by Ryan Hughes
While the crowd cheered, the gladiator bowed to the king and the templars, then to the stands on both sides of the arena. Then, almost tenderly, he picked up the woman's body and bore it out of the stadium. The way her arms and legs and head dangled limply from his cradling hands haunted Jedra for minutes after-right up until the next bloody execution of an elf who had been given a spear to defend himself against an armored dwarven gladiator with a double-bladed axe. The elf definitely had the reach on the dwarf, but the result was nearly the same. The moment the dwarf disarmed him, the fight was as good as over. Of course the crowd wasn't satisfied until the dwarf had hacked the elf's head completely free of his body, even though it took three swings to do it.
What will they do to me if I throw up? Jedra asked Kayan.
I don't know, but it probably wouldn't be good, she replied. Here. She put her hand over his stomach, and his inner turmoil receded somewhat. The horror he felt at the slaughter still remained, but at least now he wouldn't adorn the spectators around him with his lunch.
Thank you, he said.
Now that he wasn't so focused on his discomfort from the gore, he realized how hot he was. That was easy enough to fix; he used the same talent he had learned to keep Kitarak's cold-box frozen and created a layer of cool air around himself and Kayan. He noticed the old man still sweating freely in the sun and guiltily lowered the temperature a degree or two around him as well. The excess heat had to go somewhere, so he found a particularly unruly fan a few rows below and dumped it on him. The man gasped and fanned himself with a fold of his robe, and sure enough, after a few minutes he quieted down.
There were two more executions, and then the real games started. Professional gladiators entered the arena in pairs and hacked and sliced at each other on the sand below while the people in the stands leaped to their feet and cheered loud enough to drown out the clash of weapons and even the screams when one gladiator wounded another. Each match featured minor variations in sex or species or number of combatants, but they were all essentially the same mindless spectacle. Jedra let his thoughts drift off to run one more time through their plans to break Kitarak free, but his attention snapped back to the crier again the moment he heard the tohr-kreen's name announced.
Straining for the words over the restless crowd, he heard, "... accused of practicing sorcery within the boundaries of the city... sold at auction to the House of Rokur... now does battle with his native weapons, the gythka and the kyorkcha, against the defending champion, the half-giant Dochak of the House of Bran."
The crowd-including the old man-booed when Kitarak stepped out from beneath the ziggurat into the arena. He carried his expanding polearm in his upper left hand and the curved throwing weapon in his upper right, plus two small shields held in his lower hands. He bowed even though he was being booed. The crowd cheered for Dochak, an enormous hulk of sun-darkened flesh who stood taller and outweighed even the ten-foot-high tohr-kreen. Surprisingly, instead of the usual club or spear that half-giants generally used for weapons, this one carried a dejada, a throwing weapon that used a long, scooped basket for a sling to propel a variety of projectiles called pelota. He also carried a small shield in his left hand, the projectile-holding one.
"Oh, he's quick," Jedra assured him, but he was thinking, I hope he's quick enough.
The crier shouted "Go," and the battle started. Dochak immediately flung a pelota at Kitarak, who easily raised a shield to fend it off. Kitarak flung his kyorkcha at the half-giant, who raised his own shield. He barely clipped the edge of the spinning blade with it, but that was enough to deflect it and send it flying high into the air. The crowd gasped when it looked as if the weapon would land in the stands, but it curved around and spun back to Kitarak's outstretched hand.
He's using psionics, too, Jedra said to Kayan.
It looks like he is. They must let him do a little before they come down on him.
Jedra felt himself relax. If Kitarak could use psionics, then the battle was over already. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly while the half-giant threw a wicked, spiked pelota that stuck dead-center in Kitarak's right-hand shield, and another that veered away under psionic deflection and bounced with a loud crack off the stone wall below the king and the templars.
Kitarak threw the kyorkcha again, and this time it swooped low beneath the half-giant's shield and sliced deep into his left thigh before spinning around and returning to the tohr-kreen's hand. Dochak bellowed with rage as blood began to run down his leg. Taking advantage of the wound, Kitarak leaped forward, flicking his upper left hand to slide the gythka out to full extension, and brought it down in a blow that would have taken off the half-giant's head if he hadn't managed to shield himself in time. The multibladed hacking end of the polearm thudded into the wood and stuck there. Kitarak tried to wrench it free, but the half-giant reached out and snatched the metal handle before the tohr-kreen could work it loose. With one wrench of his meaty hand the half-giant crumpled the hollow tube and snapped it off, leaving the blade embedded in his shield and leaving Kitarak holding a much-shortened gythka with only the thrusting blade left on the opposite end.
The crowd roared, and Jedra groaned, but Kitarak might have planned it that way all along for all the dismay he showed. He merely whirled the gythka around and lunged past the half-giant's outstretched arms to stab him in the belly.
Dochak staggered back, limping on his wounded leg, but his vital organs were deeper than Kitarak had managed to penetrate. He hardly bled from the new wound. In fact, he acted as if he barely felt it. He loaded his dejada and flung the projectile in one smooth motion, and this time he connected, striking Kitarak in the upper right shoulder joint. Chips of chitinous exoskeleton sprayed out from the impact, and the pelota careened into the lower stands, striking a slave on the head and dropping him like a limp rag.
"That's another reason why these are the good seats," cackled the old man. "We don't have a row of slaves to stand between us and harm's way like the nobles do, so we need time to duck."
Jedra shushed him, his attention riveted on the battle. Kitarak was hurt! His arm had fallen to his side, useless, but he dropped his shield on that side and took the kyorkcha in his lower hand, then flung it at Dochak at the same close range. The spinning blade nicked the half-giant's neck, and this time blood flowed freely, cascading down over his shoulder and chest.
Kitarak backed off and retrieved the kyorkcha as it completed its circular path. He had to dodge another pelota, but the half-giant's aim and speed weren't what they had been at the start, and the projectile hit the sand behind him and bounced to a stop before it even reached the end of the stadium. The tohr-kreen kept his distance, waiting for the half-giant to bleed to death, but a few people began to shout, "Kill him!" and pretty soon the entire crowd took up the chant. A few pieces of rotten fruit flew over the edge of the balcony toward the tohr-kreen, and the old man even snatched up the melon Jedra had bought and heaved it forward, where it struck the same unfortunate fan that Jedra had overheated.
Jedra didn't care. He was suddenly even more afraid for Kitarak than he had been when the tohr-kreen was injured. A gladiator couldn't ignore such a demand from the crowd, at least not a slave. If he did, his owner would punish him for spoiling the game, probably by handicapping him so severely next time that his death would be certain. Kitarak must have known that too, but still he hesitated, clearly not wanting to strike the final blow. His opponent was dying anyway, though, and at last Kitarak bowed to the crowd's desire: he threw his remaining shield at the half-giant, spinning it edge-on toward his head, and when Dochak swept it aside with his own shield, Kitarak threw both the kyorkcha and the shortened gythka at him. Both weapons thudded home and stuck, the curved kyorkcha sticking out of the half-giant's forehead like a single upraised horn, and the gythka quivering from his breastbone, which it had penetrated clear to the hilt of the blade.
Kitarak bowed to the king as was required of the winner, then retrieved his weapons from the corp
se and left the stadium. Jedra stood up and said, "Time to go stretch my legs." To Kayan he said, Come on, let's get out of here.
She grinned mischievously and said, Aw, I was just starting to enjoy it, but she stood and went along with him.
They left the old man cheering at the next gladiators-a pair of identical twin women fighting a heat-deranged erdlu-and worked their way down out of the stands and through the vendors' court into the city itself.
* * *
The streets were quiet. Everyone who would normally have been out was at the gladiatorial games, so Jedra and Kayan had the chance to check out Tyr without the normal hustle and bustle. It gave the city a rural feel, more like a large town than a major hub of commerce. The only thing that marred the afternoon's tranquility was the mountainous hulk of the ziggurat in the center of town. It dominated the skyline, a vast, malign presence that seemed to watch them no matter where they went.
They skirted it to the north, walking through the nearly silent tradesmen's district and along the edge of the equally deserted warrens before reaching the merchants' district and the great Caravan Way that led past the nobles' mansions to the city's main gate. The open market was still doing business, and Jedra was glad to see that not everyone had abandoned their normal lives to go watch people kill each other for sport. He and Kayan wandered among the stalls, Jedra for the first time in his life with enough money to buy whatever he wanted, but with no place to keep any of it. So they just admired the jewelry and the fine clothing and sniffed at the spices and perfumes from far-off lands.
Toward evening they found an inn called the Dragon's Tail that served good food, and they ordered a sumptuous meal-the first time Jedra had ever been waited on. They ate broiled cloud ray and drank expensive wine by candlelight, laughing as Jedra levitated his steak a few inches off his plate and made a crashing noise when he let it drop again, spraying vegetables all over the wooden table. He sliced off a bite of the light-colored meat and held it up on his fork. "This is my revenge for that morning in the elf camp," he said, and bit into it. "Mmmm." It was juicy and flaky and tasted almost buttery, a little like the sea bug he had eaten in Yoncalla's world.
"I wonder if the elves got tired of eating the cloud ray we killed before they moved on," Kayan said.
"I imagine they did," answered Jedra. "Hah. That seems like a whole lifetime ago, doesn't it?"
"It sure does." Kayan raised her wine glass in toast. "To the Jura-Dai, may they never run afoul of our likes again."
Jedra wasn't sure he wanted to toast the tribe that had kicked them out into the desert to die, but he supposed, now that he had survived the ordeal, he could let bygones be bygones. So he raised his glass and said, "May we never run across their likes again, either." He drained his glass, amazed at how the sweet white wine flowed so smoothly down his throat. He refilled both his and Kayan's glasses from the bottle and took another swallow.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asked.
"No," Kayan said. "Why don't you?"
Jedra laughed. "All right. You're beautiful. I like the way the candlelight sparkles in your eyes. And I like the way your mouth turns up at the corners when you're waiting for me to embarrass myself. And I like the way it puckers out when you're about to kiss me." He leaned forward and puckered his own lips in exaggerated fashion. She giggled, but she kissed him.
"I like the way your hair falls forward around the sides of your face," he went on. "It makes you look dark and mysterious."
"Does it?"
"Uh-huh."
"What else?"
Jedra laughed. "Let's see..." He examined her face the way they had examined the vendors' wares earlier that afternoon, squinting one eye and tilting his head. "Oh, yes, your nose. I like it. It doesn't look a thing like a beak."
"Oh, thanks!" Kayan leaned back and drank more wine, trying to hold a scowl.
"And your mind," Jedra said. "Haven't I mentioned your mind? I like that, too."
"Beast!" she said. "You haven't once mentioned my curvaceous body or my slender legs." "I was working my way down. Don't be so impatient." They looked at one another for a moment, then both burst into laughter.
Jedra shook the bottle, amazed to find the wine nearly gone. "I'd love it," he said, "but unfortunately I think we'd better keep our wits about us tonight. We have a big night ahead."
"Ah, I see," the innkeeper said. "Well, then, enjoy your meal." He turned away, his smile even wider.
Kayan mindsent, He thinks we're going to-to- The mental picture that came with her thoughts said what she couldn't bring herself to.
Jedra blushed, but he said, I'd certainly rather do that than go up against a nobleman's entire army.
Kayan appraised him silently, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light. "What, are you nervous?" she asked. He noticed she said it aloud, so he couldn't tell if she'd intended a double meaning or not.
So he said, "Who wouldn't be?" and took another bite of cloud ray.
* * *
They emerged from the inn at dusk. A few stars were already showing in the deepening sky, and a glow in the east promised a moon before long. Jedra and Kayan didn't plan to wait for it. They wouldn't need the extra light once they were mindlinked, and the darkness might help. They hiked up the hill on which the Rokur estate stood, trying to look like slaves returning home after a long day in the fields. They would have tried looking like nobles, but Jedra would have failed miserably at that, and Kayan had at least a little experience being a slave.
They found the compound easily enough; the landmarks they had memorized from their psionic inspection guided them directly there. Finding a secluded spot from which they could work proved more difficult, but they finally found a dark corner in the servants' alley that led to the back entrance of the compound, not far from the point in the wall nearest Kitarak's quarters.
As they squeezed into the shadows, which Jedra expanded with his light-manipulating ability, Kayan mindsent, This is exactly the sort of place the innkeeper expected us to wind up tonight, isn't it?
Something like this, Jedra admitted. He was definitely nervous now, and not because of Kayan's proximity. He touched the crystal he wore around his neck for luck, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then took Kayan's hands in his own. Let's do it before I get too scared, he said.
Yes, let's, she said. Here goes. She leaned forward to kiss him, and at the same time as their lips touched, so did their minds. Mmmm. They separated their consciousness from their bodies and drifted through the wall. This is a good start.
That was practically the last thing that went right for them. They found Kitarak easily enough, but when they tried to telekinetically loosen the nut holding his restraining bolt to the wall, it resisted until they nearly twisted it off, and then it screeched like a banshee when it finally began to turn. The guards came instantly alert, and Jedra and Kayan had to flee the building to avoid being detected. They watched through their psionic vision from across the weapons practice field while dark tendrils of psionic force wove out into the night, seeking the source of the sound, but eventually the psionicists gave up and pulled back inside.
Jedra and Kayan slid back toward the building and peeked through the barred window. Kitarak and one of the other slaves-the human-were sitting up on their cots while the four psionicists faced them from their chairs, their eyes half-closed in deep concentration. The elf woman wasn't in the building.
Even with their eyes closed, the two old men looked more interested than they had last night. They and the younger women were definitely on alert. Jedra and Kayan could see the dark bubble of the psionic suppression field surrounding the prisoners, and a lighter, wider bubble of awareness surrounding the whole building. If they disturbed that, the psionicists would know they were there.
We'll just have to break the chains when we push over the building, Jedra said. All right, then, time for the diversion.
They rose up over the estate, looking for the best way to distract the la
rgest number of soldiers. They could see where most of them were: relaxing in and around their own quarters after a long day. Some polished weapons, some played dice or card games, others simply sat outside in the cooling air and watched the sky change color. A few still stood guard in the towers in the main house and along the wall, and a few patrolled the compound as well.
The nobles who owned the estate were in their wooden house's central courtyard, lying in cool net hammocks while servants plied them with food and drink.
Maybe we can take care of them all at once, Kayan suggested when they saw the situation. The soldiers' quarters were built of square blocks of stone, but the nobles house had been built of wood to show off their wealth. And wood burned...
It didn't take long for someone to notice. The guards in the tower directly over the fire cried out in alarm at the first whiff of smoke, and the entire estate suddenly became a frenzy of motion. Soldiers ran from their barracks and servants boiled out of every outbuilding, most of them carrying water-soaked cloths or heavy leather hides for beating out the flames. They leaped in through the windows and doors, heedless of the smoke and flame, and flailed away at the fire until they had it nearly under control.
They've practiced this, Jedra said. Well, let's give them more. They moved through the mansion, setting fire after fire, straining against the magical protection spell with each one. Simply exciting the wood into flame with their own power proved too taxing to sustain, so they switched tactics, borrowing heat from the air and pouring it back into the wood. It was the same technique Kitarak used to keep his food cold, and it had the same effect: flakes of snow began to fall over the burning mansion.
That proved more distraction than the fire. Everyone outside stopped to stare up in wonder and feel the cold flakes melt on their outstretched palms, while the people inside screamed at them to come help with the fire. Jedra and Kayan kept it up for another few minutes, manipulating the crackling sound and flickering light of the fires to make explosions and lightning flashes and phantom attackers rushing out of the shadows to confuse the scene even more, then they abandoned the building and the servants and soldiers to their fate.