Scortius felt awkward, inept beside the older man. He'd no idea how to handle a moment such as this. Astorgus had not one but two statues raised in his name already, among the monuments in the spina of the Hippodrome, and one of them was bronze. He had dined in the Attenine Palace half a dozen times, it was reported. The powers of the Imperial Precinct solicited his views on matters within the City.

Astorgus laughed, his features revealing easy amusement. "I mean you no harm, lad. No poisons, no curse-tablets, no footpads in the dark outside a lady's home."

Scortius felt himself flush. "I know that," he mumbled.

Astorgus, his gaze on the crowded track and stands, added, "A rivalry's good for all of us. Keeps people talking about the races. Even when they aren't here. Makes them wager." He leaned against one of the pillars supporting the arch. "Makes them want more race days. They petition the Emperors. Emperors want the citizens happy. They add races to the calendar. That means more purses for all of us, lad. You'll help me retire that much sooner." He turned to Scortius and smiled. He had an amazingly scarred face.

"You want to retire?" Scortius said, astonished.

"I am," said Astorgus, mildly, "thirty-nine years old. Yes, I want to retire."

"They won't let you. The Blue partisans will demand your return."

"And I'll return. Once. Twice. For a price. Then I'll let my old bones have their reward and leave the fractures and scars and the tumbling falls to you, or even younger men. Any idea how many riders I've seen die on the track since I started?"

Scortius had seen enough deaths in his own short time not to need an answer to that. Whichever colour they raced for, the frenzied partisans of the other faction wished them dead, maimed, broken. People came to the hippodromes to see blood and hear screaming as much as to admire speed.