Chapter 16

Something of my own

The three of us spend the next few turns of the hourglass drilling and discussing the most common types of setups, and combos you are likely to see in Far Mantys. You don't see longswords like these in the pit much. But the weapon’s range and techniques are similar enough to a pit-sword that I’m not uncomfortable with it.

Kalon isn’t much use with his injury. Honestly, I think he learns more than Xael does. Weirdly though I feel like my own skills improve a tiny bit too. Something about teaching helps me examine why we do the things we do. The logic behind certain movements and attacks rather than just the technique itself.

The foreign boy is relentlessly cheerful the entire time. To my annoyance, his mood is infectious, and not abusing Kalon becomes easier and easier. Somehow that feels like a betrayal of myself, but even that feeling passes when I realize I can’t actually describe to myself why I hate the blonde boy so much. At least not without using words like ‘envious, jealous, handsome, unfair.’ It's all so petty. I guess I am petty. Not that half of these humans don’t deserve it.

‘This kid did bring three boys to help him fight me’. I remind myself, but some of the venom is gone. I can tell from the frequent winces he makes, and the way he stops to catch his breath frequently. Kalon learned his lesson on that front. Leave the beast in hall three alone.

Not long before the sun comes up we call an end to the training. While I can stay here and await the morning training session. Kalon will find himself chained up in the tower if they catch him doing this. As a guest of Atar BloodRock himself, Xael can probably do whatever he wants. Still, he pays up my coin and helps the exhausted Kalon limp away. To my surprise, the foreign boy calls over his shoulder.

"Same price for tomorrow morning?"

I blink snapping my attention from the coin to the boy who had paid me it.

"Uh. I " I'm practically tripping over my words.

"Yes!" I finally manage to shake off the strange mesmerizing effect the money has on me. At least until the other two boys are gone. Then I go

right back to staring at it.

One side is some important human man I don’t recognize. The other is marked with eleven little icons representing the houses of Far Mantys. It must be an older coin as BloodRock is missing.

I'm not sure what exactly you can buy for a halfsack. But it's mine. Mine! I own it.

I'm still sitting in the yard staring at the coin when the first of the guards arrive to unlock the weapons. Luckily I smell them coming and hide the coin in my fist before anyone sees it.

Two guards I don’t know by name, and Harrk himself. He must be running the training today. Unhelmed, his unremarkable features are on display. He raises both eyebrows when he sees me.

“While I appreciate the enthusiasm North the kids are doing conditioning work this morning, we have the yard till this afternoon.”

Climbing to my feet I nod to Harrk.

“No problem.”

Truth be told, I am disappointed. While I knew there was no chance they would let me stay with the adults. Some part of me must have been holding out hope till this moment. My heart sinks, even if I do my best to hide it.

I stride out of the yard with a confidence I don't feel.

The other youth pitters are already gathering in front of our barracks. From the shouts I hear inside, I know a trio of BloodRock’s guards are making their way through, forcing any stragglers out of bed.

I’m not sure if I prefer conditioning in the morning or in the evening. It is always awful either way. First, we will run laps of the compound like I was earlier. Of course, I don’t beat myself with sticks if I can’t maintain a certain pace when I’m running alone. Not that it will matter to me. I will be near the front of the pack, just like always. In fact, I haven't been punished for failing to run fast enough in years. Not since the time my lung collapsed. I still don’t enjoy it though. After we have been run to exhaustion they will send us to the training yard to get carrying stones. At which point we will be run to exhaustion again. This time carrying head-sized rocks.

After that is breakfast.

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I’m warmed up already so I don’t join the boys stretching like I normally would. That little kid whose name I can’t remember is trying to talk to Gori. But the antlered boy gives him a playful smack on the back of the head and sends him back to the hall two boys.

I nod to my own little hall three clump. It isn’t every boy from my hall. In fact, it's barely half of them. The little rats would rather be with their friends from the other halls than with us. Normally it would irritate me. Today it doesn't, I’m in an oddly good mood. So I just let out a little snort of amusement and move on. “Alright you pack of dead boys walking you are stuck with me again,” I say smiling. It is the sort of thing I always say. Yet this too feels different today. Normally I growl and grunt. Normally my words are a curtain hiding my own frustration and fear. Not now. Maybe it’s because I’m already warmed up. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that youth training is easier than what I'm used to. When the adults run they do it in heavier armour than any pit slave fights in.

There are a few grunts of greeting from the pit slaves and even a laugh from Gori. He may have already gotten into his Karata herb this morning. I spot Morean with the hall two boys, but it isn’t hard to ignore him this morning. There is no mystery like there was over dinner. He is just getting ready for our morning training, the same as the rest of us.

With the guards coming out of the Barracks I’ve missed my opportunity to go hide the coin in my things. So I keep it clutched in my right hand. Rubbing my fingers against the metal disc every now and then, just to make sure it’s still real.

I keep it hidden in my fist as Qesh yells for us to line up. Qesh doesn’t hold any kind of position of importance among BloodRock’s guards. He was however a successful pitter in his youth. So while he has grey hair, a gut that hangs past his armor, and a temper that makes me look like a paragon of serenity. The old warrior possesses a wealth of knowledge. Not that it will be of much help this morning. While there are strategies and even techniques to run more efficiently. It isn’t the sort of thing they care to teach us.

Old man BloodRock is a firm believer that anything making our training easier is a bad thing. So that's how his guards train us.

Apparently in other houses guard and trainer are separate positions but not here. Our trainers are simply a rotating roster of the more senior guards. It makes sense I suppose. Muraab once told me almost every soldier here is hired based on experience or acumen.

So Qesh has us line up and makes us run. I clutch the halfsack coin tighter in my fist. The cramping in my legs forces me to admit to myself that the early morning training may have been a bad idea. I would do it again though, I know I would. While I will never be able to buy my own freedom. BloodRock would simply take any money I presented him with off me and send me back to the barracks with a beating.

Still, there are so many ways the coin and the idea of others like it represent a world of possibility to me. A freedom I never even considered having. ‘If I get enough of these I can pay people to do things I want.’ For some reason, the idea makes me almost as nervous as it does excited. My snicker wells up a few moments later, but I am too lost in my own imagination to care. It is a good thing too. I need something to take my mind off my aching muscles and burning lungs.

I start to compile a list of things I could do with money. I could pay someone to read things for me. I have always suspected there is some secret special information just out of reach when I see the books and scrolls the house gets sometimes. I know how to read my name, and also the word ‘axe’, but that is where my knowledge of the written word ends.

I could smuggle in better food from out in the city. Sometimes when I cross Far Mantys to some event or another the scents of cooking meats and unfamiliar seasonings almost sends me berzerk.

My snicker rises higher at my next thought. Making it hard to breathe while I run. It is so unlikely and dangerous that it almost feels perverted to think about.

‘If I could put together a big enough pile of these I could pay a surgeon and sorcerer to secretly find and remove my forspoken stone.’

Somehow I clutch the coin even tighter. The little metal disc digging painfully into the skin of my palm. I do not loosen it.

After fifteen laps of the compound, we are allowed a short rest and water. The troughs we drink from are the same ones the beasts of burden use while their wagons get filled or unloaded. There is a pair of hairy cow things drinking from one of them right now in fact. This doesn’t slow a single slave down. If any of us had once possessed reservations about sharing water with animals they are long gone. For their part, the beasts are used to it and simply ignore us.

Half the boys practically fall to their knees in front of the troughs. Not those of us with Forspoken stones though. There is a sort of silent agreement between the five of us to set an example of stoicism. So I, Morean, Neston; the human who rules hall one, and the pair of seablessed boys Muraab brought back last year. Their horns glisten like ice in the now high morning sun. Stalk over pretending we aren’t just as tired and thirsty as the rest of the boys.

After that, all of us are herded over to the training yard. Naturally, we all walk as slow as we can get away with. If we dawdle too much Qesh and the other guards have clubs to incentivise speeding up. Fortunately, by now every slave has it down to a science, and none of us get beaten

As always the training of us youths and the adult pitters has been timed to keep us mostly apart. By the time we get over to the yard, the older slaves are already sparring in the miniature pits. In theory too busy to pay attention to us as we head into the yard and collect the lifting stones.

I have more to worry about than catching the attention of an irate adult pit slave. I can’t let anyone see the coin I'm holding. Anyone! Even the other slaves will try to take it from me if they get the chance. Forget constant challenge fights, they will jump me in my sleep for actual money.

More immedaite than that, I’m afraid of my ability to keep a hold of the coin while carrying one of the stones. These rocks aren’t small, even the lightest is as big as my head. Running laps of the compound while carrying one will almost guarantee I lose the coin if it's still in my hand.

If I can hang onto the halfsack for this second…well third for me, run of the morning. I will get a chance to hide it among my things while the boys prep for breakfast.

So when I crouch down to pick up one of the lifting stones. I pretend to be scratching my face and slip the coin into my mouth.

I'm surprised at how much the taste of money reminds me of the taste of blood.