“I planned to choose only low-status fights. He takes little interest in them.”
“Perhaps not, but I suspect he knows everything that occurs in his organization. If you do not want to go directly to him with an explanation, perhaps we should start a rumor instead.”
“What kind of rumor?”
Varga stroked his chin again. “One possibility is that you are simply getting too old and you are ready to retire.”
Baralt bared a fang. “Didn’t you see my match yesterday?”
“I did. And I saw your knee giving you trouble. If I were a young fighter looking to make a name for myself, I would challenge you.”
“If you spread a rumor about my decrepitude, isn’t that likely to occur anyway?” he asked dryly.
“It’s a possibility. I would want to have the remaining matches scheduled before that occurred. Do you have an alternate suggestion? Perhaps a family emergency requires you to return home?”
The familiar pang washed over him. “I never intend to return home.”
“Relkhei doesn’t need to know that.” Varga regarded him thoughtfully. “And perhaps you should not be so quick to dismiss the idea. Where were you intending to go after you left?”
“I’m not really sure. A planet where my female will not be enslaved.”
“There is a difference between a planet that doesn’t support slavery and one that would protect an escaped slave. Relkhei would be within his rights to come after her. I know you don’t like to talk about Hothrest, but from what I understand, the two of you could hide away safely there—at least long enough to find out if he is going to pursue her and to make other plans.”
It was Baralt’s turn to pace to the window and stare out over the desert. As much as he hated to admit it, Varga had a good point. No outsiders were allowed on Hothrest except for at the main spaceport. But the thought of returning home and seeing all those accusing faces once again chilled his blood.
“There has to be another alternative. Aren’t there other planets that are friendly to former slaves? I thought the new Emperor has been trying to lift some of the restrictions on slavery.”
“There are, but as I said, she wouldn’t be a freed former slave, she would be an escaped slave. Unless you can persuade Relkhei to sell her to you?”
“I already tried. He refused. He said he wants her for himself.”
“Then you are extremely fucked, my friend. That’s going to make it even more difficult.”
“But not impossible?”
Varga grinned. “Not impossible. Just difficult and expensive and dangerous.”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked dryly.
“How are you going to arrange the matches?”
“Through Mehexip as usual. Why?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Especially if he thinks he’s going to lose you as a source of income, I suspect he wouldn’t hesitate to sell you out to Relkhei.”
“If I use someone else, he’s bound to find out.”
“Perhaps.” Varga looked off into the distance. “There are always the midnight matches.”
“I haven’t fought in those since my first year,” he protested. The late-night matches were intended to give new fighters a chance to practice their skills in front of a small audience.
“Exactly. Mehexip is unlikely to attend them. And while I have no doubt that word will get out eventually, all we need to do is keep it quiet until the end of the week. You could still use him to arrange the rest of the fights you need.”
“That could work,” he admitted.
“But remember that the results of those matches are still recorded. If anyone is paying attention, Relkhei is going to find out—and he’s not going to like it. You’re one of his main fighters.”
He sighed. “Which leads us back to establishing a reason I am leaving.”
“The need to return home is the most compelling argument. Perhaps a dying relative? Even Relkhei must have had a mother at one point.”
“My parents are dead.” The pain of that had never left him.
“I’m sorry, my friend. But it’s not something that Relkhei would know.”
“You’re right. But if he knows where I’m going, won’t that make it easier for him to come after Isabel?”
“Only if he puts the two events together. And even if he does, I don’t think he would get far on Hothrest. Or maybe we can convince him that his disappearing slave is not related to your departure.” Varga grinned again. “You have presented me with an interesting challenge.”
“I’m so happy to provide you with some amusement.”
“It’s actually a welcome change. I never thought that I would say this, but I’m getting tired of fighting. Perhaps it’s time to end my contract as well.”
“You’re welcome to come with us.”
“I have a few more matches to finish up first. After that? Perhaps I will visit that icy planet of yours.”
Baralt found himself hoping that Varga would take him up on his offer. He suspected it would be nice to see a friendly face—he had little hope of seeing any welcome on the faces of his tribe.
The two males discussed some additional details, and then Baralt headed back to his quarters, considerably poorer but unexpectedly optimistic that their plan might come together.
Izzie watched as the door closed behind Baralt and fought the impulse to call him back. He had said she would be safe here, but her brief experience in this alien world suggested that there was no safety anywhere. Not that her life on Earth had exactly been a bed of roses.
Don’t be foolish, she scolded herself. He was trying to help her and keeping him at her side wouldn’t let him carry out whatever plan he had in mind.
Was he really going to free her? Her natural skepticism warred with the impulse to trust him. So far he had done nothing to hurt her. Even after he had given her pleasure—so much pleasure—the previous evening, he hadn’t forced himself
