It was crowded inside the colosseum. People packed tightly together, unable to move their arms, nor their legs. The Mayor made certain that not a single seat would be left open and there wasn't. But in the podium, where all the elite had gathered, one could move and mingle freely.
Lyolis looked around at those who'd gathered there. Some called upon butlers to fill drinks and bring cigars, while others placed their bids on their hand picked duel slingers. The ruckus was unavoidable. And as much as she tried to ignore it, Lyolis couldn't avoid bringing brought into the banter.
"And who will the Mirrmane's be betting on?" Said a man dressed in a suit, with a crooked smile, a pair of chins, and a bald head.
"We might as well place a bet, Dear." Lyseria said sharply, "I've told them three time now that I was interested, but it seems they won't leave you alone unless you give proper coin."
"A small bet will do," the man snorted.
Lyolis grimaced with her mother.
Leofort reached into a slit inside his hide cloth, removing two golden coins, then placed them in the man's white-gloved palm. "Droom and Brylax … A coin on each duelist." The man gave a formal bow then was off, collecting coins from a scaled-faced man who was much more generous with his coin.
Lyolis looked around the podium. It jutted out of the canyon wall, fifty feet, with an overhang that did nothing to block out the sun that sat eastward, trying to reach High Noon, when the duel would finally begin. It was a beautiful view. The orangish-red canyons wrapping around them, with a breach in the north, working as window to look upon the city and the desert that extended for as far as the eye could see.
She pulled her attention from the land and focused on those who consumed the seats: The Womberwheels sat on the opposite end of the podium and she was thankful for that. Still angered about Tonsi not being completely truthful. Next to them was a red bearded man whose eyes were droopy, like he'd dranken too much. Then the scaled-face man who had his feet up on another seat, chatting with a boy who's left eye was a glossy white.
Further down she spied Bonejaq, his eyes black and thick lips sunk, sitting taller than the rest, turning his head every so often to glare at Weebert Womberwheel. Their feud still festering even long after the ball had ended. The Mayor sat next, dressed in midnight black trousers and coat, wearing a midnight black cape that wrapped around him like bat wings. Lyolis's nose burned from the lavender that reeked off of him.
A man who was dark as the night, and burly as a giant, was positioned next to him. Flicking a toothpick with his tongue. Staring as menacing as Bonejaq had. There was a bearded man with tusks around his neck. A black man who had a small doll in his hand pinned with needles. A golden-skinned man with ocean blue eyes and whip at his hip. And then, next to them, was another tribes couple with golden feathers in their hair.
Lyseria muttered, "The mayor sure knows how to make friends…" She'd been eyeing them too, but with much more disdain than Lyolis had.
Her father bellowed with laughter and the others hardly missed it, twisting their brows and sharply shifting their eyes at him. "Keep it down, Dear. The wrong ears might hear you." Leofort was always cautious about "the others," yet failed to realize he'd done more to draw their attention.
Lyseria rolled her eyes then stood to her feet, wearing the bear crown that matched Leofort's and Lyolis. On this day they were dressed in their brown bear pelts, that did nothing but made them sweat in the morning's heat. By mid day Lyolis was worried they would be swimming.
"I'll be back. Would like to relieve myself before having to waste my day watching pointless savagery." Lyolis and her mother didn't agree on much, but pointless carnage was one thing they had, though for different reasons. "Draw your legs in tight, my Child. I must get around, and this bear-skinned gown makes me heavy and thick."
Lyolis tugged her legs in, and her mother bumped her passing. Something slipped from Lyseria's pocket, landing on the girl's lap. A piece of parchment that had been stained red. Before Lyolis could call out to her mother, she was off near the rear of the podium, gone out of sight.
Lyolis raised an eyebrow, taking the parchment in hand. She knew the stains that had covered it. Where they had come from. And the dried black hairs that stuck to it like honey. It was the parchment she'd used to keep Zoar from bleeding. The one she found in the book. What had it been doing in her mother's pocket?
Lyolis looked to her father whose broad chin was facing the sun, eyes squinting. It would be wonder how any of them would see the action below with the sun pouring into their eyes and blinding them. Maybe that would make it better. They wouldn't have to see the killings at all.
Lyolis unfolded the parchment, nose wrinkled. This was not written in the hand writings of her mother. Lyseria was known for her elegant hand. A gift of the golden clan she'd been raised up in. A curvature to her lettering that matched the elegance of a mountain lion. And this handwriting was even more beautiful, curving with a finesse only a woman could have, yet the initials on the bottom said otherwise. "W.W." she whispered, rubbing her hand across the parchment.
Lyolis read through a list of purchases. Rifles and revolvers … and hundreds of them! Her eyes widened, turning towards the Womberwheels. Father may have come to find his Brusk'kab, but mother … she came here to gather weapons of her own … to face the Howl Chief, when he comes to attack with his own.