Chapter Ten – A Lonely Tribute

The horses didn't slow down when they reached the other chariots. They split and shot off in opposite directions around President Snow's podium. Hamish was still holding on for dear life, the last of the smoke escaping his ears. The crowd were still going mad and when Hamish looked up at the screens again, he saw that the cameras were struggling to keep up with them.

Halfway round, Hamish saw the second horse holding Ella galloping towards him. Ella looked frightened but exhilarated. It looked as though the black stallions were going to collide but they missed each other by a whisker.

Hamish, Ella and the horses had literally run out of steam when they regrouped in the centre of the parade. The horses came to a halt, tossing their great heads, nostrils rattling as they exhaled. Hamish took deep breaths as well, still in disbelief at their entrance; he grinned at Ella and she grinned back.

The whole thing almost looked planned.

It took a while for the crowd to calm down, even when President Snow took to the balcony for his welcoming speech. He was a middle-aged man with a bushy brown beard and hair, and had been President certainly during all Hamish's lifetime.

'Welcome!' he called, his voice magnified. 'Welcome, welcome! And Happy Hunger Games!'

There was raucous applause and cheering, which grew every time Hamish and Ella were paraded on the big screens around the City Circle. The night sky was lit by a full moon and twinkling stars. Hamish thought he would never have a night quite like this again.

The president went on to say what an honour it was to have such courageous young men and women join them in the Capitol. His fancy words were all a mask, of course. After all, it was his idea to pit twenty-four district residents together in an arena as punishment. Nothing he said could ever change that. He just couldn't wait for twenty-three to die.

The speech ended and, one by one, the chariots disappeared through the front doors of the Training Centre, a huge glassy building with a whole floor for each district. As ever, Hamish and Ella were last. Since the horses' discomfort had subsided, Hamish felt it safe to wave to the audience on their way in, and the crowd screamed and cheered again as if they didn't want them to leave. He hated them all, but if it meant the chance of gaining a sponsor, it was something he could deal with.

Their prep teams and stylists were already here, as were Aberforth, Bruce and Adina. Both men were wearing identical grey suits and triumphant smiles. Aberforth's hair was like white candy floss and Bruce looked a bit slimmer. Adina was unchanged but for a blue fan-like garment on her matching wig; Hamish couldn't help but think of a peacock.

'Nice suit,' Hamish said to Aberforth with a grin.

'Drop the sarcasm, boy, I actually liked this one,' he replied, though smiling back.

'That was incredible!' Adina trilled. 'You know, if you don't get any sponsors after that performance, I don't think you ever will!'

'Great, thanks Adina,' said Hamish, amused. She did have a knack of saying awkward things like that but at least she didn't know how much Delta had really messed up behind the scenes. Several of the other tributes threw them jealous looks, while a couple of the youngest ones, such as the trembling little girl from 6, looked as awestruck as Hamish was.

'All completely intentional, of course,' said Delta, barely managing a straight face, and Ella and Hamish laughed.

'Yes, well,' said Adina, looking like she knew she was missing something. 'We must move on and take ourselves to the apartment. We're on the top floor, you know.'

The prep teams bid them goodbye, still clapping like seals and squealing in excitement. Delta and Zeb also departed but they said they'd be up there for dinner later. For now, Aberforth, Bruce, Hamish and Ella followed Adina down a corridor and into a crystal elevator. Hamish got a slight sense of vertigo as they shot up through the floors and the remaining tributes became smaller and smaller, but he controlled himself. There was no room for heights to be a weakness in the arena. Perhaps the arena would just be a plateau, then he wouldn't need to worry about it.

'We each have our own quarters, like on the train,' Adina informed them as the lift slowed down. 'Dinner will be served in another hour. Make yourselves at home; it's always a lovely place to stay!'

She led them out the lift, down a short corridor and into a dark room. She flicked on the lights and, again, Hamish felt his jaw drop.

It was – stunning. This room was some sort of lounging area, but it was unlike any lounging area Hamish had come across before. Hamish estimated he could fit his home in District 12 at least twice into this one room. The floor was the same shade of blue as Adina's coat and remarkably shiny. Bouncy leather sofas and colourful beanbags littered the room. A huge television screen filled an entire wall. The place was lit by about forty lamps that hung from the high ceiling. Of all the luxuries Hamish had hitherto experienced, this apartment surely was, and would be, the very peak. He couldn't wait to see his own quarters.

Hamish turned to see the others' expressions and saw his own astonishment reflected in theirs. All but Adina, who, of course, took all this for granted and was already halfway across the room, calling back something about alerting the kitchens.

They continued to gawk for a few minutes longer.

'Just like magic,' chuckled Bruce and Aberforth grunted in agreement. 'Right, Hamish?'

Hamish still couldn't speak, but he agreed. His instinct told him there were no magical people in the Capitol, but this design was certainly something that could match a wizard's efforts.

Ella was the first to leave the room and set off for her room. Hamish thought he heard a sniff just before the door slid shut behind her. Feeling uneasy, Hamish turned to Aberforth. He didn't shake his head or raise a stern eyebrow this time, but pierced Hamish with those blue eyes. They both knew Hamish was long due an explanation. Bruce remained oblivious to all this.

'Well I was going to check out the balcony before my room,' said Hamish pointedly.

'Sounds like a good idea,' mumbled Aberforth. 'Bruce, my friend, your face could do with a wash.'

Actually, Bruce's face was more or less spotless but he said 'Really?' and began rubbing his fat cheeks. Aberforth managed to convince him and Bruce headed off to find his bathroom.

In truth, Hamish did want to visit the balcony now. He and Aberforth went through another door that led into the dining room. They spent another few minutes taking in this beauty: more shiny floors and bright lighting; young men and women in white tunics with odd red make-up were laying down cutlery and plates and flowers on the overly-long table surrounded by curved pea-green chairs; one of the walls was entirely glass and a door in it led to the balcony. The pair of them went through.

It was quite chilly outside by now and Hamish had to turn up the collar of his black shirt. He rested his hand on the soft wooden railing and gazed out at the picturesque sight of the Capitol. It was just as impressive at night as it was during the day. Back in District 12, you would have to rely on moonlight, if there was any, to make a journey at night. But here, moonlight was irrelevant and simply added to the decoration. The whole place seemed to shimmer. There was dancing and chanting and music as the Capitol threw one of its many parties, this one as an extravagant welcome to the tributes.

'Ridiculous, isn't it,' said Aberforth in an undertone. He turned to Hamish. 'How are you feeling?'

Hamish shrugged. He turned his head round to check they were alone and then lifted the sleeve of his right arm to reveal the strapped wand.

'You made this?' he asked.

'Oh no. No, a woman back in 12 made one for me. Gave her a pint of goat's milk for it. She was very talented, did incredible things with fabrics. Can't remember her name –'

'Not Marge?'

'Ahh ... that name does ring a bell. Do you know her?'

'She and her husband take care of my mother sometimes,' said Hamish, looking down. Whenever he thought of his mother, the primary memory was her sobbing in the room of the Justice Building before he left for here. It made him feel depressed and now tears threatened to burst the banks but he had to hold them in.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to stay strong, for her.

Once he'd controlled himself, he asked the question that had been on his lips for the past two days.

'What's wrong with Ella, Ab?'

He looked at him, then back out to the city.

'She – I can only guess, because I haven't had a direct conversation about it. I was talking to Bruce on the first night in the train. Naturally, I wanted to know more about how he'd survived the near extinction – he wasn't alive during the Battle, you see. In short, his parents had lived through it and bore him not long after. His mother died during childbirth and the father went mad and ended up killing himself a few weeks later. His mother had been a witch.

'Anyway, the topic turned to you and he was fascinated how such a young lad could have magical abilities. He could only conclude that you were Muggle-born and that –'

'Muggle-born? What's that?'

'When your parents are both non-magical,' explained Aberforth. 'No one really knows where the magical blood comes from in Muggle-born cases, but it's not uncommon.'

Aberforth took a deep breath and reluctantly faced Hamish.

'Anyway. I think Bruce was so – surprised and glad that – you were a wizard, that he asked if he could help mentor you as well, in the hope that, if you lived, there might be a chance that any wizards out there would recognise you, and me, and him as one of them and we could somehow make our way back into the world.'

Hamish mouth had gone dry and the pit of his stomach bubbled with disbelief and resentment towards the butcher. He felt sick with it.

'And he'd put all that ahead of his daughter's life?'

'Like I say, he got carried away, and we all say stupid things when –'

'And where do you stand on this?' interrupted Hamish, now directing his anger at Aberforth. 'Are you hoping I'll win, sacrificing everything but my life, just so you and a bunch of other wizards can get a name in this world?'

'How dare you,' he spat, his voice heavy with venom. He seemed to realise his tone because he looked out at the Capitol again. 'I told him he was being ridiculous, actually. The Games – they're not good, even for mentors, and not just because they have to watch their tributes die. Past mentors have gone completely mad after they've won their Games and ...' Aberforth seemed to run out of words, and a silence unfurled.

'So how did Ella know all this?' asked Hamish calmly, but he already knew the answer.

'She was outside the door, listening. When I left Bruce, I heard her bedroom door slam.'

Hamish didn't know what to think. Would she hate him for all this? He knew it wasn't really his fault but none of this would have happened if he wasn't a wizard. He closed his eyes and put himself in her shoes. He'd chose his father, a faceless figure, as his mentor. Ella was a witch and had chosen Aberforth. His father was also a wizard and began teaching Ella to survive and fight, for the potential benefit of his and her race. And Hamish was left to train himself, nothing more than a side show to his own father.

He hated it. He knew how Ella felt and he couldn't let her go on like this. The centre of all his problems and worries had, once again, rested with the butcher.