Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,83

only to snap his joints back into place, he aimed for the stairs at the end of the hall. He’d only gone a short distance before a phalanx of Nedwut guards came thundering down the steps. They’d seen him, of course—Moe’s pace wasn’t such that he phased out of sight—but Nedwut reflexes, while better than most, were no match for his top speed. By the time they raised their pulse rifles and fired, he had already broken through their ranks to dash up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, he was confronted with two doors, both of them shut fast. A smack on the control box by the door on the left had no effect. He had more luck with the door on the right. The panel light illuminated, and the door sprang open. Moe ran through it into the light, only to be met by the roar of the crowd that filled the stands above a high wall surrounding a circular expanse of dry dirt.

His escape had led him straight into the arena—unarmed with anything aside from his fists, his wits, and his speed.

“Shit.”

Chapter 22

Klara was still chastising herself for letting the news of her pregnancy slip—and to a Nedwut, of all people—when the Zuterans returned, bringing clothes and enough food to sustain her gang for a week.

She eyed the array of dishes with dismay. “I’m not that hungry.”

Jaquet inclined her head toward the heavily laden table. “The Master wanted to ensure that you were served something you would like, so we were told to bring a wide assortment.”

“I don’t suppose you could take the leftovers to Moe and my gang, could you?”

“That is not permitted,” Jaquet replied with a haughty sniff.

“You don’t throw away the leftovers, do you?” Klara was aghast at the thought of such criminal waste. “Not when there are starving people in the city.”

“The remains of the meal will be distributed to those in need.”

“Yeah, right. I’m guessing you’ll give it to the guards instead of the poor people in the street.” She hesitated, weighing her options before finally concluding that betraying her guard wasn’t in her best interest. That is, if she wanted to keep on his good side, which, oddly enough, he actually seemed to have. “Feed them too much and they might get sleepy.”

“That is none of your concern.” Jaquet removed the domed lid from the largest dish. “You have here baked fish, roast chicken, and grilled dwithan, along with assorted vegetable options and sweets.”

Klara could scarcely believe her ears. “Fish? Where on this dust bucket of a planet did you find fish?”

“It is imported from offworld at great expense,” Jaquet replied. “The Master insisted that you have it.”

“Killing me with kindness, huh?” Klara didn’t wait for a reply. “You can tell the Master”—she infused the word with as much disdain as she possibly could—“he can’t win me over by being nice. It can’t be done. Not by any method. I want my freedom and that of my friends. I’m not interested in anything else.”

“Be that as it may, in the meantime, you must eat.”

Refusing to eat was pretty stupid, especially since she’d already told her guard—she really should have asked him his name—she was hungry. “Oh, all right.” Grumbling, she pulled out a chair and plopped down on it. “It’s probably poisoned anyway.”

Jaquet’s normally serene expression took on a hint of steel. “Your food is not poisoned! We would never betray the Master in such an audacious manner.”

Klara picked up a napkin, flipped it out and draped it across her lap. “Hmm, yeah. Sure you wouldn’t.” She glanced at the feast spread out before her. “Okay, then, since it’s so very special, I’ll have the fish.” She knew precisely how special it was. So special, in fact, that given the local climate, she was amazed there was even a word for it in the Haedusian language. Must’ve been borrowed from Stantongue.

After Jaquet placed a portion of the fish on a plate, Klara waved a hand in dismissal. “I can serve myself, thank you. You may leave me now.”

“As you wish.” Jaquet signaled to the others who bowed and left the room. “You’ll need to finish eating and get dressed quickly. The Master wishes you to accompany him to the arena for this afternoon’s entertainment.” With a snarky laugh, she added, “I understand some friends of yours will be participating in the event. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Seething with anger, Klara toyed with the idea of killing the messenger, but