That was the pity of it. When one wanted only a single thing, all other pleasures paled to nothing beside its absence. What did he want, if he could not leave here? Nothing. He wanted nothing.
"Your excruciating and slow demise would go a ways to soothe my soul, but that seems unlikely to happen," Hawk said, musing.
He could ask to see his brothers. Mahvash would almost certainly agree, but Hawk was not yet ready to call on them yet. Of the three, Raven and Crow would be of use to him, but his pride would not let Crow see him like this until he was truly desperate and Raven...well, Raven was something of a tornado. Brutal, unexpected, and impossible to predict. Raven might free him. He also might wreck half of Essyrn.
Hawk sighed. "I wouldn't mind access to the yards."
The slave yards, as it were. Where the gladiators who were not privately owned by merchant princes took their practice. They had an enormous training yard, but any gladiator whose was willing to pay the nominal fee could make use of it.
He would like the company of other warriors. Not the paid sparring partners that Mahvash hired to keep him in form. Real warriors. He would like to get out of this palace once in a while.
And, most of all, he would like the chaos that comes of moving about from place to place and being in large crowds—in that chaos his escape might be sown.
