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Sana’a nodded.
With a twist to her lips, she pulled her phaser from her waist.
Followed by a thin rapier sword sheathed in her pants.
Then came a sizeable seif shortsword secreted in her left boot and a third mini gorade from under the back of her belt buckle.
She placed them all on the tray provided on the counter.
The vik?i shook her head in fascination. ‘That’s it?’
Sana’a lifted her arms. ‘I think I’ll pass inspection.’
On cue, her SHärd blades quivered against her side sheath and melted into vapor-synth mode.
The woman ran her hands over Sana’a’s body, patting at critical points down to her feet, and then she pulled back. ‘Clean.’
She nabbed Sana’a’s proffered weapons and slid them into a receptacle in the back wall, where they disappeared.
Turning back to the desk, her fingers flew across the holo screen as she entered Sana’a’s details.
When she was done, she waved a hand, and a feather rose from her desk.
‘You need to sign your life away.’
‘How?’ Sana’a shot back, eyeing the floating rachís.
‘It is a kw?l, a feathered pinna. Speak to it, and it will inscribe your name in the íkhara’s books, signifying you’re now under contract to the arena.’
The vik?i shooed the feather along, and it hovered closer to Sana’a and her mouth.
Still staring at it with a wary expression, she stated her title. ‘Sana’a, The Switchblade of the Shotelai, first daughter of the Selassie and Sinqueda,’ she hesitated for a second before completing her nomenclature. ‘Of the Siltan Clan of the Seven Wonders of Shotel.’
The Katánian woman gestured, and the kw?l jumped above the pages of a thick, open book. The tome glimmered and glittered with the same aurous energy everything on the damn planet contained.
Sana’a’s name was written with an enchanting gold flourish.
The implement lifted into the air and slid back into its inkwell with a neat swirl of its flowing plumes.
‘Always a first time,’ Sana’a quipped, amazed at the small yet mesmerising display.
The vik?i smirked and pushed to her feet. ‘With me.’
She paused midstep and stuck her hand out. ‘My kína is Kaniz. I’m not just playing receptionist. I’m also one of the old hands around here, a K?thi.’
Sana’a lifted a brow as their fists shook in a powerful grip.
Kaniz caught the Shotelai’s silent question. ‘As well as my front-of-house duties, I’m one of the resident for-hire koya and sword fighters. The majority of us are ex-K?str?l and Krypós warriors. Their most celebrated are those you might have already heard of, the kavaliers. But we, K?thi, are the ultimate hardcore quorum of arena brawlers, and we don’t do it for fame.’
‘Impressive,’ Sana’a drawled, wondering what they did it for.
Kaniz guided Sana’a towards a nondescript door that led into a winding corridor.
Hanging from the walls were canvases and holos of fights and figures embroiled in various combat scenes.
It opened out into a central reception from which other corridors snaked.
Behind a sizeable transparent plex sheet were shelves. Each was packed with merchandise, from stamped glassware, lamps, flasks, and holo books.
