Page 96 of The Only Way Out Is Up

I glance at the big man and his runic, who everyone else is giving a wide berth.

Forgive me if I don’t thank him.

“Well fought,” Alzimyth says, taking the stage again. He seems more animated now, as though inspired by the bloodletting. “You have done honor to the Ascent and the Apex. These are the masters advancing and their point totals. Quech, six. Niami, four…”

Most of the names are meaningless to me. I count down, waiting. Six, five, four, three—

“Arbet, two. Taj, two. Githbert, one.” Alzimyth looks up. “Further rounds will be one-on-one duels under the usual rules. Pairings will be announced on the day.”

He turns, abrupt as always, and stalks off. Hisham hurries back onto the platform and dabs at his forehead. “Tomorrow night there will be a ball, generously, um, hosted by Councilor Dreikin. I hope all the winners and their sponsors will join us. The second-round fights will commence, um, the day after that.” He turns around to face the stands, which are already emptying out. “And may I say that it, um, brings me great pleasure to see that our often-divided citizenry can unite when—”

The speech continues, but nobody seems to be listening. Sponsors are filtering back over, and I see Devon Dreikin in conversation with Quech. The big man’s hand is still flecked red.

[Warning: incoming.]

I turn to find the green-haired girl coming over, her tiger remaining behind at a safe distance. She’s small and sprightly, with beaming eyes and a broad smile, and she extends a hand for me to shake.

“Niami,” she says. “You’re Taj, right?”

“Right,” I say, bemused. This was not the attitude I expected from any of my opponents.

“And this is Star?” She looks him up and down, and for once there’s no condescension in the gaze. “I’ve been so curious about him. I don’t recognize his parts at all!”

“I didn’t build him from parts.”

“He’s scratch-built?” She bounces excitedly, leaning closer. “Like you really set every sigil by hand? That must have taken ages!”

I’m not sure how to tell her that it actually took about a week and a half, all told. I don’t have a good frame of reference for how long it usually takes to build a runic.

“Your… runic is very impressive, too,” I venture. “What’s its name?”

“Bitey.”

“Bitey?”

She laughs. “It likes to bite things. I’m bad at names.”

“The way it moves is very fluid. Lifelike.”

“You noticed?” She squeaks with excitement. “I put a lot of work into its core patterns. Grandma says it’s a waste of time, but I think it helps when it’s fighting. Its moves are a lot smoother.”

“I think you’re right.”

“I can show you what I did. Once the tournament is over, I mean, since we might have to fight. Will you show me how Star works?”

“Um. Sure, I guess?” At the moment I can’t even think that far ahead.

“Great!” She catches sight of someone over my shoulder and waves. “Grandma’s here. See you later! In the arena, maybe!”

She bounces away. I shake my head and try to catch my breath.

[Warning: further incoming—]

I turn, hands coming up to defend myself, and stagger backward as Ky cannons into me. She wraps her arms around my neck tight enough that it’s a struggle to breathe, and her weight almost bowls me over.

“You did it you did it you did it,” she says, high and squeaky into my shoulder. “Fuck I saw Vripiai coming and I thought it had you but you rolled and dodged and then the bell rang and fuck.” She sucks in a breath. “I thought I was dead. And you, probably. I thought we were both dead. But you did it.”

[Objection: don’t I get any credit here?]