Chapter 6 Varok
VAROK
The feast was a curious experience, one I should have paid more attention to.
A swarm of masked servitors carried dishes from a dozen worlds, each with an ornate hologram listing which species could eat it safely.
They set the dishes down on a long table according to some arcane algorithm that the guests immediately ruined.
In theory, we had assigned seating, but many of the guests ignored that and sat wherever they liked.
I didn’t get that choice. As an artist, I had a place of honor beside Driin. The Collector-Candidate, of course, had the best seat in the house, and the servitors showed him extra deference.
Meanwhile, a Protectorate noble snatched Penny away to sit at the far end of the table.
I didn’t like that, and not just because I wished to examine Penny’s choice of dress in detail.
The Protectorate was a new power in the Reach, a collective of pirate lords merging to make their territory official.
If Penny was working with this Scion, she had powerful backing.
The pair sat too far away for me to hear what schemes my rival was hatching.
All I could do was ignore the danger and try the food. Every dish was a fresh delight, and everyone ate with joyous gusto. Everyone aside from our hosts; Collectors joined us at the table, speaking with their guests but ignoring the food on offer.
“I will miss eating,” Driin said, lifting a cube of something crimson and pulsing from a platter and staring at it. “Crystal immortality is a wonderful thing, but a body without use for food? That will be tough.”
“An eternity without tasting a meal?” The thought made me wince. “I’d go mad.”
“I shall gain other senses that more than make up for it.” He didn’t sound totally convinced. Flicking the red cube upward, he bit it cleanly out of the air and hissed, his eyes closed and an expression of bliss on his face.
“I’m sure they are marvelous,” I said, spearing a slice of unknown meat with the skewer provided. “No amount of improved sight would make up for losing taste. At least not for me.”
He chuckled at that. “Perhaps now, blessed, when you are still young. I see the black tide rising in my future—I can choose to drown in it, or to build a lifeboat.”
The prospect of death would make immortality more appealing, I supposed. The Collectors traded away so much that I didn’t see myself ever taking their bargain.
Driin ate with the endless appetite of someone who planned to trade in his body before he had to pay for the calories.
I was more sparing, sticking to foods marked safe for Argentians.
The codes were on a spectrum, from ‘safe’ through ‘narcotic’ to ‘potentially lethal.’ There were other dishes, but the servitors didn’t allow me to touch those.
Every dish was delicious, perfect in its way. Another reason to love a career in art theft—I spent time around people with expensive tastes, and that meant eating foods I’d never afford otherwise.
Even by those standards, the Collector’s banquet was a marvel. Conversation died down as we ate, though it never quite stopped.
“The human journalist,” Driin said between bites. “Do you have a history? You’re both trying very hard not to look at each other, and neither of you is doing a good job of it.”
I nearly choked on a mouthful of white, sweet fruit and shook my head as I recovered. At least that gave me a moment to think about my reply. Inspiration sizzled in my veins as I swallowed.
“No, I simply didn’t realize someone so influential was here,” I told him, speaking just loud enough for others to overhear.
“Really?” He gave me a skeptical glance. “Earth News Central is hardly an important news site.”
“Ah, but that’s just the network she tells people about. It gives her a chance to get interviews where the target’s guard is down.” I smiled, warming to the theme. “No, she writes profiles for, well, I probably shouldn’t tell. People would kill to be featured, though.”
A near-imperceptible shift worked its way through the diners near me as whispers spread the word. Before anyone could ask me more, another soft chime sounded. Perfect.
One long crystal wall slid up, revealing the arena beyond. Silver sands gleamed under bright lights, making sure we’d see every detail of the struggle below.
We made our way over as seating rose out of the floor, and servitors brought drinks around as a Collector stepped out to speak. Primitive weapons rose through the sand, ready for use and worthless for a serious challenge.
“Honored guests, you will now have a rare opportunity to witness the living art of our collection. For your edification, we will display them as they destroy a pack of thieves who attempted to rob the Hive.”
The crystal being said thieves with a level of disgust and hatred I’d rarely heard. Cold and angry and dangerous, a glaring hypocrisy when they welcomed Driin’s stolen artworks.
Down on the sands, the thieves made their way out into the arena, some shaking in fear, others grimly determined. A few even looked confident, either an amazing act or a sign of grave stupidity. The Collectors weren’t looking for a fair fight, only an execution.
They were a mixed group, twenty would-be thieves from all over the Reach and beyond.
Some clumped together, seeking safety in numbers, though they’d be more likely to get in each other’s way.
Others struck out on their own—a wiser tactic, though just as futile.
And one group of four looked like they’d practiced fighting side-by-side.
If anyone stood a chance, they did. Two lean and competent Prytheen, a fluffy ball of hair taller than I was, and a smiling, skinny, green-skinned male, all long limbs and attitude.
The four stayed clear of the rest, pushing away a few brave souls who tried to join them.
Those four might surprise our hosts, I thought, though with little hope.
“I’ll wager a Cruithan soul-egg on the quartet,” a sibilant voice said next to me.
I turned my head with a frown to find a grinning lizard-woman standing next to me.
Her eyes gleamed, slitted pupils wide to drink in as much of the show as possible.
Gold fabric wrapped around her, clinging to her and artfully revealing strips of skin whenever she moved.
Duchess Ssyll, I remembered, putting a name to the face. Rich and famous with estates throughout the Reach, and a rumored interest in blood sports. I guess I can call that confirmed.
“You think they’ll survive, Your Grace?” I tried not to sound incredulous, watching the Prytheen female.
She moved with grace and skill, lifting a pair of axes from the sand with grim confidence.
The fluff ball chose a spear, the green male a mace, and the male Prytheen disdained any weapon but his claws.
Obviously experienced at fighting as a team, would that give them victory against the Collectors’ pet monsters? No, I couldn’t believe it.
Neither, it seemed, could the Duchess. She laughed as though I’d made a hilarious joke. “Oh, no, no. I bet they’ll be the last sapients standing. Who do you think will survive longest?”
She sipped her cocktail, the movement baring slices of skin in an ‘accident’ that was anything but. Ignoring her flirtation, I replied. “Alas, I have nothing to match your bet with. I am but a humble artist.”
“No, no,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “You are an artist with a person’s weight in antimatter, with an artwork impressive enough to deserve inclusion here. And I’ve heard you speak—there’s nothing humble about you. You’ll have something to offer, surely?”
“Ah, but even then, I’d bet on the same team,” I said, resisting the urge to heave her over the balcony and into the arena. I have a cover to maintain, I reminded myself. Killing another guest won’t help anyone.
To my relief, the gong sounded again, and the arena sands opened up to reveal a broad passageway sloping down. Out of it came creatures built for slaughter.
First into the light was a scaled beast on four limbs, standing tall as me at the shoulder.
Its tail, long and studded with vicious spines, lashed around it as it bounded out.
Stopping on the sands, it howled up at us, an eerie sound that chilled the blood.
A crystal crown on its head marked it as part of the Hive.
Behind it, a massive creature lumbered out.
Six heavy limbs extended under its segmented shell, and spikes of black chitin threatened anyone who got too close.
A pair of birds flew out past them, though ‘bird’ scarcely did those things justice.
Their wings spread wider than I am tall, edged with razor-sharp glass feathers.
Wicked beaks looked fit to tear open a hardsuit, and none of their targets wore more than a cloth tunic.
Discreet hologram interfaces appeared beside each guest, letting us see the monsters’ statistics. What animals they were based on, how they’d been modified, numbers of kills. Alongside those were the stats of their ‘riders.’
With a sinking feeling, I looked around. Four Collectors vibrated with excitement as they gazed into the arena. Of course they piloted the monsters remotely. As guests, we had to be content with watching the bloodshed, but that wouldn’t satisfy our hosts. Immortal, their tastes had to expand
The fight began without ceremony. Another chime, and the lizard-beast raced toward the gathered thieves, darting left and right, keeping its targets off balance until it pounced.
Caught by surprise, its prey managed a spear-thrust which the lizard batted aside without slowing.
Mighty jaws snapped closed on the thief’s arm, sending him tumbling down to the sand in a spray of blood.
Others scattered from their dying comrade, only to run into worse danger as other monsters arrived. A pair of Chrichri, caught in the path of the six-legged creature, fell beneath its feet. The twin razorbirds swooped through the clustered thieves, leaving a trail of blood and screams behind them.
Cries of encouragement rose around me, and I shivered at the bloodthirsty display. I didn’t mind death or violence, but this was a murderous horror show, not honorable combat. My hands tightened on the balcony’s railing, the cold crystal biting into my palms.
Steady. I’m not about to leap down there to fight these monsters, and I can’t afford to have anyone wondering why I sympathize with the thieves. There’s nothing I can do for them. True or not, it still tasted like cowardice.
Next to me, the noblewoman hissed a curse as the lizard creature dove into her chosen group. The four of them reacted like a well-oiled machine, dodging the first attack and closing in for a coordinated strike. Their experience didn’t help them.
The deadly lashing tail caught the fur ball across the face as he charged in. He fell, howling in agony, into the path of the female Prytheen. She sidestepped him, but the moment’s distraction let the monster catch her with a massive paw.
The razorbirds plucked the last two from the arena floor, lifting them into the air and tearing them apart. Despite their skill, all four died in the space of a few heartbeats.
No one in the audience missed the lesson of this bloody circus. Thieves were not welcome near the Collection, and any who pressed their luck and got caught would pay a horrible price.
It finished in less time than I’d expected. The lizard roared in triumph, its barbed tail ripping through the final criminal’s torso and sending a bloody spray toward the balcony. It stopped inches from my face, splattering off a forcefield.
Some guests flinched back or turned away. Others watched with glee. Those I made a point of remembering—they’d be just as happy to see me dead on the arena sand.
I had no such sadistic urges towards them. No, I’d settle for taking their prized art. Some of the wealthiest art collectors in the Reach were here, enjoying the carnage. This score would set me up for life, but that didn’t mean I had to give up the work I loved.
My gaze found Penny and her hovering camera, a few steps back from the crowd and recording everything. My jaw tightened at that—did she think I was like the gleeful, sadistic monsters around me?
Why does that matter to me? Let her judge; I know better. The words were cold comfort as our gazes met, and I saw the scorn in her expression. Well hidden but unmistakable, written in the tension of her jaw, the tightness around her eyes, the slight tremble in her smile.
Anger, disgust, and revulsion mixed in her gaze.
To my surprise, though, she directed none of it at me.
It took me a moment to understand; she’d caught the same reaction in me.
She didn’t dare let the others see, not here where it would mark her as an outsider.
Even those disgusted by the bloody deaths approved of the killings themselves.
The rich and powerful, at least those invited by the Collectors, were bloodthirsty barbarians at heart, and Penny needed to maintain her image with them if her plans were to succeed.
To everyone else, she had to pretend to be fascinated by the display of wanton cruelty down in the fighting pit. We both did, and neither dared admit the truth to anyone else. Rivals or not, we shared a disgust for this murderous entertainment.
Perhaps because we were both in danger of being thrown into the pit ourselves.