Veza nodded. "There are a few items I would like to bring along."
"Personal items, Director? This is a time for leaving things behind and starting over."
Veza bowed. "Documents, Empress. Information that may prove useful to our cause." She raised her eyes and met Llawan's. "And I am Director of Breaker Bay no longer."
CHAPTER 13
Chainer caught sight of the pair from the same vantage point he had first spotted Kamahl. He recognized KamahPs sister Jeska and the dwarf Balthor from the descriptions he had and the fact that they arrived together. Now that he saw her, he thought he could have recognized Jeska as one of Kamahl's kin without forewarning.
She was of medium height and build, but she had Kamahl's blazing red hair and brass colored skin. Where Kamahl's was cropped close to his head, Jeska wore her hair long, braided dwarf style into hundreds of finger-thick strands. Each braid was interwoven with ribbons or hide or polished stones, and she had gathered them all in the middle of her back with a heavy iron clip. Chainer recognized a weighted whip when he saw it, but he was impressed with how casually she wore a weapon that most fighters wouldn't recognize.
She also wore a peculiar metal gauntlet that covered her left forearm. It was etched with runes but unpolished, with two small horns at the wrist edge. It looked like a miniature slingshot, but Chainer couldn't quite credit the whole thing as a weapon. He reasoned it was either a sword baffle or some other sort of protective armor.
Finally, she carried a wooden baton that was intricately carved and ringed with metal. It was about as long as her arm, and it looked extremely solid. Her muscles lied about it, as well, effortlessly concealing how dense the baton actually was. In addition to the decorative metal rings, Chainer guessed the baton also had a metal core to give it extra punch.
Jeska carried herself and her weapons with extreme confidence. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, her jaw was set, and her pace was so stern it seemed more like a march than a hike. She didn't even glance at the dwarf by her side, though he matched her stride for stride and never fell out of her peripheral vision.
Balthor was built like all dwarves Chainer had seen, short and broad and gnarled as a stump. His long beard was split into two equal points that fell to his waist, and he wore an ornate headdress with a large red gem at the center. Instead of a fighting axe, he carried some kind of axe-staff that was neither completely weapon nor completely walking stick.
The strange duo was met at the gate by a Cabal representative and escorted into the arena. Chainer waited until the door had shut behind them before he turned from the window and made his way down to the pits.
Several hours later, an oily-looking fixer met Chainer on the staircase.
"You Chainey?" the fixer said. "Chainer."
"Whatever. Come on, let's go. You're on."
The fixer's attitude annoyed Chainer. "What's the rush?"
"They are. The woman's insane, and the dwarf is really cranky. They say they're going to fight now, or they're going to start wrecking the place."
"So? Turn some stalkers and some hellhounds loose on 'em. The Master of the Games said-"
"The Master of the Games just said you should get your butt down to the main pit." He held out a sealed scroll. "See that? It's official. Now come on."
Chainer stood perfectly still. "What's your name, sunshine?"
The oily Cabalist sneered. "Louche," he said.
"Bet all you have on me, Louche. I can't lose."
"Is that so?"
"It is."
"Thanks, kid." Louche had a sarcastic tone that never wavered. Chainer couldn't tell if the fixer knew he was being misled, or if he just didn't care. He gave up trying to argue with a person who negotiated for a living and fell into step behind him.
Louche led him down the main pit floor. The stands were full, everything seemed ready to go. His opponents waited on the far side of the circle.
"Good luck, kid," Louche said, already distracted and moving on to his next assignment.
"You mean that, Louche?"
"Sure. Why not." Louche didn't even look up as he disappeared into the crowd.
Overhead, the prep horn sounded, and Chainer lit his censer. It was to be a straightforward flag match, two against one. Jeska and Balthor would attempt to take or destroy the simple black pennant that was spiked into an eight-foot-tall mound of packed dirt behind Chainer. Chainer would defend the flag. In this case, that meant he would try to stop them but would fail as convincingly as possible.
In the distance, Chainer heard his match being announced, the usual build-up of the fighters and the standard teasers about blood and danger to whip up the crowd. Chainer scanned the rows and rows of eager faces. The smoke was getting thicker around him, and he fought back a rush of dizziness. "Game on," he whispered. He had to stay focused.
The starting horn sounded, and Chainer's opponents came straight at him. They moved well, but they were terribly out of sync with each other. Balthor strode forward with his head and his staff held high, taking strides as smooth and as grand as his stature allowed. Jeska, on the other hand, was hunched low into a battle crouch, her hands free and empty at her sides. Her baton was ready at her hip, and she kept one hand near it as she stared fixedly at the flag behind Chainer.
"Let's finish this quickly." Chainer heard Balthor's impatience through the dwarf's clenched teeth.
"Just hold up your end," Jeska growled back, "and stay out of my way." They were attacking together, but they were not a team. Chainer decided to exploit that.
As they had no long-range weapons, Chainer waited until Jeska and Balthor were a stone's throw from the mound. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, he shuddered, and he threw his arms out, palm-up, at Balthor. There was a flash of black light, and for the briefest moment a purple ring of energy flickered. Through that ring came a three-foot dragonfly with a scorpion's tail. Its multiple wings buzzed with the fury of a full swarm as it shot high above the arena floor and then dove straight down at Balthor, its stinger poised for the kill. Chainer wanted to test himself against Kamahl's sister, and the dragonfly would keep the dwarf busy. The insect would bedevil and sting until the dwarf hacked at it with his axe or his fists. If he injured it, its sticky blood would spurt and foul whatever part of Balthor it touched.
As Chainer expected, Jeska completely ignored the threat that was ignoring her. As the dragonfly homed in on Balthor, she continued straight on at Chainer. Her movements became much sharper and quicker once the action began, and her approach became more like an acrobat's tumbling run. Chainer ditched the censer and drew his dagger, waiting, his stance inviting Jeska to attack.
Behind Jeska, Balthor stood straight as the dragonfly swooped down on him. The gem on the dwarf's headdress glowed, and red fire leaped from the gem to the blade of his axe-staff. Chainer could see Balthor's lips moving. His eyes were shut.
A blast of flame erupted from the head of Balthor's axe and burned the dragonfly to ash in midair. Chainer stood shocked for just a moment, and then dove forward as another blast slammed into the ground near his feet. Before he could get up off his knees, Jeska was above him and her baton was bearing down on his skull. Balthor smugly crossed his arms.
Years with the fighting chain had given Chainer extremely fast hands, and Jeska had badly underestimated his speed. He caught her baton in mid- swing, threw his weight backward, and tossed her back over his head with an assist from his boot. He held onto her hands, so she slammed painfully into the ground. Chainer released her, rolled, and came up with his hands in position. There was another black flash, and a second dragonfly buzzed out and oriented on Jeska. Chainer cursed for repeating himself. Skellum would never let that go. Chainer pushed the thought of his mentor aside, saw that Jeska had not yet regained her feet, and squared off on Balthor. He scooped his dagger up off the arena floor and dared Balthor to come forward with it.