Our chariot is at the back of the procession, but I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to see the entire parade as it moves down the hill in front of us.
The trail of flame is striking against the city at night. Ronan’s chariot is just behind it, but it turns off course just outside the arena. Then it circles around the streets and behind us so that he’s the last to enter.
The arena is a great oval of the same reddish-tan stone that the palace is built from, only the entire structure is about the height of the palace’s highest towers. We enter through a dark tunnel underneath it, the stomping of thousands of feet over us sending vibrations into the stone walls. I fear for a moment that the whole thing will come crashing down on top of us, but soon we’re inside, and I let out a gasp at the sight.
The entire city of Faros must be here. I thought the market was overwhelming, butthis. This is insane.
“One hundred thousand people,” says Larus. I can barely hear him over the noise. “It’s the largest arena in the world.”
The rows of people stretch all the way into the sky, so high I have to bend my head back to see them all. I had no idea there were this many people here. I had no idea there were this many peopleanywhere.
I don’t know where Seth is going to round up enough people to take this city. There are dozens of villages in the mountains, more people than we can feed, but I can’t imagine that we have this many prepared to fight.
I stop the thought—although Ronan has already figured out that I’d like to murder him, he certainly doesn’t know about the rest of our plan yet, and I’d rather he didn’t find out. Though I’m not certain how “planning to start a war” would even feel to him.
Our chariot circles around to join the others as we wait for his grand entrance. I hear the thunder of the horse’s hooves before I see him. A hush comes over the crowd. This is what they came to see.
Ronan’s chariot rises from the tunnel with the final fire-born flame bearer at his side.
It’s fucking Quinn.
Adria’s hand goes for her sword reflexively even though she’s no threat to us at the moment. The chariot passes us and continues to circle the arena to allow all to see Sai’s Sacred Flame, now held suspended above Quinn’s bare hand, go by.
The chariot halts before an enormous golden cauldron at the center of the arena. Quinn, wearing red ceremonial robes, ascends the steps to the edge of the cauldron and waits as Ronan follows behind her. It’s much too loud in the arena for his voice to be heard even if he yells, but that problem is resolved whenthe last member of their chariot slowly ascends the steps at Ronan’s side.
It's Queen Claudia, almost unrecognizable in her own deep red robes and coronet. She takes her place beside Ronan, laying her hand on his shoulder.
“Welcome, Selarans, friends, and honored guests, to the Great Festival of the Gods!”
Ronan’s voice is magically amplified, filling the arena and rising over all the screaming voices.
Queen Claudia must be wind-born. She did seem like a bit of a talker in the baths, as the wind-born tend to be.
“Today we begin the Festival of Sport to honor Sai, the great and terrible God of War, the Hunt, and the Forge.” A priestess exits a different chariot and joins him on the stage. Claudia moves her hand to the priestess’s shoulder as she leads a prayer to Sai.
“Most holy Sai, King of the Warriors, we ask you to bless us as we honor you with the gifts you have given us. We ask that you select your Champions wisely, lending them your strength so that they may protect us this day and in all battles to come. For Sai, victorious!”
The priestess climbs the stairs near the cauldron and cuts her hand, spilling her blood into it.
Sai’s devoted are the most dramatic, I swear. Even Ronan cringes a little at the sight.
“We will see many wonderful competitions in the coming days. But though we honor the God of War, we do so in a time of peace. We come together in unity, and in the spirit that all who participate in the tournament to come are worthy of Sai’s blessings, no matter the outcome.”
“Sure, Ronan. We’re all winners here,” I mutter to Larus.
He chuckles. “Are you not inspired to go easy on your opponents? Do you not feel the grace and love of the king and his desire for peace and harmony?”
“Not even a little,” I reply.
There’s no chance anyone can hear us with all the noise, and if Ronan can feel our disdain, it can’t be a surprise to him at this point.
“General Quinn, daughter of our most noble Grand Vizier Lord Cyrus of House Horatio, will do the honors of lighting the ceremonial cauldron of Sai. General?”
General Quinn? I guess that explains her and Adria’s animosity towards each other.
Quinn, who has been holding onto the flame above her bare hand the entire time, ascends the final steps to the side of the cauldron to its top. Once she’s there, she dips her hand to the rim, and the flame ignites it, racing around the edge of the cauldron.
It’s fine, I guess. It’s like the torches in the temple, only bigger. The crowd loves it, though. They cheer and stomp their feet so loud I bet they can hear them in Nithyria.
