The Hunter on Arena (25 page)

Septua guffawed loudly, but when Randi turned and shot him a dark, angry look, he swallowed his laughter in a series of feigned
coughs. Allo wisely held his tongue.

The night passed in an uneasy sense of anticipation. There was none of the camaraderie that had bound them together through
so many ordeals. Everyone in the cell was aware of Randi’s anger which seemed to radiate through the air. Septua was careful
to avoid her glance and kept well out of her reach. Braldt sat down next to Allo and spoke in a low tone. “I do not understand
why she is so angry. We are not mated, and even if I did forget to tell her about Keri, she herself has a mate and children
of her own. It is not logical that she should feel anger against me.”

Allo looked amused and rubbed his hands over his face. “Ah, my good friend, you may be well versed in the art of battle, but
you have much to learn about women. I do not care what their race or the origin of their home planet, I believe they are all
the same, and emotion, not logic, rules their heads as well as their hearts. My own mate is as wonderful a woman as ever existed,
but even she…”

Allo began the telling of a long, involved story.
Braldt listened for a while, then his thoughts began to drift. He listened with one ear, nodding whenever Allo paused, but
let his mind roam free, thinking of Batta Flor, Keri, and Beast, wishing that the dawn would come.

Saviq was enjoying herself immensely. No one had even given her a second glance as she made her way through the dim corridors
following the terrified serving maid. The longer she escaped detection, the more courageous she became. Twice, she had actually
walked quite close to a guard when she might have hugged the far wall. She even coughed to waken the second guard who was
slumbering at his post. He blinked and frowned at her in a dazed manner, then cleared his throat, pretending to be awake.

Saviq wondered how it was that she had never realized how easy such a venture would be. She had always thought that she would
be challenged and intimidated. This was simple as well as exhilarating! She stopped the drudge with a gesture and filled her
pockets from a tray of rich pastries sitting in an alcove. The thick, sweet cream slid down her throat, imparting waves of
luxurious pleasure.

The drudge was all but gibbering with fear. She cringed and ducked down, wringing her hands as Saviq caught up with her. She
whined and pointed at a doorway at the junction of another corridor just ahead of them. Saviq nodded her understanding and
turned to speak to the slave, but the woman was already scuttling away, anxious to be gone.

Saviq shrugged and hurried to the doorway, her task
once more foremost in her mind, wondering why Lomi had moved her quarters, wondering if everything was all right.

The doorway was dark, the room within even darker, and the air was heavy with the sharp, bitter scent of medicines. As her
eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Saviq saw that a faint night-light glowed on the far side of the room. It did little
to alleviate the darkness; merely accentuated the lack of light. She felt her way into the room cautiously, her clawed hand
extended out before her, reaching for unseen obstacles. “Lomi?” she whispered softly, hoping for a reply, suddenly fearful.

She advanced further into the room, once bumping into a small table that capsized before she could catch it, dumping a metal
object onto the floor where it clattered and banged, sounding twice as loud in the darkness as it would have in the light.
But still, no one reacted or challenged her right to be there. A terrible feeling came over Saviq and a lump formed in her
throat. Suddenly she did not want to find Lomi and was afraid to find out why Lomi had moved.

She started to move toward the door before the words of her promise brought her up short. She had given her word, and even
if it were to one of them who did not know the meaning of honor, such things were still important to her. Stiffening her resolve,
she turned and walked straight to the night-light and plucked it from the wall, holding it before her. Driving back the darkness,
she began to make a systematic sweep of the room.

The room was larger than she had first thought and was filled with beds, most of which were empty. Those that were not had
sleepers in them who would not be
wakened by any sounds Saviq might make. Her heart grew heavy and her legs felt weak and tremulous. The next bed she came to
nearly frightened her out of her scales. An old man lay in the bed, his head cradled on a fat pillow, and as she held the
light over him, he turned his head and looked directly at her. She all but dropped the light. Then the old man raised his
hand and asked for a drink of water in a quavery voice and she knew that he was not yet dead. She helped him drink, then lay
him back down on his pillow. He closed his eyes with a sigh and once again looked as though his spirit had left his body.

Saviq moved on, her heart in her throat, afraid of what she would find. Two more of the beds contained ancient Scandis, either
deep in sleep or coma, who did not waken when she held the light over their somnolent faces.

Lomi was in the last bed, a slender figure, barely raising the blankets that covered her. Her eyes were still the brightest
of blues, the eyes of a young, vibrant girl rather than the eyes of a woman on the verge of death. She smiled at Saviq and
held out her hand to grasp the scaled paw. “I knew you would come,” she whispered in a breathy voice.

“What is the matter with you?” Saviq asked in a blustery, accusatory tone. “It is not yet your time. We have many years left
to live, and we have yet to bask in the sun as we have so often said we would do. Why are you in this place, old friend? Let
me take you from here. It is a place for dying, not for living.”

Lomi smiled, a gentle, sweet smile that struck sorrow into Saviq’s breast. She squeezed Saviq’s hand, a slight pressure that
could barely be felt. “You will have
to bask alone, old friend, but think of me and of the time when we were young and strong and still believed in life and love.”

“Do we not still believe in life and love?” Saviq asked, the tears crowding to her eyes.

“Neither life nor love have been very kind to us. Why is it that women are always left to mourn? I have always felt it was
a mistake to leave the world in the keeping of men; they are too—too irresponsible for such an important task. Women should
run the worlds. Women do not declare wars or spend their days and nights planning death and ruin. Life is too precious to
us.”

“Do not fret about such things,” replied Saviq, patting Lomi’s hand. “Perhaps things will be more just in our next life. And
if they are not, well, we will not wait around for the men to come to their senses. You and I will have to tell them how things
should be.”

Lomi’s eyes twinkled, and she smiled at the scaly old reptile crone who was her most loyal friend. “Before we can address
the problems of the next world, dear Saviq, we must deal with the troubles of this one. I have been thinking as I lay here,
just how we can put an end to all these senseless deaths, all this killing, once and for all. This is how I think it should
be done.”

The two heads, one scaled and scarred, the other pale and drawn, drew close together over the dim, glowing light and together,
they laid their plans.

Dawn came more slowly than ever before. Braldt had
tried to sleep, wrapping himself in the thin blanket he had earned through his trials in the ring, but sleep would not come.

He stared into the darkness, thinking about all that had happened to him since he had come to this world, and began to wonder
if something were not coming unraveled, for it did not seem as though things were going according to a plan.

There were many signs of wrongness, if one knew how to read them. They had first been told they would have a question answered
for every contest they won, but after their first few victories, those rewards had ceased with no explanations given. Instead,
they were offered extra rations and meager tokens of luxury such as the threadbare blanket which now covered a portion of
his body. They had also managed to gain the cell exclusively for their own use. Several of their cellmates had been lost to
the ring, others had died, and the guards had removed the few who remained. That was an improvement in itself, for it was
difficult to sleep if one was constantly worried about waking up with a knife between one’s ribs. Or perhaps not waking up
at all.

Then, too, there was the nervousness of die guards who seemed ill at ease and troubled, often gathering in small groups to
murmur among themselves with many a furtive, sidelong glance, making certain they were not being overheard. Braldt recognized
the signs of unrest all too well and had often wondered what was at the bottom of it. The guards were a collection of many
races and worlds and seemed to have no inherent loyalties to the Scandis. Braldt wondered how they were paid and what incentives
could be used to turn them against their masters.

He also wondered how it might be possible to unite the many hundreds of prisoners into a force that would rise up against
the guards and the Scandis. There had to be a way, surely, for even the most dense among them would realize there was no percentage
in fighting. There could only be one set of victors, and eventually all of them, even the best, would die.

Sleep was impossible. Braldt tossed off the annoying, too-short blanket, and noticed the odd, blue alien in the next cell
standing next to the bars looking directly at him. At least he thought it was looking at him, even though he could see nothing
that resembled eyes. The silver translation disc caught a stray bit of torchlight and flashed in the darkness, drawing his
gaze.

“Now, you,” said Braldt as he pondered die impossibly thin, blue rectangle. “If I could figure out how to communicate with
you, then I could probably talk to anyone. If only there were a way. I know we could fight back. I do not want to be here.
I want to go home!”

No sooner had the words been said, then Braldt
raised his hand to his head; something strange was happening. He grew dizzy, and for a moment thought he would fall. Things
swirled inside his head and there was the sense of movement, of swirls of color. There was a voice—no, not a voice, but somehow
there were words or rather the sensation of words.

“It is not hard to speak to me,” said the voice that was not a voice. “Speak, say your words. I will answer.”

Braldt took a step back and looked around him, wondering if someone else had spoken or at least heard what he had heard. But
everyone else was asleep with the single exception of the blue rectangle which rippled along its lower edge and moved closer
to the bars as though to remove any lingering doubts as to who had spoken.

“You!” said Braldt. “Well, well, so you can speak. But if you can talk, why did you not reply to the guards?”

“One does not dignify their presence with conversation. The only thing one can do is deny their very existence. What good
can come of speaking with such intemperate barbarians? I regret my hasty actions and have prayed for the wisdom and the strength
to resist any future provocations.”

The words echoed and bounced inside Braldt’s head and he closed his eyes to steady himself, it was such a strange sensation.
“What are you saying?” he asked, moving to the bars. “Don’t you realize that you are the only one who has ever been able to
defeat a guard? They were actually afraid of you! Do you think you could do that with the hard ones. I—I mean, the robots?”

“The metal men? Yes, of course it could be done. But why should I do such a thing? Taking the one life will cost me many yantreks
of repentence; I do not wish to add on others.”

“I do not understand yantreks of repentence,” Braldt said apologetically. “But tell me this, the metal rods that the ’bots
carry, they shoot lightning. Swords and spears did not hurt you; will the lightning rods injure you?”

“Nothing they do can hurt me,” said the voice.

“Will you help us?”

The blue being was silent.

Braldt stared at it in frustration, trying to think of what he could do or say that would prompt the being to help them. “Do
you like being here?” he asked. “Do you not miss your home?”

“The great Yantra did not place us here so that we might enjoy ourselves, but to learn wisdom and attain enlightenment,” replied
the blue rectangle, its edges rippling gently. “Everything happens for a reason. If we are here, Yantra must expect that we
will learn some valuable lesson that will advance us toward the ultimate wisdom.”

“Us?” queried Braldt. “Do you mean that this Yantra expects all of us to learn the ultimate wisdom from our imprisonment?”

“I do not doubt that Yantra knows of your existence, but I cannot say what his expectations are of you and your companions.
I was speaking only for myself and my brothers.”

“There are more of you?” Braldt asked sharply. “Where?”

“I do not know where they are, I merely know that they exist. We were separated soon after our arrival.”