A gaggle of young women Akstyr’s age walkedpast, their sleeveless togs displaying enough flesh to stir one’simagination. Akstyr straightened and touched his hair, as if toensure it was still suitably spiky.
Basilard signed a comment for Books,
“They’re permitted to enter the runningevents and the Clank Race,” Books said. “Not wrestling or boxing.Women have never been allowed to fight in the empire. As to therest, the historical precedent is interesting. In the old days,warrior caste men would come to the Imperial Games to hunt forbrides. The women who won the events were presumed to be mostlikely to birth sons who would become superior warriors. Theoriginal awards ceremony involved interested men coming out tocompete for the winners. Bloodshed was often involved. Sometimesdeath. I understand there are some warrior-caste men who still comewith the intent of shopping for brides, but the women are lesslikely to be interested these days. They want to start shops orwide-ranging businesses, using the status and honor they gain fromtheir victories to assist in their endeavors. We live in afascinating time, I must say.”
“Look at the chest on that one.” Akstyrpointed at a woman trotting to catch up with comrades. “I’d watchher run a race anytime.”
“Fascinating for some of us anyway,” Booksmuttered. “Akstyr, why don’t you go look for magic. That’s whywe’re here, right?”
Akstyr shrugged and ambled off.
Basilard had wanted to talk to the youngerman alone and saw his chance.
He jogged to catch up with Akstyr, and theytook the path that meandered around the grounds. A nervous flutterteased his gut, and he did not start a conversation immediately. Ifhe guessed incorrectly, and Akstyr tattled on him, he would be adead man.
They avoided the crowded areas as theywalked. Basilard could not tell if Akstyr was checking for signs ofmagic use or simply ogling female athletes. They veered into theshadows to avoid a pair of enforcers marching in theirdirection.
“They’ll all over the place,” Akstyr saidwhen the men had passed, “and as annoying as flies on dung.”
“I guess,” Akstyr said. Unless one wastalking about the mental sciences, he was a hard man to draw into aconversation.
Basilard tried again.
“Because he was stupid,” Akstyr said.
“Not enough.”
“Probably.”
Basilard gritted his teeth. With theconversation going nowhere, he decided to drop it, but then Akstyrgave him a lead-in.
“I hate him sometimes.”
They stepped into the shadows behind a foodtent to avoid more enforcers.
“Sometimes he kind of seems all right,”Akstyr said. “Like he stood up for me once when we went to see myold boss, but I think that was on account of Am’ranthe and notbecause he cares if I live or die.”
“But I hate when he climbs all over our backsjust because we aren’t good enough at his dumb exercises. I want tobe-” Akstyr caught himself and lowered his voice. “Well, you knowwhat I want to be. I don’t care about running and swords andobstacle courses. You can’t object though or he threatens you. He’ssuch as cold bastard.”
Basilard drew Akstyr around the side of thetent where there was more light. Raised fire pits illuminatedtables and benches where men and women chatted over tea andcider.
He lifted his hands to sign the nextquestion. A bead of sweat dribbled down his spine.
“Oh, dead deranged ancestors, yes.” Akstyrlaughed. “Don’t you?”
The blatant admission surprised Basilard, andhis fingers hung still for a moment before he could sign aresponse.
“Bas, you don’t know how bad I want to getout of this balls-sucking sinkhole of an empire. I’m tired ofhaving to hide all my…interests, and I can’t find anyone to teachme, and people here would shoot you just for-” Akstyr’s voicetightened, and he cleared his throat.
Basilard had not realized how passionate theboy was about learning the mental sciences.
“If I had a million ranmyas,” Akstyr said,naming the price on Sicarius’s head, “I could get out of here. Icould go to Kendor or the Kyatt Islands and hire a teacher, andnobody would care ‘cause it’s
Basilard nodded. Though money would donothing for his predicament, it made sense to encourage Akstyr’sfantasy if he wanted him for an ally.
“But it’d be a dumb move,” Akstyr said. “He’dkill you in a heartbeat if he thought you were serious about it.And how would you get him anyway? He never sleeps, and he won’t eatanything we cook unless he’s seen everyone else eat it first.”
Yes, Basilard had already considered the factthat he prepared more meals for the group than anyone else. He knewof numerous herbs that could incapacitate or even kill. ButSicarius never ate his stews or soups, nor did he drink anythingbesides water. Basilard was not sure if it represented paranoia orsimply dietary preferences. He’d never seen Sicarius eat anythingexcept fruits, vegetables, nuts, and plainly prepared fish or meat.Basilard thought he
Akstyr’s forehead furrowed. He glancedaround-three times-then lowered his voice. “Are you actuallythinking of doing this?”
“What’d he do to you? I thought you got alongwith him better than anyone except Am’ranthe.”
Basilard debated whether or not to share hisreason. Akstyr would care nothing about the deaths of theMangdorian royal family-he probably wouldn’t even be outraged atthe idea that Sicarius had killed children-but he might understandwhy Basilard would be committed and trust him not to back out orcross him.
“Yes,” Akstyr said.
“Oh. Huh.” Akstyr stuffed his hands into hisdeep pockets and prodded a tuft of grass with his boot. “If I founda way to make him sleep, would you do the deed?”
“And I’d get half the money?”
Akstyr’s eyes bulged. “Really?”
