Uptown Local and Other Interventions by Diane Duane Read Free Book Online

fiasco, the crowd’s sitting around there getting bored because that last fight was so short, and already you’re losing what matters most—their butts on your seats. They’re going to drift off downstairs and right on out of here, because the rest of the afternoon’s card isn’t so hot until Demetrios fights Felix just before closing. If somebody doesn’t do something fast, you’re going to lose about a hundred thousand denarii ’s worth of betting and concessions. Think about that.”
    Dantyles’s face suggested that he was was thinking.
    “So your guys will announce us in just a few minutes. We’ll go on in an hour—that’ll give everybody plenty of time to get to the betting shops. And because we’re doing you this big favor, I get fifteen percent of the house’s ten percent of net, and so does my buddy Cestinius. And get us a decent umpire, somebody who’ll make this fight look serious. Attilius did my last one: get him. He’ll be in one of the downstairs sports bars, bragging as usual. We’ll split his fee out of our take, yeah?”
    This was directed at Lucius. “How much?” he said.
    “Five percent.”
    Lucius nodded. “My master will pay.” Then he and Hilarus both looked at Dantyles, who stood there chewing his lip.
    Lucius strongly suspected that Dantyles had his mind made up from the first time he heard the words “my buddy Cestinius”. However, he saved face with a great show of deliberation. “All right,” he said finally, “we can do that. What’s your name again?”
    “Cestinius Veneris,” the murmillo said.
    “Got it.” Dantyles looked from Cestinius to Hilarus. “One hour.” And he was gone, bustling off as if this kind of deal was an everyday event.
    “I hate it when they try to take advantage of us like that,” Hilarus said. “Because we’re fighters, we’re idiots? Right.” He turned to Cestinius. “Never forget: with these people, only squeaky wheels get greased.”
    “I’ll remember,” Cestinius said.
    “Better get yourself ready,” Hilarus said. “I’ve got things to do. See you out on the sand.”
    He turned and headed for the door, gofers in tow, but Lucius went after him. “Hilarus,” he said. “Sir—”
    Hilarus looked back at him, bemused.
    “Don’t,” Lucius said, “please don’t, you know—”
    Hilarus glanced out toward the gate and the stands. “You’re attached to him, huh?”
    “Yes,” Lucius whispered.
    “I can’t guarantee anything, kid. Even when the fix is in, I take my chances. He’s going to have to, too.” He paused. “You coaching?”
    Lucius hadn’t thought of that. “Uh, yeah—”
    “Then get a better tunic. When you go out there, if you’re somebody’s agent, you need to look like the gladiator’s worth something. Then get him a massage and get him warmed up. We’re on in an hour.”
    That hour went by with shocking speed. Several of Hilarus’s gofers adopted Lucius and squired him around the posher part of the downstairs, getting him watered wine, a sausage roll to eat, a heavy silken tunic confiscated from one of the boys at the west-side brothel. Cestinius went back for yet another massage, so that the bathmen started joking about “the Rubdown Boy from Pompeii” before sending up runners to lay their own bets.
    Finally one of the staging staff came to the room, and said, “Next up: Cestinius…”
    “He’s ready,” Lucius said. The murmillo came striding out in his armor, helmet under his arm: and Lucius looked up at him, suddenly knowing this moment. He had dreamed it a hundred times.
    “Now?” Cestinius said.
    “Now,” said Lucius.
    They walked to the gate. Outside it, the crowd was making that unsettled between-fights noise, more like a grumble than a roar. As they came to stand before the great oaken brass-bound doors, Lucius looked up at Cestinius.
    “Don’t hurt him,” he said softly. “Don’t hurt him!”
    Cestinius looked at Lucius with a terrible blank lack of understanding.