Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (42 page)

“Those cause the most trouble. If she’s a runaway, she’ll always be trying to escape.”

“She can’t get away from you,” the Viis said. “Besides, the troublemakers are the best fighters. I’ve won enough bets on your gladiators to learn that. Seventy-five imperials will make her the property of the Bizsi Mo’ad.”

The cloaked one hesitated. Lying there at their feet, Ampris felt a new sense of shock. The Bizsi Mo’ad was the most famous gladiator school in the empire, renowned for turning out fierce, capable fighters for the arena games.

Shame flooded her at the thought of being sold to such a barbarous organization. She was no fighter. She was . . .

Ampris stopped her thoughts. She was an abiru slave without an owner, without a home. She had been cast out by the person she loved most in the world, by the person who had promised to always take care of her. Now she was an outlaw, being hunted through the streets of Malraaket by the patrollers, who would serve her to a very harsh form of justice indeed.

Very well. She had no say in this bargain tonight except in her heart. And her heart grew hard inside her chest while the cloaked one considered and the Viis trader held his rill high in anticipation. She could learn to be dangerous. She could learn to be a fighter. She could learn to hate and to kill. What good was sitting in a garden, trying to act civilized? All her life, she’d striven to conform to the Viis way of life, and where had it gotten her?

Ampris backed her ears. For the first time today she allowed herself to savor that savage thrill she’d felt while attacking the steward. He’d deserved her attack, and it had felt good. Yes, she could be a fighter, a good one. She knew it in the very flex of her strong young muscles.

All her life, the courtiers in the imperial palace had called her a savage beast, ignoring her gentle spirit, her trusting nature, and her loyal heart. Right now her heart felt as hard as stone. Ampris growled to herself. She would become all they accused her of being—savage and wild. She would survive, but never again would she trust.

That was, if the representative of the Bizsi Mo’ad bought her tonight.

She turned her head and looked up at him, a figure kept mysterious by his cloak and hood. Seventy-five imperials equaled nearly two thousand credits. Could she really be worth that much? Yet, from time to time she and Israi had stolen glimpses of the gladiator games on the vidscreen—it was forbidden for them to watch such bloody sport—and Ampris knew vast sums were wagered on their outcomes.

“Seventy-five,” the Viis whispered enticingly. “She’s a bargain at that price. Worth every bit of it.”

“Seventy,” the cloaked one said.

“Done!” The Viis flicked out his tongue and clapped his hands together. “She’s yours.”

Ampris saw the quick flash of a payment card; then the Viis and his enforcer Holonth were striding outside, swallowed in an instant by the darkness. Ampris heard the skimmer fly away, and she was left at the feet of her new owner.

She made no move, uncertain now of whether to be obedient or to run again.

The cloaked one’s hand snaked out, and a noose settled around her throat, yanked tight when she tried to jump to her feet. Gasping for breath, Ampris gripped the thin cord with her fingers and writhed helplessly.

“Be still,” she was told, the accented voice harsh and merciless. “You try again to escape, and I’ll choke the life from you.”

To emphasize his words, he tightened the noose. Dizzy and gasping for air, her vision blurring, Ampris stopped struggling. At once the noose slackened fractionally, allowing her to suck in a much-needed breath.

Glaring up at her new owner, she said, “Are you so rich you can throw away seventy imperials? Is killing how you discipline your slaves?”

She expected to be throttled again or beaten for her insolence, but instead the cloaked one laughed heartily. The noose slackened a fraction more, but not enough for her to escape it.

“Ah, yes, a troublemaker who can think and reason. Get on your feet, little Aaroun. When we finish your training, you will be worth five times the price I paid tonight.”

Rising to her feet, Ampris found herself shackled with restraint bars clamped across her wrists and ankles. Awkwardly she shuffled forward into a cargo pod and crouched as commanded while it was shut around her.

Only then, as she was jounced and transported in a direction she could not see, did Ampris bow her head and let her burning eyes weep. Her defiance was but manufactured to keep her strong, and now it deserted her, leaving her with nothing but fear and uncertainty regarding her future.

She clenched her fists after a moment, however, refusing to let herself weaken further. Backing her ears flat to her skull, she growled to find her courage again.

“I will survive,” she vowed softly. “I
will
, no matter what befalls me. And someday, if any justice lies in my path, it will be Israi who weeps for what she threw away. It will be Israi who feels regret for broken promises. No more will I weep for
her.”