Blood Red Road

narrows his eyes. Well, he says, she’s bold enough, I’ll grant you that. Stand up girl, let’s see you proper.
    I look him up an down. I curl my lip.
    He’s around the table in a flash. He grabs my arm an hauls me to my feet. Who’d think a fat man could move so fast? An he’s much stronger’n I thought he’d be. He pulls me tight aginst him.
    Be very careful, he whispers in my ear. I’m in charge here. I don’t care who you are or where you come from. In Hopetown my word is law. Unless I say so … yer nuthin. Less than nuthin. The dirt under my feet’s more use to me than you are. Do you understand?
    I nod.
    Good, he says. He licks my ear slowly. Then he steps away. My stummick turns over. I feel the blood rush to my face. I wanna scrub at my ear, chuck up, run from the room, but I cain’t. I don’t. I jest stare straight ahead.
    She’s strong, says Miz Pinch. An smart too.
    Strong, smart an bold. The Cage Master struts around me, lookin me up an down. Well, she looks impressive. You might just have somethin here.
    I told you, she says.
    The Cage Master stares at me. Then he says, The question is, can she fight?
    Only one way to find that out, says Miz Pinch.
    Quite right, he says. An there ain’t no time like the present. Come.
    The Cage Master walks to the door that DeMalo came through an throws it wide open. The roar that we heard before spills into the room an fills the air. He steps outside. We follow him.
    We’re standin on a platform, lookin down on a great crowd of people.
    Welcome to the Colosseum, he says.

    I try to take it all in. The Cage Master’s house sits on the top of a hill. It sweeps down an away from the house. Down below us, cut into the hillside, there’s rows an rows of benches with three clear paths that cut through ’em from top to bottom.
    The benches is crammed full of people. Everybody’s shoutin an some of ’em’s leapin around an pointin an shakin their fists. An they’re all lookin at one thing.
    A cage. At the bottom of the hill in a open space stands a big metal cage.
    Inside there’s two men fightin. From the roar of the crowd, from the smell of the excitement in the Colosseum, it looks like it’s buildin up to a big finish.
    The fighters both barefoot, bare-armed, bare-legged. They wear short tunics. No weapons. They punch, wrestle, kick at each other, scramble up the sides of the cage an throw theirselves off to land on their opponent.
    One of ’em’s gittin tired. Blood’s pourin outta his nose an he’s startin to stagger, throw wild punches.
    Looks like the end fer Artashir, says the Cage Master.
    Artashir’s opponent backs him into a corner, picks him up by the throat with both hands an holds him there, slammin him aginst the cage bars. Artashir goes limp. The guy lets him go an he slithers to the floor.
    The winner holds his hands over his head, pumps his fists in the air an the crowd goes crazy. They’re all pointin at the Cage, screamin an jumpin around. Some of ’em’s even fightin with each other an guards wade in to break it up. Their eyes look wild.
    Artashir pulls hisself slowly to his feet. He stands there, swayin slightly. The crowd boos. Then they turn to face our platform an start to chant, Gauntlet! Gauntlet! Gauntlet!
    Artashir looks up at the Cage Master. The Cage Master stares down at him.
    I usually look forwards to this bit, he says. But there’s somethin about this one.… His will to live seems to be stronger ’n most. I s’pose that’s why he’s lasted so long. He’s certainly been good for business. Well, no point gettin sentimental. He’s lost his last two fights an this one makes three. Rules is rules.
    He tugs the red napkin from around his neck an, holdin it in his right hand, raises it above his head. The crowd’s screamin even louder by now.
    The Cage Master sighs. Oh let’s get on with it, he says. Then he brings down his arm.
    Two burly cagekeepers open the cage door an pull out Artashir. The crowd all rushes towards the path that runs up the middle of the Colosseum, climbin over each other, punchin an kickin to get right next to it.
    Armed guards haul people outta the way, push ’em back so the path stays clear.
    They live fer this, says the Cage Master. They’re worse than animals. That’s what too much chaal does to you. Fools.
    Then everybody starts to stomp their feet on the ground. The whole place shakes, even the platform we’re standin on. The stompin gits faster and faster.
    The keepers