11. Gragash

11

GRAGASH

D ays passed quickly and I got very little rest. Either training or attending to my human mate would have filled my time. Both together?

It kept me too busy to worry, at least.

Abigail wasn't so lucky, having nothing to prepare for, so I did my best to keep her too worn out and happy to think. Not that fucking her into a blissful daze at every opportunity was a hardship, in the least.

Lachrin station, when we reached it, was a gem-studded circle hanging over the blue backdrop of a water planet. Each gem was a habitat, I realized as the details became clear, each stunning in its own way. There, a palace of crystal; a sphere of liquid, great shapes swimming in its depths; a single, giant tree, large enough to hold a city. Glorious and beautiful, it grew in the viewport as we closed and I could have watched it for hours and never run out of fantastic sights to gawp at. Nothing in the galaxy could compare to this sight, I felt sure.

Abigail rested her hand on my forearm, squeezing and reminding me of one view I preferred. "Be careful on there, okay? No one within a light year of here gives a damn about fair play."

I turned to look at her, chuckling. "Apart from you?"

"No." The flat, angry certainty surprised her as much as me, and it took her a moment to continue. "No, Gragash. Fuck fair—all I care about is you coming out on top."

It took an effort not to roar with laughter at that, though I knew she wouldn't appreciate the humor.

"Then take comfort in this: I never fight fair. There are no rules in the arena."

Her shoulders sagged, and she took a deep breath. "Gragash, you're an amazing fighter and I've never met anyone as brave. I care about you so much. But your na?veté is going to kill me! It's not the fighting in the arena I'm worried about, it's the politics outside of it. There are people out there who'll make a fortune on this fight, and if they can manipulate the result, they will. Be careful, alright?"

I nodded agreement, though I hoped she was wrong. I'd rather face foes head-on than in some scheming game of politics. Which, when I thought about it, backed up my mate's point.

A deep booming gong drew our attention back to the present. The Darha's Blessing had arrived.

When Ty'anii led me down the ramp and onto the station, the difference between the view we'd had from space and what we disembarked to was overwhelming. No crystal spires or micro-gravity gardens here, just a worn and warped platform and rust-pitted machinery. The airmakers wheezed and vibrated, pushed to their limits, and yet the air was low in oxygen and tasted of burned oil and dead meat. I snarled at the unexpected, unpleasant smells, wondering how it was possible that this place, this haven of luxury for the rich, was so poorly maintained.

My Prytheen warder stumbled over a loose tile, and that was when I realized how little light there was. Plenty for an Orc, but when even a Prytheen couldn't see what she was walking on I knew it had to be bad.

"Fucking rich assholes," Fenx muttered behind me, and the rest of the crew sniggered.

"They didn't get rich spending money on their employees," Captain Vaher said with a chuckle and slapped Fenx on the back. "Every cent saved in lighting down here is one more to put into the ‘Rich Assholes' Drinking Fund' so what do you think they'll do?"

Is that envy I hear? Vaher didn't have a moral objection, I was sure. He just lived close enough to his employees to get stabbed if he tried to run things this way. The kind of people who'd force their workers to labor in the dark would own a fleet of ships, not captain one of them.

The best sources of light were the other ships moored beside the Blessing, so the illumination was inconstant and shifting. Workers scurried around, unloading and refueling and doing all the esoteric things a space port needed done. We skirted around them and to a massive door, above which hung a sign.

Fighter's Pit

Death is Inevitable. Glory is Eternal.

Cheerful sentiments, I thought. What use is glory to a dead man? Even alive, it had never done me much good.

"Miss Ty'anii, yes?" The voice drew my attention down to a small male who looked more like a burrowing rodent than a person. His whiskers twitched as he peered through goggles. "I am Qubbins, and I have been expecting you. Some time ago, in fact"

"Mr. Qubbins!" I'd never heard her direct so much joyful enthusiasm at anyone aside from Vaher, and I couldn't tell if she was sincere. "Such a delight to finally meet you. Let me introduce our champion, Gragash."

I growled at the little creature, whose goggles whirred and whined as they focused on me.

"Dear me, he is a big one." Qubbins was unfazed by my looming presence, a rare trait in a slaver from my experience. Even Vaher and his crew kept their distance, but Qubbins stepped closer for a better look. I wondered what he saw through those lenses of his. "I've seen Orcs come and go, who in this business hasn't? Gragash, though, you look special."

"Should place a bet on him," Ty'anii said. "I've never regretted it."

"A bet?" The rodent-man managed to look scandalized just by the twitching of his whiskers. An impressive feat, I had to admit. "On the games I organize? Why, I've never been so insulted."

Ty'anii blinked and paled, taking a step back and opening her mouth without finding words to speak. Despite the rage burning in me, or perhaps because of it, I found that incredibly amusing. Qubbins let her hang there for a count of three before continuing.

"No, no, the bookies pay me for the privilege of operating here. Winning their money as well? I don't want to beggar them, not when they're paying good bribes."

His chittering laugh was high pitched, and the Prytheen joined in a beat too late to sound sincere. That just made Qubbins laugh harder, though.

"Now, if you'll follow me, Gragash, you'll need to hurry to get ready. I had a room prepared for you, but there's no time for you to rest now. Just make sure to give the quality a good show, and I'll give you the tour afterward."

That is the last thing I want to do, I thought. Let your damned quality fight each other if they're so keen on violence.

I'll fight, but not for them. I'll fight for her.