fly off. Tamran was putting his griffin’s harness on, and as Arren watched, he got on her back and said something to her. She walked away from the wagons for a short distance before she took off, flying up toward the city. They were probably going to report to the Eyrie.
“Oi!”
Arren looked up. One of the guards had approached him. “Yes?”
The guard pointed at him. “Start unloading the wagon, and hurry up, we don’t want anything to get any wetter than it has to be.”
Arren stared at him. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” said the guard. “Get on with it. You’ve done sod-all on this trip, and I’m tired.”
The curt command in the man’s voice irritated Arren. “You could say please,” he said.
The guard hit him on the ear. “Who d’you think you are—a griffiner?”
The insult stung him more than the blow did. He was about to argue, but then dull depression settled over him. What was the point? He lifted a box down from the wagon. It was heavy. “Do I just put it on the platform?” he asked.
“Yeah, now move it.”
Arren changed his mind. He put down the box and glared at the guard. “Excuse me, but what d’you think you’re doing?”
The guard hit him again. “I’m telling you to get to work before I thump you in the nose, blackrobe.”
Arren snapped. He pulled his dagger out of his belt and pointed it at him. “If you call me that again, I swear to gods I’ll kill you.”
Instantly the guard darted forward and struck him on the wrist, making him yelp and drop the dagger. The guard flicked it away with his foot and punched Arren in the face, so hard he knocked him off his feet. Arren hit the back of the wagon quite hard and landed in the mud, but he rolled when he hit the ground and was upright in a moment. He nearly attacked the guard, in spite of the man’s armour and sword, but at that point Deanne came running up.
“What in Gryphus’ name is going on?” she demanded, reaching for her sword.
The guard bowed his head to her. “I’m sorry for the fuss, my lady, but your slave needs to be disciplined.”
Arren started forward. “I—am—not—a slave!” he roared.
“Well, you bloody look like one,” said the guard, unmoved. “Where’s his collar, anyway?”
Deanne covered her face with her hand. “Oh gods—just get out of here, please.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Arren snatched up his dagger from the ground and stuffed it into his belt. “Thanks,” he muttered.
Deanne sighed. “I’m so sorry, Arren. It never occurred to me that we hadn’t told any of them who you are.”
“Oh, I think they already know who I am,” said Arren, unable to stop himself. “Nobody. Should I—” He glanced back at the cage. “I should probably go to the Arena with it. I caught it, after all.”
“Yes, you should,” said Deanne. “And after that you should go to the Eyrie. They’ll want to hear your account of what happened.”
In other words, he was going to have to try to explain himself. But he didn’t intend to be the only one.
10
The Arena
Arren had to wait while the supplies were unloaded from around the black griffin’s cage, which took some time. He briefly considered going to visit his parents while he was in the area, but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell them what had happened. Right now he felt a shaky kind of strength, and he was going to need it. He did his best to sustain that feeling as the last of the crates were taken down and carried to the lifter. Now that the wagon had nothing on it but the griffin’s cage, the wagoner got back onto his seat and urged the horses onto the narrow road that led around the side of the mountain. There was another lifting device directly under the Arena, used for no other purpose than lifting newly caught wild griffins into their prison. Arren sat by the cage and watched the rain dripping from the underside of the city’s platform. It was astonishing, really, that something so huge had been built and then maintained for such a long time. The platform needed constant repairing and reinforcement, though; thousands of wooden and metal struts had been placed between it and the side of the mountain to help hold it up. Arren thought of the slaves who had put those first few planks into place. He couldn’t imagine how they had done it.