ears, and the slashing and bashing of weapons became individual movements in a single bizarre, afternoon-long dance of death. The motion paused to allow new partners to enter the field, but the dance itself went on and on without interruption.
Sahalik shook him out of his reverie. “You’re next,” he said while a guard unlocked the cage. Five more guards and three psionicists stood ready. Sahalik carried Jedra’s short sword and shield, which he handed over, but the instant Jedra’s hand gripped the hilt he felt the grip of the psionicists close in around his hand as well. They weren’t going to let him use the blade on himself.
Some of the other gladiators shouted crude encouragement, saying things like, “Go show her who’s boss!” and, “Don’t take any sass from her this time!” Jedra ignored them, searching for Kayan. Where was she?
There. Emerging from behind the pillars nearly fifty feet away, flanked by her own guards. Jedra’s heart leaped at the sight of her, but she looked so small and helpless he wondered if she’d been starving herself. She wore armor as concealing as his own, no brass brassiere for her. She looked beautiful to him just the same. Kayan! he mindsent, not caring if he was punished.
Jedra, she replied. I love— But the psionicists didn’t let her finish. The shield around Jedra drew tight, isolating him completely from Kayan or anyone else.
When the cleanup crew was done removing the body from the previous fight and covering up the slippery spots with fresh sand, the crier stepped to the center of the arena and shouted, “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, a command performance for our illustrious, most magnificent King Kalak. I present the crabby couple, the prickly pair, the—” Whatever else he called Jedra and Kayan was lost in the roar of the crowd.
Sahalik gave Jedra a slap on the back and shouted to be heard over the noise, “Remember what I taught you: a few superficial wounds to satisfy the crowd, then a clean stroke straight to the heart.” Then he shoved Jedra out into the arena.
Shani pushed Kayan out at the same time. Instead of walking out into the center the way they were supposed to, they both turned toward each other and met just outside the entrance. They hugged fiercely, their swords and shields and armor getting in the way and tears streaming down both their faces. They kissed, momentarily slipping into convergence, but the psionicists came down instantly on that, forcing them apart both mentally and physically. The spectators, seeing only that they had kissed and then seemingly leaped back from one another, cheered at this first indication of hostility.
“She bit ’im!” Jedra heard someone shout.
Guards with pikes advanced on them from beneath the ziggurat, forcing them farther into the arena. As Jedra and Kayan backed away from them, the crier waved the crowd to silence and shouted, “Harken the words of your king!”
Kalak stood in his balcony at the opposite end of the arena, once again in his golden robe. He was a tiny figure at that distance, but his magically-enhanced voice echoed all around the stadium. “Today’s battle has captured the hearts of the entire city,” he said. “Like no other contest in the history of Tyr, this ritual combat has sparked the imaginations of every couple here. What husband has not dreamed of killing his wife for some slight, either real or imagined? What wife has not dreamed the same? Many of you have acted out your fantasies, but always furtively, behind closed doors. Today we will see the ultimate domestic quarrel played to its logical conclusion for all to see!”
Cheers from the crowd echoed off the ziggurat and the balconies and the stadium walls, but Kalak held out his hands for silence. “The betting has been fierce. Everyone has a favorite. But some of the less realistic among you would prefer to see a happier ending. I have been flooded with requests for mercy, from the lowliest romantic in the warrens to the highest ranking templars. Even their trainer, the popular elf-warrior Sahalik of the Jura-Dai, has asked for clemency.”
A few ragged cheers sprang out at the mention of his name, but far more people booed the elf’s obvious sentimentality. Jedra turned back to look at Sahalik, who stood just inside the entrance with a bemused expression on his face. Thank you, Jedra mindsent, amazed that the elf would risk the king’s wrath for them; then, not knowing if