Championship.'
Rage considered the information. 'They seek to blood new talent,' he said at last. 'They don't want to risk putting poor performers into a major arena. So they will bring them out here to the arse end of the empire, to practise upon ageing fighters no-one cares about.' Rage shook his head. 'Nothing changes. I will put it to the others.'
'They have asked for you, Rage. You are an integral part of the offer,' said Persis. They will not bring their fighters unless you agree to take part.'
Rage's eyes narrowed, the only hint of the anger he felt. When he spoke his voice was still even. 'Of course. They will pitch their best new talent against me, and then they can proclaim him as the man who killed Rage. So much for old loyalties. Does Absicus still own Palantes?'
'Yes.'
'He is the man who told me he would value me always. He said I had helped to make Palantes rich, and he was pleased I had survived to retirement. He wished me well – though he offered me no financial support when the games authority stripped me of all savings. Now, for the sake of a few extra coins, he wants to send a young man to kill me.'
'You are still the best,' said Persis.
'Do not speak like an idiot!' said Rage. 'I am two years from fifty. I was the best, now I am merely good. In another five years I will be an embarrassment. No man can hold back time, Persis. It eats away at you like a cancer.'
The sound of a scuffle broke out some distance away. Persis swung to see the cause of the commotion. A young, blond tribesman was being attacked by three men. The first of the attackers was felled by a savage right hook, the second grabbed the tribesman, but was thrown by a rolling hip lock. The third smashed a straight left to the tribesman's face, sending him staggering back. As the attacker moved in to finish him the tribesman leapt forward, taking two more hard blows, but grabbing his attacker's tunic and hauling him into a sickening head butt. The third man's knees buckled. At that moment Persis saw the second of the attackers rise from the floor behind the tribesman, a shining dagger in his hand. The circus owner was about to cry out a warning when he saw Rage rise to his feet, a wooden platter in his hand. His arm swept forward. The platter sliced through the air and slammed into the temple of the knifeman, who dropped like a stone.
The blond tribesman knelt by the first of the men and retrieved a pouch. Then he rose and walked across to Rage.
'Good throw,' he said. 'Never thought to see a bread plate used as a weapon.'
'Now you have,' said Rage, turning his back on him and returning to his seat. Persis was watching the young man, and saw his face grow pale with anger.
'I am Persis Albitane,' he said, rising, and offering his hand. The tribesman hesitated for a moment, then turned towards him, accepting the handshake. Persis saw that his eyes were different colours, one green, the other tawny gold. 'You fought well.'
'He fought like an idiot,' said Rage. 'Now can we conclude our conversation?'
'I am beginning to dislike you,' said the tribesman, turning his attention to Rage.
'Be still my terrified heart,' said Rage.
'Perhaps you would like to step outside, you old bastard, and I'll show you what terror is,' said the young man. Persis moved round the table to step between them.
'Now, now,' he said. 'Let us not forget that my friend saved your life. A brawl between the two of you would be unseemly.'
'Aye, but judging from what I've seen it would be short,' said Rage.
One of the downed men climbed to his feet and rushed at the tribesman, who turned and delivered a bone- crunching left that sent his attacker skidding back across the sawdust-strewn floor. He did not rise.
'That, at least, showed a little skill,' said Rage. 'Nicely timed, the weight coming from the feet, with good follow-through.'
'So glad you approved,' muttered the tribesman.
'It's not about approval or disapproval, boy. It's about survival. You just faced three men. You took them out well at first, but the man you threw over your hip was not stunned. You momentarily forgot about him. In a fist fight that could be considered careless. But he had a dagger, and that carries it far beyond carelessness, straight into the realm of stupidity. Now that is an end to the lessons for today.'
The tribesman grinned suddenly. 'It was a good lesson – and I thank you for it.' He swung to Persis. 'My name is Bane,' he said. 'I came here looking for you. I have a letter from your uncle, Oranus. He said you would help me to become a gladiator.'
Chapter Five
A light snow was falling as Bane walked up the hill. He paused at the crest to gaze down on the L-shaped white farmhouse below. The young Rigante was nervous and on edge. Persis Albitane had told him to report to Rage just after dawn today, and that the old gladiator would assess whether Bane could join Circus Crises. It had not occurred to Bane that he would have to prove himself. He was a fighter, and had killed men in combat. Surely, he had thought, that was all that was needed. But no. After their meeting Persis had walked with him through the city centre and back to Stadium Crises, explaining that Rage would make the final decision.
'The man does not like me,' said Bane, as they sat in the fat man's small office.
'Rage does not like anyone,' put in Persis brightly. 'Do not let that concern you.'
'I need to learn the skills of a gladiator,' said Bane. 'It is important to me.'
'Rage will test you fairly, young man. I can assure you of that. Go to his farm early tomorrow – soon after dawn. He will assess your strength, your speed, your endurance, and your fighting skills. If he is satisfied that you have the talent, then we will make an agreement.'
Now, in the early chill of a winter morning, Bane trudged down the slope towards the farmhouse. He did not feel confident. As he approached the building he saw the gladiator emerge from a doorway. Rage was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, a loose pair of black woollen leggings, and thin leather moccasins. The bitter weather did not seem to affect him at all. Just looking at him made Bane feel colder.
Rage offered no greeting. His face was expressionless as he approached the younger man. Gesturing Bane to follow him he strolled to the back of the farmhouse and onto a stretch of snow-covered open land, upon which had been erected a number of curious wooden frames. 'Do you understand the nature of discipline?' he asked suddenly.
'Discipline? I believe so. In war some will be officers and some will be fighting men. It is important for the fighting men to carry out the orders of the officers.'
'I meant self-discipline,' said Rage.
'Giving orders to oneself? I'm not sure what you-' At that moment Rage struck him, open-handed, in the face. Bane was knocked sideways. For an instant he was paralysed with shock, then fury swept through his system. He hurled himself at Rage, who side-stepped, tripping him to the ground. Bane rolled, and came up fast, his hand reaching for the knife in his belt. Rage stepped in, grabbed his arm and threw him again. Bane hit hard, but rose once more – to see Rage sitting calmly on a wooden bench.
'Heart and head,' said Rage softly. 'It is a difficult balance to find. Without heart and passion a warrior cannot function at his best, but without the head he will not survive. You know why they first called me Rage?'
Bane took a deep breath, fighting to control himself. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to kill this arrogant whoreson. 'No,' he said, his hand still hovering over the knife hilt.
'Because I never get angry. It was a joke, you see. I hold it all in here,' he said, tapping his broad chest. 'I stay smooth on the outside, allowing my body to accomplish what it is trained to do.'
'Good for you,' said Bane, still trembling with suppressed emotion.
'Calm down, boy. That's why I asked about self-discipline,' said Rage. 'Without it you'll fail. I am forty-eight years old, and I just downed you twice. The first time because you were taken unawares, the second time because you reacted with heart but no brain. I know you've got nerve. I saw that in Garshon's hall. I saw also that you have
