the portcullis.
On the other side of it, two men in military coats gawked at him.
“Open it and take them inside,” Blaise said, unable to quell the hope that one of the humans would argue with him.
“We’re not to let anyone out or in,” one replied. Blaise fought against the urge to smile, dropping his gaze to the man’s yellow tassels.
“He’s with the church,” someone said from the darkness. It took Blaise a moment to recognize the voice of another bishop. Frolar emerged through a doorway on the other side of the cell beyond the portcullis. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, nor dressed in anything other than white.”
Blaise shifted the girl’s weight in his arms. “It is what it is, Brother. I doubt the Emperor will be pleased if those involved with the ruin of his games drowned in the rain.”
“I’ll take responsibility for him if needed, as I am his senior in the church,” Frolar said.
The two soldiers exchanged looks.
“I’ll hold you to that, Bishop,” the lieutenant growled, but turned to the winch and gestured. While the other man was also marked with a yellow ribbon, he hurried to obey the silent order, and opened the portcullis.
Blaise stepped through, ducking his head below the spikes and watching in case the soldier let go early. With a shake of his head at his folly, he lowered the girl onto one of the benches.
“In!”
At the lieutenant’s command, the slaves hurried into the cell, staring back at the pit.
“There is one slave still alive out there you may wish to retrieve,” Blaise said, nodding in the direction of the pit. “He shouldn’t die, so long as you take care of him soon.”
“Do it,” the older of the two lieutenants said. The younger man scowled, sighed, and sloshed through the sand and rain.
“Good afternoon, Frolar,” Blaise greeted, dipping his head to the other bishop.
“You’ve been busy I see. The Archbishop’s been looking for you all morning.”
Blaise echoed the soldier’s sigh. “One does not refuse an invitation from the Emperor.”
Frolar’s bushy brow arched to his graying hairline. “You have been busy.”
“Later,” Blaise said with a wave of his hand. “Have you seen to the injured? Who’s on duty with you?”
“No one. Bishop Nikal left to take word to the Archbishop. While we’d been told one of the church was here for the evening, I hadn’t thought it’d be a bishop, let alone you!”
“Later, Frolar. We’re wasting time. There are injured to tend to.”
And prayers to say for the dead, but he tried not to think too hard about that—the Gates were closed and they didn’t need his guidance. Not anymore.
“Do you really believe anyone survived?” Frolar asked, stepping through the door to wait for him in the hall. Blaise prayed for patience and followed after the human.
The two soldiers snickered.
“Stay here if you want, but I’m going up top,” Blaise snapped.
“Wait, Blaise,” Frolar said, snatching his elbow. Blaise stopped and stared at the man’s hand. “It’s too dangerous. Part of it is collapsing—some of it already has.”
“And?” Blaise growled out, tempted to take a bite out of Frolar’s hand.
“You’re too important to risk.”
Blaise hissed, “I’m no more important than any other. Unlike me, they need help. If it is Alphege you’re worried about, I’ll accept whatever punishment he deems necessary, should it become a concern. I’ll take the upper tiers. I trust you can handle the first? It isn’t just those who were caught in the storm. Many were surely trampled as people left.”
Frolar’s blue eyes seemed black in the shadows of the corridor. “Yes.”
Turning to the soldiers, Blaise dipped his head in a nod to them. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”
“What’s gotten into you, Blaise? The Archbishop is looking for you. I can handle this on my own. He’s ordered to see you immediately. You’ve never—”
“My duty is here, Brother. The Archbishop will
On the other side of it, two men in military coats gawked at him.
“Open it and take them inside,” Blaise said, unable to quell the hope that one of the humans would argue with him.
“We’re not to let anyone out or in,” one replied. Blaise fought against the urge to smile, dropping his gaze to the man’s yellow tassels.
“He’s with the church,” someone said from the darkness. It took Blaise a moment to recognize the voice of another bishop. Frolar emerged through a doorway on the other side of the cell beyond the portcullis. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, nor dressed in anything other than white.”
Blaise shifted the girl’s weight in his arms. “It is what it is, Brother. I doubt the Emperor will be pleased if those involved with the ruin of his games drowned in the rain.”
“I’ll take responsibility for him if needed, as I am his senior in the church,” Frolar said.
The two soldiers exchanged looks.
“I’ll hold you to that, Bishop,” the lieutenant growled, but turned to the winch and gestured. While the other man was also marked with a yellow ribbon, he hurried to obey the silent order, and opened the portcullis.
Blaise stepped through, ducking his head below the spikes and watching in case the soldier let go early. With a shake of his head at his folly, he lowered the girl onto one of the benches.
“In!”
At the lieutenant’s command, the slaves hurried into the cell, staring back at the pit.
“There is one slave still alive out there you may wish to retrieve,” Blaise said, nodding in the direction of the pit. “He shouldn’t die, so long as you take care of him soon.”
“Do it,” the older of the two lieutenants said. The younger man scowled, sighed, and sloshed through the sand and rain.
“Good afternoon, Frolar,” Blaise greeted, dipping his head to the other bishop.
“You’ve been busy I see. The Archbishop’s been looking for you all morning.”
Blaise echoed the soldier’s sigh. “One does not refuse an invitation from the Emperor.”
Frolar’s bushy brow arched to his graying hairline. “You have been busy.”
“Later,” Blaise said with a wave of his hand. “Have you seen to the injured? Who’s on duty with you?”
“No one. Bishop Nikal left to take word to the Archbishop. While we’d been told one of the church was here for the evening, I hadn’t thought it’d be a bishop, let alone you!”
“Later, Frolar. We’re wasting time. There are injured to tend to.”
And prayers to say for the dead, but he tried not to think too hard about that—the Gates were closed and they didn’t need his guidance. Not anymore.
“Do you really believe anyone survived?” Frolar asked, stepping through the door to wait for him in the hall. Blaise prayed for patience and followed after the human.
The two soldiers snickered.
“Stay here if you want, but I’m going up top,” Blaise snapped.
“Wait, Blaise,” Frolar said, snatching his elbow. Blaise stopped and stared at the man’s hand. “It’s too dangerous. Part of it is collapsing—some of it already has.”
“And?” Blaise growled out, tempted to take a bite out of Frolar’s hand.
“You’re too important to risk.”
Blaise hissed, “I’m no more important than any other. Unlike me, they need help. If it is Alphege you’re worried about, I’ll accept whatever punishment he deems necessary, should it become a concern. I’ll take the upper tiers. I trust you can handle the first? It isn’t just those who were caught in the storm. Many were surely trampled as people left.”
Frolar’s blue eyes seemed black in the shadows of the corridor. “Yes.”
Turning to the soldiers, Blaise dipped his head in a nod to them. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”
“What’s gotten into you, Blaise? The Archbishop is looking for you. I can handle this on my own. He’s ordered to see you immediately. You’ve never—”
“My duty is here, Brother. The Archbishop will
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