Tainted

Chapter Nine

It's been three days since we lost Ezzi, and three days since I overheard Ezzi's patron complaining to the warden about missing the chance to choose another contender. She needn't have worried. The warden was filling Ezzi's old cell with new prisoners just as Binks and I were leaving for training. If her number's drawn, she'll have a new contender within the hour.

I rub a hand over my eyes, clearing the rain from my face. It hasn't let up since last night. It's made the pebbled ground slippery, and turned Binks's fur dark, making the warm blue look almost purple.

The stitches on my back burn as I block Binks's next stab. I have to dig my toes into the ground to keep my balance.

"We should stop," Binks says. "I'm st-t-tarting to freeze." She chatters her teeth together to add emphasis.

"We're not allowed back inside," I say. I jerk my head toward the closed wooden door, two guards standing ominously beneath the doorway.

Binks eyes them, as if weighing her options, before sighing and crouching back into her fighting stance, tail raised.

Her parrying has been more lackluster today. She's been quiet since Ezzi. I've tried to tease out conversation, but Binks just feigns sleep, and rolls away. It hasn't helped that I've noticed her glancing at the weapons basket, the remains of her bow staring back. She's using Mika's old sword today, and even though it's obvious her heart's not in our sparring, at least it seems like her head is. She's holding the sword like she should, and she's making good choices with her foot placement and her blade swipes. She might not be a bad sword-wielder, with more practice.

Sar, too, is using a sword. A broadsword. I watched her pick it up and toss it back and forth, weighing the metal.

Over Binks's shoulder I can see Sar jousting with Jak. Sar looks comfortable with the sword in her hand. She steps nimbly from foot to foot. She doesn't so much block Jak's thrusts, as move out of their way. I try to take note of which muscles she uses, but she's clever in hiding them.

"Come on, Mi, I can't be that boring!" Binks says. The feel of her old, jokey self is there, but no smile accompanies her words. This playacting at being happy is almost worse than if she would just take her time to be sad.

Binks's sword clashes against my knife. I'd caught the motion out of the corner of my eye and our blades had locked before Binks had been able to throw her full weight behind the stab.

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'm here, I'm with you."

Binks frowns but says nothing. She wasn't supposed to train today, but her patron scrounged up the coin to let her build her skill with weapons other than a bow. Secretly, I'd been hoping Binks wouldn't train; it would've given me an opportunity to spar with Sar one-on-one, but now I'll just have to watch Sar from afar and hope it's study enough.

Rain leeches through my tunic and chills my back. My teeth chatter too, but we have at least another hour of training to go, if not more.

A string of disgruntled guards loop back and forth between the seating above the training ring. Earlier, they'd put up massive, purple and gold canvas overhangs to protect the seating from rain, and now they're twisting streamers and flowers on twine between the seats. The warden's Moon Day feast is tonight. We've been hearing the sounds of the nobles' camps filtering over the stadium wall all morning. They've been arriving in groups, each one seeming to cheer louder than the next upon their arrival. From what we can hear, it's been an ongoing party.

I wish Myles could see this. He always gets excited for Moon Day. I think it's the last happy thing he's trying to hold onto. But Myles's patron couldn't (or didn't want to) pay for a training session, so Myles is still stuck down below in the damp dungeon, along with the Matron, Jak's withering cellmate, Cass, and everyone else.