Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 by Mia Marlowe Read Free Book Online

proclaiming allegiance to one of the four chariot teams that would shortly compete. Damian ushered her into a well-appointed private box.
    Trumpets brayed and the clarion call echoed around the oval. The crowd responded with a roar rivaling thunder, a wall of sound that pressed against Valdis's ears till they ached. Then there was silence, as if every soul in the vast Hippodrome dared not even draw breath. Valdis heard the pennants above her snap in the breeze.
    Across the wide space, a glittering figure emerged from a dark tunnel to take his place in an ornate, well guarded box. Jewels winked from his stiff vestments and light splayed from the diadem on his head. As one, the crowd fell to its knees.
    “The Bulgar-Slayer himself,” Erik said under his breath, tugging Valdis down beside him. The small hairs on his bare arms tickled against hers. She resisted the urge to move away, enjoying the heat of his skin so near.
    Trumpets squealed again and the emperor raised one hand in greeting. The crowd voiced its delirium at this small gesture with another full-throated roar.
    From one end of the arena, a herd of antelope was released to spring across the open space. Then a door opened from the floor of the oval and two great cats like the ones Valdis had seen earlier sprang up from the depths to pursue their hoofed prey. Once each cat made a kill, handlers whipped the felines back to their subterranean lair.
    One spectacular after another paraded across the broad oval for the crowd's amusement. A girl did acrobatics on horseback that no sane person would attempt on solid ground, leaps and twists and harrowing near-misses as she vaulted from one galloping steed to another. The audience gasped when it seemed she'd fallen, but the equestrienne grasped her mount's mane and bounded up to its back once again. The girl was hailed with adulation worthy of a goddess, the roar of approval making normal conversation impossible. The girl circuited the field, turning flips in concert with her horse's pounding hooves. Valdis thought fleetingly of the poor acrobat she'd seen on the streets, baring her body for a slim silver coin.
    Damian hardly spared a glance for the activity on the arena below. His gaze flicked from one box to the next, watching the wealthy sip their amber-colored wine or indulge in the decadently expensive flavored ices. The luxury item was brought to the great city by runners in straw-packed boxes from the mountain heights.
    “Don't mind him,” Erik said when she asked him about the Greek's inattention. “The citizens of Miklagard set a great store in being seen in the right places by the right people. If our Greek didn't notice them, it would be tantamount to an insult. Besides, he's probably also calculating who's intriguing with whom. Politics is a blood sport here and the slightest thing can tip one faction ahead of another.”
    Erik reached into the pouch at his waist and drew out an odd assortment of leather and clear round glass. He strapped the lenses to either end of the leather tube and held it to one eye.
    “You might enjoy this,” he said as he handed the strange ocular device to her. “You can see the wart on the emperor's nose from here with that.”
    Valdis peered through the tube as he instructed and stepped back in surprise. The emperor was practically in her lap. The cunning invention brought the Byzantine leader close enough that she felt she ought to be able to reach out and pluck one of the gems from his hem.
    “There's no wart on his nose,” Valdis said as she examined the leader of the Byzantines. Though he scarcely moved a muscle, the man's darting eyes held a furtive, sad look. “But he is wearing the most ridiculous scarlet boots.”
    Damian spoke a few words and she looked over to see he was finally watching the arena, where archers demonstrated their skill with flaming arrows.
    “The eunuch wants you to look at the portico draped in purple at the north end and tell him what you see,”