Thirty-Four
Two days later, we stand outside the arena once again for the second fight of the third round.
The first fight, this morning, is something I would have deeply liked to see.
Quech had soundly beaten his second-round opponent yesterday, and this morning he’d been scheduled to start off the third round against an experienced master by the name of Entop.
According to Ky, scuttlebutt gave Entop a better-than-even chance; he and his monstrous slab of a runic Finjit have won several lesser tournaments.
Observing those two would have been invaluable, since I’ll have to fight the victor if I win this match.
Unfortunately, repairs and upgrades to Star have taken longer than I anticipated, and without several hours’ more work this morning he wouldn’t have been ready for the match.
Ky will try to round up a report of the fight, but as we arrive there’s audible muttering from the crowd and a general air of discontent.
Ky gives me her usual “Okay okay okay” and a sharp blow to the shoulder, then departs for the stands. Niami is already waiting with Bitey in front of the judge’s platform, and she runs over to greet me, smiling broadly.
“Taj! Are you looking forward to this as much as I am?”
I debate asking whether existential terror counts as “looking forward,” but ultimately I just give a shrug.
“Watching Star’s last fight was amazing. The way it went sort of shoom and then Clatter came in gdoom and Star went fwoop! Absolutely crazy.”
[Assessment: finally, someone who truly appreciates me.]
“Thanks,” I tell her. “Yours was… very impressive, too.”
“Eh.” She waves a hand modestly. “Never should have gone that long. That crab’s a one-trick… crab.”
“Have you been here since this morning?”
“Yeah.” Her grin falters. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Entop’s dead.”
“Quech?”
She nods seriously. “He went for Entop personally. Everyone was expecting that, and Entop kept out of his way, but he lost track of Vripiai and got flattened ‘accidentally.’” Niami snorts.
“Not that even Devon Dreikin believes that. Finjit was barely scratched. The Anyms are furious, they’ve been shouting to anyone who’ll listen that Devon is cheating his way through the tournament. ”
“Shit.” Another runic master dead at that lunatic’s hands. “Is anybody likely to do anything about it?”
“Doubtful. Devon’s got half the Council in his pocket, and most of the rest don’t care enough about the Ascent.” Her grin returns. “It’s probably going to be up to one of us.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Getting in an arena with Quech sounds dangerous. I don’t suppose you’d consider leaving it to me?”
“Nope!” Niami says brightly. “Gonna beat you, then beat him, then go Above. That’s what it’s all about, right?”
“You’d go Above? Everyone says that’s crazy.”
“I’ve always been a little crazy,” she says with a shrug. “And can you imagine the runics they have up there? Just the thought of getting my hands on them…” She closes her eyes, face set in an expression of near-sexual ecstasy. “I could die happy.”
I give her an admiring look. I’d told Gestian I planned to go Above mostly just to startle him; however curious I might be, I could never leave Somi and Spike.
But Niami apparently faces no such constraints, and her earnestness is charming.
Of course, if I’m going to get my family out of the Heap, it means I need to crush her dream. The thought gives me a sudden pang.
Hisham gets up to deliver his usual perfunctory address, cut short as always by Alzimyth’s impatience.
“The second match of the third round will be Taj and Star against Niami and Bitey,” the judge says. “Conditions will be the same as the previous round. The winner will face Quech and Vripiai in the final round, in two days’ time. Please move to your doors.”
Nothing new there. But the knight’s expression isn’t his usual mask of boredom. He’s sitting forward in his chair, and I swear he’s looking at me—not even at Star, at me—with barely concealed interest. I recall his surprise at seeing the BLAST in action; not even surprise, exactly, but excitement.
Which makes no sense. Yes, I’d come up with the BLAST weapons on my own, but he’s from Above. Surely they have much more impressive sigils than my little explosives.
I shake my head as we reach the door. A mystery for another day. Right now, the opponent in front of us is Niami, and any distraction could be fatal.
You’re ready for this?
[Certainty: always.]
Just remember the plan. And try not to get carried away…
The doors open.
Star charges into the arena, heading immediately for one of the crate piles to secure the high ground. I cautiously move behind him. Across the arena, Bitey pads forward at a relaxed pace. Niami, following, gives me an excited wave.
Remember, keep it light.
[Reminder: my memory is perfect, meat.]
Star leaps, touches the ground, leaps again, closing in on Bitey from the side.
The tiger whirls to meet him, faster by far than any other runic I’ve faced (except Vripiai, my memory warns darkly).
Its paw comes around to swat Star out of the air.
But Star kicks off a nearby crate to adjust his trajectory, slipping under Bitey’s swing and slashing two limbs across the tiger’s flank.
Its colorful plating shatters in two long swaths, revealing the armor beneath.
“Oh, lovely move!” Niami, to my surprise, strolls over to stand beside me. “How about this?”
Bitey feints, and Star leaps away only to find the tiger springing after him.
Star hits the ground, flips his orientation, and scuttles sideways just before Bitey lands, dodging a paw swipe by centimeters.
When the tiger comes after him again, Star cartwheels over its back, leaving two more streaks of shiny metal as he passes.
Niami laughs and spits more commands, and Bitey turns to follow.
I send silent suggestions to Star, which he mostly ignores.
For a minute or two, as the two runics spar almost playfully in a ballet of movement and power, I have an unfamiliar sensation.
This is fun, fighting an opponent so nearly Star’s equal, trying to out-think her next move with my partner at my side.
Niami gives me a grin that says she’s enjoying herself, too, and we watch together as the runics dance. I almost don’t want it to end.
But all this flipping about isn’t getting us anywhere. Star can’t do real damage without committing to a more serious attack, which risks taking a serious hit in return.
Of course, that’s also part of the plan.
Okay. Show her what we’ve got.
[Anticipation: finally.]
Star bounces off a stack of crates, flips, and closes in.
Bitey rears up, paws raised, ready to slam down on its more agile opponent.
It’s an opportunity Star could use to break off, but instead he presses his blow home, one forelimb sinking deep into Bitey’s belly in a spray of orange sparks.
The tiger is damaged but far from crippled, and it brings a paw down to crush Star like a bug.
A hatch flips up on Star’s topside and another limb folds out, equipped with a round shield that quickly expands to half the size of his body.
Green light gleams from the underside. At the center of that shield is Ekkeban’s pride and joy, a green RESIST, a million bits’ worth of sigil focused on the simple task of making that bit of metal plating indestructible.
Even here in the Ascent I’ve seen no other green sigils; whether the families of Hod don’t want to spend the money or there’s some agreement to the contrary I don’t know, but nobody has mentioned any rules to me.
The descending paw hits the shield and stops as though it has encountered a wall of solid steel.
Green sparks fly from the underside, but only a few, the powerful sigil absorbing the force with barely a sign of strain.
Niami gives a delighted laugh and shouts something; Bitey leaps away, expecting some further trick.
“Where did you get that?” she shouts. “I’ve never seen a green sigil outside an Arbiter runic!”
“Long story,” I shoot back, fighting a grin. “Tell you later.”
The dance goes on, now with a new step. The shield-arm is articulated and adjustable, and Star uses it to block Bitey’s swipes and get in close enough to land a telling blow. The tiger, accordingly, has to be more cautious. More of its decorative coating spalls away with every blow.
[Query: now?]
Wait. It’ll be most effective after she pulls her trick.
[Uncertainty: what is she waiting for?]
I think she’s enjoying herself.
There’s a pause for another exchange of blows. [Realization: I, also, find this pleasing. To fight without anger.]
It’s a change of pace, that’s for sure. Just stay focused.
Niami shouts a command. Bitey pounces. Star raises his shield to block, but there’s something different this time—the tiger’s paw hits the impenetrable surface and sticks, locked there by a hidden BIND working.
Star can’t dodge, and the second paw grabs one of his legs, pulling him in close for a bite.
Niami glances at me, an apologetic look on her face.
If this doesn’t work, I’m going to feel very, very stupid—
“RESIST won’t block it?” Ky says. “What if you link a RESIST to another BIND? Would that turn it into a…‘resist binding’ sort of thing?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t work like that. RESIST doesn’t take verb or noun modifiers like EXPLODE. It just absorbs force.”
It’s the night before my match with Niami. I’m trying to figure out a way to overcome her trump card, and Ky is trying to help.
Trying, because the combination of her having only a layman’s understanding of sigwork and my own less-than-systematic understanding of the principles is frustrating us both.
I often can’t explain why something won’t work, only that I know it won’t, while Ky sometimes comes back with jargon I don’t understand but is apparently common knowledge.