Caelan had learned that a prince with
ambition did not always seek pleasure but instead worked to purposes
unexplained to mere gladiators.
The porter had
nothing to say to Caelan. Presumably he had no interest in betting on the arena
games. Or perhaps his owner did not permit him to gamble. If he even knew who
Caelan was, he looked completely unimpressed. It was a long, silent hour of
boredom. Caelan had never been one to stand much inactivity.
Just before he
rose to his feet to go outside and prowl about in the darkness, the prince
emerged with the well wishes of his host, a gray-haired man looking much
gratified by the honor that had been conferred on him by Tirhin’s visit.
They rode to
another villa, staying only a short time before leaving again. The prince did
this twice more until at last they arrived at the exquisite home of Lady Sivee.
Caelan had been
here before, and he found himself grinning with anticipation. Now that social
obligations had been satisfied, they could enjoy themselves. The lady was a
youngish widow of considerable beauty and fortune. She spent her money on
lavish entertainments, and threw the best parties in Imperia. Her personal
notoriety did not keep people away, and she delighted in mixing people of
different social classes and standing. As a champion gladiator, even Caelan was
welcome in her home, for he provided additional entertainment for her guests,
especially the female ones who invariably clustered about to admire his
muscles. It was rumored the lady had hopes of marrying Prince Tirhin, but while
the prince dallied, he did not propose. Politically, he could do better.
The rooms were
crowded with guests, but Lady Sivee came fluttering through to greet the prince
warmly.
“Sir, we are
honored indeed by your graciousness,” she said with a radiant smile.
The prince kissed
her hand. “My lady, how could I even think of forgoing your invitation? You
knew I would come.”
“I could only
hope,” she replied.
Her gaze swept to
the others, and when they had been suitably greeted and directed onward to the
tables of food and drink, she turned to Caelan.
“Welcome,
champion,” she said with kindness. “There were rumors that you had suffered
grievous wounds. I am glad to see them false. You look particularly well.”
“Thank you, my
lady,” he said, pleased by the courtesy she extended to him. “Your hospitality
shines above the rest.”
Her brows arched,
and she seemed surprised by his gallantry. “Well, well,” she said. “You are
gaining polish. Soon you will have a charm equal to your master’s.”
“Never, if I may
contradict a lady’s pronouncement,” he said, drawing on his boyhood lessons in
etiquette. Gladiator or not, he wasn’t a barbarian and he didn’t intend to be
taken for one. “My master surpasses most men in ability, wit, and graciousness.
Together, those qualities create a charm I could never approach.”
Lady Sivee
laughed. “Truly I am amazed by this speech. You sound like a courtier instead
of a gladiator.”
Caelan bowed,
accepting the compliment.
“But I must
question you,” she continued. “You say the prince surpasses most men.
Are you not at risk with this opinion? Who possibly could surpass such a man
whom the gods have favored so completely?”
As she spoke, her
gaze followed the prince, who had reached the opposite side of the room.
Everyone was vying for a chance to speak to him or to attract his notice.
Prince Tirhin acted graciously, nodding to some, speaking to others.
Caelan watched him
too, aware of the ears listening to his conversation with the hostess, aware of
those who stared at him as though they could not believe him capable of opening
his mouth intelligently. He was not going to fall into any trap. Yet here was
one small chance for a dig at the prince’s expense, a temptation impossible to
resist.
“Who?” Lady Sivee
persisted, her eyes shining merrily. “Who is his better? Who? I would know this
paragon,
ambition did not always seek pleasure but instead worked to purposes
unexplained to mere gladiators.
The porter had
nothing to say to Caelan. Presumably he had no interest in betting on the arena
games. Or perhaps his owner did not permit him to gamble. If he even knew who
Caelan was, he looked completely unimpressed. It was a long, silent hour of
boredom. Caelan had never been one to stand much inactivity.
Just before he
rose to his feet to go outside and prowl about in the darkness, the prince
emerged with the well wishes of his host, a gray-haired man looking much
gratified by the honor that had been conferred on him by Tirhin’s visit.
They rode to
another villa, staying only a short time before leaving again. The prince did
this twice more until at last they arrived at the exquisite home of Lady Sivee.
Caelan had been
here before, and he found himself grinning with anticipation. Now that social
obligations had been satisfied, they could enjoy themselves. The lady was a
youngish widow of considerable beauty and fortune. She spent her money on
lavish entertainments, and threw the best parties in Imperia. Her personal
notoriety did not keep people away, and she delighted in mixing people of
different social classes and standing. As a champion gladiator, even Caelan was
welcome in her home, for he provided additional entertainment for her guests,
especially the female ones who invariably clustered about to admire his
muscles. It was rumored the lady had hopes of marrying Prince Tirhin, but while
the prince dallied, he did not propose. Politically, he could do better.
The rooms were
crowded with guests, but Lady Sivee came fluttering through to greet the prince
warmly.
“Sir, we are
honored indeed by your graciousness,” she said with a radiant smile.
The prince kissed
her hand. “My lady, how could I even think of forgoing your invitation? You
knew I would come.”
“I could only
hope,” she replied.
Her gaze swept to
the others, and when they had been suitably greeted and directed onward to the
tables of food and drink, she turned to Caelan.
“Welcome,
champion,” she said with kindness. “There were rumors that you had suffered
grievous wounds. I am glad to see them false. You look particularly well.”
“Thank you, my
lady,” he said, pleased by the courtesy she extended to him. “Your hospitality
shines above the rest.”
Her brows arched,
and she seemed surprised by his gallantry. “Well, well,” she said. “You are
gaining polish. Soon you will have a charm equal to your master’s.”
“Never, if I may
contradict a lady’s pronouncement,” he said, drawing on his boyhood lessons in
etiquette. Gladiator or not, he wasn’t a barbarian and he didn’t intend to be
taken for one. “My master surpasses most men in ability, wit, and graciousness.
Together, those qualities create a charm I could never approach.”
Lady Sivee
laughed. “Truly I am amazed by this speech. You sound like a courtier instead
of a gladiator.”
Caelan bowed,
accepting the compliment.
“But I must
question you,” she continued. “You say the prince surpasses most men.
Are you not at risk with this opinion? Who possibly could surpass such a man
whom the gods have favored so completely?”
As she spoke, her
gaze followed the prince, who had reached the opposite side of the room.
Everyone was vying for a chance to speak to him or to attract his notice.
Prince Tirhin acted graciously, nodding to some, speaking to others.
Caelan watched him
too, aware of the ears listening to his conversation with the hostess, aware of
those who stared at him as though they could not believe him capable of opening
his mouth intelligently. He was not going to fall into any trap. Yet here was
one small chance for a dig at the prince’s expense, a temptation impossible to
resist.
“Who?” Lady Sivee
persisted, her eyes shining merrily. “Who is his better? Who? I would know this
paragon,
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