Blood Ties

NO GLAD IN GLADIATOR by Robert Lynn Asprin

Chenaya shivered, pan from her damp nakedness, part from fear, as she clutched the threadbare blanket more tightly about her. Fear? No, rather nervous anticipation.

The whole thing so far had a surreal, dreamlike quality to it. First the rude awakening, sans clothes, deep in Sanctuary's less-than-fragrant bay, and then the long swim to shore, worrying all the while about the hunger and size of aquatic predators lurking below. There had been men waiting for her on the pier, three of them, one bearing the blanket she now wore. Nervousness made her declare her identity unasked, including all her ranks and titles, yet they seemed as unimpressed and unmoved by her station as they were by her nakedness. The blanket itself was a silent statement of friendship, or at least sympathy, however, so it seemed natural to follow without protest as they hurried her through a bewildering maze of back streets and alleys to the room where she now sat waiting.

Ignoring the scattering of candles and oil lamps which cast flickering shadows about, she glanced again at the large chair which dominated the room. All signs indicated that she was finally going to meet the man she had been trying to contact since she reached town. Well, her requests had said a time and place of his choosing.

Her thoughts were cut short by the entrance of a man through a door she had not seen in the shadows. Although his features were obscured by a blue hawkmask, she had no difficulty recognizing him. Tall and lean as he was dark, she had applauded him often in the Rankan arena, and stood near him in the "tribunal" that Tempus had convened on Zip.

"Jubal," she said-more a statement than a question.

He had been studying her covertly as she waited, and admired her spirit despite himself. Naked and alone, she showed no sign of fear, only curiosity. It was clear to him that this conversation would not be an easy one to control.

Neither acknowledging nor denying his name when she uttered it, he set one of the two clay bottles he was carrying within her easy reach.

"Drink," he ordered. "It's better against the night chill than your blanket."

She started to reach for the offering, then hesitated, her eyes going to him again as he settled himself in the thronelike chair.

"Aren't you supposed to taste this in front of me? A hospitable gesture to guarantee against poison? I was told it is a local custom."

He took a long drink from his own bottle before favoring her with a mirthless smile. "I'm not that hospitable," he said. "The wine I'm drinking is of a notably better vintage than yours. I swore off that slop when I left the arena, and I don't intend to break that vow just to make you feel better. If you don't trust it, don't drink it. It makes no difference to me."

He watched her quick flash of anger with amusement. Chenaya was indeed a Rankan noble, unused to being told that her actions were a matter of indifference to anyone. Jubal half expected her to throw the wine in his face and stalk off... or at least try to. The girl proved to be of sterner stuff, though. Either that, or she wanted this meeting more than Jubal had realized.

Defiantly, she raised the bottle to her lips and took a long pull. It was the coarse red wine given to gladiators.

"Red Courage," she said, using the gladiators' nickname for the drink as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, letting the blanket slip to expose one bare shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not shocked. I've had it before... and liked it. In fact, I've developed a taste for it and drink it often with my men."

Jubal shook his head.

"I'm not disappointed. Puzzled, perhaps. Arena slaves drink that swill because they can't get any better. That or they've never had anything to compare it to. Why someone who is highborn and raised to finer things would choose to drink Red Courage when there are more delicate beverages to be had is beyond me. Of course, you've always been one who preferred being coarser than is necessary."

His words were intentionally insulting, but this time Chenaya seemed unmoved.

"I bow to the master," she smiled. "Who knows more of crudity and coarseness than Jubal?"

Unknowing, her riposte stuck Jubal in his most vulnerable spot: his vanity.

"I was born a slave," he hissed, leaning forward angrily in his chair, "and in that station crude living and no morals are a way of life. I learned to lie and steal and eventually to kill as a means of survival, not as a sport. I didn't like it, but it was necessary. Once I won my freedom, I did everything I could to rise above my beginnings... not far by noble standards, but as high as I have been able. I'm told I have a contempt for those below me who have not matched my efforts, let alone my success. That may be so, but I have more regard for them than for one who is highborn and wallows in the gutter by choice!"

Jubal caught himself before he said more and inwardly cursed his lack of control. The purpose of this interview was not to show Chenaya how to get him to lose his temper. Such information could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

Fortunately, the girl seemed more taken aback than alerted by his outburst.

"Please," she said in an uncomfortably contrite tone, "I don't wish to insult you or to fight with you. I... I made it known that I wanted to meet with you because I hoped we might work together."

This was more to Jubal's liking. He had anticipated this request when he first heard that she was trying to get in touch with him.

"Unlikely," he replied grimly. "I've had you watched since you arrived in town, as I do anyone who has the potential of influencing or disrupting the balance of power in this town. So far, your actions have been those of a spoiled brat: alternating malicious pranks with tantrums. I have heard of nothing that would give you value as an ally."

"Then why did you have me brought here?"

Jubal shrugged. "When I heard of your predicament, I thought perhaps the sudden demonstration of your vulnerability might shock you into thinking. Now that you're here, however, I see that you're still too full of yourself to listen to anyone else, or even talk to them instead of at them. Your value remains zero, however great the potential."

"But I have much to offer...."

"I have no need of a slut or a horse thief. The streets are full of them, and most are better at it and smarter about plying their trade than you seem to be."

Jubal expected an angry retort to this, or at least an argument as to her value as an ally. Instead, the girl lapsed into silence, her thoughts obviously turning inward before she answered.

"If you are uninterested in me as an ally," she said, choosing her words carefully, "then perhaps I can impose on you as an advisor. You've been monitoring my actions, and know what I have and what I can do. But where I see strength, you will only acknowledge potential. Could I ask you to share your thoughts with me that I might leam from your experience?"

The crimelord studied her as he drank from his bottle. Perhaps Chenaya was wiser than he had given her credit for.

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said in this meeting. Very well, if for no other reason than to encourage your newfound humility, I'll answer your questions."

The girl took another sip from her own bottle as she organized her thoughts, unconsciously grimacing as if the sour bite of the wine was no longer pleasant to her tongue.

"1 have nearly a dozen gladiators under my command and am currently recruiting more. I've always believed that gladiators, such as you yourself used to be, were the finest fighters in the Empire. Am I wrong?"

"Yes."

Jubal came out of his chair in a fluid motion and began pacing. "Every fighting force or school sincerely believes that its style is the best. They have to in order to muster the necessary confidence for combat. Your father trains gladiators, so you've been raised believing that a gladiator can defeat any three fighters without similar training."

He paused to regard her steadily.

"The truth is that there are certain individuals more suited to combat than others. Poor fighters die early, whether they're gladiators or soldiers. The survivors, particularly those who survive numerous battles, are the best by virtue of the process of elimination, but it's more a tribute to the individual than to the training."

"But my agents have been specifically instructed to recruit experienced gladiators," Chenaya interrupted. "Professionals who have survived numerous bouts. Doesn't that insure that I'll be getting the best fighters?"

Jubal fixed her with an icy stare.

"If you'll allow me to finish, perhaps you will hear the answer to that question. I thought you wanted to hear my opinions, not your own."

Chenaya wilted under his gaze, and nodded mutely for him to continue.

The crimelord waited a few more moments, then resumed his pacing. "As I was saying, it is the individual's abilities that dictate how good a fighter he can eventually become. Training prepares him for a specific type of combat. Gladiator training is fine for arena-style individual combat, but it doesn't teach a fighter to watch the rooftops for archers the way he'd need to in street fighting, or to deal with maneuvering groups of fighters the way the military does. Then again, even military maneuvers are useless in some situations, like when the mobs were forming during the plague riots. Any training will be of limited value when taken out of its element.

"As for your so-called professional gladiators, I don't like them, and would never endanger my name and reputation by hiring them to represent me. Regardless of what you might think, being a gladiator is not a desirable profession. A soldier or a thief can have a long and successful career and see little, if any, actual combat. By the nature of his livelihood, a gladiator must risk his life in open combat on a regular basis. If you are a slave, as I was, it's a dubious way to earn your keep, but to choose it freely as your 'professional gladiators' do is unthinkable. They are either fools or sadists, and neither are known to be particularly controllable."

"So you think I'm foolish to hire gladiators?"

"If that's your only criterion. At the very least I would advise that you look beyond training and arena records and study the individuals. Some of the men currently in your employ have questionable backgrounds. You might start looking into that before you place too much trust in them. Further, I would suggest that you find a trainer who can drill your troops in tactics more suited to the street than the arena. They'll stand a better chance of winning."

"I... I'll have to think on it," Chenaya said slowly. "What you say makes sense, but it's all so contrary to what I've been raised to believe."

'Take your time." Jubal smiled. "The time to think is be fore, not after you've committed yourself. Sending men into combat isn't a game."

She looked at him sharply. "I think I hear a hidden warning in that last comment. I take it you've heard of my special talent: the fact that I never lose. It's not potential, and I should think it would count heavily in my favor as a leader... or an ally."

The crimelord averted his eyes as he sank into his chair.

"I've heard of it," he confirmed. "In my opinion, it makes you both arrogant and vulnerable. Neither of which are traits I would want in someone leading me, or guarding my back."

"But..."

"Let's assume for the moment that you're right.. . that you'll never lose. I'll contest that later, but for now we'll take it as a given. You'll win every contest. So what? Start thinking like an adult instead of a child. Life isn't a game. An arrow out of the dark that takes you in the middle of the back isn't a contest. You can retain your perfect win record and still be just as dead as any loser."

Instead of arguing, Chenaya cocked her head quizzically.

"That's the second time you've mentioned archers or arrows, Jubal. For my own curiosity, were you behind the arrow that nicked Zip?"

Jubal cursed himself inwardly. He would have to stop underestimating this girl just because she was young. Her mind was quick to pick up unrelated conversational points and weave them into whole fabric.

"No," he said carefully, "but I know who was. The eye behind that arrow used to work for me, and unless her skills have degenerated badly since her departure, if his ear was hit, that was the target."

He noted the sudden lift of her eyebrow and realized too late that he had inadvertently given away the gender of the archer. It was time to steer conversation back to less sensitive subjects.

"We were speaking of your infallible luck. You seem to feel that if you never lose, you'll never fail. That kind of thinking is dangerous, both for you and anyone who sides with you. There is no such thing as an unstoppable attack or an impenetrable defense. Believing in one or the other only leads to overconfidence and disaster."

"But if I never fail in battle ..."

"... Like your attack on Theron?" The crimelord smiled.

"The attack was a success. We just chose the wrong target," she argued stubbornly.

"Spare me the rationalizations. Anyone who deals with magic or gods gets quite adept with excuses. All I know is that supernatural intervention exacts a price dearer than most intelligent people are willing to pay."

"Of course, you speak with the authority of one who has had a wide range of experience with gods and magic."

In response, Jubal swept his mask off with one hand.

Vanity made him conceal his unnaturally aged features from all but his closest associates, but at times like this his appearance could be far more eloquent than words.

"I have had one dealing with magic," he said grimly, "and this was the result. Years lost off my life was the price I paid to keep from becoming a cripple. While I do not regret the trade, I would think long and hard before entering into further bargaining. Does it ever occur to you that sooner or later you will have to pay for your luck... for ever dice roll that you do so casually to show off your so-called talent?"

The demonstration had the desired effect on Chenaya. She shook her head in mute admission, averting her eyes from the sight of the now-old man she had once cheered.

"Your noble birth gave you a natural arrogance," the crimelord continued relentlessly, deliberately leaving his mask off, "and your belief in your own infallibility has escalated it to proportions that try the patience and the stomach. You seem to believe that you can do whatever you want, to whomever you want, without regard to consequence or repercussion. Perhaps the most arrogant assumption of all is that you think that your undisciplined behavior is not only acceptable, but admirable. The truth is that people find your antics alternately amusing and offensive. If they either tire of being tolerant, or if you ever actually succeed in putting something together that is seen as a genuine threat, the real powers of this town will squash you like a bug, along with anyone who stands with you."

His taunting stung Chenaya out of her shock. "Let them try," she snapped. "I can ..."

Jubal smiled, watching her face as she stopped in mid-sentence, hearing her own arrogance for the first time.

"You see? And that's while you're sitting there in a blanket after being dumped in the middle of the bay. My guess is that whoever did it to you was merely annoyed. If they had been really mad, they would have dropped you farther out. Yet still you persist in feeling that it doesn't matter who you offend."

Chenaya was hunched forward now, hugging the blanket about her as if it could ward off words and ideas as it had the chill. "Am I really that disliked?" she said without looking up.

Jubal felt a moment of pity for the girl. He had also gone through a period when he wanted friends desperately, only to find that his efforts were ignored or misinterpreted. A part of him wanted to comfort Chenaya, but instead he bore on relentlessly, taking advantage of her sagging defenses.

"You've given people little reason to like you. There is new wealth in town from our new Beysib residents, but the citizens still remember how hard money is to come by. You flaunt your wealth, deliberately inviting attack from those who are still desperate, then use your skills or your luck to kill them. Were one of them to succeed in slitting your throat some dark night, I doubt there would be much sympathy expressed anywhere. Most would feel that you deserved it, were asking for it in fact. I would hazard a further guess that there are even those who are secretly hoping it will happen, to teach an object lesson to Rankan nobles who underestimate the dangers in this town. Then, there is your sexual appetite. The tastes in this town are varied and often jaded, but even the lowest whore walking the streets near the Promise of Heaven can approach a man without grabbing his crotch in public."

"You're just saying that because I'm a woman," Chenaya protested. "Men do it-"

"That doesn't make it admirable," Jubal interrupted firmly. "You consistently take the worst models for your behavior. You've chosen to ignore the subtleties of femininity in favor of the blunt coarseness of men. What's more, you've tried to pattern yourself after the worst of men. I assume you've watched the gladiators when they're given women the night before they enter the arena. Remember that gladiators are viewed as animals by most, including themselves. What's more, they know there is a good chance they will not live through the next day, so they have little concern for thinking of the future or making a good impression on their partners. Then again, there's the minor detail that a gladiator's usually dealing with imprisoned whores or slaves. If he tried his pre-fight advances on a free woman in a tavern, I doubt he would find them acceptable to the lady or the other patrons. If you want someone to like you or admire you, you don't do it by embarrassing them in public... or in private, for that matter. Rape isn't admirable, no matter which sex perpetrates it."

"But Tempus is respected, and he's a known rapist."

"Tempus is respected as a soldier, in spite of... not because of his ways with women. I have yet to hear anyone, including his own men, describe his sexual habits as admirable. Remember what I was saying about paying a price for dealing with magic? If my information is correct, part of the cost Tempus pays for being 'favored of the gods' is only being able to take a woman by force. At least, that's the excuse he gives for his conduct. What excuse do you have for yours?"

Jubal had time as he spoke to reflect on the irony of him defending Tempus. "Forgive me if I seem to harp on my criticism of arrogance," he said, "but I firmly believe it's the most dangerous characteristic one can have in Sanctuary. You asked a moment ago of my experience with magic. Well, arrogance is something I am very experienced with; I've had to learn of its dangers the hard way."

Unbidden, images from the past rose up in his mind. Images that usually confined themselves to his dreams.

"Once, before your cousin came to town, I and my hirelings ran Sanctuary. The governor and the garrison were corrupt and ineffectual, and the power was there to be had by anyone strong enough to seize it and hold it. We were strong enough, but it led us, and me in particular, into believing that we were invincible. Consequently, we swaggered through the streets, flaunting and occasionally abusing our power, eager to have everyone acknowledge our strength. The result was that when Tempus arrived in town, we were the obvious targets, first for his individual attention, and then for the Stepsons when they joined him. My holdings were seized, my force scattered, and I was left with the wounds that cost me so much to have healed. All that from one man, the same one you are so willing to provoke with petty games."

"Yet you respect Tempus and are willing to ally with him?" Chenaya wondered out loud.

Jubal was suddenly aware of how far astray his memories had led him.

"You miss the point," he said brusquely. "The fault was mine. It was my open arrogance that brought attention of a sort I neither expected nor wanted. If you willingly lay your hand in a trap, do you hate the trap for snapping shut, or curse your own stupidity for placing your hand in jeopardy?"

"I should think you'd want to avenge yourself on the one who cost you so much."

"I'll admit that I have no great love for Tempus. If at some point in the future I have the opportunity to pay him back, I'll probably take it," Jubal observed, allowing himself a brief flash of the hatred he fought so hard to suppress. "What I won't do is devote my life to it. Revenge is a tempting side street which usually turns out to be a dead end. All it does is lure you farther away from your original path. You would do well to remember that in your schemes to deal with Theron."

"But he had my family murdered!"

"Isn't that part of the risk of being a noble?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Remember what I was saying about everything having a price? Your family led a comfortable existence, but the price was linking your future to the existing power structure in the Empire. When it fell, so did your family. It was a gamble. One you lost. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life hating and pursuing the winner?"

"But-"

The crimelord held up a hand to still her protests. "I still haven't finished talking about my own arrogance. If you'll indulge me?"

Chenaya bit her lip but nodded.

"I thought I had learned my lesson. When I rebuilt my force, I contented myself with covert operations and maintained a low profile to avoid attention. To a large extent it worked, and the various factions in town turned their energies on each other. I watched them stacking bodies and licked my lips... yes, and even worked to keep them at each others' throats. It was my thought that eventually they would grow so weak that I could again rule Sanctuary."

He paused to take another sip of wine, a part of him wondering what there was about this girl that led him to confide his thoughts and plans to her.

"It wasn't until I was criticized by someone, an old man whose opinions I've grown to respect, that I realized that I had again fallen into the trap of arrogance. The Empire has changed and Sanctuary has changed. Things will never be as they were, and I was foolish to think otherwise. I will never again control this town, and all my machinations to weaken my rivals have only made it more vulnerable in its inevitable confrontation with Theron. That's why I was willing to go along with Tempus's plan to negotiate a truce among the warring factions. There is more at stake here than personal vengeance or ambition."

He noticed Chenaya was looking at him strangely. "You really care for this town, don't you?"

"It's a hellhole, or a thieves' world if you listen to the storytellers, but I'm used to it the way it is. I wouldn't like to see it changed at the whim of a new emperor. To that extent, I'm willing to put my personal ambition and pride aside for a moment, for the good of the town."

Chenaya nodded, but Jubal suspected that his attempts to make light of his feelings for Sanctuary had not deceived her in the slightest.

"Tempus wants me to organize the town's defenses once he and his forces leave town."

Jubal grimaced at her statement as if someone had placed something unpleasant on his plate.

"Unlikely. As shrewd as he may be militarily, Tempus still doesn't know the heart of Sanctuary. He is an outsider as you are. The townspeople resent your coming in and clanging the mission bell to tell them how to solve their problem. Even his own men are beginning to rebel against his high-handed ways after so long an absence. The truce was agreed to because it made sense, not because Tempus proposed it. I doubt you could effectively unite the locals because you are an outsider. Any cooperation you got would be grudging at best."

He considered pointing out that her betrayal of Zip made her decidedly untrustworthy in the eyes of any who knew of it, but decided against it. They were closing on one of the main reasons he had granted this audience, and he didn't want the conversation to veer off on unwanted tangents.

"Who, then? You?"

"I told you before that I'll never control this town again," he said, shaking his head. "I'm a criminal, and an ex-slave to boot. Even if those difficulties were overcome, too many of the factions have old grievances with me and mine. No, they might fight beside me, but they'd never willingly follow me."

"Then in your opinion, the best leader would be ..."

She let the question hang in the air. Mentally, Jubal took a deep breath and crossed his fingers.

"Your cousin. Prince Kittycat. He's been here long enough to be considered one of the locals, and he's very popular with those common folk who've had any direct contact with him. More importantly, he's probably the only figure of authority who has not directly opposed any of the necessary factions. If that isn't enough, he has closer dealings with the Beysib than anyone in town with the possible exception of the fishermen. The town will need the support of the fish-eyes, both financially and militarily, if we're going to stand against Theron. The proposed betrothal between Kadakithis and Shupansea will cement that alliance better than-"

"I know. I just don't have to like it."

Chenaya was on her feet and Jubal knew he was close to losing her.

"My cousin will never marry that bare-breasted freak! But gods, he's of royal birth-"

"... As is she," he snarled, rising to his feet to match her anger with his own. "Such an arrangement would not only be for the good of the city, it might well be necessary. Think on that, Chenaya, before you let your childish jealousies rule your tongue. If you continue to oppose the union, you might just become enough of a danger for the powers of Sanctuary to test your invulnerability."

"Are you threatening me?" Fear and rebellion mixed in her voice as their gazes locked.

"I'm warning you... as I've been trying to do through this entire meeting."

For a moment the rapport between them teetered on the brink of disintegration. Then Chenaya drew a ragged breath and exhaled noisily.

"I don't think I could give my blessings to the marriage, no matter how good it might be for the town."

"I'm not suggesting that you have to encourage it, or even approve," Jubal said soothingly, trying not to let his relief show. "Simply cease opposing the marriage and let events take their natural course."

"I won't oppose it. But I have much to think on."

"Good," he nodded. "You're long overdue for some thinking. I think you've had enough advisement to fuel your mind for one night. My men outside will see you back to your estate ... and tell them I said to find some clothes for you. It's not seemly for someone of your station to parade through the streets in a blanket."

Chenaya nodded her thanks and started to go, then turned back.

"Jubal, could I... will you be available in the future for additional counsel? You seem willing to tell me things that others avoid or overlook."

"Perhaps you are simply more willing to listen to me than to your other advisors. However, I'm sure our paths will cross from time to time."

"But if I need to see you at a specific time instead of waiting... ?" she pressed.

"Should anything urgent arise, leave word at the Vulgar Unicorn, and I will find a way to contact you."

It was a simple enough request, Jubal told himself. There was no reason at all that he should feel flattered.

"So, overall, what do you think of her?"

Saliman had joined Jubal now, and they were sharing the wine, the good vintage, as they discussed Chenaya's visit.

"Young," Jubal said thoughtfully. "Even younger than I had anticipated in many ways. She has much to learn and no one to teach her."

The aide cocked an eyebrow at his employer.

"It would seem that she impressed you."

"What do you mean?"

"For a moment there you sounded almost paternal. I thought you were out to appraise a potential ally or enemy, not looking for someone to adopt."

Jubal started to snap out an answer, then gave a barking laugh instead.

"I did sound that way, didn't I?" he grimaced. "It must be my reaction to misguided youth. So little could make so much difference. But you're right, that has nothing to do with our goals."

"So I repeat the question: What do you think of her? Will she be able to provide leadership in the future?"

"Eventually, perhaps, but not soon enough to be of immediate use."

"Which leaves us where?"

Jubal stared at the wall silently before answering.

"We cannot afford to have Tempus and his troops leave Sanctuary just yet. Something will have to be devised to keep them here. If we cannot arrange it through others, we may have to commit ourselves to the task."

Saliman sucked in his breath through his teeth. "Either way, it could be expensive."

"Not as expensive as an ineffectual defense. If the town opposes Theron, it will have to win. To try and fail would be disastrous."

"Very well," the aide nodded. "I'll have our informants start checking as to who's available and if their price is gold or anger."

"The other thing I haven't mentioned regarding Chenaya," Jubal said casually, "is that I've agreed to advise her in the future. I felt it would be wise to be sure that her development followed patterns suitable to our goals."

"Of course," Saliman nodded. "It's always best to plan for the long term."

They had been together a long time, and Saliman knew better than to point out to Jubal when he was using logic to try to hide his own sentimentality.