I walk from the city, and I’m sure not all my fellow senators would bother walking.They’d ride in fine palanquins, or take chariots.I prefer the connection to the city that I feel on foot, even if it means my journey to Ironhold will take longer.
The great granite fortress is a little way from the city, close enough that gladiators have always been able to march down from it in a great procession on the mornings of the games.Those processions continue even in the reformed games, and I must admit they're one part I'm happy to see.They're a piece of pageantry and entertainment that catches the mood of the crowd, bringing joy to the people of Aetheria without the need for anyone to be hurt.Idly, I wonder if one day, just the processions will be enough, and there will be no need for people to fight in the Colosseum at their end.
It seems like a vain hope.The people of Aetheria seem so accustomed to the violence of the arena that it appears impossible for them to set it aside.No amount of beauty or pageantry will change that.
For now, I march the other way, up to Ironhold, where the great gates stand open.There are a couple of guards on duty there, but they step back to let me pass as soon as they see who I am.Much has changed since this was as much a prison as a training ground, designed to keep gladiators within until they could risk their lives for the amusement of the crowds.
The sound of clashing weapons or blades hitting practice posts hasn't changed.Only now, it's accompanied by drill instructors barking orders at would-be soldiers of Aetheria, trying to train the latest batch of recruits.Domitian's treachery led to many dead on both sides of the conflict, and the Republic needs a strong army if it is to hold off threats both without and within.
My attention isn't on the soldiers, though, but instead on the gladiators working in the sun.Cesca is there, dark-haired and a little shorter than me, dressed in the barest scraps of armor and twirling her sword as she engages in a practice bout with a young gladiator.A couple of nobles look on the way they might watch a prize racehorse in the paddock.Officially, the system of patronage in the games has ended.Nobles can't buy an official connection to one gladiator, with special access to them and reflected glory every time they win.Unofficially, they still compete to be seen with the best gladiators, or the most charismatic.They still give gifts or symbols of their favor.And they still like to seek pleasure with the strongest and best-looking of the fighters.
Perhaps because she has an audience, Cesca is toying with her opponent, sending sparks of lightning along her blade every time she makes contact with her foe’s flesh, making him cry out with each jolt.He tries to fight back using illusions to distract Cesca, but she ignores it, and eventually brings him down with a greater jolt of power that leaves him twitching on the ground.
She saunters over to the noble couple so that they can congratulate her, and she bends to receive a kiss from the man.The woman doesn’t seem jealous, but envious.
“You could have done that at any time,” I say, heading over to her.
“Well, perhapsIknow how to entertain my audience,” Cesca counters, turning to me.“Hello, Lyra.I’m surprised you even remember where Ironhold is.”
She’s always reminding me that I’m not a gladiator anymore.She conveniently ignores the part where, in one of my last bouts, I left her helpless on the arena floor after she tried to betray me.But I can’t deny that she’s here at the heart of Ironhold, in a position to learn more about what’s going on here than I ever could.
“I’m here because I was told gladiators are going missing from Ironhold,” I say.
Cesca shrugs.“Some people can’t handle the training.They don’t want to be gladiators.They’re more interested in going off and doing other things.”
She says that in a pointed tone as if my becoming a senator or fighting to stop Domitian from taking over the city is some kind of step down from my former status as a gladiator.
“But then, people would see them go,” I say.
“Maybe we did,” Cesca replies.
“So, presumably, you havesomeidea where they’ve gone?”I say.
She shrugs again.“Maybe.But I don’t have time to talk to you.”She lets the nobles take her hands.“As you can see, I have another engagement.Unless you’d like to join us?”
Cesca says that with a mocking smile, then turns from me, heading back into Ironhold.I should have known better than to expect I might get anything from her.
I try one of the trainers next, heading to a big man calling out instructions to a group of gladiators.
“Bigger movements!Do you think the people at the back of the crowd will see any of your subtle swordplay?Slashes, not thrusts.If the crowd is to get any blood, let’s use the one part of the blade that has an edge!”
It’s strange, the way the safety measures introduced to the games have changed things.The gladiators use mostly blunted weapons now, the tips completely dulled, the edges only partially sharp.It's a compromise designed to give the crowd some blood while keeping the gladiators safer.There are wounds, but nothing the healers in the Colosseum can't handle.
Those changes have led to the gladiators making bigger, more obvious slashing attacks, things that will catch the attention of the crowd.It’s as much a performance as any theater troupe.I wait until I catch the attention of the trainer.
“All right, you lot!”he bellows.“Take a break, and we’ll see if you can do it properly next time.”
The gladiators move off to the side of the training area, getting water, some of them talking to fans who’ve come up to Ironhold to see them.There’s far more access to the gladiators here than there used to be.The trainer comes over to me.
“Senator.Come to see if the training’s up to the standards of when you used to be here?You won’t remember me, but I was a trainer here when you were winning the Champions’ Trials.”
I don’t remember him, and I find myself hoping that the training is nothing like it was when I was here.We were treated brutally, because, as slave gladiators, we had no choice.We could either do as we were commanded or find ourselves impaled on the spikes atop the walls.
“I’m here because I hear that people have been disappearing suddenly from Ironhold, with no explanation,” I say.
The trainer shrugs.“True.A gladiator named Lalin was here yesterday morning, then gone in the afternoon.He didn’t say where he was going, didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”
“I heard that much,” I say.“Do you have any idea what’s happening?”
