More worrisome than the stony gorge were the tens of thousands of Urghul waiting on the slopes above it. Most crouched flat-footed, clustered in knots of five or six, but those along the gully’s edge stood, the points of their long lances angled down, as though to keep anything from escaping. Long Fist had taken a place of honor at the very lip of the gully, where he lounged on a travois supported by his own bloody warriors.

Balendin led Gwenna, Annick, and Pyrre to the lip of the stony defile.

“A holy place,” he said, then, with no warning, shoved Gwenna over the lip.

The fall was only half a dozen feet, and she landed on her feet, curses tumbling from her lips. She spun to find the leach smiling down at her.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll see that your friends have an outstanding view.”

Both women were watching her. Pyrre looked curious. Annick looked like Annick. Balendin waited a moment, then led them to Long Fist’s travois.

The limestone walls were low, no taller than Gwenna herself. Climbing free would be a trivial matter were it not for the Urghul with their lances lowered at her chest. Gwenna considered seizing one of the weapons, then discarded the idea. She still wasn’t sure what was to happen here, and she didn’t intend to die in a heroic last stand if she didn’t have to. Instead, she took a moment to look around.

The low stone walls blocked her escape to the east and west, while at either end of the short gully, maybe twenty paces apart, roared massive twin fires, though the sun had not yet set. Someone had dug two narrow holes about five feet apart, similar to long-campaign shit-pits, although what they were for, Gwenna couldn’t say. The mounds of excavated earth stood piled neatly and silently beside the holes.

A holy place, Balendin had said just before shoving her off the low stone wall into the makeshift arena.

A killing place, Gwenna thought grimly.

In a strange way, she was almost relieved. She had no idea what game Long Fist was playing, no clue why he would lavish her with food and liquor all day only to hurl her into a pit in front of what looked to be his entire ’Kent-kissing army, but one thing was clear: something was happening, and that was better than sitting on her hands in a tent arguing with Pyrre and being ignored by Annick.

Just too bad that it looked like the something was likely to kill her.