of people the legion had taken. They never returned. If he was caught, and the centurions learned he had been one of the fighters, what would they do? He knew, better than most, that prisoners were often shoved into training arenas as fodder for real gladiators.
Instead of being sponsored by Lucius, he’d be ground to dust by the fighters Lucius chose.
Keep going. Madoc willed it so hard his vision wavered.
The soldier passed, his black and silver regalia muted by the starlit sky.
A hard exhale raked Madoc’s throat. He waited until the horse and rider were out of earshot and the centurions no longer beat a warning against their shields. Until the street went quiet.
An alley across the road caught his eye, and he slipped out from beneath the cart and sprinted toward it. As he ran, his feet sloshed through puddles of stagnant water and the waste of emptied chamber pots from the apartments above. Keeping to the twisting alleys, he carved a path through South Gate toward the Temple of Geoxus, where he was supposed to meet Elias.
As in the other four Undivine districts, the houses and shops here weren’t soaring visions of marble, gleaming with gold leafing and wrapped in gems. Simple brown brick apartments lined the streets. Beggars slept on corners. Even this late at night, children dug through rotting garbage for bits of food to calm their twisting bellies.
They had Petros and his impossible taxes to blame. It didn’t matter that being born with the gods’ power was a chance of fate—that geoeia was often, but not necessarily, inherited from one or both parents. When the Divine held the power, the Undivine paid the price.
A chill crawling down his spine, Madoc took the final turn out of South Gate and into Market Square, an area where Divine and Undivine mingled. An open-air temple protecting the giant bronze statue of their Father God towered high above the empty street. In a few hours, vendors would fill the square, selling clay gladiator dolls and silver and black banners alongside food and textiles, but for now it was still, lit only by the beaten copper streetlamps.
Madoc’s remaining sandal caught a raised stone on the street and tore the leather strap. With a curse, he took it off and tucked it into the back of his belt. Now he didn’t even have the coin to replace it.
Maybe he could sweet-talk Cassia into fixing it tomorrow. She would, after she smacked him upside the head with it. She had informed Madoc and Elias on more than one occasion that she did not have the time or patience to coddle giant babies.
With a resigned sigh, he headed for the corner where an olive seller sold his wares during the day. Elias always chose this place to meet because he liked the look of the merchant’s daughter.
“Took you long enough.”
Madoc turned to find the scrawniest stonemason ever to live jogging across the street. As he approached, a grin dimpled his right cheek, half hidden by his shaggy black hair.
Relief broadened the smile on Madoc’s lips, masking the fear that prickled beneath his breastbone. Now that he was with Elias, Madoc realized just how close they’d been to getting pulled apart.
“I had a few stops on the way back,” Madoc said. “Had to get a drink. Picked up some pickled bull testicles from the South Gate market for Seneca.”
At the mention of their eccentric old neighbor, Elias snickered. “Courting gifts won’t help. She’s not interested, you sorry pigstock.”
Madoc chuckled, used to the good-humored insult from his friend’s smart mouth. Elias knew that Madoc’s strange intuitions were far from ordinary, but he enjoyed reminding Madoc who had the real power.
“Did you enjoy yourself tonight? I gave the signal ten times before you decided to step in.”
Elias frowned. “What was it again?”
Madoc gave an exaggerated tap of his left hand against his thigh.
“Oh, right.” Elias laughed, and Madoc shoved him to the side. “It’s okay. The Great Quarry Bull can take a hit or two.”
Madoc groaned at the name Elias had chosen so that no one would be able to trace Madoc back to their home. It was true that he tended to heal quickly, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t felt each grain of sand flung in Fentus’s assault. Only a true Earth Divine could use geoeia to harden their skin like a rock.
They turned toward the river and the stonemasons’ quarter. Madoc had lived there with Elias Metaxa and his family since Elias’s sister