Rise of the Wolf (Mark of the Thief 2) - Page 57

When Radulf left to put his servants to work on the chariot, Livia came forward and unfolded a new tunic, one with such a deep yellow color that it almost looked woven in gold. The edges were stitched with symbols of the gods: Jupiter's lightning bolt, Neptune's trident, the spear of Mars, and Minerva's shield. Diana's bow was missing from the symbols.

"Where did you get this?" I asked. The tunic's weave was so fine, I hardly dared touch it, much less to breathe on it.

"Since you're not with the red faction anymore, Radulf had this made for you last night. He wanted you to appear on the track as your own faction, with your own color."

I glanced over at Radulf, who had been watching Livia and me. I held up the tunic and nodded gratefully to him. It was the first respectful nod I'd ever given him, and I admit that it was good to feel like he and I were truly on the same side.

"Nic! There you are!" Crispus came running over. H

is eyes widened when he saw the tunic. "Where did you get that?"

"From our grandfather," Livia said. "The pads for his knees and wrists match the colors, though we didn't have time to get a new helmet."

"I've never seen its equal." Crispus smiled as he brushed a hand across the cloth. "If that tunic is any sign of things to come, it's going to be a good day."

My smile at him was even more hopeless than before. Fine as the tunic was, I doubted it could be taken as a sign of anything more than Radulf's willingness to spend a great deal of money on me. Maybe his generosity was its own form of luck, I supposed.

Livia said, "Maybe you'll feel better when properly dressed. Wearing the clothes of a victor."

I nodded and walked around to the back of the stables, then changed into the new tunic. The weave was strong, and the stitching seemed flawless. The bulla against the cloth was such a close match that they practically blended together. If it weren't for the bulla's strap, from a distance, no one would know I had it. Livia was right: I did feel better wearing this.

And I would have continued feeling better if I hadn't walked out in time to see Decimas Brutus and at least another dozen Praetors coming into the stables.

"Nicolas Calva!" Brutus boomed. "Look at you this fine morning. Didn't anyone tell you that dressing like a winner doesn't make you one?"

"It seems to work for you dressing like a loser," I said. From the corner of my eye, Radulf grimaced. Or perhaps he smiled a little. I could've sworn he did.

Brutus brushed off my insult with an annoyed glare. "They told me I could find you here. Has it been four days already?"

Radulf stepped in front of me. "He owes you a race, not a conversation."

Brutus pushed past him. "I didn't come here to start a fight, General Radulf, and don't expect one from your grandson. I simply want to verify the terms of this race."

I walked forward, flanked by Crispus on one side and Livia on the other. I wished Aurelia could be here too. This didn't feel right without her.

I said, "The terms have not changed. If I win this race, you will release my mother and give up any bid for me. You and I will never speak again."

He smiled. "And if I win, then you will turn over the key to the Malice, and put yourself and your magic under my control."

"Seven laps," I said. "You choose your horses, and I'll choose mine."

He glanced at my horses and laughed. "Them? They're your choice?"

"Not at all." I grinned, and enjoyed watching the smile fade on his face. Radulf looked equally confused, but I hadn't wanted to say anything to him until my silent request was answered. And at hearing the sound approaching from a distance, I knew my answer had arrived. Callistus entered the stables, brushing roughly against Brutus as he passed him and then came to stand beside me.

Callistus. I intended to race with a unicorn.

After he got over the initial shock of seeing an animal of the gods, it took Brutus's face less than a second to go completely purple with rage. "This is not a horse!"

"A unicorn is one of many breeds of horses," I said. "The favored breed of the gods, I would guess."

"No one can race chariots with a unicorn," Brutus sputtered. "It's not allowed."

Radulf smiled over at me, as proud as I'd ever seen him. "Which rule forbids a charioteer to use a unicorn?"

"Every charioteer has a team of four horses --"

"Up to four," Radulf said. "Nothing forbids Nic from riding with fewer."

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Mark of the Thief Fantasy
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