On his way back to his basin, Roran checked on Perth. The poor boy was sitting against the wall, his knees to his chest and his back against stone. Roran stopped in front of him.
"Hey Perth, how're you holding up?"
Perth didn't respond.
"Perth? You still with me?"
Perth still didn't respond.
Kneeling down, Roran placed a hand on Perth's shoulder and gave him a light shake. Perth fell over, his remaining eye open but unseeing. Sighing, Roran straightened out Perth's body, folding his hands on his chest and gently closing his single eye.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could have done more."
In Perth's basin sat the medallion, glimmering gold. All three kings stared up at Roran, grinning. Remembering that people were allowed to watch, Roran looked up to the stands. He scanned the lower levels, searching for people that looked like him, dirty and disheveled. He spotted Murrin and the others watching him intently. Roran ignored them and kept searching. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.
Up in the stands were a pair of old women and a child. The women had tears streaming down their faces and were staring directly at him. The child was barely tall enough to peek over the railing, but he too was staring at Roran, a look of confusion on his face. Hesitantly, Roran raised a hand and waved at them. One of the women saw him and bobbed her head up and down, bowing in his direction. The child, misunderstanding, waved back.
Looking back down at the medallion, Roran asked the grinning faces, "Why did they make the child watch?"
The grinning faces didn't respond.
Miserable and tired, Roran returned to his own basin. Mimicking Morena, he sat down in it, planting his butt squarely on the faces of the kings. A childish gesture but it made him feel better. He watched the rest of the event unfold, only half interested. He knew he should be paying attention, those that survived would be trying to kill him in the next round, but he didn't have the energy for it.
He briefly caught Jorgen walking across the arena, his bow staff dripping blood and a medallion cradled in his arm. Roran would have to deal with him in the next round. Jorgen may have been stripped of his focus markings for the tourney, but he was still a champion, just as dangerous as Morena or Duran.
Closing his eyes, Roran let out a sigh. For the first time in his life, he looked forward to going back down into the dungeons. At least there weren't any murderers down there, save for him of course.
Roran startled awake when the bell rang, having somehow dozed off for the last few minutes of the round. He climbed to his feet and stretched, his butt numb from sitting on the damn medallion.
The crowd was cheering over the finale and the earth movers were marching back out onto the field. Within moments, the maze and bridges were crumbling to dust. It took only seconds for the moats to fill in, burying the people lost below. Roran paused to wonder how much of the arena was made from human remains slowly worn down into dust.
A gentle punch rocked Roran's shoulder. He smiled.
In a tired voice, he said, "Hey Kell."
Kell smiled back at him, but it was a soft, sad smile. "Hey Roran. You did good today. Sorry about the kid."
"Thanks."
"Let's get out of here. A nice long soak and some food will do you good."
Roran shook his head. "Not this time. Look, I need you to do me a favor."
Kell stood a little straighter, her expression becoming serious. "What's up?"
"You know Karyn, the girl that stayed the night with you last week?"
"She wasn't the only one, but I think I know who you're talking about. Cute little fortune teller, only wears dresses?"
Roran nodded. "That's her, Karyn. I think Morena is going to try and hurt her as a way to get at me."
"Say no more, I'm on it."
Without missing a beat, Kell turned and sprinted out of the arena, her spear bouncing on her shoulder as she ran. Turning, Roran spotted Morena still in the arena and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way he could get to Karyn before Kell did.
"Everything okay?" said Nul, approaching Roran from behind.
"It will be. Kell's taking care of something for me."
Nul cocked their head at him.
"Morena threatened a friend of mine, I asked Kell to look after her."
"That sounds like Morena. Don't worry, Kell will take care of her. Want to get out of here?"
Roran shook his head again. "No, there's something I need to look into. The next fight isn't for two more days. I'll meet you at the apartment tomorrow."
Nul nodded. They put a hand on Roran's shoulder and squeezed. "Okay, we'll expect you. And good job today. Sorry about the kid, I know how hard that is."
"Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow."
Roran returned below, avoiding the other survivors and heading for the auxiliary hub where Carrick was stationed. He found the old clerk sitting at his desk skimming through a leather bound tome full of lists and names.
Carrick glanced up at Roran as he approached. He slid his glasses down his nose and said, "Well if it isn't everyone's favorite little acrobat. Here to collect your winnings?"
"Oh, right." Roran had forgotten about the money, again. "Yes, please, but first I was wondering if you could help me with something."
"And what's that?"
"The boy that was with me during the round, can you tell me what village he was with?"
Carrick raised an eyebrow.
"Please? I know it's a strange request but it sounds like they're in a desperate situation."
"Aren't all of you 'refugees' in desperate situations? Very well, I will see what I can come up with."
"Thank you. His name was Perth. He was young and said that there were only a dozen people left in his village, children mostly."
Carrick put the leather bound tome away and produced another one. He cracked it open and started skimming the pages, muttering to himself as he went.
"Low occupancy... low maintenance... short term remaining... Here we are." He ran a finger down the page, pausing halfway through. "Perth. He is—was—a resident of Sunridge Village, a small settlement near a resource rich quarry. Would you like me to arrange a visit for you?"
Roran hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "Maybe, I don't know. I just don't want to let them die down there."
"The visit wouldn't be today and you can always change your mind. I'll go ahead and set something up. Let's be optimistic and set it for the day after the final round." Carrick grinned at him. "Either you can visit them with your pockets overflowing, or you'll be dead and won't have to worry about it."
"Thanks," Roran said, deadpan.
"Always happy to help. Anything else?"
Roran shook his head, too tired to think.
"I'll go ahead and count out your winnings. Favors or coins?"
"Favors."
"Done. Also, you'll want to leave those with me. Taking loaner weapons into the dungeon is a great way to piss off the wardens."
Roran was still carrying his sword and buckler from the fight. Feeling stupid, he placed them both on Carrick's desk while the old clerk counted out his favors. He handed the sack to Roran.
"Good luck," he said, "I have money riding on you."