understand.”
“You’re adamant for someone who hates the Arena,” Frolar muttered.
Blaise lengthened his stride and the man had to jog to catch up with him. “I know.”
“Why are you here dressed as a Citizen? The military said the clergyman here was hurt. You don’t look injured at all! What are you doing?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Blaise halted, and Frolar collided with him. Blaise turned and offered a smile to the aging human.
“N-no. You haven’t.”
He almost laughed from wondering what Frolar truly thought. While he hadn’t exactly lied, he wasn’t fully honest either. His nose didn’t tell him anything of use—and no matter how long he stared, the bishop revealed nothing more than a suspicious frown.
“I forgot a basic rule and paid the price for it,” he admitted. “How was I to know the collar I was asked to check was warded? A painful misunderstanding, but nothing that will come between me and my duty.” Blaise grimaced and shook his head.
How many times would he need to lower his head to mortals in one day? How many times would he embarrass himself to those who lived such short lives?
“A collar, Blaise? Really?”
“Really,” he replied. “Satisfied? The Emperor doesn’t want to answer to Alphege, so I was ‘invited’ to sit with him the entire day. The Emperor does not sit with a mere bishop, so I was dressed to his standards. I should be happy I got away with my cuff links.”
“Blue and green don’t suit you,” Frolar replied. “You really aren’t hurt, are you? The Archbishop won’t be pleased with me if—”
Blaise cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re certain.”
It took several deep breaths of smoky air that burned Blaise’s lungs before he could force what he hoped passed for a grateful smile.
Frolar huffed out a laugh. “You never change. Oh, very well. It won’t be the last time I get scolded for letting you do as you want. Did you see what happened from where you were seated?”
“Front row,” he replied, clearing his throat to stifle a cough. “Catsu and one of the slaves dueled and one of them lost control. Beyond that? All guesses.”
The clap against his shoulder took him by surprise. Blaise blinked at the gray-haired man.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it. Nothing anyone of us could. Still, we were lucky. I don’t envy their fates for interrupting the Emperor’s events today. We’ve much work to do, and many prayers for the dead to recite.”
Blaise frowned and stared into Frolar’s eyes. The man tilted his head. Had the other bishop not noticed that Catsu had escaped with the slave? “Assuming they figure out who did what,” Blaise said with a shrug.
“They’ll find out. One doesn’t deny the will of the Emperor.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
The tunnels branched out into four, with two of them leading upward in different directions. “Shout up if you need me,” Blaise said with a farewell wave to Frolar. Before the man could reply, he hurried to where the ramp curved out of the underground prison complex.
On the ground level, people staggered toward the gate, herded by gray-clad figures with their swords. The stench of their fear made Blaise sneeze.
“You can’t go up there,” a deep voice rumbled, and a hand tapped his shoulder.
Blaise lifted his sleeve without turning to expose the rose-shaped cuff buttons. “I’m with the church. Is there word on the number of injured?”
“No. Wait but a moment. Gavrin! I’m taking this clergyman up top.”
Someone shouted a reply.
“This way,” the soldier said, gesturing to the ramp leading up to the next tier. “My apologies for not recognizing your affiliation. We don’t usually see anyone other than the white coats. Ah, pardon, Bishops. I don’t believe the major will refuse any aid from the church.”
Without replying, Blaise followed the man up to the second tier. A few Citizens braved the rubble strewn over
“You’re adamant for someone who hates the Arena,” Frolar muttered.
Blaise lengthened his stride and the man had to jog to catch up with him. “I know.”
“Why are you here dressed as a Citizen? The military said the clergyman here was hurt. You don’t look injured at all! What are you doing?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Blaise halted, and Frolar collided with him. Blaise turned and offered a smile to the aging human.
“N-no. You haven’t.”
He almost laughed from wondering what Frolar truly thought. While he hadn’t exactly lied, he wasn’t fully honest either. His nose didn’t tell him anything of use—and no matter how long he stared, the bishop revealed nothing more than a suspicious frown.
“I forgot a basic rule and paid the price for it,” he admitted. “How was I to know the collar I was asked to check was warded? A painful misunderstanding, but nothing that will come between me and my duty.” Blaise grimaced and shook his head.
How many times would he need to lower his head to mortals in one day? How many times would he embarrass himself to those who lived such short lives?
“A collar, Blaise? Really?”
“Really,” he replied. “Satisfied? The Emperor doesn’t want to answer to Alphege, so I was ‘invited’ to sit with him the entire day. The Emperor does not sit with a mere bishop, so I was dressed to his standards. I should be happy I got away with my cuff links.”
“Blue and green don’t suit you,” Frolar replied. “You really aren’t hurt, are you? The Archbishop won’t be pleased with me if—”
Blaise cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re certain.”
It took several deep breaths of smoky air that burned Blaise’s lungs before he could force what he hoped passed for a grateful smile.
Frolar huffed out a laugh. “You never change. Oh, very well. It won’t be the last time I get scolded for letting you do as you want. Did you see what happened from where you were seated?”
“Front row,” he replied, clearing his throat to stifle a cough. “Catsu and one of the slaves dueled and one of them lost control. Beyond that? All guesses.”
The clap against his shoulder took him by surprise. Blaise blinked at the gray-haired man.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it. Nothing anyone of us could. Still, we were lucky. I don’t envy their fates for interrupting the Emperor’s events today. We’ve much work to do, and many prayers for the dead to recite.”
Blaise frowned and stared into Frolar’s eyes. The man tilted his head. Had the other bishop not noticed that Catsu had escaped with the slave? “Assuming they figure out who did what,” Blaise said with a shrug.
“They’ll find out. One doesn’t deny the will of the Emperor.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
The tunnels branched out into four, with two of them leading upward in different directions. “Shout up if you need me,” Blaise said with a farewell wave to Frolar. Before the man could reply, he hurried to where the ramp curved out of the underground prison complex.
On the ground level, people staggered toward the gate, herded by gray-clad figures with their swords. The stench of their fear made Blaise sneeze.
“You can’t go up there,” a deep voice rumbled, and a hand tapped his shoulder.
Blaise lifted his sleeve without turning to expose the rose-shaped cuff buttons. “I’m with the church. Is there word on the number of injured?”
“No. Wait but a moment. Gavrin! I’m taking this clergyman up top.”
Someone shouted a reply.
“This way,” the soldier said, gesturing to the ramp leading up to the next tier. “My apologies for not recognizing your affiliation. We don’t usually see anyone other than the white coats. Ah, pardon, Bishops. I don’t believe the major will refuse any aid from the church.”
Without replying, Blaise followed the man up to the second tier. A few Citizens braved the rubble strewn over
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