Kings Game

Chapter 5 - The deal (2)

Roran was taken to another room and shoved inside before he could ask anymore questions. The room was well lit with candles and a crackling fireplace. A couch faced the fire with a plush rug underneath. Sat upon the couch was a very grumpy looking Kell.

The door slammed behind Roran, causing him to jump, and Carrick began milling about the room, collecting a couple goblets and a jug of wine. He filled a goblet and handed it off to Kell.

"Well that was a mess," she said, taking a swig of wine. "You know, when I told you to kill someone, I meant during the match."

"I know," said Roran.

Kell chugged her goblet while Carrick poured one for himself and sat down on the couch. He gestured for Roran to sit on a nearby stool.

"They were going to execute you," Kell went on, "for killing a champion after the match had ended. They're really strict about these things to prevent personal vendettas from getting out of hand."

"Yeah, I figured that would be the case."

"Then why did you kill him?" Kell set her goblet down and leaned forward, her expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity. "He couldn't hurt your friends anymore, he couldn't hurt you anymore. There was no reason to kill him."

"Yes there was," said Roran. "You still needed my answer."

Kell stared at Roran, her eyes a swirl of blue and green, a shimmering façade that hid her thoughts and intentions. She grinned at him, baring her teeth.

"There it is then."

Roran nodded. "I can't die down there."

"You're not the first person to say that to me. The other ones still died."

"As long as it's not down there."

"Funny, they said that too. Alright Roran," Kell stuck out her hand, "welcome to the team."

Roran took Kell's hand, her grip firm and warm. Her palm and fingers were lined with calluses. Small scars dotted her knuckles. It was the hand of an experienced killer. Roran's hand burned as Kell gripped it, the cut on his palm the first of his battle scars.

Kell frowned as she took her hand back, blood covering her own palm.

"I wasn't looking for a blood oath but I guess that works. Carrick, can you get some bandages for his hands?" Kell paused, looking Roran over. "Wow, get some bandages for his arms too, and some healing salves. You're a mess."

Getting to his feet, Carrick asked, "Shall I draw up a formal transfer request as well?"

"Yeah, let's get the paperwork started."

"Paperwork for what?" asked Roran.

"For moving you out of the dungeons," said Kell. "We'll have to take you shopping too, get you set up with some proper gear and clothes."

"What about my people?" asked Roran. "Are you getting them out as well?"

Kell scoffed. "Of course not, I don't have the money for that. I'm broke from wasting all my time in the Crucible."

"What will happen to them if I leave?"

"Same thing that will happen if you stay, they will starve and die."

"There has to be some way to help them," said Roran, desperate.

Shrugging, Kell said, "I guess you could stay down there and waste your money keeping them fed, but that will eat up your winnings as fast as you earn them."

"Then I'll do that," said Roran, "I can't just abandon them."

"Why not?" asked Kell, "They don't care about you. That old lady seems to give a damn but only because she's afraid of getting haunted. The others don't care about you."

Roran flinched. "How can you tell?"

"I barged into your cell, smacked an old guy around, and then dragged you out of there and not a single soul did anything to stop me. They didn't even move. I know what it looks like when someone is ready to abandon you and trust me Roran, those people would dump you in a ditch without a second thought."

"Still, I can't just leave them."

Kell sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, figure it out the hard way. As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain the details don't matter to me." Turning to Carrick, she said, "Forget the paperwork, but we still need bandages."

Carrick nodded and excused himself. Kell grabbed the jug of wine and refilled both goblets, handing one to Roran. His throat dry and tight, he took a sip and grimaced. He wasn't used to the tart flavors of wine. Kell downed her goblet in a single go and refilled it again.

"Thank you," said Roran.

"I didn't do anything. I made an offer and you accepted it. From here on out things will only be harder."

"You stopped Gress from killing Toth."

Kell ignored him, sipping at her wine.

"You could have let him die, but you intervened, again."

"I just don't like seeing bullies hurt people down here, that's all."

"Why do they let champions fight in the Crucible?" asked Roran.

"For fun and for sport. There's no money in these fights so anyone with a title is just here to pick on the weak. They make up excuses, saying they're practicing or blowing off steam but the truth is they like hunting people for sport." Kell leaned back on the couch and rubbed her face. "I should have killed Gress before he attacked your friends. Duran is a bully and a murderer but at least you can run from him. If I had known Gress was using focus marking this wouldn't have become such a mess."

"And that's why I'm not in trouble, because he was using magic?"

Kell nodded. "Yeah, once I saw the markings under his shirt I pointed it out to the wardens and flagged down Carrick, he handled the rest."

Carrick returned with a roll of bandages and a small container. He sat back down on the couch and gestured for Roran to scoot closer. Taking Roran's hand, Carrick opened the tub, revealing a sticky salve that smelled strongly of mint and herbs. He smeared some on Roran's palm, working it into the wound.

Roran winced as the salve began itching and burning. "So what happens now?" he asked.

"Now," began Kell, "we get you bandaged up and send you home. I'll come fetch you tomorrow and we can start getting you ready for some real fights."