Divine Orlong was lying on the oversized cot that had been built for some previous champion-a full-blood Tarthenal, although still not as tall as the Teblor now sprawled down its length, bared feet jutting over the end with the toes pressed against the wall-a wall stamped with the grime of those toes and feet, since Divine Orlong had taken to doing very little, ever since the announcement of the contests.
‘He’s dead,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘Gadalanak. Within two or three heartbeats-I think it was a mistake, all of you deciding not to attend-you need to see the one you will fight. You need to know his style. There might be weaknesses-’
Divine snorted. ‘Revealed in two heartbeats?’
‘The others, I suspect, will now change their minds. They will go, see for themselves-’
‘Fools.’
‘Because the
