The dwarf could not blast Chainer with Jeska so close behind, but the gem on Balthor's head was still glowing. The old devil was clearly waiting for Chainer's next casting, so he could blast it to cinders. Chainer kept his hands in front of him to keep the dwarf's attention away from the flag. Instead of giving him a target,
Chainer snapped his arm out and sent a weighted black chain singing into Balthor's headdress. The weight smashed through one of the glowing gem's supports and knocked it off center. The gem buzzed and stopped glowing. For the first time since Chainer had laid eyes on him, Balthor looked something other than haughty. He looked downright nervous, maybe even slightly embarrassed.
"You broke his special hat," Jeska called. "He's going to be furious." Despite the dragonfly darting all around her head, Jeska seemed savagely amused. She was keeping the insect at bay with her baton and a vicious barrage of the most obscene threats and language Chainer had heard outside of the city docks.
Chainer whistled. The dragonfly broke off and hovered in the air between them. Chainer jerked his head at Balthor, and the dragonfly buzzed hungrily toward the angry but still shame-faced dwarf.
"So you're looking for your brother," Chainer said. Jeska was not being drawn in by his stance. She had seen him sling a chain at Balthor from twenty feet away, and she didn't seem eager to let him do the same to her.
"I am. You know where he is?"
Chainer sheathed his dagger, touched his hands together, and pulled a ten-foot length of chain with a smooth, weighted end out of thin air. He held the chain out for her to see, then started it dancing around himself.
"I know where he went," Chainer said.
Jeska maintained her stance, daring Chainer with her baton as he had dared Balthor.
"I guess that means I shouldn't kill you," she said. "Tell me, and we can end this now."
Chainer began to circle around Jeska, his weapon in constant motion. "Let's come to an arrangement, you and I," he said. "I have information you want, you have information I want. If you agree to share, I'll let you walk right past me." He looked around the arena. "After we put on a good show, of course."
"I'm not making any deals with you, Cabalist," Jeska spat. "For all I know, that's what my brother did, and that's why I can't find him."
Chainer flicked the weighted end at Jeska, who easily batted it aside. "He left here free and whole. I can tell you where he went. Will you tell me where he came from?"
Jeska lunged at Chainer with her baton. He ducked under it, and slashed the iron pin out of her hair with his dagger. She looked totally shocked, then angrily shook her braids loose, spun her baton, and charged again.
Chainer snarled the end of Jeska's weapon with his and tried to jerk it out of her hands, but the polished wood slipped free. Jeska spun under the chain and tried to drive the heel of her hand into Chainer's nose. Chainer dodged and then missed Jeska's knee with the weighted end on his return stroke. They traded feints and then held their positions, facing each other.
"Look, barbarian," Chainer said. "A show of faith. Your brother is competing regularly in one of the minor pits to the north. Kamahl is alive and well."
Jeska paused. "What's he doing up north?"
Chainer relaxed but didn't lower his weapon. "Chasing after treasure."
"You mean I've been halfway across Otaria looking for him, and he's not even lost?"
"Seems that way."
"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"For Fiers's sake, Jeska," Balthor yelled. He was jabbing at the dragonfly with his staff, but he seemed more concerned about preserving the staff than he was about harming the insect. "Stop babbling and finish this! Did you forget the rules of this thrice-damned farce?" Chainer saw realization crowd the anger out of Jeska's eyes. She let out an ear-splitting war cry and heaved her baton at Chainer's head. While he was distracted, Jeska stuck her gauntleted arm straight out and sighted down it like a crossbow at the black pennant. She drew a smooth red stone from her pouch and touched it to the gauntlet between the horns. She spoke one word, and the horns sparked, igniting a thin stream of fire that stretched between them like a clothesline. Jeska drew the red stone back and prepared to release it toward the flag.
"Wait," Chainer said. The gauntlet was a kind of slingshot, and if he didn't act quickly, Jeska would win the match before Chainer had gotten anything out of her. Chainer sent a collar chain slamming into Jeska's wrist and jerked her off-balance, so that she couldn't target the flag.
Pulling Jeska away from her first target was a passably sound pit strategy, but Chainer immediately realized the flaw in his execution. As close as he was to her, once he pulled her off balance the only thing Jeska could fire her slingshot at was him. Jeska barked out an incoherent warning as the red stone flew. In the eight feet of space between Chainer's eyes and the oncoming stone, the missile transformed from a shiny, glasslike bead into a glowing ball of concentrated heat. Chainer's hands proved to be faster than his brain as he jerked his arms up to protect his face.
His eyes slammed shut as a blast of heat burned his eyebrows away. He was temporarily deafened by the explosion, and the pain in his right arm was agonizing. The impact blew him back on his heels, but he didn't stagger or fall.
"Held my ground, gods damn it," he heard his own voice say. He started to sway, his eyes still squinted and unfocused. He could barely make out the old dwarf and the brass girl as they stood, side by side, staring over at him. They were curious, but they were keeping a safe distance.
Confused, Chainer looked at the flag, still untouched. He was helpless. Why weren't they finishing him off or climbing the mound?
"Do you give, Cabalist?" Chainer could see her shouting, cupping her hands around her mouth, but he could barely hear her. He recognized her tone, however, as that of someone who knows the fight is over even if nobody else does.
Chainer reached for his dagger, and a fresh wave of searing pain dropped him to his knees. His left hand seemed fine, but his right felt thick and vague and clumsy. Chainer held his arm up to get a better look at his hand.
"Or not," he said out loud. His right arm ended in a charred, smoking stump. His hand was completely gone, and his forearm now ended two inches below the elbow.
"Damn," Chainer said. He turned his dazed eyes on Balthor and Jeska. He looked back at his mangled arm. With an amiable smile, Chainer raised his arm and his stump over his head.
"I give," he said evenly. Then he collapsed face- first onto the arena floor. The last thing he heard before he passed out was the sound of the horn signaling the end of the match.
CHAPTER 14
Llawan's personal transport was a ninety-foot- long leviathan that had been specially bred, engineered, and enchanted to serve as a combination warship and yacht. Its insides were vast and hollow, with compartments that could accommodate air breathers as well as sea creatures. Its hide was thick and durable, and its head was hard and bony enough to ram through the sides of any wooden vessel. Specially trained handlers sat in the fore of the creature's skull and steered the ship based on orders from the captain and the view from a huge scrying screen.
The creature had clear crystalline chambers grafted onto its sides and back where passengers could dine, chat, and enjoy the view. These cabins could be removed or, in times of emergency, broken off to protect the empress and her armed guards inside. Though it had no offensive capabilities other than its ramming skull, the creature was fast enough to escape even the swiftest pursuers.