The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 10 - To Catch a Criminal

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Sunlight and fresh air can do wonders for anyone's temper. At least, that was what Arzai hoped would be the case. One look at the other members of the Magicol around the breakfast table that morning and Arzai had announced they would be taking the day's lessons outside. As expected, the Ovates all perked up noticeably at the news, even Ijireen. Bvhoros even sent an approving smile Arzai's way, which although unneeded was appreciated.

Arzai led everyone down from the Tower of the Elements and through Castle Armathain to the Skybridge door. The two Knights of Amenthis on guard there gave the Obads a second glance, but kept to their posts on either side of the open doorway. Apparently the knights had not been without reproach for their own failures on the night of the assassination attempt.

Wispy streaks of cloud were drifting thick and fast across the sky, casting Amenthere into light and dark from minute to minute. Beneath the bridge the hum of daily life rose from the districts. It had been months at least since Arzai had last gone out into the city. For the Ovates it had probably been even longer. The children craned their necks over the sides with interest, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of the lives of the common folk.

"It's not near as exciting as you imagine it to be," Arzai commented, pausing to tug Brand back before he leaned dangerously far over.

"Neither is Castle Armathain," said Ijireen.

Davenir was at hand to quell the situation before it even got started. He laid a warning hand on the Red Ovate's narrow shoulder.

"Ijireen."

"What!? It wouldn't hurt to have a change of scenery now and then you know."

"Which is why we're going to The Lair," Arzai replied, trying to cultivate an air of finality.

"I wasn't talking about the walls and floor."

Roran snickered.

Children, Arzai groaned. She liked to imagine that if she'd ever been so put upon as to have mothered a child, her son or daughter would be nothing like the Ovates. Well, perhaps a son like Brand wouldn't have been the worst thing, but still...

The Lair of Amenthere was Goran's most famous stadium, apart from the Dancing Bowl in Hashodi. Fully six stories tall and ringed with stone benches, half the population of Amenthere could easily fit within The Lair with room to spare. Built from thousands of blocks of basalt stone mined from The Teeth, the smooth walls of stadium rose like a well from its gravel floor.

None of this was what made The Lair famous; its dragons were. Five in all, they sat perched like gigantic stone bats ringing the upper lip of the stadium. Each dragon's head was so large that even Arzai could have walked straight to the back of its throat without bumping her head. Their maws opened in eternal, silent roars. There were small differences to each statue's posture; one crouched menacingly, its snout lowered to the crowd while another craned its neck to the sky above. All of their wings were fully extended though, spanning so far that the tips nearly touched those of their neighbors.

"Do they have any stadiums like The Lair in east Goran, Bvhoros?" Brand asked, wide-eyed with wonder even though he had seen the dragons dozens of times before.

Bvhoros shot out a hand to catch Brand before he could trip on the stairs as they descended toward the bottom. Disaster averted, Bvhoros shook his head, making the dozens of little chains pinned around his wrap tinkle.

"In truth I do not know, Brand. I have only been to Derbesh once or twice in my life, and on neither occasion was I there for pleasure. I have heard that in the olden days the Wal of the East would host griffin races outside the city, and I suppose there would have had to have been an arena for that."