'Yes, he's dead,' agreed Rage, 'but a better man would have cleaved your ribs or disembowelled you. A man like Brakus, perhaps.'

Suddenly Bane grinned. 'You are never satisfied, are you? After my last duel you were telling me how if I fought like that when I met Dex he would cut my head off. And before that there was the deadly Kespus. Now both are dead.'

'Perfection is what we strive for, boy,' said Rage.

'No-one achieves perfection,' said Telors. 'You know that, Vanni.'

Rage sighed. 'If it could be achieved, it wouldn't be worth striving for. The object is to get as close as you can.' He looked at Bane. 'You fought well for most of the bout. Good footwork, fine concentration. But right at the start he lured you in with a feint. Only your speed saved you, and even with that he snapped a rib. An extra ounce of pressure and that rib might have pierced a lung.'

Telors opened a small leather medicine bag, removing a crescent needle and some dark thread. For some moments he tried to thread the needle. Finally Bane took it from him, threaded it, then handed it back. 'My eyes aren't what they were,' grumbled Telors.

'That's because you're getting old,' Rage told him.

'I'm ten years younger than you,' Telors responded.

Rage smiled at him. 'That's true.' The big man sat down alongside Bane. 'Don't mind me, boy. You frightened me out there. For just a moment I thought he had you.'

'I thought so too,' admitted Bane. 'And you are right. I was careless. But the shock of seeing Bendegit Bran and Fiallach with the emperor rocked my concentration.' He swore as Telors tightened the first stitch.

'Be brave, little soldier,' said Telors, with a grin.

Rage patted Bane's shoulder. 'Well, you are Gladiator Four now, and you are almost at your best. You've done well, Bane.'

'Well enough?'

'To take Voltan? I don't think so. Ask me in three months. If you beat Brakus, we'll talk again.'

'I promised you two years. I kept that promise.'

'Just three more months,' said Rage. 'Give me that, and then make your decision.'

Telors finished the stitches and snapped the thread. Bane lowered his arm. 'What is troubling you, Rage? Be honest with me.'

'There's a time for honesty, boy, and this isn't it. Now wash the sweat and sand from yourself. We've been invited to meet the emperor and his guests.'

'I don't know that I want to,' said Bane.

'There isn't a choice, my friend.'

Bane rose and walked through to the rear of the Sword Room, and the bathhouse beyond. Telors put away his needle and glanced at Rage. 'What is it, Vanni?'

'The boy is good. Very good; fast, strong, courageous. But he isn't ready for Voltan.'