Page 47 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“It’s not encouraged, obviously,” Ky says. “We might get some boos. But it’s in the rules.”

“What if they try to stop us?”

“Just stay on your guard.” She sweeps the edge of her light jacket back, showing the folded sword tucked away on her hip. “If it goes south, you and Star get clear and find me at Weslai’s place.”

We’re in a less trafficked area now, the buildings run-down but still inhabited. Up ahead a four-story structure sags into its neighbor like a drunk leaning on a friend for support. People are flocking to it, and as we approach, Star draws a lot of looks. I hear muttered conversations.

“Where are you taking that runic?” a big woman by the door says. She has a shaved head and a scuffed leather jacket.

“To the fight?” I offer.

“What, so it can watch? Gonna buy it some fried mash and pop, too?” She barks a laugh.

“He means we’re here to fight,” Ky says. “We have a match against the king.”

“That’s the challenger?” the woman scoffs. I nod, tight-lipped, and she rolls her eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here, then? Pit entrance is around back. Better hurry, they’re startin’ soon.”

“Thanks,” Ky says, before I can snap out an angry response. “Come on, Taj.”

Circling the block brings us to the rear of the building. A somewhat larger set of doors lead inside, guarded by another pair of bruisers. Weslai is stalking back and forth in front of them, muttering to himself. When he spots us he throws up his hands.

“Finally. What took you so long?”

“Carrying this guy up a hundred meters of stairs,” I say, aiming a mock kick at Star’s shell. He scrambles away and gives me a hurt look.

“I pulled strings to get this for you,” Weslai says to Ky. “Venci’s an old friend.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends.”

“Someone I’ve known a long time and hasn’t fucked me over, whatever you call that. Come on, let’s get inside.”

He waves at the guards, and one of them reluctantly slides the door open. A sound emerges, like a bestial roar or a junkquake at close range, loud enough that I take a half step back. Weslai impatiently beckons and goes ahead of us. We follow, the sound only growing louder, and end up in a holding pen with another sliding door.

Someone is waiting for us. She’s a trans woman, tall and skinny, with a mass of blue-green curls and a coat embroidered with sparkling bits of wire and glass. At the sight of us, she rolls her eyes.

“Thought I was going to have to call in the backup, Weslai,” she snaps. Then, glancing at Star, she adds, “This is your fighter?”

“It’s tougher than it looks,” Weslai says, and looks at Ky nervously. “Right?”

“Right,” Ky says with admirable firmness.

“Fine.” She pops something into her mouth, a hard seed that cracks between her teeth with an audible crunch. “I’m Venci, this is my pit. Which of you is running this thing?”

“I am,” I say. “And his name is Star.”

“Great. Wonderful. Listen. Nobody likes a fight that ends before they’ve had time to get properly drunk. I’m not asking you to take a dive or anything, Weslai’ll tell you I haven’t got time for that shit, but if you feel like you’re gonna get clobbered maybe try to drag it out a little? Dodge more, keep them moving, put on a show. If you make it to five minutes there’s a tip in it for you, understand?”

“I understand,” I say, carefully making no promises. I’m not here to please the crowd; I’m here to win. I’d better win. Otherwise all this was for nothing.

“Fine. I’ll start warming them up. Come out when the door opens, but no fighting till the bell rings. Got it?”

I nod. Venci pops another seed and sweeps out, coat glittering. A few moments later, the pervasive roar rises in pitch. Someone’s talking over it, but I can’t make out the words.

“I’ll stay here,” Ky says, and pats her sword. “But I’ll be watching your back. You can do this, Taj.”

“I’m not the one you should be encouraging.”

Ky blinks, nonplussed, but gamely looks down and smiles again. “You can do this, Star.”