Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (18 page)

“I'm here, I'll do my part,” I said, “but don't expect me to like it, or any of you, for that matter.” I made certain to eyeball Lurco as I spoke, challenging him.

“Accala,” Crassus said in a warning tone, “play nice.”

“Can I take first shot at her?” Lurco pleaded, like a dog whining for its share of the carcass. “I've been wanting to humble this pretty little wolf for a long time.”

“You know what they say?” I responded. “The bigger they are, the harder they try to form a coherent thought.”

“You most certainly cannot,” Barbata said to Lurco. “Accala's like a prize mare. We must look after her, train her to perform to the best of her ability.”

“Come,” Lurco protested, “she's not from a Talonite house. We can have a bit of fun with her on the voyage. Just like any wild beast, she'll warm to my touch with a little coaxing.” As he spoke, the giant Tullian reached out to touch my breast, but before I could teach him the price of such discourtesy, Barbata stepped in between us and struck his left pectoral muscle with her fingertips, just above his heart. The big man's knees weakened, and he winced in pain. His left arm hung at his side like a cut vine, useless until the nerve Barbata had struck recovered. “Get out of my way, woman, or I swear by Dis Pater…”

Lurco went to push Barbata aside with his right hand, but she was up against him faster than I could blink, a claw hand seizing his groin. It was the same uncanny speed Crassus had displayed. Lurco groaned and stretched up onto his toes as she squeezed, his body trying to escape the pain. “You swear?” Barbata demanded. “Do you swear upon your testicles as men do when you testify in court?” She gave a quick, sharp squeeze, and the giant fell to his knees like a riverbank collapsing to mud in heavy rains, cradling his crotch.

The Dioscurii regarded the shamed Lurco with the same cold dispassion they directed at me. Lurco was one of the best fighters in the Roman arena, but Barbata had dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Clearly the Tullian didn't possess the speed of either Crassus or Barbata. So why did they pick him for their team? Did they have an alternate use for him as Crassus claimed he had for me, some kind of personality in a propaganda campaign I wasn't privy to?

“You are new here as well,” Crassus said to Lurco. “And I suggest you don't underestimate Barbata because she is a woman. She may be a dark beauty, but she's able to manage all kinds of beasts with appropriate ferocity.”

“And panache,” Barbata added with a sly smile. “Because without style, what's the point of living?”

“I don't see why you had to do that,” Lurco muttered in annoyance. “I was just asking a question.”

“What this silly boy doesn't understand is that Sertorians are not cruel without good reason,” Barbata said to me with a conspiratorial wink. “We are efficient, we eliminate divergence. Lurco Giganticus here was laboring under an antiquated notion about the combat effectiveness of women. I wished to highlight the erroneous thought so it would be easy for him to correct it.” She held out her hand to help Lurco stand, but he refused it and struggled awkwardly up on his own. “Once we're all on the same page, all part of the one idea, then we're able to be of better use to one another.”

“A single idea. Even a flower with eight petals has the same corolla at its center,” Castor Corvinus added.

“That's a reference from Proconsul Aquilinus' manifesto,” Crassus said. “You'll learn more about that later, Accala.”

“The Seven Precepts of the Eagle,” Castor added.

“Don't you speak?” I asked Pollux, but he didn't reply. I'd met clinical professionals before, fighters who were so focused on training and winning that they wouldn't give you the time of day, but the Corvinus brothers were different. They looked at me like a scientist contemplating a laboratory mouse.

Gaia Barbata put her hands on my shoulders. Long, sharpened nails protruded from the ends of long fingers like a bird's claws, pressing painfully into my skin. The nails were painted black with a molecular resin, making them near unbreakable and sharp as steel. I remembered reading that she'd killed more than a dozen opponents in the arena using them alone. “You shouldn't tease Pollux Corvinus. We are what our nature dictates,” she said in a condescending tone. “You, for instance, are a mangy wolf that we must try to transform into a resplendent hawk. This will not be an easy undertaking for you or for us, but fear not, we'll all make the sacrifices necessary to help you fit in. As long as you cooperate and follow the rules.” She walked over to Lurco and put an arm around him, causing him to flinch. “This large Tullian broke the rules of civility,” she said, smiling. “He too has much to learn.”

“Yes, the rules are all important,” Mania chirped.

“How can I follow rules when they haven't been explained to me?” I asked.

“The rules are simple. Everyone here is your master,” Crassus said. “Except for Lurco,” he added, waving dismissively at the Tullian. “We all have something to teach you, and you'll be expected to learn willingly and fit in with the team as quickly as possible.”

“You will submit, body and mind, to the proconsul's precepts,” Castor Corvinus said.

“And can I add something?” Mania asked, bouncing up and down in her seat. “Honesty is very important to me. I want her to know that she has to be completely honest if she wants to be my friend. I can't stand liars.”

“They will not use you poorly,” Crassus said, “or I will see them punished. But you must do what they ask.”

“I will use you poorly.” Licinus Sertorius Malleolus, the man I'd imagined killing a thousand times over, strode into the bridge from the cockpit. Lean and hard, not tall but still imposing. Steel-gray eyes matched his close-cropped hair, giving him a ghostlike quality. Small white scars lined his face. This was no Sertorian cast from the same mold as Crassus, no aristocratic veneer of manners and culture. His eyes held none of Crassus' playfulness; they were devoid of mercy—Licinus was a vulture in human form. Orbis vibrated at my belt, sensing my need to attack, but my uncle's words were ever present in my mind.

Let them abuse you, let them visit every humiliation upon you, and all the while hide that you're burning away on the inside.

“I trust they've been making you feel welcome, Mock Hawk,” Licinus said. It seemed he also had seen the graffiti during the procession. Picking up a black steel pitcher, he slowly poured water into a glass. “That's what the mob is calling you now: Mock Hawk. It makes sense. You're not really a wolf anymore, are you? A wolf is proud, fierce, loyal. A wolf is part of a pack, but I think your pack just showed you what they think of you. Even your father won't claim you as his own. As best I can make out, you are a dog. A mangy unblooded mongrel bitch.” He smirked slightly, as if at some private joke, then slowly drank the water in the glass. “You are a slave and I am the team leader, which makes you
my
slave,” he continued. “If you wish to earn your freedom as well as your brother's life, then you will comply with my every order. You will behave as a slave is expected to behave. Tell me you understand.”

“I do,” I said, clenching my teeth, letting the insults fan the embers in my heart.

“Good.” Licinus moved in close to me. Dipping an index finger into his glass, he slowly trailed a wet finger across my cheek, over my closed lips. His eyes were filled with a dark excitement, an anticipation of what would follow if I dared resist him. When he saw that I would neither pull away nor fight back, a bored expression passed over his face. “Don't worry, Mock Hawk, you and I will have a grand time. I'll burn you as I burned your mother. Nice and crispy like a good side of bacon.”

The fire flared at once, filling me with rage. All I could see was the new ear-to-ear smile I planned on giving Licinus with Orbis' edge. That'd wipe the smirk off his face. Before I consciously realized it, Orbis was in my hand. Crassus called out for me to stop, reaching out to me. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, screaming in pain. Intense, like electricity flowing through every nerve in my body, a whole-body agony like I'd never experienced before. Then, just as quickly, the shock ended.

“Are you getting her readings?” Licinus asked Castor Corvinus.

“Heart rate, adrenaline levels, brain hemispheres are mapped and lit. She's an open book,” he said.

Lying there twitching as the last of the electricity left my body, I became aware of a unexpected jangling weight on my right wrist. A thin, delicate chain of blood red calcedonius had been fastened around it. Crassus must have slipped it on me when he tried to stop me attacking Licinus. Calcedonius was a mercurial substance, programmable by way of electric currents to alternate between fixed and fluid forms. The design of the clasp was of a small and intricate hawk with talons outstretched. The other end of the chain had Mother Earth represented in the shape of a ball that the hawk grasped in order to close the loop. There was no catch to open the clasp, so I started pulling on it. Gently at first and then more fervently as it did not yield. I forgot about the others on the shuttle. If I couldn't free myself of this one small thing, what hope did I have to stand against House Sertorian? What possible hope to even begin to search for Aulus? Like a spirited horse being fitted for a bridle, I wanted to buck, to scream, but I carefully kept panic out of my voice. “Take it off,” I said to Crassus as I sat up. “Now.”

“It stays. A dog needs a collar in order to be trained,” Licinus said. “All the Sertorian team members have the code to activate your bracelet. It will help remind you of your place while we're en route to the tournament.”

Gaia Barbata came over and helped me to my feet.

“We use a variation of it to train the barbarian slaves. Of course yours is more attractive so that it will go unnoticed while you're competing,” she said. I pulled away from her, but she just smiled graciously. “Don't be upset. It's to help you listen and learn. We don't need to use it unless you're trying to fly in a different direction from the flock. No stragglers allowed.”

Licinus grabbed my arm and demanded I tap in the code to remove my armilla. He handed it to Mania and then he pointed to Orbis. “Your weapon too.”

Crassus saw my hesitation. “Give it to him,” he urged, producing my weapon case from a corner of the room and holding it open. “You'll get it back when we train.”

As I submitted to his command, I thought of Aulus. The gap in his smile. He was so young. He deserved a chance at life, and I was willing to endure anything to see he got it. The case snapped shut like an alligator's mouth. Licinus snatched it from Crassus and held it with the satisfaction of a pawnbroker facing down a customer with a lost ticket.

“When does training start?” I asked.

“Your obedience training has started already. You will become the Mock Hawk and learn to mimic Sertorian thought, culture, and action to perfection. If you attempt to strike me outside of our practice sessions or disrupt the functioning of my team, then the deal is off and you will be killed along with your brother. The journey to the arena world will take four weeks. In three weeks we will exit the Janus Cardo closest to Olympus Decimus. You have until then to impress me.”

“That wasn't what we discussed,” Crassus said angrily, rising to his feet. “She's paid the price of admittance.”

“I have no interest in helping you achieve your outcomes,” he said bluntly to Crassus, “and she might have paid your price, but she hasn't paid mine. She's not officially on the team until I say so, and for that privilege she's going to have to pay and keep on paying.”

“I will personally speak to Proconsul Aquilinus about this—” Crassus started, but Licinus moved in close to him.

“Whatever delusions you have about your influence with the proconsul, you'd do well not to express them in my presence,” Licinus growled. “I am the team leader and, even though the proconsul has spoken and we must see your ridiculous plan to its conclusion, you are still second in charge. Now get on with your job and keep your pet on a short leash, Crassus.” For the first time I saw just how much they hated each other.

To the rest of the team, Licinus said, “We start drills tomorrow, get settled in and rest while you can.” As he passed me on his way back to the cockpit, he made a kissing motion with his lips. “Good dog.”

“Don't mind him,” Barbata said. “The commander is only cruel to be kind. Win his approval and you will find him to be the best of allies. Yes, even to you. Get settled aboard
Incitatus.
Have a bath and then I'll see what we can do about your appearance.”

I felt like a soiled dishrag. Barbata had a way of belittling those around her. As she went on about my appearance, I saw that Pollux Corvinus was leveling a finger at me, just sitting there silently pointing at me.

“He's upset,” Castor said. “You shouldn't have laughed at his missing arm. My brother doesn't like being reminded of it.”

“I can tell. He looks positively distraught,” I said. Neither brother had registered anything resembling a human emotion since I'd entered the shuttle.

Castor Corvinus had an attachment that extended from the underside of his armilla to the base of his palm, permitting him to tap out commands with one hand alone. He mapped out a sequence with his middle finger, and suddenly the bracelet shocked me again, sharp and hard. It was short this time, not enough to send me to the floor, just enough to make me squirm for their amusement.

Training under Marcus had equipped me for this. Let them all burn and torture me, it wouldn't matter. I could endure.

Crassus led me from the room. I suppose he figured I'd be less danger to myself or the others if I were out of the way, back by the shuttle doors.