Kamahl regarded the toothy brute and then continued to scan the entire arena, drinking it all in. "What's a Sengir?"
"Ancient vampire lord," Chainer said. "Possibly a myth. Some vampires prey on villages, some on cities. They say Sengir preyed on entire continents."
"And you've got an ancient vampire in the pit for the opening bout?"
"Not Sengir himself. One of his minions."
"Bet on the lavamancer," Kamahl said. "Bet it all."
"You that sure?"
"I am. Vampires burn, don't they?"
"Some do. If you can hold them still long enough to set them on fire." Chainer pointed at the vampire's opponent. "So, lavamancers. Work with lava, do they? Flames and smoke and all that?"
"Yeah. But lavamancer is a title, like champion or wizard. I say bet on him."
"It's your money." Chainer held out his hand, and Kamahl stared at it. "You're learning," Chainer laughed. He led Kamahl over to the fixer, showed him how to place a bet, and then the two settled on the rail to watch the bout.
A horn sounded, and Chainer said, "That's the prep horn. It means the match is about to start, and the fighters have fifteen seconds to prepare."
The lavamancer knelt and touched the arena floor, mouthing a silent incantation. The Sengir vampire continued to look around the arena and hiss at the audience. When the starting horn sounded, the vampire suddenly became much more focused on his opponent. Its eyes narrowed as it crouched and began stalking the lavamancer. Its pointed tongue lapped hungrily around his lips. The lavamancer stood his ground, still mouthing words that no one could hear.
The vampire suddenly charged, and the lavamancer pointed his sword and released a red-hot ball of magma and ash from its tip. The vampire caught the missile full in the chest, and for a moment its entire body was engulfed in flames and smoke.
The crowd's cheer became a collective gasp as the flaming vampire leaped into the air, soaring high over the arena floor. It swooped and dove, moving fast enough to extinguish the flames that were consuming its ragged robes.
Chainer leaned over to Kamahl and said, "Did you know they could fly?"
"No," Kamahl was impassive. "I assume they still drink blood?"
Before Chainer could answer, the blackened vampire screeched and dropped down on the lavamancer. The Sengir was so much bigger and broader than its wild-haired opponent that he seemed to swallow the lavamancer up whole. They grappled and rolled across the arena floor until the vampire pinned the lavamancer's arms and sank its sharp, twisted teeth into the man's neck.
"One less lavamancer, one more Sengir," Chainer said. "Sorry, Kamahl, but this match is all but over."
"Agreed." Kamahl said. But in the pit, it was the Sengir who shuddered and thrashed, not the human in its grip. With a roar, the vampire cast its intended victim aside and fell back, clutching at its face in agony. Flames poured from between its lips, and its lower jaw seemed to be melting.
"Earth is the body, and lava is the blood," Kamahl said. "Lava-mancers believe that utterly. In mastering their craft, they embody that belief."
The lavamancer's blood, red hot and steaming, continued to jet from the wound in his neck. While the vampire flailed, the lavamancer clapped a glowing hand over his wound and seared it shut. He drove the tip of his sword into the floor, raised his arms, and completed his incantation.
A huge gout of molten rock exploded from the ground beneath his sword. The stream arced up and onto the vampire, totally covering him in thick, clinging lava. The outer layer of the covering quickly cooled and hardened, but the vampire continued to move. Step by agonizing step, it came closer to the lavamancer. The dark skinned man calmly let the Sengir approach, and when it was close enough, he struck its head from its body with a short, straight slash of his sword.
The Sengir's stone-encrusted head and carcass both fell and melted into ash. The lavamancer raised his arms in victory, and the crowd shook the walls with its cheering.
Chainer bowed to Kamahl. "I stand corrected." He stood straight and clapped the barbarian on the shoulder. "And you stand enriched. The odds were five to one against the lavamancer. You just made enough to live like a king for at least a week."
Kamahl smiled. "One less thing to worry about, that's all. I'm more concerned with winning my own matches."
"Good point, good point. When's your first bout?"
"Just before the lunch break."
"Well, then, we'd better get you where you need to be. If you're as good a fighter as you are a handicapper, you might actually make good on that boast to win the tourney."
CHAPTER 8
"Ambassador," the human servant said, "Director Veza has arrived."
Veza caught Laquatus checking his reflection in a wall mirror as she entered the room. He was dressed in splendid robes, and he was taller than he appeared in Llawan's mirror. A huge, amphibious monstrosity sat sullenly on the floor, its feral glare fixed on Veza. The rest of the huge room was taken up by a green marble swimming pool, complete with fountain.
"Ambassador Laquatus." "Veza," he said brightly. "Long live the empire." Laquatus came across the room and warmly kissed Veza's hand. "Servants!" He clapped. "Refreshments for our guest." The dull-eyed butler shambled out of the room.
"Thank you, Ambassador." She eyed the beast on the floor and said, "May I ask…"
"That is Turg, my bodyguard and champion. I'm afraid a man in my position cannot afford to take chances. Particularly this close to Cabal City." He leaned forward and whispered, "They're all a band of cutthroats and criminals. Without Turg by my side, I'd be afraid to leave the embassy." Turg made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat to punctuate Laquatus's comment.
"I've dealt with Cabalists myself," Veza said. "I understand your caution."
Laquatus had not released her and was staring at her intently. Veza gently pried her hand away. "Forgive my manners, Ambassador, but my time is limited. You said you had something to tell me?"
Laquatus smiled. "Of course. But first…" A servant bearing a bottle of sparkling wine and two ornate crystal goblets shuffled in. He poured, left the glasses and the bottle, and exited without a word.
"To the empire," Laquatus said. "And new friends." He waited patiently with his glass extended. Veza hesitated, then gently tapped her goblet against Laquatus's. Where Veza merely sipped, Laquatus drained his goblet dry.
"An excellent vintage, if I do say so myself. I received a case of it from the Cabal First himself-"
"Excuse me, Ambassador. To business?"
Laquatus laughed. "Of course. Please forgive me. And you must call me Laquatus, my dear." He abruptly shucked his robe and dove into the pool. His legs shimmered and merged in mid air. By the time he hit the water, his tail was fully formed.
"I prefer to conduct my interviews underwater," Laquatus called. "For security reasons. Would you care to join me, Director? Or would you prefer a chair?"
Veza glanced at Turg, who was now dozing. She untied her sash, folded her robe, and stepped off the edge of the pool into the water.
"Your mastery of the change is remarkable, Laquatus."
The ambassador turned his head, as if embarrassed. "Thank you.
But surely you also share the innate ability of our people?"
"I do. But it takes considerably more time and effort for me."
"Ah, that's merely a matter of practice. The nature of our magic is change, you see. To be fluid in both mind and body. Our cephalid cousins sometimes treat it as a flaw, but I see our ability to straddle land and sea as a blessing." He motioned below the surface with his eyes, then dived down. Veza followed, and the two merfolk began streaming back and forth across the pool.