Book V: Chapter 4 | Pan et Circus

"Gya, ladies and gentlemenne, for your entertainment, I give you the heroes and their dog companion, a parody, a mockery of the great Takashi."

The Syruppy sweet voice rattled over the grovel-like amplifyer.

" These two madmen claim to be from the other side and claim to be heroes. Well, let us give them their first battle. But instead of the great Neko Chan, they've got Gao, Gao!"

The crowd erupts into laughter.

Galle, Pompanianus, and Pliny are standing on a large platform atop one of the large chutes. The dark chute in front of them reeks of rancid grease, blood, and algae-mildewed water, its bright blue colors long faded. Large idols of cats and dogs stand in front of them on the platform, mocking them with their wide faces and smiles.

The guards prepare to shove Galle in by force, but she stops them, waving her bound hands at the two. With sunken eyes and bowed head, she jumps in of her own volition. Pliny and Pompanianusattempt to use this confusion as a distraction and try to make a run for it. They are quickly apprehended by the three guards.

"Oh, no, you don't gyafsh."

Pliny is hit in the stomach with a club and falls over. Pompanianus continues to struggle until he too is struck and thrown face first into the tube. Pompanianus attempts to keep his head up as the nauseating smell overwhelms him as he's flung down the chute. He can feel the bumps and scratches, the slime pouring into his open wounds. He wants to throw up, but he can't. He tries to stabilize himself by turning sideways, but the entire chute is greased. He can't. He just spins, facing down. He can see the white light at the end of the tunnel. He flies out, landing in a pile of straw, sticks, and bones.

Galle helps him up after the five-foot drop, and with a piece of broken glass lying around the arena, she helps cut his bounds.

Pompanianus groans, his back now covered in scars.

"So these are the arenas, you say?" he asks. "Come, my friend will be joining us. He may be hurt as well."

They turn back to the chute and see Pliny falling out, flying out with a scream. They catch him. He coughs and vomits onto the floor.

"This whole place is wretched," Pliny laments. He manages to peek out after heaving. "I thought we might be able to use these pipes for our own city, but I want this whole thing dismantled. Where are we?"

"It looks like we're in an arena, and we are the gladiators saluting no emperor. You better keep looking for rules. Are they going to have us fight each other?"

"No, I don't think so." Pompanianus looks at Galle.

Galle says, "If we are, you guys can just kill me first?"

"No, no, they're going to have us face off against something feral."

Galle turns. "Why? What makes you say that?"

Pompanianus points to the arena around them. "There are no weapons for us, or torches aligning the walls. We have similar games in our own world, but if we were to have each other fight, we usually would have the warriors dress up in different costumes with armor and weapons, or dress up in battles. Having us naked and together without any preparation to fight each other leads me to think that we'll be facing some sort of feral beast together."

They look out at the large open pool, twelve feet deep, with no water in it and completely smooth, save for the scratching of the concrete and the straw and bones. Above them is a hole in the glass and metal ceiling, with parts of those iron rebars and glass scattered around the arena.

"Well, that is good news," says Pliny.

Galle turns. "Why is that good news? I'd rather die to honorable men such as you."

"Well, I'm flattered. We just got a letter."

An announcer comes and says, "Ladies and Gentlemen, prepare yourselves. Place your bets! Who will die first? Who will be the last to make it? Current odds: 10 to one on the dog woman, odds five to one on the two men, 30 to one on each individual one, if you choose."

Pompanianus, Pliny, and Galle take one last look at their surroundings, searching for some sort of weapons. Galle stays with her sharpened piece of glass. Pompanianus grabs a stick. Pliny grabs a large bone, planning to use it as an ax.

"And here we go! Let the games begin!" The crowd cheers.

Across from them are large wooden doors. Part of the pool has been walled off. The door opens and out races a Blemmye, still bound. Pompanianus and Pliny laugh to each other.

"So it all comes now full circle, doesn't it? Perhaps the goddess was training us after all."

Galle is furious. "What's gotten into you both? Why do I have to die next to these madmen? Why do I have to die of failure to my family and to my tribe? We are torn apart by this creature. No one is going to come for her, and no one is going to come for my people. They're all going to die."

Pompanianus gets a little irritated at this. Meanwhile, Pliny turns to himself and sings, "No one, you say, no one?"

Pompanianus turns to Galle, grabs her by the shoulder, and takes the piece of sharpened glass from her hands.

"Yes, why, Amazon? Are you mewing like a Greek boy? If you are convinced that you are going to die, then I suggest you go run over there right now and end this instead of wailing and waiting for the creature to come eat you. Die! Offer yourself as a meal and at least deprive the arena-goers of their good bet, ruin their game. Die with honor, or die fighting as long as you can, or try to live with us, with you," she says silently.

The cat people are in the process of trying to unbind the creature. The creature is fighting them just as much as it is fighting its bounds. The cats, with their sticks, try to keep it calm by poking at it with spears, seemingly only making it angrier.

"Pompanianus, I have an idea."

"Oh, and that is?"

"Well, I was thinking to myself, if we are no one, perhaps that is our Polyphemus."

Pompanianus looks at the creature. "Okay? Then, who? Then, what is our stake?"

"Odysseus. He is our stake. The creature is our Cyclops, and he is our stake. He is our key to opening that door!" Pliny points.

Pompanianus smiles in understanding. "Okay, then here's what we do. Give me your bone."

Taking the bone and covering it with straw and very little cloth that he finds around the bedding, Pompanianus then takes off his own garments, or what few garments he has, and wraps them around the torch. He then gives this makeshift torch to Galle, but not before covering it in the grease and pitch that was covering the slide. He then turns to Galle and, with the torch in hand, asks, "Do you think you can jump up and light this torch?"

Galle, not sure how to respond to the bare man standing in front of her, immediately turns to him, looks him in the eyes, looks at the torch, and says, "Yes."

He then turns. "These creatures are afraid of fire. If you can light this torch, we will distract him for you."

"Then what?"

"Then we are going to use the creature to batter down the door."

The cats, meanwhile, have successfully been able to unbind the creature, and the creature, in turn, unburdens one of the cats of its head, throwing the body aside.

"So, Pliny, there's a spear over there. The other cats have run in terror. I'm going to go for that spear and try to distract him while Galle is getting the torch."

Pliny nods.

Pliny, grabbing some shards of glass, then runs over to the Blemmye and starts throwing them at him. The Blemmye begins to chase after Pliny. Pliny places the shards of glass around the arena, in front of the Blemmye. The Blemmye stops, howls in a childlike moan, its feet bleeding profusely. The sand and mud on the concrete floor are now covered in blood.

Pompanianus manages to grab the spear from the dead cat person, cat girl. Meanwhile, Galle has successfully climbed on top, jumped on top of the pool panel, and has lit the torch. She's now holding the torch in her hand. She sees Pompanianus on the other end, holding his spear. Pompanianus points at the Blemmye. The Blemmye is now on its hands and knees, moaning and heading towards Pliny.

Galle finds her courage and runs to the Blemmye. The Blemmye turns around. Pompanianus takes his opportunity. With the spear, he jumps towards the Blemmye and jumps on top of it. The creature cries in pain as he drives the spear into it. Pompanianus holds on to the spear. Galle, behind the creature, runs, holding the torch. The creature, feeling the warmth of the fire, runs as fast as it can on all fours, blood falling out of its feet. The crowd is somewhere between excitement and terror to watch.