cracked the bones in his neck. He stretched his huge green arms and flexed the muscles in his shoulders. Voorla was ready to fight.
Two cells away, Maelin sat on her bunk and watched dispassionately. Darrow had already told her of the match, so she knew it was Voorla who would be released into the ring. In the months of her imprisonment, she had become resolved to the fact that she would receive no chance to win her freedom.
When Stannis raised the gate, Voorla surged forward. He snatched a cutlass from the row of weapons and hurled it across the pit.
Radu opened his eyes at the sound and turned just far enough to avoid the sword. He drew his own blade and cast away the scabbard as the cutlass struck the wall hard and snapped in half. Before the broken halves could hit the ground, Voorla hurled a spear after it.
Again, Radu moved just far enough to let the spear pass harmlessly by. He strolled around the pit, seemingly unconcerned at the continuing stream of missiles.
The third was a short sword, tumbling end over end like a showman's knife. Radu deflected it with his long sword, using both hands to brace his sword against Voorla's powerful throw.
'I had expected a more courageous display,' said Rusk. 'A true hunter does not kill from afar.'
'He calls himself a warrior,' said Stannis, 'not a hunter.'
'Is that what your brother calls himself?' said Rusk. 'A warrior?'
'Not at all,' said Stannis. 'He does not speak of his talents at all, but I suspect he would be succinct if put to the question. Radu is a killer.'
In the pit below, Radu began to demonstrate the veracity of his brother's definition. He closed with the troll. With a quick lunge, he pierced the monster through the calf. Dark blood appeared on Radu's blade, but the wound closed as quickly as it was made.
Voorla hefted a glaive and swung it one-handed. Radu tumbled past the troll's tree-trunk legs, springing up back-to-back with the monster. Without turning, he reversed his grip on the long sword and shoved it back into the troll's thigh.
Voorla wailed. Blood poured from the wound, then trickled and oozed until it stopped.
'He won't get anywhere that way,' observed Rusk.
'Indeed,' said Stannis, 'but watch.'
Voorla chased his opponent around the ring. Radu did not flee so much as lead the raging troll, narrowly avoiding each savage chop of the glaive. At last, the troll's blade sliced a hank of silk from Radu's jacket.
'Oh, my,' said Stannis, reaching out for another glass of wine. Darrow was so transfixed by the battle that he missed his cue. He fumbled with the crystal decanter and placed the goblet in his master's flabby hand. 'Are you worried at last?' asked Rusk.
'Dear me, no,' said Stannis. 'I think our entertainment is almost finished. That was his favorite jacket, a gift from Pietro, our youngest brother. How Radu dotes on the boy.'
Rusk grunted dubiously, but the master's words proved prophetic. Radu reversed his retreat and whirled effortlessly inside Voorla's guard. With a wide, two-handed cut, he swept the troll's left hand from its arm.
Voorla howled and scrambled after the severed limb. If he could touch it, hand and limb would rejoin in a matter of seconds.
Radu reached the hand first, spearing it on the tip of his long sword and flicking it into the fanged pit.
Voorla screamed, chopping wildly with the glaive. Radu skipped aside but gave no ground. He was done taunting his foe.
When the glaive struck the sand where he had stood, Radu leaped over it and drew a bloody line across Voorla's brow. The brief flow poured into the troll's eyes.
As Voorla blinked, Radu struck another two-handed blow into the troll's forearm, but not far enough to sever the troll's heavy thews. Voorla jerked back before Radu could withdraw his blade, pulling the swordsman close and pushing him to the ground.
Voorla shouted triumphantly as he pinned Radu with one heavy foot, then raised his arm for the killing blow. Radu's face remained impassive as he held onto his sword, twisting it to the side to cut through the remaining sinews of the troll's arm. Before the muscles could repair themselves, the glaive fell from Voorla's twitching fingers.
Voorla kicked Radu away then tried to grasp his maimed arm with his missing hand. Unable to grip his wound, the troll fell to its knees and cradled his ruined limbs, desperately whispering to them. Darrow imagined he was praying for them to rebind themselves faster. For the first time since meeting the troll, Darrow felt something other than fear of it: Voorla looked piteous.
Radu stood and stabbed his sword into the sand. He paused to slap the sand from his breeches before walking toward the fumbling troll.
On his knees, the troll was the same height as his opponent.
'Voorla gnagt veek nogu, Malveen.'
'Voorla acknowledges your superior skill, my brother,' translated Stannis.
'Eent moku ngla foma,' said the troll.
'He humbly requests your mercy.'
Radu nodded, walking behind the troll. Voorla sank to his haunches. He stared at the pit, perhaps longing for his hand. As the bone blade entered the back of his skull, white light burst from Voorla's eyes and mouth. His green flesh turned ashy gray then dull white as his life and body alike were consumed by an insatiable, unholy power. Within seconds, his body withered to the barest, crumbling skeleton, which then collapsed into powder that mingled with the stained sand of the pit.
In Radu's hand, the bone blade had turned black as sin.
Darrow wrenched his gaze from the awful scene to look at the others. There was no way to discern Stannis's reaction under his golden veil, though his glowing eyes were fixed on Rusk. The Huntmaster tried maintaining an aloof indifference, but he could not disguise his revulsion at the effects of the bone blade.
Stannis began the applause, which Darrow obediently joined. In the pit, Radu watched as the bone blade slowly returned to its original white as its smooth surface absorbed the dark stain. With a gesture, Stannis opened the baiting pit gate for his brother, who joined them in the gallery.
'Well done, my brother,' said Stannis. 'Not only do you thrill us with your skill, but you set my heart at ease upon your journey far from home.' He turned to Rusk. 'Not that he should have need of self defense while in your company, Huntmaster'
'No,' agreed Rusk, his eyes fixed upon the white dagger.
'Good,' said Stannis. 'Then I will not worry about his traveling alone.'
'I am not traveling alone,' said Radu. He indicated Darrow with a slight nod of his head. 'He will come with me.'
'What? But how shall I get along without him?' protested Stannis. 'I have become quite dependent on his company. Despite a few… human flaws… I need him for those tasks- that prove too subtle for my minions.'
'All the more reason he should come with me.'
'You gave him to me,' said Stannis petulantly. 'You called him unreliable.'
'All the more reason he should not remain here, where he might draw suspicion to the house.'
Stannis paused, then tried another tack. 'What possible use do you have for him in the woods?'
'He will set camp, prepare my meals…'
Stannis sighed. 'You are determined, I see. I suppose there is nothing more to be said.'
'No,' said Radu.
No one said another word as they left the arena.
Spring rains had left the ground soft, and Darrow wished again that they had stayed to the roads. Their horses left a trail of black divots, and the effort was sure to tire the beasts soon. Before it did, they came to the edge of the Arch Wood. There a carpet of fir needles and the deep clutch of roots made the ground firm. Rusk led Radu and Darrow slowly into the forest.
'How far?' asked Radu.
