She made eye contact with Jael, silently asking how much of a bomb they were sitting on. He shook his head, and she took that to mean the newcomers were satisfied with the swift and merciless judgment. But this wasn’t wholly about protecting the refugees; it was also about reminding the men that she held the power, and while she might be less of a lunatic than Artan, it still didn’t pay to cross her.
Dred presented herself before the alien leader and tilted her head down, not quite a bow, but he should recognize it as a gesture of humility. “I apologize for the harm to your people. I said you’re Queenslanders now, and I meant it. The guilty will be punished.”
“I look forward to the show,” Katur said. “We have never permitted such barbarity in the Warren.”
That’s definitely a reminder of who the civilized people are in this room.
She only nodded. “This way. I’ll explain the rules.”
By the time they reached the common room, Calypso had the makeshift arena set up and her bed partner had rousted most of the Queenslanders to serve as the audience. Though some looked sleepy and surly, the bulk reacted to the prospect of bloodshed as Calypso had, as if it were the delivery of a much-anticipated treat. I can only do so much with what Artan left me. But she was aware of the silent aliens standing at her shoulder, likely thinking she was no better than Mungo or Silence. For obvious reasons, that turned her stomach.
She said, “Pardon me,” to Katur, then sent a number of men, led by Cook, to assist Jael in escorting the combatants. The chef chucked two men bodily over the scrap framework that made up the ring. They hit the floor with a metallic clang, and one skidded into the barricade, prompting raucous jeers from the spectators.
This is how I hold them. No matter what I tell myself about rules or order, it’s the promise of violence that keeps the rest in check.
As if he suspected her thoughts, Jael put a hand on her arm, and she covered it with her own, a quiet moment of secret solidarity. Or maybe he was exerting ownership. She preferred to imagine otherwise.
Once everyone took their places outside the circle, Calypso thumped her staff against the floor three times. That was the cue for the games to begin.
“These men are charged with bringing harm to other Queenslanders!” Calypso shouted. “And so it is we who have a grudge to settle with them. Do you trust them to watch your backs or fight alongside you?”
A resounding no rang out.
I could take lessons from her on working the crowd.
“In her infinite wisdom, the Dread Queen has decided it is fitting for these traitors to fight among themselves. For your entertainment!” A prisoner groaned, receiving a clout from Calypso as a reward. Then she went on, “Eight men enter the circle. Only one will emerge victorious. Do you understand these rules, gladiators?”
They each nodded, reflecting different degrees of agitation and fury. Using her staff, Calypso vaulted out of the ring, leaving the two men to eye one another warily. They wouldn’t fight until the mistress started the match officially. Dred took their measure and decided neither would last long. They were both thin with the sallow complexions of men who drank too much. Loose skin at their throats said they had been hardier once, but Perdition had carved them down to skin and bones.
And vile instincts.
In the crowd, she caught sight of Vix and Zediah, standing together. The look on their faces struck her as odd, avid even, but they weren’t watching the ring. Dred followed their gazes and saw that they were staring at Jael. He seemed oblivious though their interest was odd. She put it from her mind as the mistress of the circle raised her staff.
“Then let the games begin!” Calypso shouted.
24
Something from Before
The first match kicked off with an attempted knife-palm to the throat. Jael watched as the second man dodged and came in low. Their technique was sloppy, more suited to a bar brawl than life-and-death combat, but regardless of how badly they fought, one of these men was leaving the arena feet first. Around him, Queenslanders were betting, offering goods and favors, and Calypso seemed to be making book.
“No wonder she likes this job,” he muttered.
The mistress of the circle wrote furiously in a sheaf of bound pages, nodding as she set up the terms. Her action on the side was more interesting than the fight. The smaller man rushed the other and took him to the ground, then they rolled, scratching and gouging. Other Queenslanders probably couldn’t hear the growls and groans of pain with the roar of the spectators, but Jael registered each gasping breath and how one man lost traction, revealed in the stink of terror in his sweat. The fighter on the bottom took an elbow to the face, and his nose crunched, spurting blood. There was hesitation from the second man as he smeared it into his opponent’s eyes, and that gave him the advantage he needed to finish the fight by digging his bare fingers into the blinded target’s eyes. Jael didn’t flinch from the wet pop, and the victor drove deep, until the other stopped twitching. Amid a flurry of shouts and cheers, he stumbled to his feet and raised bloody arms high in the air.
“Winner, first match!” Calypso called out. Then she moved the metal aside to let him pass out of the circle. “Wait here. You’ll fight the next soon enough.”
At her orders, the cleaners removed the body and mopped the floor while Queenslanders paid off their wagers. More than a few looked pissed off at their luck, and some of them spat on the dead man as the sanitation crew carried him out to the chute. They stomped their feet, eager for more blood sport. A shiver of revulsion went through Jael.
Zediah caught his eye, a long look broken only by Vix, who put her hand on the other man’s arm, then smiled. She nodded once. Jael had no idea what that was about, but it prickled his skin every bit as much as the bloodlust emanating from the crowd.
Men like this made me. Told me I’m a monster until I acted the part.
He gazed out over the avid, bloodthirsty faces and shook his head. Dred touched his arm. “What’s that about?” she asked in a low voice.
Always surprises me, the way she pays attention. Hell if he knew why.
“I used to wish to be human,” he murmured. “I hated that I wasn’t. But . . . now? I’m rather glad I’m not.”
“Since this is all we see, it’s easy to forget there’s another sort of people.”
“Kind, gentle, and selfless?” he mocked.
Dred shook her head. “Normal folk. They live their lives, and they don’t harm anyone. This isn’t the usual, Jael. You must know that.”
“I haven’t had much contact with them. But I’ll take your word that they exist.”
“Isn’t that your dream? To break out of here and hide among them.”
In all honesty, he hadn’t planned that far. His current goal was to survive killing the mercenaries. Then he had a half-baked notion of escaping this place. To do the impossible—break out of Perdition—that was the goal. His vision cut off after that.
“Nobody’s ever asked me what I want from life.”
“Do you know?”
He watched as Calypso signaled for the next match to begin. “Not this.”
In the end, the eye-gouger emerged victorious, despite vicious injuries. Still, the man raised his arms as if he expected people to cheer. As for Jael, he was waiting for Dred to reveal the crook in her plan. He didn’t credit for a second that she intended to release this bastard after what he’d done.