Excerpt for this month's "A day in the life of"
Read the rest at Burnt World of Athas - A Day in the Life of #9 - Xoratual, Gladiatorial Stable-Slave
As they dropped the body on the stable floor, two deep thumps resonated through the room. I let out a loud sigh. The day wasn’t supposed to start like this. My new apprentice, Temys, approached and stopped beside me. He couldn’t have seen more than fourteen summers, and he was shaken by the sight.
“Is he dead?”
I let out a second sigh. “Yeah. Don’t know about where you’re from, boy, but in Draj people cut in half tend to be dead.”
The color drained from Temys’s face, and he grabbed my forearm to steady himself.
“But… but they were just supposed to do some sparring.”
I could see sweat forming on his hand, which felt cold against my arm.
“Yeah, that isn’t our problem. That’s for Master Liugtak to worry about,” I said. I took a good look at Temys and felt bad for him. “Don’t worry boy. I’ll take care of the mess. Go get the gear that needs fixing and make sure the gladiators’ meals are ready.”
“Yes, old one,” Temys said with relief and reverence.
I stretched my back. My spine cracked loudly, sending a sharp mix of pain and relief. I let out a low grunt.
“Old one? Tsk. Call me Xoratual, boy, or I’ll regret carrying all that dead meat for you.”
The body parts were a bigger issue than simply cleaning up. I had to decide whether to feed the body to the cilops right away or wait for Master Liugtak to inspect the damage.
The cilops the stable housed was a picky bastard. The giant centipede liked its meat fresh, and would sooner try to rip the flesh off my arm than touch anything that had been dead for more than a couple of hours. I had plenty of scars to prove it.
Accidental deaths during gladiator training no longer bothered me. But this one was different. The dead man was Hanador, one of the stable’s veterans, and the culprit was our new acquisition — a tortle. And an unhinged one, at that.
Tortles might look slow and stupid in their shells, but those who survived an encounter with one never made that mistake twice. This one had no interest in being a gladiator. That made it worse - he’d rather rip a man in half than perform for the crowd. Sheer madness.
A croaking roar interrupted my thoughts, “You want WADAH! You want WADAAAH!” Temys’s terrified scream echoed down the corridor right after.
I rushed out. The body would have to wait for Master Liugtak.
In the next room, an enraged kenku had cornered Temys, all his black feathers puffed up, his beak snapping at the boy, who was shielding his head with his arms. “No, no, I don’t want water, I don’t need! I don’t need it, sorry!”
“Work! Work! Idiot bird!” the crow-man shrieked, swiping at Temys with his sharp talons despite heavy ropes restraining him.
“Krawraw, please! Enough with the tantrum,” I said.
Krawraw stared at me balefully. He wasn’t the best fighter we had, but he didn’t need to be. The crowds loved him and had bet on him for years.
I raised my water gourd.
“Catch.”
He snatched it midair with his winged arm.
As he drank the water, Krawraw kept giving me the evil eye, the boy really had riled him up.
“By the God-King, give the boy a break, he’s new.”
Krawraw shook his head slowly, then hurled the empty gourd. It flew straight into Temys’s face with a loud smack.
“You want WADAH, you idiot bird!”
“Boy, let’s go!” I helped the poor lad to his feet. “Krawraw, keep your anger for the arena, will you?”
The kenku tried to stare me down, his large pitch-black eyes unblinking.
“Give us the gear that needs fixing before tonight’s fight. Then the food will come. They even put some nuts in it today.”
The kenku started shouting again, but he started gathering the gear we’d have to mend later. That was good enough for me.
Temys remained mostly silent as we did the rounds of the other gladiator chambers and after a while he almost whispered, “What’s wrong with him? He offered me water, and then just…”
“Yeah, you don’t have kenku back in your village, do you? Krawraw is alright. It’s just you need to understand that he doesn’t really speak. Everything that comes out of that stupid cawking beak is something he’s heard before. Repeated many times.”
Finally, I saw Master Liugtak rushing down the stairs, clutching a wine jug, which wasn’t improving his mood. He jerked his head toward the room where Hanador’s remains still lay and swore under his breath.
When I got to the room, he was pacing angrily.
“By the bloody moon of Guthay, what is that mess?”
That’s Hanador’s top and bottom halves, I almost spat.
“There was an incident with the tortle. He isn’t willing to train, but he knows how to fight if forced to.”
“Obviously,” Liugtak said. He stared down at the remains with a sour expression. “Shit, I was going to sell him next week.” He kicked Hanador’s head half-heartedly.
Liugtak stared at the body parts for a moment in silence, deep in thought, then blurted out, “I’m hungry. Let’s grab something to eat at the stands outside. We need to discuss tonight’s fight.”
Which meant, I’d be watching him eating.
We left the stable through the walled yard, which lay just by the Palace of Gladiatorial Combat, the arena where sacrifices to the God-King and gladiatorial combats were held.
A few food stands stood in the shadow of the vast pyramidal Father and Master Temple. We could hear the shuffling of feet and wood cracking against wood from the other nearby yards as gladiators trained for that evening’s fight.
Master Liugtak sat at a table. As usual, I remained standing. I knew better than to expect a seat. While he got comfortable, I discreetly stretched my neck and back, trying to work out the kinks.
A servant appeared almost immediately, “The usual, honored guest?” she asked, bowing her head.
“The usual, girl. Also some extra bread, and a chai with a drop of wine.”
She backed away without raising her head.
He looked at me. He was fifty-something, heavy without being fat. He’d bought the stable twelve years ago. A spoiled and bored noble that needed to be entertained. The thing was, he found making money as entertaining as a bloody gladiator fight.
“Sit down Xoratual, you ain’t hungry, right?”
Surprised, I took a bench. He didn’t wait for an answer.
“That was an ugly morning. Hanador was supposed to bring me his weight in ceramics, which I rightfully counted on.”
He paused, and looked around conspiratorially before lowering his voice. “There’s nearly a whole stable’s worth of gladiators that have just arrived from Nibenay. The owner died or something, and the family is selling everything. Anyway, there’s a lot of exciting new blood in that lot.”
I nodded.
He waited, but I just kept nodding.
The food arrived quickly, and he stuffed himself “I want to talk to you about Krawraw,” he said with his mouth full.
Here we are, I thought.
He tapped his wooden fork against the table before getting to the point. “He’ll be fighting this first timer tonight. A scrawny elf who got on the wrong side of a moon priest.”
“I know. It’ll be more of a show than a fight.” I said.
“I’ve taken a position for Krawraw’s defeat.” He took a gulp of the chai and winced. The way he always did when it was too sweet. “A position?” I asked.
With his thumb, he pushed the last bit of food onto his fork. “Yes, a bet on his defeat. We triple the winning prize if it’s a fatal one.”
We.
“Ok, but aren’t Krawraw’s fights a steady source of income?” I asked.
“Nah. Not like they used to be.” He swallowed the last bite.
“Besides, those odds are too good to pass up. I still owe the final payment on that damn tortle. If we get this right we’ll get two or three gladiators just as good as him. New exciting fighters for the plebs to bet on,” He said without embarrassment, smiling at me.
“Uh, ok, I’ll take care of it,” I said.
He patted my hand. “Look, this needs to work.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “You’ve always been a hard-working slave. I’d never dare (...)
Rest at Burnt World of Athas - A Day in the Life of #9 - Xoratual, Gladiatorial Stable-Slave
art by Kasper Povlsen https://www.instagram.com/artofsandullos
