CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: LYRA
How am I meant to protect everyone?How do I keep these games safe, when I'm sure someone is plotting to unleash real violence within them?
I can't accuse Domitian, can't shut him away from the Colosseum, can't make sure he isn't able to hurt anyone.Not without evidence, and I don'thavethat evidence.
Besides, what if it isn't him?What if someone else is working to undermine the measures we put in place?If I give Domitian all my attention there’s too much of a chance that someone else will slip through to sharpen a blade or administer poison.It feels as though I need a thousand eyes on the Colosseum, all at once.
But I cantakea thousand eyes if I need them.I sit in the former emperor's box and I sink into my power as a beast whisperer.I feel every creature within the Colosseum.I let myself become aware of the rats in the dark corners, the carrion birds which have started to fly overhead out of long habit, assuming they're about to be fed.I feel the strange minds of the spiders in their webs and the small lizards that warm themselves in the sun, clinging to the statues that decorate the Colosseum.
I flow into their minds and I see through their eyes, determined to see everything that happens as the colosseum fills with the citizens of Aetheria.The atmosphere is slowly building to a fever pitch as they anticipate the combat to come.I watch them like a hawk.Indeed I watch them through the eyes of a hawk, circling overhead, letting me pick out the spots where cutpurses are working in the crowd.I see nobles in their boxes, merchants selling their wares.People wear colors associated with their favorite gladiators, but those gladiators are long since gone from the arena.
Today will be a new day.I hope it will be a good one.
I look through the eyes of a rat, following Domitian as he heads through the corridors of the colosseum.I skip from one set of eyes to another, giving him a fragment of my attention even as I'm pulled in so many different directions.I see him in the receiving rooms now, watching him through the eyes of a hummingbird kept in a cage.He clasps hands with this noble and that, moving from knot to knot of them within the room, obviously trying to exert what influence he can.I'm more interested when he slips a few coins to one of the servants, whispering something that I don't catch.
From the receiving room, he heads down to the broad space where the bookmakers have their stalls, and again I see him slipping coins into this hand and that, in a web of corruption and influence whose aims I don’t know.I see him pass a dagger to a gang member, whisper in the ear of one of Yarrow’s courtesans, there to attract clients.The more I see of Domitian, the more convinced I become that he's a dangerous man, playing a game of his own devising.I had thought that he was just a former trainer within the games, determined to bring them back to what he saw as their former glory.Now I wonder if there isn't more to him, some deeper purpose.
But my attention is drawn elsewhere as well.Through the eyes of a beetle unnoticed in one corner of the preparation rooms, I see Kai, the young pit fighter who is to fight today, preparing for the bout to come.He stretches and punches the air as if there's an opponent in front of him.I watch as he goes through to receive a massage from a trainer I vaguely recognize from my time in the arena, someone who is clearly being drawn back by the prospect of it opening again.
When his muscles are limber and oiled, he dresses in the armor provided for him.I can see him looking down at it and frowning, as if realizing how well protected he is and hating it.It's obvious that he isn't looking for this bout to be so safe.
He stands in the preparation area, bouncing on his toes, hefting the weapons that he will use in the arena: a spear and net which echo the weapons I used when I fought with uncomfortable closeness.Did Kai choose them as some kind of tribute to me, or simply because they're what he's best with?Did he choose them at all, or were they picked for him?I can see him testing the edge of the spear, frowning again.
“You can do this,” he says to himself, speaking aloud in the empty confines of the preparation room.“You dropped him with one punch before.You can beat him now in an exhibition match.And no matter what they've done to stop you, you can make your mark on him.You can stop him, for good.”
He sounds as though he's planning greater violence than I ever intended for these games.I want to rush down there to talk to him, to tell him to hold back, but it's too late for that, and I know he won't listen to me anyway.Kai's obviously set on having the most spectacular and brutal fight he can.I just have to hope that the safety measures I've put in place will be enough to keep him and Glacius alive.
I see Glacius in his preparation area, strapping a buckler to his wrist and testing the weight of a short sword.He moves with the smooth confidence of someone who has done this many times before.He has a circular brand on his shoulder, with three lines through it.I wonder if he feels robbed by my role in bringing down the games and the empire, if he feels somehow incomplete because he didn't get his five seasons in.Is that why he's fighting here?Or has he just been paid so much he can’t refuse?
“That boy’s going to get what’s coming to him,” he mutters.Does he mean Kai?Is there some personal feud between the two of them I don’t know about?Is that why he’s fighting?
I shift my attention again and again.I see Senator Olivia in one of the receiving rooms, starting to seduce another noble.I see acrobats performing in front of the colosseum for the entertainment of the crowd as it flows into the vast structure in a great wave of humanity.I see the faces of those in the stands, some bringing children to watch, no hint there that they’re worried about the violence to come.
There's one face I'm surprised to see in the crowd, sticking to the shadows, using hints of illusion to make it harder for people to see him, or to realize who he is if they do: Alaric.If I weren't looking down through the eyes of birds I would never spot him, and the sight of him there in the crowd makes my heart tighten in my chest.
Is he here to watch the games, or because he still thinks he might do something to stop them?I had thought he was leaving Aetheria, abandoning it and me in his anger.Instead, I see him moving around carefully, watching and listening as he moves closer to the betting booths.
“What odds can you give me on someone dying?”he calls out to the bookmakers.
“These are meant to be the new games, my friend,” the bookmaker says.“Exhibition bouts, not to the death.”
“I know that, but what odds will you give me?”Alaric demands.
“Evens,” the bookmaker replies after a moment’s thought.Those odds are shorter than I would like by a long way.Whatever he just said about these being reformed games, it's clear he doesn't believe they're truly safe.
“I thought it might be something like that.”Alaric slips past him, and keeps moving through the crowd.He looks up and I see him staring at the bird whose mind I'm using to watch him.“You see, not nearly safe enough.”
He frowns, there's another flicker of illusion, and he's gone from my sight.
I try to find him using other animals, but it's obvious he's hiding from me now.In any case I feel a hand on my shoulder I must bring my awareness back to myself.Marcus is there, looking down at me with an expectant expression.I guess he's just said something I didn't hear, because my mind was too far away to do so.
“I'm sorry,” I say.“What did you say?”
“I said it's time to open the games,” he replies, gesturing to the front of the emperor's box.
“I… I'm not sure that's a good idea.”
“I get that you're having second thoughts, but that's just nerves because of how big this occasion is,” Marcus says.“I’m feeling the same jitters.”
