'Kalder has a pulled hamstring, and will not be ready to fight for six weeks. By the way, the surgeon says you have not paid his bill, and unless he receives his money in full by tomorrow he will not be available any longer.'

'I've known plagues that were better company than you,' grumbled Persis.

'Oh, and it's good to know we are now in the happy position of being able to give away coats. By tomorrow every beggar and his brother will be at the door. Perhaps we should set up a stall?'

'Tell me,' said Persis, 'did you ever act like a slave? Yes sir, no sir, whatever you desire, sir . . . that sort of thing?'

'No. I have one year left,' said Norwin, 'and then I shall be free of this indenture, my debts paid. And you will have to offer me a salary. That is if the circus is still operating by then. You know Rage is approaching fifty? How long do you think he will still pull crowds for exhibition fights?'

'Oh, you are a joy today.'

Norwin sighed. 'I am sorry, my friend,' he said. 'We took less than ninety silvers today, and without the horse acrobats we'll take less in future. Have you thought about the Palantes offer?'

'No,' said Persis.

'Perhaps you should. Crowds love to see blood.'

'I know. It is one of the reasons I despise people – myself included. But the Palantes offer would ruin us. We have fifteen gladiators – all of them veterans. Palantes has more than fifty, all of them young and ambitious. Can you imagine what would happen to our old men if we were to pit them against the highly trained young killers of Palantes?'

'The majority of our men would die,' said Norwin coldly. 'Against that we could draw maybe three thousand people, clear all debts, and leave this stadium with enough coin to invest in a truly profitable business.'

'Are you truly that callous, Norwin? Would you sacrifice our people for money?'

The little slave peeled off his sheepskin coat and stood by the fire. 'They are gladiators because they choose to be. Fighting is what they live for, what they know. As matters stand we will not be able to pay any of them winter wages, which means that for the next three months they will be begging work at the docks or the timber yards.'

Persis stared down at the debt papers and sighed. 'I do not want my people killed,' he said.

'They are not your people, Persis. They are performers who work for you.'

'I know that. I also know Rage says he will never take part in another death bout. I don't blame him. He had ten years of it.'