'I am Cara,' she told him, sitting opposite him at the table. 'You look exhausted.'
'Indeed I am.' Bane found her directness both engaging and off-putting.
Rage served the thick porridge into three wooden dishes, which he placed on the table. 'There is honey, sugar or salt, whichever is your preference,' he told Bane.
Bane shook his head, and drew a plate towards him.
'It will be very hot,' said Cara. 'Best to leave it for a while. Or add some milk. Otherwise you'll burn your tongue.'
Bane chuckled and shook his head.
'Why do you laugh?' she asked him. 'Did I say something amusing?'
'I was just thinking how like your grandfather you are, princess,' he said.
'I am not a princess,' she said sternly. That is just what Grandfather calls me. But you may call me princess, if it pleases you.'
‘Then I shall,' said Bane. 'Is your mother still sleeping?'
'My mother is dead,' said Cara, pouring cold milk onto her oats.
'I am sorry.'
'Why?' asked Cara. 'Did you know her?'
'No. I meant I am sorry for you. My mother died earlier this year. I miss her.'
'I don't miss my mother,' said Cara. 'She died when I was a baby. I don't remember her.'
'Did your father die too?'
'No. He went away. He might be dead now. We don't know, do we, Grandfather?'
'We have not heard from him,' said Rage.
'So, is it just the two of you that live here?' asked Bane.
'We have four herdsmen who have rooms at the far end,' said Rage, 'and two servants who live down the hill.'
After breakfast Rage sent Cara back to her room to wash and dress. Then, after cleaning the porridge pan and dishes, he took Bane outside once more.
'I will train you,' he said. 'You will stay here. I will have a room prepared. Every morning this week we will run and work. Next week we will begin on your sword skills. Now you will excuse me. I need to see to my dairy herd.'
With that he wandered back into the house. Bane gathered up his cloak, swung it round his shoulders and set off back to Goriasa.
Having paid for his room at the tavern Bane saddled the grey and rode back to the farmhouse just before noon. A fat, middle-aged Gath woman took him to a spartanly furnished room facing west. There was a narrow bed, a chest for his clothing, and two wooden chairs. The walls were white and unadorned, save for an empty shelf to the right of the door. The room was spacious, some twenty feet long and fifteen wide, and there was a large window, with red-painted wooden shutters that opened outwards. A fire was blazing in the hearth.
'If there's anything you need you have only to ask,' said the woman. 'My name is Girta, and I cook and clean here three times a week.'
'Thank you, Girta,' said Bane.
'You are Rigante, aren't you?' said Girta.
'Yes, I am.'
'I have a cousin who dwells among the Rigante now. He left years ago with Osta and other fighting men to serve Connavar. I have often thought of crossing the water to join him. Don't suppose I will now, though. I have no wish to see more wars and death.'
Bane did not respond and Girta moved to the doorway. 'The others will be here within the hour. I'll serve the meal then,' she said.
'Others?'
'The other gladiators,' she told him. Then she pulled shut the door behind her and Bane heard her walking away down the corridor. Taking off his cloak he draped it over the back of a chair then pushed open the window. From here he could see a line of wooded hills, and the distant stone road that led to Goriasa. The sky was clear above the hills, but in the distance dark storm clouds were bunching over the sea.
Tired from his efforts that morning he pulled off his boots and lay down on the bed. He thought of Banouin, and wondered again why his friend had deserted him. Oranus had told him Banouin had boarded a ship the morning after the killings. It made no sense to the young Rigante. They had been friends. Did I misjudge him so badly? he wondered.
Then he slept lightly, and dreamed of Caer Druagh, and of Lia. He was holding her hand on the mountain slope, and pointing down at the settlement of Three Streams. Then she began to float away from him. He ran after her, but she was swept along like a leaf in the wind, ever higher, until she vanished among the clouds.
A sharp rapping on the door roused him from sleep. 'Come in,' he called.
Cara pushed open the door. She was dressed now in a knee-length tunic of bright blue. 'The day is not for sleeping,' she chided him.
He grinned at her. 'Ah, but I am old and tired,' he said.
'You are not old. Grandfather is old, and he doesn't sleep in the daytime. Anyway, Polon and Telors are here. Would you like to meet them?'
Bane pulled on his boots. 'They are gladiators?'
'Yes. Grandfather has called a meeting.'
Bane followed the girl downstairs, through the kitchen, and into a long room containing a dozen chairs and six couches. Two men were lounging there, one tall and wide-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed black beard, flecked with silver, the second smaller, sandy-haired with close-set grey eyes. Cara ran to the black-bearded man, who grinned widely and lifted her into a hug, kissing her cheek. Bane paused in the doorway. ‘Telors,' said Cara, 'this is Bane. Grandfather is teaching him to be a fighter.'
Black-bearded Telors lowered the child to the floor and stepped forward, hand outstretched. Bane shook hands. 'Good to meet you,' said Telors.
'You'll make no money with Crises,' said the sandy-haired man, not offering his hand.
Telors shook his head. 'Polon is not in a good mood today,' he said. 'He spent last night gambling and now is without a copper coin to his name.'
Polon swore at him.
'That is not nice,' said Cara. 'Those were bad words.'
'Aye, but he's a bad man – and a worse gambler,' said Telors, with a grin. 'Now why don't you run along and fetch us some hot drinks, princess?'
Once the girl had left Telors's expression hardened. 'You shouldn't use language like that in front of her,' he said sternly.
'Like I should give a shit?' answered Polon, moving to the window.
Telors turned to Bane. 'Are you Gath?'
'No. Rigante.'
'That will draw the crowds. Especially in Stone. Demon fighters, the Rigante. Or so we're told.' He gave an easy smile as he said it, and Bane found himself liking the man.
'Here they come,' said Polon. Bane glanced out of the window and saw five riders approach the farmhouse. A servant took charge of their horses and the men came inside. All were in their middle to late thirties, lean, grim- faced men. No-one introduced Bane, and he wandered to a seat against the wall, where he sat and observed the group. The clothes they were wearing were of good quality, but not new, and their boots were worn. Three more riders arrived within minutes. Then four more. Girta and Cara brought cups of hot tisane, leaving them on the table at the centre of the room. Telors took one, but the others ignored the drinks. Finally, with fourteen men gathered, Rage entered the room. He was dressed now in simple farm clothes, a sleeveless leather jerkin over a thick woollen shirt and leather leggings. Even so, he created a magnetic centre to the room. Bane watched him. The man radiated power and purpose, and all conversation ceased as he moved to the hearth and stood with his back to the fire.
'You have all heard of the offer from Palantes,' he said. 'Persis Albitane needs to send them an answer. So… let
