Page 6 of Adtovar
The girls returned quickly and huddled worriedly around the cot while I tended to Lafalia’s injuries. She lay still under my touch, only the quickening of her breath and faint moans letting me know she was still conscious.
What I wouldn’t give for some herbs. My grandmother had been what some called ayarb woman, skilled at folk healing and natural remedies. While I’d always resisted her attempts to teach me the skill, I’d picked up enough from her, and my aunt, to at least conjure something to relieve pain if I only had the supplies.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I cooed, wiping the dried blood from her lip before dipping one of the clean cloths in cold water and instructing Kysia to hold it against the wound like a compress.
“This is not right,” Sureeta grumbled, her purple gaze hardening as it flashed toward the dining area where I suspected Melakor remained.
“You know he will win again,” Kysia murmured, fear clouding her features. “Which one of us will he do this to next?”
“Nobody,” I assured them, applying the rest of the cold compresses to Lafalia’s ribs, causing her to utter a moan of pain.
“You’re going to see Bozzo,” Emmiait guessed.
I tensed but gave a curt nod of agreement. I didn’t want to. Life worked out better for me if I stayed far away from the nasty fucker that owned the pit. We had a grudging acceptance of each other, Bozzo and I. He left me alone, and I… behaved. But no way in hell was I going to allow some asshole gladiator to brutalize these females. Truce be damned.
“Are you going to use your magic on him?” Kysia whispered, her eyes brightening, excited by the prospect.
“I’m going to use something on him,” I promised.
Chapter 3 - Adtovar
“The great gladiator Adtovar.”
I forced a smile to my face. An action I’d most likely have to do a lot while on this planet.
Bozzo proved a repulsive sight, resembling a greasy stain that had oozed its way to life. His body was a thick, gelatinous mass of brown goo, with stumpy arms and legs protruding from his form like the gods had added them as an afterthought. His species, the Bareak, were not renowned for their physical appearance, but rather for the uncanny ability to amass wealth with seemingly minimal effort.
The grandeur and opulence of Bozzo’s riches were on full display, from the towering arena that reflected the mastery of metallic architecture to his office just one floor above the slave quarters. From an intricately carved desk inlaid with sparkling gemstones to gilded statues and colorful tapestries, every detail screamed extravagance.
“I heard you were gravely injured during the commotion at Duke Ako’s birthday celebration.” I could practically see the credits jumping behind his pale-yellow gaze as it swept over me, taking a moment to linger on the expensive black leather suit I wore. From my clothing to the unlimited credit chip resting in my pocket, we’d taken every precaution to sell the ruse of my pretend stature.
“I was,” I admitted. “I nearly died. Thankfully, Duke Ako had access to a Garoot healer and....” I swept a hand over my body, not bothering to narrate what Bozzo could clearly see.
“And here you sit, restored to your prime.” His smile widened, showing teeth as equally yellow as his eyes. “Do you have any idea how much money we could make if you returned to the arena?”
“I’ve done my time in the arena,” I said forcefully, albeit with a smile. “I am alanistanow. I look forward to building a stable of fighters for Merchant Tregtar.” I dropped the name purposefully, knowing full well Bozzo would check. Let him. Ako and Tregtar were old friends. The merchant would vouch for my references and commission.
“How many other arenas have you visited?” Bozzo leaned back in his chair with a squelch.
“You’re the first.” Another distinctive trait of the Bareak was their insatiable egos. “Why start with lesserLudus Magnuswhen I can start with the best?” The lie rolled easily from my tongue. I spent over a year here during my fighting days. The place was a cesspool. Despite the grandiose structures above ground, I would bet the slave quarters below my feet remained barely livable. While thankfully, I’d never been under Bozzo’s control, I knew all too well his reputation. His gladiators were little more than slaves. Starved, often beaten with little comfort or medical attention. I could only imagine how he treated the females and flashed a smile to cover my gritted teeth. Thankfully, Bozzo was too busy wallowing in my flattery to notice my underlying disgust.
“I have several well-trained gladiators you might be interested in. Ronco is a Kaelaks and one of the most winning. Another gladiator is Darikja. He’s a Wojonik, very fast and strong. My newest acquisition is a Gudari named....”
“Master Bozzo?” A small light blue Framaddi cracked the door, sliding into the office.
“What is it, Fherris?” Bozzo glared at his assistant, but the little blue male didn’t budge. He seemed much more concerned by whatever lingered behind him on the other side of the door.
“It’s her.”
I don’t know what struck me more strangely—that Fherris saidherlike he described the scourge of the universe or the fact that Bozzo himself appeared shaken to the core by the mention of her.
“Tell her I’m busy,” Bozzo hissed, straightening his gelatinous, greasy shoulders in an attempt to appear in control.
“I already did.” Fherris glanced back just as the door swung open.
I turned to glimpse the afearedher, relieved that my face turned away from Bozzo so he didn't witness my jaw drop.
The female striding into the office was utterly breathtaking. Her smooth skin resembled the rich, warm tones of fertile earth, and her hair cascaded in a wild explosion of glossy dark ringlets about her face and shoulders. Her eyes were like two pools of golden brown, shimmering with depth and emotion. Full lips, a velvety shade of plum, pressed tight together showing her displeasure, perfectly accentuated by high cheekbones and a slim, elegant nose. She was smaller than Willa. Where my human daughter possessed lean muscles, this female was all softness and curves.
