The Emporer's Hand - Bonecrusher

**********

"Big one, isn't he?"

Josef nodded, but his expression did not change. He did not intend to take this job, regardless of the offer. The slave's owner prattled on.

"Got a lot of raw ability, uses his size well, but no formal training. I bought him off a trader who was using him in a gambling racket. The crowds like a gladiator who can wield interesting weaponry, but this one only needs his fists. That'll be a novelty, don't you think? A man who can crush bones with his bare hands?"

The boy - standing taller than most men, but still a boy - kept his eyes on his feet, hanging his head so low that all Josef had seen of him so far was the top of his sandy hair. A couple of thugs on either side stood close to make sure he stayed in line.

Josef frowned. He ought to walk away from this. "I can't agree to train him until I know if he's trainable. Give me a few minutes."

The fat man nodded enthusiastically and backed off.

"You know how to throw a punch, kid?"

He barely heard the answer. "Yes, sire."

"Don't 'sire' me, kid. My parents were married. Now look in front of you. You can't hit what you can't see."

He wasn't the typical slack-jawed hulk. A light sparked in those eyes - one carefully hidden away but there nonetheless. Good. Josef curled his fingers, bringing his fists up.

"Alright, kid. Hit me."

The boy hesitated, screwing his mouth down in the barest hint of disgust.

"You can't hurt me, kid. Trust me. I've been hit by bigger things than you." Well, once, when he failed to get out of the way of a cart. "C'mon. They're watching."

The boy had no stance, no follow through, and no form. But he laid Josef out on his back anyway. My, the clouds were nice.

"Good." He bounded back onto his feet. His ears were ringing and one of his teeth might be loose, but there was no reason to let the kid know that. "Now, stand with your feet under your shoulders. Bend your knees. You aren't a lefty are you, son?"

"Don't know, si� Don't think so."

"Alright, put your fists up. No, not like that. What's that? Selling matchsticks? Hey! Is there something interesting crawling around your toes? Then why are you looking at 'em? Look at me. Put your fists up. Keep 'em close in. Watch me."

Within a few minutes, the kid could at least hold a respectable form and throw a quick jab.

Josef nodded to the pitman. "He'll learn. And he'll be a hell of a fighter when he does."

"Then you'll train him?"

"Perhaps. I want complete direction of his diet, his schedule, and his living quarters�"

"He's my slave," the pitman protested.

"And if you insist on feeding him the gruel I smelled on my way in, he won't be able to piss with any direction, much less throw a decent blow. You want a man who can crush bones, Hastein, you have to feed him meat and give him shelter to sleep. Do what I say and this kid will bring in more gold than you've ever dreamed. Is it a bargain?"

"Of course," the pitman smiled.

"Good. I want it drafted this afternoon and signed in front of a witness of my choice." He loved it when they blanched. "As for my salary, I want twenty-five silver a week plus any expenses incurred for equipment, the boy's food, chirugia, or anything else he might need. In exchange, I will, within a year's time, provide you with a champion of gladiators whose name will bring in more gold than you can spend in a lifetime. Agreed?"

Hastein only waffled a moment, trying to find the catch in the barrage. "Er..Agreed. Yes, of course. Agreed."

Josef walked back to the boy. He was practicing the jab Josef taught him a moment ago and pretending that he hadn't listened to the exchange.

"Look lively, kid. I'm only going to go through this once. My name is Josef and from this moment on I am your god. You wake up when I say. And I say dawn. You sleep when I say. And I say dusk. You eat when I say. And you eat what I say. If these cheap bastards try pawning slop on you, you come to me about it and I'll set them right. Now let's see that jab again."

The pitman and his thugs lost interest in the training after a few minutes and the two of them were left alone in the arena.

"Good," Josef said, although he dodged out of the way. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy's eyes dropped to his feet again. "Don't have one. They call me Kid."

Josef rocked back on his heels. "I don't suppose anyone ever taught you to read?"

"No. Don't need to."

"And who told you that?" Josef snapped. The boy just shrugged. "They lied to you, Kid. We'll fix that, too." He noted the look in his eyes, interested, even curious, but not hopeful. "Do you want to die in slavery?" The boy shook his head. "Then listen to me. There's a way out, if you'll follow it. It isn't easy and I'm giving you no guarantees that it will work, but it's better than doing nothing. You have one year with me, Kid. At the end of it, you'll be a star ascending in this arena. People will come for miles to watch you fight and win. They'll lay bets and fortunes may be made or lost on your performance. But it will fade. It may be years, but one day you'll find the boys coming out to fight are just the slightest bit quicker. Your experience will give you the edge, but not for long. When that day comes, you'll have the hardest fight in your life ahead of you - and you'll have to beat Hastein to it. It won't matter how much money you've brought him. He's a greedy little bastard and he'd sell you to the salt mines if it meant a few more coppers in his pocket. You have to out-think him. And you have to start now.

"And once you are free, Kid - then what?" Josef let the question hang there a moment and watched the Kid's eyes. Then he drew several lines in the soft earth. "Now, repeat after me. A."

**********

(Seventeen Years Later)

Halstein mopped his forehead with a greasy bit of silk. Summers in lower Altdorf were damp, muggy seasons and this one already had the fetid smell of stagnant heat.

His rotundity had fallen to flab over the years and his dropping jowls dripped with sweat. They shook as he turned his head, spraying droplets over the ledgers and forms in front of him, giving one the image of a large dog fresh from his waterbowl.

"Hot one, isn't it, Boss?"

Halstein craned his neck to look the man in the eye. "It is, BoneCrusher. It is. Did Otto bring you the things you wanted from the market?"

"Yes." He shifted where he stood, as if the chains of slavery still chafed him. It was probably perfectly safe to send him out with a guard or two (well, maybe four). After all, where could he go?

"Ready for tonight's game?"

BoneCrusher nodded slowly. Years in the arena had filled out the slave boy and, as Josef had promised, he became the greatest fighter Altdorf, if not the Empire. "I do not believe we will draw our usual crowd in this heat, however." He also wielded the largest vocabulary of any fighter in Altdorf.

"Hrmph." Halstein thumbed through his ledgers.

"But," BoneCrusher sat down, "they might come if we gave them an extra incentive - like the Champions match last year."

"We couldn't do that on such short notice," the pitman shook his head.

"If it's good enough, it will spread quickly just by word of mouth." BoneCrusher smiled. "No advertising costs."

Halstein smiled back. He liked that. "But what would draw them in? There's that new kid. We could set him up in a match with you. Youth vs. Experience!"

"That's hardly fair to him, boss. Besides, he and I have fought before in front of large crowds. Too many have seen us to be intrigued. Perhaps if we tried a final bout between two�"

"To the death? Fah!" Halstein mopped his head again. "No one wants to see that sort of thing anymore. And men cost too much to waste them like that. I saw a game in Middenheim once, years ago, where the pitman put a couple of his aging fighters in that sort of thing. It wasn't thrilling. Just sad. He would have done better just to free them."

"Boss, that's brilliant!" BoneCrusher beamed. Halstein tried to look proud through his puzzlement. "Spectators will flock in the arena tonight, even if we held the game in a thunderstorm! This could easily make you the richest pitman in the Empire - and the most renown. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if you rose to one of the wealthiest men in Altdorf!"

Halstein preened, flabby skin quivering in excitement. "Do you really think so? Rich enough to buy a court appointment, perhaps? I've always wanted a minor role there, high enough to afford those wonderful capes and imported boots�" A sublime smile spread over his fat face as he closed his ledger and bobbed toward the door. "Work out the details, BoneCrusher. My two senior fighters in their last bout before freedom. I'll be at my tailor's."

BoneCrusher smiled and patted the book in his pocket, offering silent thanks to the writer and the soul of the man who taught him to read it.

"Otto! Get the runners together and tell them to start the rumors. Tonight's game is the final bout of SnakeWhip and BoneCrusher!"

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