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Sana’a, recognising his ancient poetry tome, smiled, recalling the stargazing moment the night before.
‘Stop daydreaming, Shotelai!’
The shikari was jerked to the present by K?stian’s words.
Pre-match prep commenced, and Kaniz was relentless as if punishing her.
Sana’a soon found out why.
‘I have a ringmaster who’s toe-y,’ Kaniz whispered into her ear as she pulled her close after a tight parry. ‘A sponsor whose bet to the hilt on you and almost an entire city is waging their livelihoods on this. If you lose, their heartless greed will turn on our crew like never before. This fight, above all others, is the one that will define our legacy.’
‘Your legacy, you mean.’
Kaniz’s eyes were cold. ‘That too. I plan on it being my last one.’
Sana’a froze mid-strike of her blade. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Dead. I want to cash up and exit the arena for good.’
Sana’a’s eyes rose. ‘You’re quitting?’
Kaniz whirled even closer. ‘Shhh. No one else knows. Naam, I’m returning to my people, my eyrie in the Ko’Las Lakes, leaving behind this city’s greed and avarice.’
Sana’a was beset with emotion. ‘I see. Where will that leave me?’
‘You’re the famous Shotelai; you’ll survive. You’re also younger than I am, with many years ahead. Maybe you could even become the k?thi master of Kesia’s mob.’
The Shotelai woman shrugged, hiding her disappointment at yet another tenuous link broken, another short intimacy abandoned. Such was the theme of her life.
Kaniz’s voice cut through her misery. ‘We don’t have long to prep you for the fight, so keep working.’
As the sun crept over the sky, the drills intensified. Everyone nearby held their breath, waiting for what the day would bring.
Sana’a found herself growing more uneasy.
Her opponent, K’grona, was a formidable force in the ring, but she’d faced many like him.
So why couldn’t she shake the dread feathering down her spine?
Something about it all didn’t sit right.
Her SHärd blades perceived the same. They vibrated against her back with an energy that bordered on rage.
You will need us.
I will let you know if the occasion calls for it, she let them know.
Sana’a sensed Killen’s eyes on her from across the coliseum as she lost herself in a series of practice drills and parries. He radiated with a steady calm that she clung to even as she sucked in air to settle her nerves.
Evening fell.
Even though she was now preparing for her bout in the changing rooms, she sensed Killen still lurking in the shadows.
With a grudging smile, she admitted she was grateful for his support.
The arena was overflowing with fans and punters alike, all eager to see the much-anticipated match, bodies packed to the brim in a sea of movement and noise.
The gilded koel appeared on cue, and the songbird’s high, lilting rendition of a favourite Katánian folk song was received with roars.
