caste bachelors,and did she know I was warrior caste-I left out the part aboutbeing disowned naturally-and would she like to…”
There were times Basilard dearly missedhaving undamaged vocal cords. He would have liked to bark an,“Enough,” to cut Maldynado off. It was bad enough few peopleoutside of his team could understand his sign language, but hisscars and lack of height ensured no Turgonian women looked upon himwith kind-or lascivious- eyes.
Akstyr trotted over, which fortunatelyresulted in Maldynado bringing his story to an end.
“Look.” Akstyr held his hand out, obliviousto the fact Maldynado had yet to find his trousers.
Basilard lifted the lantern, wanting to seewhat had occupied the younger man’s attention so thoroughly. Itlooked like…
“A cork?” Maldynado asked. “You’ve been herefor two hours and that’s all you’ve found?”
“A cork with the residue of something Made,”Akstyr said. “A powder or maybe it was a liquid in a vial. I needto do some research.” He snapped his fingers. “That Nurian book Ihave has a section on potions, powders, and airborne inhalants. Oh,but I’ll need Books to help me translate it. Where is he?” Akstyrlooked around and blinked in surprise when he noticed Maldynado’sstate of undress. “Why are your crabapples hanging out?”
“
“Uh, whatever.” Akstyr nodded at Basilard.“Books?”
“All right, tell Am’ranthe we may havesomething.” Akstyr waved the cork and jogged off. “I’ll grab himand go back to the boneyard,” he said over his shoulder.
Excited about his find, he sprinted awayalmost as quickly as Maldynado’s conquest had. A nervous threadwove through Basilard’s belly. Akstyr had promised he would sharenothing of their discussion with anyone, but losing track of theyoung man made him uneasy. Also, this left Basilard alonewith…
“So, Bas.” Maldynado slung an arm over hisshoulder. Thankfully, he had located his pants and put them on.“Looks like we found what we needed to find tonight. We ought to beable to head off and have a few drinks now, eh?”
“Later, I think. She got held up.” Hiseasy-going smile faded. “Deret tried to set up a trap to captureher. He used me to get to her.”
Alarm coursed through Basilard.
“She’s fine, or was when I left. Sicariusfigured it for a trap before we went in. She’s going to visit Deretfor dinner and still might get in trouble that way. You know howshe likes to take risks.” Maldynado lowered his arm and swatted atree branch brushing his hair. “I helped buy her groceries, but I’mirked at Deret. I always thought him a decent fellow. Sure, I couldsee him feeling compelled to set the enforcers on Sicarius’s tail,but the boss doesn’t deserve that bounty.”
Maldynado shrugged. “We can’t find magicstuff.”
His prediction proved true, and nobodyoccupied the arena or the tiers of seating surrounding it. Lanternsburned at periodic intervals, providing enough light for walking.He and Maldynado did a lap of the track, though Basilard did notknow what to look for. Without Akstyr’s nose for magic, they wouldhave to search for mundane clues.
It took Maldynado only a few minutes to growbored of investigating. He wandered into the middle of the arenawhere the furnace powering the Clank Race still burned. Someonemust have been out training recently.
Maldynado threw a couple of levers. Gearsturned, pistons clanked, and a moan of releasing steam sounded asthe massive machine powering the obstacle course started up. Whilethe wood and metal structure remained stationary, the moving partscreated a strange sight in the darkness. Arms and spindles rotatedand turned, propelling sharpened axes and battering rams out tothwart someone crossing spinning logs and tiny moving platforms. Inmore than one spot, bloodstains spattered the sand beneath thecontraption.
“Oh, sure,” Maldynado said, “but I thinkthere are more injuries in the wrestling. Most of the people crazyenough to do this thing are agile as foxes. But, yes, someone diesmost every year, and others lose arms and legs. People get carelesswhen they’re trying to earn the best time.” Maldynado tapped apaper stuck to the side of a support post. “Looks like some cockyathletes have posted their times already. Hm.” He eyed the machinespeculatively.
“Want to try it?”
“Come on. Odds are good Sicarius is going tomake us try it at some point anyway.” Maldynado mimicked Sicarius’sstony face and monotone to say, “Good training.” The serious facadelasted almost a second, before he grinned and said, “Doesn’t itlook fun?”
Basilard eyed the swinging blades, clankingmachinery, and the puffs of steam escaping into the darkness withsoft hisses. The long lost boy in him admitted it might beenjoyable. They were not competing with anyone, so they did nothave to sprint through recklessly.
“Ah, you’re tempted, aren’t you?” Maldynadogrinned and trotted over to a giant clock, its hands visible evenin the dim lighting. “Let’s see, how do we time ourselves…. Herewe go. Loser buys the winner drinks tonight. Ready? Go!”
Maldynado threw a lever on a giant time clockand darted up a ramp leading into the course.
What? Basilard had not agreed to the terms,but he sprinted after Maldynado anyway. They did not get paidenough for him to buy drinks for that bottomless gullet.
He raced up the ramp to a wooden platformseesawing up and down. Two spinning logs stretched ahead. Maldynadohad taken the left, so Basilard ran right. He darted across as fastas he could, staying light-footed on the rotating wood, knowingthat going slow or with tense muscles would be more likely to causea misstep.
He caught up with Maldynado at the nextplatform.
“Look out,” Maldynado barked.
Half expecting the warning to be a trickdesigned to slow him down, Basilard almost missed the man- sizeddummy swinging down at him on a series of ropes. Spikes protrudedfrom all of its wooden sides.
Basilard flung himself to his belly. Thedummy swung past, the draft stirring the hairs on the back of hisneck.
When he rose, Maldynado was already jumpingonto a rope that dangled from a beam. Something-spikes? — protrudedfrom the ground beneath.
Basilard growled and chased after Maldynado.After the rope climb, they had to traverse along pegs sticking outof the beam, thirty feet above the ground. A net took them to thenext obstacle. Tiny circular platforms, some only a few incheswide, rotated about while axe blades and battering rams swung outof the darkness. Basilard jumped and darted, relying on instinctsmore than thought. By luck more than design, he reached the nextseesawing platform before Maldynado. He clambered up a mesh wall,over a beam, through a rope swing course, and finally hurledhimself into a net where he scrambled to the bottom and toward aten-foot wall.
He burst over that last obstacle and sprintedto a finish line, beating Maldynado by several seconds. Hestaggered a couple of weary steps and collapsed in the sand torest.
Stars had come out overhead, though they werenot as bright as those he had once known in his mountain home. Heinhaled deeply; here, surrounded by grass and trees, the air wascleaner than in the city core, but it still smelled of burning woodand coal. A homesick twinge ran through him, an aching for a lifeto which he could never return.
“Great time, Bas.” Maldynado stood by thegiant clock. “You were as fast as some of these athletes.
