Authors: Moira Young
It don’t look that way to me, says Miz Pinch. Ain’t that right, Rooster?
Yes my dear, he says. Whatever you say, my dove.
I look at Miz Pinch, then the Cage Master. They’re starin at each other. The Tonton warn’t chewin on no chaal leaf. She don’t like the way he talked to her an she’ll settle the score by makin trouble fer him.
Well, what’re you waitin fer? says Miz Pinch. You better see to it.
Yes, he says. Yes. He hesitates, still chewin. Then, he heaves hisself to his feet an waddles around the table.
DeMalo! he bellows. DeMalo!
The door behind the table opens a crack. The noise outside spills in, a deafenin roar, as a man slips through. The sound fades as he closes the door behind him.
He’s a Tonton. Tall, like they all seem to be, an robed head to foot in black. But this one wears metal body armor over his robes where the rest wear leather. A shiny breastplate an armbands from his wrists to his elbows. Long dark hair tied back. A watchful face. A strong face, with broad cheekbones. You don’t call men beautiful, I know that. But all the same, that’s what he is.
He says nuthin. Waits.
The Cage Master, so cocky jest a moment ago, shrinks. He looks off to the side of DeMalo when he says, Uh … this … uh Miz Pinch seems to think there’s a problem with the guards on the door. Of course I uh … assured her that we run a tight ship here but uh … I’d be ah … most … ah …
DeMalo don’t show that he’s even listenin. He moves towards the main door, silent as a cat. As he goes past us, he pauses. Right in front of me.
He raises his head. His eyes meet mine. They’re deep set. Dark, almost black. Full of shadows.
Time shrieks to a halt. I cain’t move. I cain’t breathe. I cain’t take my eyes from his. I don’t want to.
Lookin deep inside of me
.
Findin my darkest thoughts, my worst fears
.
I know you
, a voice whispers.
I know you
.
Cold starts to creep through my blood. I shiver. It runs through my whole body, from my toes to my head. He feels it. Sees it. There’s a slight flicker in his eyes. Then he moves, slips through the door an he’s gone.
It only lasted a heartbeat. Him an me, locked inside a heartbeat.
Nobody says nuthin fer a long moment. Nobody moves. It’s like we all felt the same thing. Like we all stopped breathin.
What jest happened here? Who is he? They’re all afeared of him.
Then the Cage Master lunges at the table, pours hisself a cup of grog an drinks it dry. He slumps into his chair, moppin at his forehead with his napkin.
So, says Miz Pinch, we unnerstand each other, I think.
Yes, he says. Of course. Now, you’ve brought somethin to show me. Yer latest acquisition, I take it. He looks me over with his greedy little eyes. So, you think she’ll be good in the Cage.
I don’t think, Miz Pinch says, I know. This one’s very rare. Very fine.
Not like that last one you brought me then, he says. She was a disappointment. Didn’t cooperate at all. I was startin to think that maybe yer judgement ain’t what it used to be, ha ha!
Miz Pinch’s neck flushes a dull red. Her hands clench into fists. Mind what you say, Cage Master, she says.
I … I meant no disrespeck, Miz Pinch. You know me, I didn’t mean to—
Jest remember who yer talkin to, she says. Who I am. I got influence! Anyways, I dealt with that girl. She got what she deserved.
That’s right! That’s the way! Yer one in a million! Well go on, he says, let’s take a good look at this prize of yers.
Step up, she says to me. She goes to give me a push between the shoulders but I shrug her off.
Don’t give in to fear, Saba. Be strong, like I know you are
.
I take my time walkin up to the table. My ankle chains clank on the stone floor. I hook a chair with my foot, pull it over an sit down.
I lift my chained hands, help myself to one of the roasted sparrows an bite the head off. Then I pour a cup of grog an drink it down, starin at him the whole time. I put the empty cup upside down on the table.
He narrows his eyes. Well, he says, she’s bold enough, I’ll grant you that. Stand up girl, let’s see you proper.
I look him up an down. I curl my lip.
He’s around the table in a flash. He grabs my arm an hauls me to my feet. Who’d think a fat man could move so fast? An he’s much stronger’n I thought he’d be. He pulls me tight aginst him.
Be very careful, he whispers in my ear. I’m in charge here. I don’t care who you are or where you come from. In
Hopetown my word is law. Unless I say so … yer nuthin. Less than nuthin. The dirt under my feet’s more use to me than you are. Do you understand?
I nod.
Good, he says. He licks my ear slowly. Then he steps away. My stummick turns over. I feel the blood rush to my face. I wanna scrub at my ear, chuck up, run from the room, but I cain’t. I don’t. I jest stare straight ahead.
She’s strong, says Miz Pinch. An smart too.
Strong, smart an bold. The Cage Master struts around me, lookin me up an down. Well, she looks impressive. You might just have somethin here.
I told you, she says.
The Cage Master stares at me. Then he says, The question is, can she fight?
Only one way to find that out, says Miz Pinch.
Quite right, he says. An there ain’t no time like the present. Come.
The Cage Master walks to the door that DeMalo came through an throws it wide open. The roar that we heard before spills into the room an fills the air. He steps outside. We follow him.
We’re standin on a platform, lookin down on a great crowd of people.
Welcome to the Colosseum, he says.
I try to take it all in. The Cage Master’s house sits on the top of a hill. It sweeps down an away from the house. Down below us, cut into the hillside, there’s rows an rows of benches with three clear paths that cut through ’em from top to bottom.
The benches is crammed full of people. Everybody’s shoutin an some of ’em’s leapin around an pointin an shakin their fists. An they’re all lookin at one thing.
A cage. At the bottom of the hill in a open space stands a big metal cage.
Inside there’s two men fightin. From the roar of the crowd, from the smell of the excitement in the Colosseum, it looks like it’s buildin up to a big finish.
The fighters both barefoot, bare-armed, bare-legged. They wear short tunics. No weapons. They punch, wrestle, kick at each other, scramble up the sides of the cage an throw theirselves off to land on their opponent.
One of ’em’s gittin tired. Blood’s pourin outta his nose an he’s startin to stagger, throw wild punches.
Looks like the end fer Artashir, says the Cage Master.
Artashir’s opponent backs him into a corner, picks him up by the throat with both hands an holds him there, slammin him aginst the cage bars. Artashir goes limp. The guy lets him go an he slithers to the floor.
The winner holds his hands over his head, pumps his fists in the air an the crowd goes crazy. They’re all pointin at the Cage, screamin an jumpin around. Some of ’em’s even fightin with each other an guards wade in to break it up. Their eyes look wild.
Artashir pulls hisself slowly to his feet. He stands there, swayin slightly. The crowd boos. Then they turn to face our platform an start to chant, Gauntlet! Gauntlet! Gauntlet!
Artashir looks up at the Cage Master. The Cage Master stares down at him.
I usually look forwards to this bit, he says. But there’s somethin about this one.… His will to live seems to be stronger ’n most. I s’pose that’s why he’s lasted so long. He’s certainly been good for business. Well, no point gettin sentimental. He’s lost his last two fights an this one makes three. Rules is rules.
He tugs the red napkin from around his neck an, holdin it in his right hand, raises it above his head. The crowd’s screamin even louder by now.
The Cage Master sighs. Oh let’s get on with it, he says. Then he brings down his arm.
Two burly cagekeepers open the cage door an pull out Artashir. The crowd all rushes towards the path that runs up the middle of the Colosseum, climbin over each other, punchin an kickin to get right next to it.
Armed guards haul people outta the way, push ’em back so the path stays clear.
They live fer this, says the Cage Master. They’re worse than animals. That’s what too much chaal does to you. Fools.
Then everybody starts to stomp their feet on the ground. The whole place shakes, even the platform we’re standin on. The stompin gits faster and faster.
The keepers push Artashir forwards. He looks around the Colosseum. He drags in deep breaths through his nose, his head held high. Then his face changes. Hardens. Like he’s made a decision. He stares up at the Cage Master an spits on the ground.
The Cage Master gives a little laugh.
Then Artashir throws back his head an roars. Bellows like a wild beast that’s bin hunted down, that’s cornered but that’s gonna go down fightin.
He starts to run. He sprints up the center path. Hands reach out, hit him, grab at his tunic, tryin to pull him down. He throws a punch an gits hisself free. Manages to stagger on a few steps more. But the crowd surges forwards onto the path, howlin like wolves at a kill, an bodies close over him. Waves pullin down a drownin man. Artashir disappears.
My stummick heaves.
It’s a shame when a good fighter goes down to the gauntlet, the Cage Master says. He looks at me. He reaches out a clammy hand an strokes it down my cheek. Now it’s yer turn, he says.
The girl’s smaller’n me.
She comes at me hard, right from the off. She moves so fast I cain’t even see her fists. The first punch to my face. Then my ribs. An I jest stand there. Like I’m asleep.
But then the red hot kicks in an at last I unnerstand what it is. It’s like animals. A animal will do anythin to live. Even chew off its own leg if it’s caught in a trap. That’s the red hot. An I’m gonna hafta learn to use it if I wanna survive in the Cage.
The girl’s tough. And she fights hard. She fights mean. She lost her last two fights. This is her last chance. So she’s got the red hot in her too.
But mine is stronger than hers.
I watch what she does.
I learn fast.
She gives me a helluva beatin before I learn enough. Then I git lucky. I go at her with a flyin kick to the stummick that slams her hard aginst the bars an that’s it. She don’t git up till the keeper pulls her to her feet.
An it’s over. The end.
The end fer her. The beginnin fer me.
They don’t tell me her name. There’s a little pink birthmark on her face. It looks like a butterfly.
Like the Cage Master says, it’s a shame when a good fighter goes down to the gauntlet.
But one of us had to.
An it sure as hell warn’t gonna be me.
The Pinches is outside on deck. They’re celebratin their good fortune with a jug of squonk an a roast pigeon. Tonight’s our last night on the Desert Swan. Tomorrow they move into a place in town. The Pinches an Em, that is. I’m gonna be moved to the cellblock where they keep the cage fighters.
I lie on my bunk. I’m chained, hand an foot, like usual. Em sits beside me. She’s got a cloth dipped in cranesbill juice an dabs it, real gentle, on the cut near my eye.