He removed Ally’s gag. The commander hung limply, lost in her euphoria. Then she seemed to come to her senses as her embarrassment and anger returned. Pitus held the machine close to her mouth and told her to speak. “Untie me you damned asshole!” the commander spit out. “I don’t care if you are a giant, I’ll rip your balls off!”
“See? You would never get such vile curses and demands from a Baktu woman after bringing her such pleasure. These slaves are different. I tell you, Pitus, this woman may make you a fortune if you stop trying to treat her as an ordinary slave.”
Pitus was intrigued, although he didn’t quite follow what Niktus was saying. “She could stand some manners. Being the guest greeter works wonders with most slaves—what else could she do for me?”
“My slave tells me she is good with numbers. Perhaps she could help you increase your profits.”
“A slave who can add and subtract? Impossible!”
“Do not take my word for it. See for yourself—if you can talk to her.”
Niktus quickly sold the Ute to the manager, then left him, studying the box and Ally’s backside. Beth wanted to see her released, afraid that the big man would rape Ally after they left. That possibility didn’t concern Niktus. But he assured her that Pitus would release her soon enough.
“You cannot order a Baktu man to do anything,” he said. “You can only suggest that it is unprofitable and hope that he agrees with you.”
The more Beth learned about this race, the more intrigued she became.
Chapter 25
Jorja was escorted into a large courtyard. At one end, an adobe structure filled about a third of the space.
“These are the barracks. Because we’ve never had a woman before, you will stay in my quarters,” Keltar was saying.
When Jorja whipped around to eyeball him, he held up his hands. “Relax,” he said quickly. “You belong to another man. I could face sanctions if I made sex with you. I might even lose my training business.”
She relaxed then. Keltar introduced her to some of the fighters, who were practicing in the yard. Some of the men were huge. They just stared at her, not able to fathom a woman wanting to be a fighter. One young man laughed, then caught himself when he saw the trainer was serious. Keltar explained that Jorja was the woman who had beaten Gulnark. She could see a glimmer of understanding come into their eyes.
Keltar gave an order to one of the men and he jogged off.
“I thought we would start by letting you observe our fighting style in jamkalut,” he said. “Then you can tell me if you feel you can defeat anyone.”
Jorja watched two men square off. The Baktu fought with a combination of boxing and wrestling, she noted. They punched or grappled with their hands and only occasionally did they try to use their feet to trip their opponents. She began to see flaws in their technique. Not many, but flaws nevertheless. She might be able to exploit them, if she could stay on her feet against a bigger, more powerful opponent.
The man came back with some leather gear. Keltar handed Jorja some padded leather gloves. Not boxing gloves. More like karate gloves, which had padding only along the knuckles. She felt very comfortable with them. A leather helmet, padded near her temples, protected her head.
“Um, Keltar. Do you have anything I can wear to protect my breasts and groin?”
“Ahh. Of course.” He barked out another order and the man ran off again. He returned with some wrappings of animal skins. For the first time since she had been captured, Jorja was able to cover herself. Immediately, she felt better.
“Can I borrow those extra gloves? I’d like to put them on my feet.”
He looked puzzled. “Feet? Why you need protection on feet?”
“I’ll show you.” She put them on over her instep, and tied the straps as best she could. Jorja stretched out for a few minutes with some leg splits and jogging in place. When she was ready, she asked Keltar to hold up his hand, head-high. He cocked his head and complied, his hand out, palm flat. The other fighters turned to look at the strange behavior.
Jorja stood before him, right leg forward, motionless. Then with a sudden movement, she kicked up high and slapped the palm of his hand with the padded edge of her foot. It sounded like a gunshot in the quiet courtyard.
Keltar’s mouth fell open. He shook the sting out of his hand. “Jumulat!”
“I can’t kick any higher,” she said. “If I’m pitted against a big man, I’ll probably lose.”
He waved his hand. “I have not decided who you will fight. Gulnark left it to me. Depends on the betting. If you are the underdog, we will pair you against a lessor opponent and my agents will bet on you. If the gossip about your fight with Gulnark has made you invincible, I’ll put you up against a good fighter and let you lose.”
Jorja was shocked. “Sounds like cheating!”
“Cheating? What is cheating?”
When Jorja explained, he laughed. “We call that ‘controlling profits.’ It is honorable business. Secret is to guess which way fight will go. Now, you try small fight. Parmus?”
A man stepped from the group of fighters. He was slender, about three inches taller than Jorja—a worrisome height, to be sure, but she could manage. Keltar made him put on gloves and helmet. “Take it slow,” he warned the big man. “She is valuable. Much profit.”
They circled each other. Jorja watched for openings, weaknesses. He expected an easy victory, yet he was being overly cautious until his pals began taunting him.
“Go, go, what are you afraid of?”
“Letting the girl frighten you, Parmus?”
Their goading made him rash. He lunged and tried to grab her upper arm. She blocked him, stepped to the side and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. The wind exploded out of him. She pulled at his arm, then stepped in and jammed her right foot behind his knee, knocking him to a kneeling position. Then she whipped the leg around and caught him on the back of the head with her foot, knocking him to the dust.
The other fighters’ taunts ceased as if they had all suddenly lost their ability to speak. Parmus scrambled up immediately, embarrassment coloring his face. “Not fair!” He shouted. “She kicks!”
“How else do you expect me to keep up with you?” She responded. “You’re taller, you outweigh me—I need my kicks just to survive.”
“Hmm. I agree. That’s how you defeated Gulnark. We will call fight as a ‘no-rules’ match. I do not want you to change anything. The crowd will go wild over you,” Keltar said, smiling. “I am going to make a fortune.”
“Don’t you mean we are going to make a fortune?” Jorja wanted to make sure she would be included in the profits, otherwise, there would be no reason to fight. She had to make enough to free her crew.
“Women do not need …,” he started to say, then stopped. “We can work out deal. Meanwhile, let us go again.”
Jorja fought two others before she was too exhausted to continue. One of the men had been six-six and weighed more than 250 pounds. He was able to plow right through her kicks and knock her to the ground time and again. He was just too big. Keltar took note of this and told her he’d make sure her opponents were ‘short fighters’ of six-two or -three.
She pulled out all the stops to impress the trainer, anxious to have him make bets on her behalf so she might buy her friends back. She hadn’t thought it all the way through yet, but she was working on it.
It took all day to hike thirteen kilometers south through the forest. Kate was grateful for the company of Sulala and Lilani. Before they started, Sulala suggested Kate ditch the torn white tee-shirt and don native animal skins, to better blend into the forest. That advice may have saved her from being spotted by a pair of slave traders. Crouching behind some trees, watching the slavers’ cart move along the narrow trail, Kate was glad she had listened. Her white shirt would’ve been like a beacon against the green forest.