you a house, and pay for up to four servants and a personal trainer.'
'You make it sound very tempting,' said Bane. 'Now tell me why I should refuse them.'
'No reason I can think of, boy. You dream of revenge. This will help you to prepare for that day. Either that or you'll die on the sand.'
'Circus Palantes wanted you dead,' Bane reminded him.
'Aye, they did. But there was no malice in it. No passion whatsoever. Merely a cold desire to make money. Such people do not warrant hate, merely contempt. Were I young again I would not fight for them. We are not, however, talking about me, but about you. You have no reason to despise Palantes. They do what they do. That is their nature.' Rage moved towards the doorway. 'Now I need to bathe and get ready to take Cara into the city. You think about what I have said. Discuss it with Persis. I don't doubt he'll be here within the hour.'
Two hours later, as Bane returned from a run over the hills, he saw two horses tethered outside the farmhouse. He slowed to a jog and stood for a while, stretching, allowing the cold winter wind to chill the sweat on his skin. Salt from the sweat was stinging the stitched wound in his shoulder, but his headache had cleared. The events of the night before kept returning to haunt him. Why had the Morrigu appeared to him? What was her purpose? But above it all he felt a great sadness for Rage. In the weeks he had known the ageing gladiator Bane had come to regard him highly, had seen him – despite the occasional flashes of bitterness – as a contented man. Now he knew Rage carried an enormous sorrow.
He shivered as the cold cut into his cooling skin and stepped into the kitchen. Girta was there, preparing food for the evening meal.
She gave him a smile and nodded towards the main room. 'You have two visitors,' she said. 'How popular you have become.' Bane went upstairs, removed his clothes and towelled himself down. Pulling on a fresh pair of leggings and a clean shirt, he tugged on his boots and returned to the ground floor.
Persis Albitane rose as he entered, his fat face beaming. Striding forward he shook hands with Bane. 'You are looking well, my friend,' said Persis. 'Allow me to introduce you to Horath, who is here representing Circus Occian. He was at the stadium yesterday.'
The man was in his early twenties, slim and dark-haired, his brown eyes deep-set. His clothes were expensive: a shirt of heavy grey silk that shone like silver, and black leggings of good wool, edged with glistening leather. At his hip he wore a jewel-encrusted dagger with a golden pommel. Bane accepted the man's handshake, which was firm and brief, then moved to a chair by the fire. 'Horath came to see me this morning,' said Persis. 'He was enquiring as to your contract with Circus Crises.'
'I am much in demand, it seems,' said Bane.
'Indeed you are, Bane,' said Horath, returning to his seat. 'The crowds in Stone would flock to see a Rigante warrior.'
'What are you offering?'
Horath smiled, and there was genuine humour in it. 'Whatever Jain offered, plus one gold piece,' he said.
'And I suppose Circus Occian will value me highly and treat me like an honoured son?'
This time Horath laughed aloud. 'There will be those who will tell you exactly that,' he said. 'The reality, as I am sure you are aware, is that you will be a valuable commodity and treated as such. When you win you will be lauded and admired, and Circus Occian will become richer. When you lose your body will be cast into a pauper's pit and you will be forgotten within days. I will then be despatched to find another fighter to replace you.'
'You make it sound very tempting,' said Bane. 'I especially liked the reference to the pauper's pit.'
'I despise deceit,' Horath told him. 'I have little appetite for pretty falsehoods and insincere flattery. I do it, of course. In the higher circles of Stone it is required practice. But not when I can avoid it. I think you would be a valuable addition to our Circus, and you will certainly help to fill the stadium.'
'They will come to see the savage barbarian?' asked Bane.
'Indeed so.'
'What is your view?' Bane asked Persis.
The fat man spread his hands. 'There are only three major circuses, Palantes, Occian and Poros. Two of them want you. Both are highly respected, and both offer you a chance to become a good – and rich – gladiator. You must decide, Bane.'
'What of Circus Orises? Do you want me to stay?'
Persis smiled. 'I will have no more death bouts. It was good to see the stadium full, but I hated watching men die for the joy of others. No, I have other plans. You would be most welcome to stay, but I have to say that, with the money I shall receive for your contract, I can expand the circus into other areas. In short, I am the wrong person to ask for advice, for I will profit greatly by your departure.'
He chuckled and turned to Horath. 'Damn, but this honesty business is infectious.'
Bane leaned back in his chair. In order to kill Voltan he needed to learn to fight as well as the Stone Knight. There was no better way of doing that than to join a major circus. Finally he looked at Horath. 'If you hire Rage and Telors as my personal trainers I will accept your offer. If they refuse then I refuse.'
'Your services do not come cheaply,' said Horath, 'but then nothing good ever does. Very well, I shall speak to Rage. I have to say that Circus Occian would be delighted to have him.' He rose from his chair, and swung his cloak round his shoulders. He and Bane shook hands, and the three men walked out into the weak sunlight. Bane swung to Persis.
'So, what will you do with all this money you are making?' he asked.
'I intend to buy an elephant,' said Persis happily.
Rage was uncomfortable, and shifted uneasily in his chair. Telors was sitting on a couch, his long legs stretched out before him. 'What do you think?' said Bane. 'Would you be interested?'
'I'm interested,' said Telors, glancing towards the old gladiator. 'What about you, Vanni?'
'I don't know. I'd like to see Stone again, and it would be good to enrol Cara in a good school, prepare her for life in the city.'
'But?' said Telors.
Rage gave a tight smile. 'I want to do it for the right reasons, yet deep inside I see it as a way of making Palantes pay.'
'Nothing wrong with revenge,' said Telors.
'It darkens the spirit,' said Rage, looking directly into Bane's eyes. 'What will you do if I refuse this offer?'
'I will stay here, and hope that you will continue to train me. I believe you to be the best, and I will learn more from you than any other man.'
'That is not so, Bane. Training can only carry you so far. The reality of combat will teach you much more. Let us understand something from the outset: you are a gifted fighter, with good heart and natural speed. It could be that you have the potential to be great. I don't yet know whether that is true. What I do know is that you are a long way from being able to… fulfil your quest. If I do agree to train you I want your promise that you will not seek that which you desire until I say that you are ready.'
'I'm not sure I can promise that,' said Bane.
'If you cannot, then we must part company.'
'Would it be easier to talk if I wasn't here?' asked Telors. 'You both seem to be skirting around something.'
Rage looked at Bane and said nothing. Bane turned to Telors. 'A man from Stone killed a woman I had come to love. I was there. I watched his sword cleave through her ribs. It is my intention to hunt this man down and kill him.'
'Understandable,' said Telors. 'So what is the problem?'
‘The man was Voltan,' said Rage.
'Oh. I see.' Telors scratched his black beard and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.
'I know he's good,' said Bane.
Telors laughed. 'He would have to lose half his talent to be merely good. Have you considered walking up behind him and plunging a knife into his back?'
'No. I want to face him.'
'I have seen hundreds of fighters,' said Telors. 'Good, bad, mediocre. Some were even great. But I have only ever seen two men whose talents were god-like. One is Vanni, the other Voltan. Men like them are rare, young
