Page 64 of The Prisoner's Gambit
The man hurried off, leaving the three women alone with the bombshell news. A plan was already forming in Maureen’s head.
“I need to see him,” she said, her mind racing. “Where they’re holding him, it doesn’t sound too far from the sweets shop. That’s still one of the places I’m allowed to go.”
Marga and Vaxxa shared a concerned glance. “Maureen, you aren’t thinking of going there, are you?” Vaxxa asked. “You know the restrictions the mistress has placed on you. The consequences for disobeying her could be harsh.”
“I need to see him,” Maureen replied.
The older woman shook her head. “And how, exactly, do you plan on even doing that? You heard him. The walls are high and the compound is gated.”
“Yeah, I heard that. But I also heard whatelsehe said.”
“Oh?”
“The guards are open to bribes. You heard him. And I’ve saved up a little bit.”
“You’ve saved up nothing,” Vaxxa said. “And how do you know the guard will even accept your money?”
“I don’t. But I have to try.”
“Even if it costs you everything you’ve saved?”
“It’s worth it. And what good is money if it just sits locked up until you’re too old and tired to enjoy it?” she asked. “Sorry, Marga, no offense.”
“None taken,” she replied, mulling over the young woman’s words. “Go on, then. And good luck.”
“Marga!” Vaxxa blurted.
“Oh, she’s right, Vaxxa. We’ve gotten too comfortable in our ways. But sometimes you have to live a little.”
Vaxxa paused and considered her friend’s words a long while. “All right, then. Go. But we can only cover for so long. If the mistress finds out where you’ve gone, there’s nothing we can do.”
Maureen leapt up and hugged them both hard. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “Wish me luck.”
Vaxxa let out a little snort. “Believe me, you’ll need it.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Bodok’s week in the training compound had proven to be a difficult one. While he had participated in the open exercise opportunities, he flat out refused to fight, declining even simple sparring matches with other unranked contenders.
He was an outsider, and he’d managed to further cement himself as such by his actions. He was soft. A pacifist. How and why he had ended up in this place with grizzled veterans and would-be warriors was anyone’s guess. All that mattered was that he did not belong.
Most simply left him alone, opting to focus their efforts on preparations for the upcoming tournament. It would be their opportunity to make a good showing and, if the gods smiled upon them, perhaps even land a shot at fighting one of the champions.
Of course, those were death matches and the risks were incredible. But the possibility of taking one of the champions’ places, earning not only their freedom but also a hefty amount of coin and other bonuses that came with the title, was enough to inspire the less informed.
The old-timers, on the other hand, were simply there to demolish newcomers and provide some entertainment for the crowds. They knew their roles and had no aspirations beyond that. It was a simple life. Brutal, yes, but these were violent men making the most of the few opportunities afforded them.
And then there was Bodok
He was teased mercilessly, taunted that he would die quickly and painfully. He carried on as best he could, simply ignoring the cruel voices, working up a decent sweat with physical activity and exercises well away from the others. And after so long in Raxxian confinement it felt wonderful being able to properly use his muscles.
His cardiovascular capacity returned after only a few days. He was pushing himself in that regard. Considering the fact he might be literally running for his life very soon it seemed like the wise thing to do. But fighting? He wanted no part of it.
The other prisoners may have given him a hard time, but the guards actually appreciated how easy this new prisoner was to deal with. He made their jobs that much easier, and as a result he was treated with far more tolerance, even bordering on kindness, than the others.
It was that tiny bit of goodwill he had earned in his short time in the training camp that made all the difference when a lone servant girl approached the sentry at the gate.
“Excuse me, sir?”
