'Oh, Bane, you are such a disappointment,' she said. 'I have been longing to tell you. I thought, as a tribesman, you might understand what it is I have been feeling. I thought I could share it with you. I thought…' Her eyes showed sorrow as she turned away from him.
'What did you think?' he asked.
'I thought you might come with me to see her.'
'Oh, Cara! I killed a man today. To entertain the crowds I plunged a sword into his heart. You think this Veiled Lady would want a gladiator close to her?'
'Maybe you wouldn't be a gladiator if you heard her speak.'
'Then I don't want to hear her speak,' he said.
'Go away and leave me alone,' she told him, spinning on her heel and walking away.
Bane sat down on a nearby bench. The stitches in his side were painful, and his rib was aching dreadfully. Yet this was as nothing to the fear he felt inside. Cara had always been wilful and headstrong, and now she had set herself upon a path that would likely lead to her death. Just like Lia.
A cold breeze whispered through the garden, a gentle reminder that winter was not far away. Bane sighed, remembering the last time he had sat with Lia in the house of Barus, and the terrible events that had followed. Now it was happening again. He wanted to believe that this time he would not be powerless to prevent it, but he knew it was not so. If the Knights came for Cara, there was little that he or Rage could do, save fight and die. And this they would do.
Bitterness swept over him. All his life, it seemed, events had conspired to bring him pain: Connavar's continuing rejection, Arian's sad and untimely death, Lia's murder, Banouin's desertion. The only difference now was that Bane had advance warning of the tragedies to come.
He sat quietly for some while, and then heard Rage walking down the path. 'Did you two have a fight?' asked Rage, sitting alongside him.
'Not exactly. We had differing views.'
'She'll get over it,' said the older man. 'It is a beautiful night.'
Bane glanced up at the stars. 'Aye, it is. Tell me, do you miss Goriasa?'
'Sometimes,' admitted Rage. 'But Stone is good for Cara. I expect there will be suitors calling soon. She will be sixteen in three days.'
'He'll need to be a strong man,' said Bane, 'otherwise she'll eat him alive.'
Rage chuckled. 'I raised her to be independent and think for herself. I think maybe I did the job too well. Why did you mention Goriasa?'
'No reason. It just came into my mind.'
'Ah,' said Rage softly. 'I thought maybe you'd heard about Persis.'
'What about him?'
'He and Norwin were arrested two months ago. They have been brought to Stone for execution.'
Bane swore. 'I like him,' he said. 'He's a good man.'
'Did you know he finally made a success of Circus Orises? He organized the Gath Games, running events, horsemanship, wrestling. He filled the stadium. The last I heard he was rich again.' Rage shook his head. 'Whatever possessed the man to join the Cult? He wasn't stupid. He must have known the risks.'
'It is imperative that we move swiftly,' said Voltan, keeping his voice low, even though the windows were closed, heavy velvet curtains drawn across them. 'The war in the east is won. At least ten Panthers will be returning to Stone within the month.'
Nalademus sat at his desk, his huge head resting against the top of the padded chair, his arms folded across his stomach. Eyes closed, he listened intently to Voltan's report. 'How did such a disaster happen?' he asked.
'Stupidity,' hissed Voltan. 'Instead of using our money to hire mercenaries or weapons, Dalios paid a huge dowry to a rival king in order to marry his daughter. Then he spent a further fortune on a huge wedding feast in the capital. All the nobles were invited. Gods, it is sickening! The idiot had all his generals attend. Barus heard about the feast, and led three Panthers on a quick raid. They sacked the capital, captured Dalios, then brought up the main army and crushed all opposition.'
'Captured Dalios?' snapped Nalademus, surging upright.
'Do not concern yourself, my friend,' said Voltan. 'I had him poisoned. No-one knows of our involvement.'
'Someone always knows,' said Nalademus. 'And you are right. We must move swiftly. Once the Panthers are back in Stone, Jasaray will be invincible again.'
'Leave it to me, my friend,' said Voltan. 'Jasaray will be dead within the week.'
'An accidental death,' insisted Nalademus. 'Otherwise there will be another civil war.'
Fiallach followed Jasaray and Bendegit Bran through the elaborate maze, his irritation growing. Bran was chatting amiably with the emperor, and seemed unconcerned that every turn and channel looked exactly like the last. The eight-foot-tall walls of greenery pressed in on Fiallach, and he was sweating heavily. Clasping his hands behind his back he followed the two men, and fought to quell a sense of panic.
At last they emerged at the centre of the maze, where several benches and tables of stone had been placed around a large marble pool. Fiallach sucked in a deep breath. From here he could at least see the walls of the palace building, with its balconies and windows.
Jasaray sat down, beckoning the tribesmen to join him. 'I had this constructed after one of our western campaigns,' he said. 'It is copied from a design I found in a captured city.'
'What is the point of it?' asked Fiallach.
'For me it is a representation of life,' said Jasaray. 'We wander through it, always wondering where we are going, and rarely able to go back and put right past mistakes. I come here most nights, and wander the maze. It helps me to think.'
'It makes me want to walk through it with an axe,' muttered Fiallach.
'It does have that effect on some people,' agreed Jasaray.
Suddenly, from close by, there came a terrifying roar. Fiallach spun round, his hand moving to his empty knife belt.
'Be calm,' said Jasaray. 'My animals are being fed. There is no danger. I shall show you them later.' The morning sun cleared the palace roof, and shone directly down on the seated men. 'I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long,' said the emperor, 'but there have been many pressing matters demanding my attention.' Trailing his hand in the pool he splashed a little water to his face. 'It is my hope', he said, 'that we can come to some agreement with the Rigante people.'
'What kind of agreement?' asked Bran.
'A union of friends,' said Jasaray. 'Stone has been fighting wars for thirty years now, some against foreign enemies, some between ourselves. It is time, I believe, for a period of stability and calm. Armies, as I am sure you are now aware, are costly. Connavar has fought three civil campaigns during the last two years, against rebel tribesmen from the Norvii and the Pannone. And why? Because he needs to tax the people to pay for his standing armies. And as each year passes without them being needed the populace grow more disenchanted. Here in Stone we see Connavar's armies and we wonder if they will be used against us, and therefore we also tax the public to pay for soldiers. It is very wasteful for both our economies.'
'What do you suggest?' asked Bran.
'I suggest a close treaty between our nations that will allow us both to reduce the size of our forces. The war in the east is costing us dearly, and we are beginning to have trouble with some of our northern neighbours, notably King Shard of the Vars. He also has standing armies now, and there have been several skirmishes with our troops.'
'Shard is a powerful enemy,' agreed Bran. 'My first taste of battle was against the Vars twenty years ago. Shard invaded the north of our lands, and linked with a Pannone army against us.'
'And Connavar defeated him,' said Jasaray. 'I believe your father was killed in that campaign.'
'He died, yes,' said Bran. 'His heart gave out after the battle.'
'War brings many tragedies,' said Jasaray. 'I despise it.'
'Then why are you so good at it?' asked Fiallach.
'A fair question – and one to which there is no answer. I was a scholar and a teacher. I was brought into the
