[h3][center]Tahir and the Dead Man[/center][/h3]

They had arrived at the town of Apulum the day before. It was Tahir's first visit, he had asked the dead man if he had been to the arena here before, but he had not answered. This was not unusual. Their relationship was one built upon silence. Silence and secrets. But it was a relationship none the less, one that Tahir believed they both appreciated, though he doubted his master would ever admit so much.

They must have made a strange pair as they had travelled the road towards the coast. A scarred slave boy leading a mule, alongside a pale grey mare with a strange and foreign man all in black atop it. When the wind blew his master looked more like ball of swirling darkness than a man, as his many cloaks and robes and veils all danced with the gusts of air. Sometimes Tahir had talked away in their native tongue. But mostly they had been silent save for the clopping hooves of the old mounts and trudge of his sandals upon the road.

It was their first games of the new year, the winter was generally speaking not considered a time for the arena in these provincial towns of Venatria. Too cold, thought Tahir, not like in Sariya where the winters were so mild and the summer sun could kill. Here the sun was weaker, and the tournaments would begin with the spring and end when Lord Akzum's touch fell over the trees. The winter had been lean for them, most of his master's winnings from that fall had been spent on the cheapest boarding house they could find. For while it looked like they would have to sell what little treasure they had left in order to make it through to the spring. But they had survived, and they were here now.

Apulum was fresh after the dust of the road. The salt on the air and the crisp sea breeze from the west smelt of promise, of new beginnings perhaps. But ocean also reminded Tahir of much darker times that he would rather not dwell on. It had been years, but the creak of the ship and the moans of those whom had laid next to him those long fevered weeks still haunted his dreams.

They had gone to the arena first, as they always did when they came to a new town. Tahir did the speaking, as he always did when they had to speak to people. He limped through the cycle of questions he had been taught to repeat in his broken Venatrian: [color=f7941d]"When do the games begin? What purses are on offer? Will there be a tournament for singles? Are any of the teams looking for new gladiators?"[/color] He was so used to hearing 'no' to the last one that he almost launched into the next without hearing what the man was saying:

"I hear that the House Valens seeks new blood. Not that it'll come to anything, their luck has turned on them..."

It was at that Tahir heard the rustle of his master behind him. A light touch fell upon his shoulder and he turned to look up at the veiled face. Tahir couldn't see through the thin slit there, but he knew that his master was suddenly very interested in what this Venatrian had to say. Normally they had no luck with joining the established houses. Unknown outsiders like themselves were considered a gamble, and then of course there was his master's... condition... to think about. 

When they had left the arena to find lodgings for that night his master had seemed pensive and brooding. In fairness, he always seemed to brood, but this night more so than most others. They had shared a room, Tahir sleeping on the bed meant for his master, for his master needed no sleep. Oft he would sit in the darkness and feign it, but Tahir knew he could never truly rest. This night he did not do so. He had watched the sun set from their window and had stood there silently for hours, watching first the moon and then stars rise. 

[color=f7941d]"Do you know this House Valens?"[/color] Tahir asked quietly to the darkness. 

The figure by the window did not reply, but slowly he turned his head to look at Tahir. In the privacy of their room he had removed the veil which hid his face and Tahir could see the faint blueish glow emitted by his empty sockets. His master nodded to him.

[color=f7941d]"Are we going to try to join them? Should we risk it, the last time was n-"[/color]

His master raised a hand and Tahir fell silent. He didn't want to discuss his now. A small knot of rage formed in his stomach for a moment. This was his future to! They would kill his master as a necromancy, but what would they do to his 'apprentice'?! He tried to put it out of his mind, but it soured his sleep and left him dreaming. Dreaming of a creaking ship, the clank of chains, and the moaning people. 

The dead man did not dream, but remembered. He stood at the window until the sun came up, and then he made his decision. 

[center]------------------------------------------------[/center]

They had spent the morning and early afternoon preparing. 

Tahir had unpacked the best of his master's clothes and drew water from the well to wash them. Then there was his sword, his belt, the circlet he sometimes wore - they all needed polishing. The horses had needed seeing to, and Tahir had conspicuously ordered food and drink 'for his master' in order to keep up the charade of their existence. He had tried to find out what he could about this House Valens, but his master was not in the mood to talk and kept him busy most of the day. 

The Lord Duwabir had dressed himself once, and then again, and finally a third time until he was happy with his appearance. He had done a good job. The long flowing robes could only disguise so much, it was the arrangement of the padded under layers of sack cloth and straw that would hid his master's condition except to the most acute of eyes. Perfumed oils were applied to the outer most layers to cover the faint lingering smell of death. The jewels and silver of his adornments shone and contrasted against the sable robes he paired them with. He was dressing to impress. 

Tahir had a few minutes to eat and clean himself before they left. In that time his master had scratched down upon a slate what he should say and had Tahir read it back to him. He considered them intensely, making adjustments here and there until he was happy with it. For one so silent, his master still had something of a silver tongue when it came to putting words in others mouths - even in Venatrian. 

After that they had set off, it was almost mid-afternoon and the sun was warming up. His master was on horseback, Tahir simply walked, it was not a long journey, only just outside the town as the land turned back to farms. They came first through fields and grounds, until they approached a manor with high stone wall and a sturdy guarded gate. 

[color=f7941d]"The Lord Duwabir has business with the House of Valens. He hears they seek gladiators."[/color] Tahir spoke in his best attempt at formal Venatrian, but he seemed that they (or others like them) were expected, and were admitted through the grounds and into a courtyard.

It was a training ground, for gladiators. Tahir had seen the sands from the ringside many at time while watching his master fight, but he never actually set foot in one himself. It sent shivers up his spine, had people died right here? Was this what it was like ever time his master set foot in a place like this? He looked up to see his master, but the Lord Duwabir was focused on what, or rather, who was sat at the end of the courtyard.

She sat upon a cushioned chair in the shade of an awning, and Tahir thought she looked beautiful. She wasn't dressed like the nobles of Sariya did, with all the jewels and gold on every finger and toe. But she didn't need to, her hair was like the rich red-gold that the  fabled mines of Azadulkum produced, and it was all the adornment she needed. Tahir halted before her, and tried to speak, but found himself tongue tied. He couldn't remember the words, the words in Venatrian, it all wanted to come out in Sariyan. His stomach whirled and fluttered. Then he heard his master bowing slightly behind him, and it all came flooding back. Bow first, then speak.

He bowed, deeper than he should have perhaps, but it gave him a chance to gather his breath. And then, he spoke.

[color=f7941d]"My Lady, may I present to you my master, the Lord Duwabir."[/color]

He turned and gestured to the cloaked and veiled figure a pace behind him. The lord Duwabir stood still, silently staring at the woman under the awning.

[color=f7941d]"My master was a champion of the arenas of Sariya in times past. He remembers facing the champions of your father there in his youth. But circumstance forced an early retirement upon my lord. A disease, most terrible, ate away at his skin and tissues. His condition means he cannot face the sun, nor make speach. But his limbs are still strong and his blade quicker than ever."
[/color]

Tahir paused for breath. It was an old lie they told, a wasting disease of the face and throat. Sometimes they said it was contagious to keep the curious away, Tahir hoped they would not have to here. He also hoped that they would not see through this ploy. The last time they had tried to join a house they had been discovered, and there had been hell to pay.

[color=f7941d]"He has returned from retirement to seek glory in the arenas of Venatria. He won the purse for single combatants at Casuel last summer, and silver in melee at Lunis for the festival of Justia. He has travelled to Apulum to seek honour in the arena once more. And the Lord Duwabir wishes to do so in the name of House Valens." [/color]