Massos approached Zanos, circling as he came within arm’s length. Zanos followed his opponent only with his eyes, leaving his right side apparently open. Massos made a sudden leap-and was backflipped through the air, landing with a sickening thud.

The big man lay gasping like a fish out of water, and Zanos wondered if he could ever turn all that raw strength into fighting skill. Massos was turning out to be a bad bargain, although his huge size and exotic appearance struck fear into the inexperienced fighters Zanos pitted him against. Sheer strength had won him many matches, but it was getting harder and harder to find appropriate opponents.

The underground chamber remained silent as Zanos knelt to see that there was nothing wrong with Massos except for having the breath knocked out of him. Then Zanos stood up and unsmilingly helped the man back to his feet.

It should not have been that easy to defeat him- nor was Massos, of all Zanos’ men, capable of deceit in the ring. Indeed, it was one of the problems with his training that he could not learn to feint! But for all Massos’ crudeness, even Zanos should not have been able, not only to take him down, but to put him out in only two moves.

He looked up at the other gladiators. “Practice is now over, ” he announced, watching them glance at one another uneasily. None of them had yet performed.

“Also over is the practice of disobeying my orders, ” Zanos continued. “When I announce a curfew, there will be no more violations. When I give an order, there will be no backtalk, or the next practice will be with weapons-real, not wooden. Against me.”

He wished he could Read which of his men were as out of condition as Massos. They had won their last games in the arena-although Salamis had barely defeated his opponent in a match that he should have had easily, while Aeson was out of the wrestling season because of a dislocated shoulder and torn tendons. He had won his match, but possibly at the cost of his career if that injury did not heal properly.

They had all been slipping, Zanos was sure, because he had counted on their dedication to the games to keep them on the regimen he had laid out. Time to tighten the reins.

“I’ve given all of you privileges that most slaves only dream of, and you’ve repaid me with sloppy performances-and Clavius by losing his life. Now you will have to earn those privileges before you have them again-and each of you will have to earn back my trust. Now-five laps around the arena, today and every day to keep your stamina. Then as soon as you’ve cooled off, back to your quarters!”

“Yes, Zanos,” came back to him in ragged chorus as his men hastened to obey. Massos’ eyes met his for a moment, but his defiant look quickly subsided. Then the black giant hoisted himself out of the pit and followed the others.

Zanos stayed where he was until they had all gone but his manservant Ard, who stood watching him towel off.

Like Zanos, Ard was a Maduran, but about ten years younger, just past adolescence. While Zanos’ red hair flamed, Ard’s was sandy, and his slight build made it unlikely that he could develop into an athlete.

So when Zanos had redeemed his fellow countryman from the auction block, he had had him taught to read and write, and put him to work as chief servant when he bought his villa.

“What are you doing here?” Zanos asked as he picked up his cloak and slung it over his shoulders.

Ard glanced at the wrestling pit, then at his master. “I know it’s not my place to question your judgment-”

“Then don’t,” Zanos said tersely. “I know-humiliating Massos in front of the others could turn him against me-but he’s not the type to hold a grudge. I showed him he’s out of condition. He knows it’s from following the other men on their escapades-and if he toes the line, the others will too. He’s the strongest, if not the smartest-and he’s got a kind of animal wisdom most of us have lost. “

His men needed a leader from among themselves- and better the least likely of them to indulge in clever schemes. Clavius had been their leader. Zanos had never questioned his activities because they had become friends. / can’t afford to let that happen again .

“If we’re ever going to get out of the empire,” Zanos said to Ard, “we can’t afford to lose many more matches. Now, tell me-what are you doing here?”

“You asked to be kept informed of the whereabouts of that female Reader…”

To honor the passing of Master Quantus, all Academy classes had been suspended for the day. Before most of the Readers had left their private meditations, Astra slipped out of the Academy to finish her interrupted journey to Morellas. Bundled up in a gray wool cloak, she walked the streets of The Maze incognito, drawing nothing more than occasional glances.

It was a cold day, threatening rain. The wind through the narrow streets penetrated her cloak, so that by the time she reached her destination she welcomed the wine, roaring fire, and congenial atmosphere of Morella’s sitting room.

Morella was in a talkative mood, and Astra maneuvered the conversation around to the subject of gladiators. She told Morella about meeting Zanos at the arena, ending with, “I understand his fighter Clavius was one of your regular customers.”

The bordello owner didn’t take her cue. Instead, she leaned on the small table between them and studied Astra. Finally she asked, “Just what is it you want to know?”

Astra dropped her eyes in embarrassment. “Was I really that obvious?”

Morella chuckled. “I may not be a Reader, Astra, but in my business we develop an instinct for what someone wants, since he may not know how to ask for it.”

Astra nodded. “Discretion is also an important part of your business.”

“And yours,” the older woman replied. “But there’s discretion and discretion. I have no idea what you’re searching for, or why-but I trust you. Your judgment gave me back my health. Ask your questions.”

“Very well, then.” Astra leaned forward eagerly. “Was Clavius a regular customer here?”

“Twice a week, usually. Especially each night before he was scheduled to fight in the bloodgames. He didn’t believe the myth about such activities sapping his strength. In fact, he claimed it made him fight that much better.”

Astra was puzzled. “Twice a week? How could a slave afford that much… entertainment?”

Morella said, “He was a champion, Astra. The stable owners are very generous to their gladiators who bring in prizes and winnings. Such rewards give the gladiators more incentive-Zanos knows that. True, he didn’t pay for all of Clavius’ visits, but Clea favored him… and I, too, must allow some leeway to those who serve me well.”

“Does… Zanos often come here?”

“Of course he comes in for a drink sometimes, and to tease and talk with my girls. He’s a great favorite, but-” She stared at Astra with a puzzled frown. “You didn’t know? I’m sorry-you don’t live in The Maze, or follow the games, so how would you? It’s common knowledge Zanos can’t enjoy a woman’s favors. In his early arena days, he suffered a sword wound to his vitals. He won the match, but he lost-”

Morella shrugged with a sad smile. “And we, too. Such a beautiful man.”

Suddenly Astra recalled that Vortius had taunted Zanos about being impotent in their argument at the arena. Why had she forgotten that?