Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(47)

Balendin motioned his twin wolfhounds—freakish slavering creatures that followed him everywhere—to stillness as he stepped into the ring. They sat like sentinels just outside the stones, jaws gaping, panting audibly in the afternoon heat. The leach glanced skyward, where his tamed hawk circled overhead. The bird let out a piercing shriek, as though aware of his gaze.

“’Kent-kissing thing reminds me of a vulture,” Lin said.

“It’s just a bird,” Valyn replied.

“Maybe,” Laith said, turning to Talal. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to figure out the bastard’s well.”

Talal shook his head somberly.

“You train with him at least twice a week. How hard can it be? There’s only so much stuff in the world!”

“Harder than you think,” Talal replied. “We’re even more wary of each other than we are of the rest of you. Everyone has their disguises,” he said, gesturing to the bracelets encircling his own dark wrists.

“You’re telling me your well’s not copper or gold?” the flier asked.

“I’m not telling you anything—but look at Balendin. The feathers, the rings, the ink … And that’s just what he has on him. It could be something all around us—moisture or salt. Stone or sand.”

“It could be those ’Kent-kissing beasts,” Valyn added, eyeing the wolfhounds warily. “He brings them with him everywhere.”

“Could be,” Talal acknowledged. “Leaches have had animal wells in the past. Rennon Pierce, the raven leach, had an entire flock that perched on his eaves and soared above him when he moved.”

“And you wonder why everyone wants to string you bastards up,” Gent grumbled. “No offense meant, Talal, but the whole thing is sick, filthy.”

Talal eyed the larger cadet, his eyes hooded and inscrutable. Then he turned back to Valyn. “People have been speculating about Balendin’s hawk and his hounds since the day he arrived. Maybe they’re on to something. And maybe he’s playing us. It’s almost impossible to know.”

“Besides,” Laith said wryly, “it’s not like it should matter in the arena anyway.”

According to the rules, while in the ring, Balendin was restricted to the use of his body and blades, just like anyone else; the Eyrie believed in developing “the whole soldier,” and had no interest in training a group of men and women who would be useless on the battlefield the moment their wells ran dry. The reality, however, was slightly different. As long as a leach could work subtly, could twist the world around him without anyone noticing, his intervention was permitted. Kettral commanders could ferret out this kind of meddling if they tried, but they never tried—cadets needed to learn to fight in all circumstances, needed to grow comfortable fighting any foe.

“That’s one pair,” Arbert mused. “Any thoughts about who I ought to pit against them?”

The cadets erupted in a chorus of suggestions. Between the rigors of training and the exhaustive study, there wasn’t much leisure for entertainment on the Islands, and most of the assembled soldiers waited each day for Blood Time the way men and women back in Annur looked forward to a well-laid table at dinner.

Arbert held up a hand for silence, but before he could speak, Lin stepped into the ring.

“’Shael on a stick,” Valyn muttered beneath his breath.

“I’ll fight them,” she said flatly, not taking her eyes from the two.

Sami Yurl smirked.

Arbert chuckled. “All by yourself? Hardly seems fair.” He turned to the crowd. “Anyone want to join her?”

The group shifted uncomfortably, some gazing off toward the barracks, others out toward the open ocean. Sami Yurl was a self-involved bastard, but he was also quick with his blades, and brutal in the ring. And then there was the leach to consider.

“Unnatural,” Gent grumbled, eyeing Balendin warily. The huge cadet wasn’t afraid of much, but he held a fear of leaches matched only by his loathing of them.

“I’d step up,” Laith said, grinning at Valyn, “but I don’t want to deprive you of an opportunity for gallantry.”

Valyn sighed. It looked as though his return to the ring was going to be a little more exciting than he’d expected. He couldn’t leave Lin on her own, and he’d been aching to put a fist in Sami Yurl’s face since the scene over in Manker’s. One-on-one he’d have little chance, but Balendin’s bladework was mediocre. If they were able to take the leach out of the arrangement quickly, they could both concentrate on Yurl. And besides, he thought ruefully, no one else is volunteering.