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Farnin across the face, while the crowd, except for Petrakov s loyal followers
in the Orange sector, booed loudly. Finally he grabbed hold of his opponent
by the hair, lifted him up, and hacked his throat open from ear to ear, a
river of scarlet spilling out in the circle.
A loud cry erupted from the Brown fighters, several of them moving to rush
into the arena and place a spell of healing on their comrade. A wall of light
shimmered up, cast by a dozen fighters of the Grand
Master who stood nearby each of the sideline stands of the fighting Houses,
blocking Farnin s comrades from entering the arena.
Petrakov, with a disdainful gesture, tossed Farnin aside, the man s head
lolling back obscenely. Farnin kicked feebly, hands clutching at his torn
throat, blood squirting out between his fingers, and then was still. Without
waiting for the circle master, Petrakov reached down and cut Farnin s satchel
off and held it aloft triumphantly, spit on the corpse, and then walked away.
 In the old days that never would have been allowed except in the final
matches, Hammen growled.
 The Grand Master encourages it now because the mob loves the sight of blood.
The next fight with
Petrakov and the betting will be ten times as much, especially if he s pitted
against another Bolk.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The last of the fights were played out, the victors returning with their
spoils, a single spell for standard matches, or the full satchel for a death
match, minus, of course, the one mana fee taken by the Grand
Master when blood was spilled. One of the three death matches, however, ended
with no one the winner. Both fighters had cast simultaneous spells which had
killed their opponents. Those who had not bet on the match laughed with
hysterical glee since in such cases the Grand Master kept all bets and claimed
the satchels of both of the fallen as well, while those who had bet on one or
the other howled with rage.
The Bolk fighters returned to the stands around Garth, the winners beaming
with pride, the losers looking crestfallen, gazing nervously up at Kirlen, who
ignored them with haughty disdain. Their contracts for the forthcoming year
were now worth less and she would not let them forget it.
The last of the fights over, stretcher-bearers raced out into the arena to
carry off the unconscious and the dead while from out of the access tunnels
entertainers charged into the arena dwarfs, jugglers, fire-eaters, and petty
magicians. Several dozen wagons, drawn by zebras or tigers, bears, and even a
mammoth, came galloping out. Mounted on the back of each wagon was a small
catapult and, at the sight of them, the crowd came to its feet and pointed
nervously, wondering why the Grand Master was bringing heavy weapons into the
arena.
The dwarfs manning the catapults cranked them back, loading the firing arms
with clay pots, and pointed their weapons toward the crowd.
An angry cry started to swell and wherever the weapons were pointed the mob
struggled to back away.
The dwarfs, laughing with insane delight, fired the weapons. A loud roar rose
up and Hammen, curious, stood up to watch. The pots slammed into the stands
and burst open. There were gasps of amazement from the mob and then a mad
scurrying, for the pots contained prizes sweetmeats, lottery tickets, and,
most surprisingly of all, copper, silver, and gold coins.
A wild cheering erupted as the catapult teams moved around the edge of the
arena, reloading their weapons with yet more pots and firing them into the
crowd, which now rushed back and forth in a mad frenzy to catch the prizes.
Hammen, shaking his head, sat back down.
 Wish you were up there? Garth asked.
 You re damn right I do, rather than having to sit down here and get nothing.
A catapult, drawn by mammoths, raced past, firing a clay pot nearly the size
of a man up into the arena.
The mob howled with delight and a rippling of cheers honoring Zarel rose up.
 Masterful, Garth said, shaking his head.
 It doesn t take much to win a mob back, especially when the winning back is
paid in gold.
 Do you know anyone on their catapult teams? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]