Venture Unleashed (The Venture Books) Read Online Free

we going?” Venture dared to ask.
    “To my training room.”
    His training room. Maybe this was going to be okay. He’d have to run, do drills all night. Something like that. Venture followed Fisher down the hallway.
    Lanterns glowed here and there from rectangular insets in the stone walls. After the thin plank walls of the dormitory, it felt good and warm to be in something so solid, so spacious. And after the stench of those tight living-quarters, with no washing for boys or their clothes, the smell of pee in one of the insets hung curiously in the clean air. Undoubtedly sprayed with a laugh to extinguish the lamp, it left the wick limp, that one inset a small, dark, soiled spot in the vast grandness of the hall.
    The old stone floor was smooth and polished. White granite was inlaid in a pattern among the gray, forming a long vertical line of white intersected by a shorter horizontal line near the top. Venture’s hand went to his chest, to the place where the little carved wooden emblem, the one that had been his mother’s, usually hung. Not there. He always took it off to train, and hadn’t put it back on since the day he got here. The training had been so constant, and he’d been so tired.
    How strange, that the symbol of the Faith of Atran was on the floor of Champions Center. This must have been one of the great temples of the Faith, before public worship was banned in order to end the violent conflict between the worshippers of the different religions Richland’s many immigrants had brought here generations before. He wanted his pendant, wanted to feel it under his fingers, against his skin. He would put it on as soon as he came back—if he came back.
    They entered a training room twice the size of the biggest one at Beamer’s Center. Mats matching those on the floor were mounted all around the bottom half of the unplastered stone walls. A rhythmic tap-tap-slap filled the silence. Someone was hammering away at a striking bag. Who would be training in the middle of the night?
    Two wooden bleachers, each about fifteen feet long and four rows high, blocked his view of the corner the sound was coming from. Venture followed Fisher through the gap between the bleachers, and the whole mat area came into view.
    It was Dasher Starson.
    “What are you doing here, Starson?” Fisher said.
    “Couldn’t sleep.” He steadied the bag and crossed the mat. “What’s going on?”
    “We’ve got some business to take care of here,” said Fisher.
    “What kind of business?” Starson looked Venture up and down.
    Venture stood up a little straighter. Those words Starson had said to him, quick hands, quick feet , had helped keep him going all this time. They reminded him of Earnest, reminded him that he was a fighter.
    “Mouthy little bastard needs to learn a lesson,” Fisher said.
    “He’s a bondsman, too,” Parker added with a sneer. “Can you believe that?”
    “A bondsman?” Starson said slowly, not taking his eyes off Venture. “I’m all warmed up. Why don’t you let me take care of it?”
    Fisher shrugged. “Just make sure you do it right.”
    Starson nodded to Fisher, then looked Venture straight in the face. “What did you do?”
    “Talked back to me,” Fisher said. “And—”
    Parker said, “Picked a fight with his trainer,” and Fisher said, “Knocked him flat,” at the same time.
    Parker glared at Fisher, and Starson raised his eyebrows.
    Now the Champion of All Richland knew that he was a bonded servant and a trouble-maker. Venture might as well risk him thinking he was too bold. Venture offered his hand to Starson. This was his chance, maybe his last chance, to officially meet him. Venture introduced himself with the most confident smile he could muster.  
    “Venture Delving.”
    Fisher folded his arms and frowned. “Delving?” he muttered.
    Starson gave Fisher a puzzled look, shook Venture’s hand, and said, “Dasher Starson.”
    “I know who you are,” Venture said.
    “You do?