The Lost Colony

Chapter 9

Shrugging, the other gladiator handed Sparr the coin. Seeing it up close confirmed everything he had suspected. The token was highly detailed and finely minted. It consisted of at least six thin layers, each of which was unique. The outer edge on each layer was a solid ring, but with triangular and rectangular teeth stabbing into the otherwise hollow center. Some of the teeth were short, some long. Their widths varied subtly. The layers, fused together, formed an intricate disc. The lightweight metal must be extremely strong.

Sparr compared it to another token. Though identical at first glance, he could see that the layers on each disc were different not just from each other, but from their counterparts on the other token. They reminded Sparr of puzzle pieces or keys. He handed both tokens back. Whatever their origin, the discs hadn't been minted on Kaybe.

***

The blue-robed woman came to watch the fights on the same day that Jinn fell.

Sparr watched her entrance from the gladiator holding pen. Liette, he had learned, was the high priestess of the Origin. Followers of the religion identified themselves with an emblem which Sparr first had seen nestled in Liette's cleavage on the day he had been sold. It consisted of a cross laid atop a spoked wheel. Religions on Earth had been in decline for centuries, but Sparr knew what the cross and wheel symbolized. The Origin seemed to be a merging of Christianity and Buddhism, at least in its symbolism. The teachings remained a mystery.

Primly, Liette seated herself next to the Governor, offering only the most subtle nod of acknowledgement. The gaunt official, for his part, smiled infinitesimally. To his neighbor he made a great show of opening a colorful tin. With an equally minimal smile, Liette drew forth from the tin what appeared to be a tiny scroll. She pressed it to her nose. Sparr now noticed that others in the audience held similar objects which they from time to time would hold beneath their nostrils while taking in a deep breath. Scent or drug, Sparr had no idea.

This day the fights opened with an event Sparr hadn't previously witnessed. Two slim and pretty young women entered the pit. Each wore a gauzy skirt of a material which might have been silk, or some more exotic material. Not for the first time, Sparr's mind leapt at the possibilities of the local fauna. Were there silkworms on Kaybe? Something similar?

A band of stronger material wrapped the womens' tops, just wide enough to contain their small breasts. From a filigree necklace, each wore a preposterous cape, as gauzy as their skirts. In their hands, each carried a long, carved staff with a padded tip. The two might have been identical twins except for their hair, one sporting a wild auburn tangle, while the other wore a pair of blonde braids. Both smiled at the audience sweetly, blowing kisses and winking.

They faced off. Auburn, affecting an expression of concentrated anger, drove at her opponent with a series of sweeping blows. Blonde leapt gracefully over each before pressing her own attack, a flurry of jabs, one of which landed on Auburn's shoulder. The two squared off again, circling and feinting. The crowd cheered.

From across the pit, Sparr caught a glimpse of Syreet. If he wasn't mistaken, the sss was watching the blonde with particular interest. Once, she raised her head to Sparr. Syreet licked her lips suggestively before returning her attention to the performance.

The two combatants leapt forward, trading blows with exaggerated showmanship. First Blonde, then Auburn launched their attacks, pirouetting spins, thrusts, and parries that seemed always just to miss their opponent. The loose, gauzy skirt and cape they wore seemed designed solely to showcase their lithe bodies. Auburn dove forward, staff extended. Blonde jumped over her, twisted, and landed another blow on her opponent's back.

Auburn cursed and spat, turning again to square off. The crowd roared in approval. Wine merchants did an early, brisk business. Sparr found himself smiling. Choreographed or not, the performance was athletic and sexy. Even Liette and the Governor seemed to have shed their exaggerated restraint.

Blonde pursued her advantage, rushing forward with a dazzling combination of jabs and sweeps. Auburn stumbled back, frantically blocking, but steadily giving up ground. Sensing victory, Blonde leapt. Auburn, with an elaborate spin, flung her cape up. Her lithe opponent faltered, her face caught in the flimsy material. In a stunning reversal, Auburn struck Blonde repeatedly, the final blow sending her rival to her knees. Blonde dropped her staff.

The horn sounded.

Auburn strutted around the pit, staff held high. She soaked up the crowd's applause, shaking her ass and flipping her cape. After completing her lap she found Blonde still kneeling and panting. In a final show of victory she grabbed a blonde braid and shoved her rival's face between her legs. An even stronger roar poured from the crowd.

Again, Sparr's eyes found Syreet. He couldn't tell which of them had enjoyed the performance more.

Jinn's match brought no such joy.

The judge called for a blood match with knives. Jinn loped forward in a defensive crouch, his blade held in front. His opponent, an older man covered with a history of scars, circled him cautiously. Jinn had the advantage of reach, and fewer years. Several times the older man stormed forward, his blade flashing. Each time, Jinn fell back, dealing more cuts than he took. After no more than three minutes, both men dripped with blood, but Jinn less so. Again, they circled.

Seemingly emboldened by his advantage, Jinn darted forward. When his opponent exposed his right side, Jinn struck. The older man spun, planting his knife in Jinn's neck. Both men staggered back, bleeding.

Jinn fell first. The horn blew.

Sparr darted forward, accompanied by the weapons master. Together they carried their fallen comrade back to their wagon. Jinn stared first at the weapons master, then Sparr. A geyser of blood poured from his neck. For a moment his eyes locked on Sparr.

"Shong," he said.

Jinn died.

Sparr closed his eyes, trying to block out the painful scene. Jinn had been a quiet man, poorly suited to combat. What injustice had brought him to die in this place, to perish far from his family? It was achingly pointless and sad.

***

The rest of the afternoon passed in a fog. Ast hadn't joined them. Another promising warrior named Stef took his place. A man of Sparr's years with flowing blond hair and wild eyes, he engaged lustily with his opponent as the two fought with spears. Neither combatant held an obvious advantage, but Stef dealt so many small cuts that the judge eventually called the match in his favor. Stef performed an awkward victory lap, offering his spear to a confused young woman who handed it back, shaking her head. Stef returned to the wagon, trying to conceal his disappointment.

Syreet's match was also fought with spears. As she had the previous week, the crowd favorite seemed to pursue a losing strategy, falling back steadily before a wiry woman who was a match for her athleticism and reach. The sss defended herself but couldn't seem to mount a counter attack. As the match progressed, the bet takers were called back for a second flurry of wagers.

Both combatants began to tire. Syreet's opponent kept up her assault of well-timed sweeps and thrusts, but the effort required left her panting. Syreet, too, seemed winded. Her blocks and parries grew weaker and slower, arriving barely in time. Perhaps sensing opportunity, her rival threw all of her momentum into a move that Sparr had seen Syreet herself use. The wiry woman feinted high, then lunged low, slashing with her spear in an arc that couldn't miss Syreet's legs.

Except Syreet no longer was there.

The sss had only feigned fatigue. Syreet ignored her rival's high feint entirely. As the other woman threw her weight forward, Syreet leapt to the side. She jabbed her spear into her opponent's upper back, and as the other fighter lunged forward, left a shallow but bloody cut from shoulder blade to waist. The judge sounded the horn.

Syreet leaned back, raising her spear and spreading her arms exultantly. For a moment she was as still as a statue, her taut body glistening in the mid-day sun. Then she pranced forward, circling the pit, arms still outstretched like a bird about to take flight. The crowd roared their approval, called out her name hopefully, or clapped. Near the end of her circuit, Syreet approached a spot along the rail where Auburn and Blonde had watched her match. She looked back over her shoulder to be sure Sparr was watching, then kissed Blonde on the lips. The girl was surprised, stiffening as Syreet embraced her, but after a moment she softened. Their tongues met. The two reluctantly pulled apart, but not before Syreet whispered something in Blonde's ear.

Sparr once again found himself erect at the beginning of a fight.

The judge announced Sparr's turn, a blood match with sword and shield. His opponent was a youth named Toma, whom Sparr had observed the previous week. The boy had fought a skilled, defensive fight, waiting for his opponent to make a mistake, then striking swiftly. Sparr was confident he could take the match, but had no wish to risk injury. He came up with a strategy.

The combatants took the field. Sparr dropped immediately into an exaggerated defensive crouch, hiding behind his shield. Toma, too, adopted a cautious posture, but as the two circled, grew bolder. When Sparr showed no signs of attacking, the youth rushed forward, delivering a blow squarely at Sparr's shield. It was a safe attack, meant to produce a reaction without exposing himself. Sparr hopped back but didn't counter. A few in the crowd hissed.

The two continued their cautious dance. The youth delivered one tentative blow, then another. Sparr jabbed his sword in a mockery of a counter attack, too slow and too late to be effective. Toma became emboldened. His next attack was a combination, a blow to Sparr's side meant to draw open his stance, then a lunge. Sparr blocked the first blow clumsily, then leapt back from the lunge. He made another useless counter.

Finally, encouraged by his near-successes, or perhaps goaded into more urgent action by the crowd, Toma launched a committed attack. He flung himself forward, delivering a succession of blows. Sparr half turned, letting the youth stumble by. He struck immediately, opening a gash on Toma's sword arm. It was over.

***

The mood back at the compound was considerably gloomier than it had been the week before. Wine still flowed, but there was none of the boasting revelry. The gladiators formed a circle, toasting Jinn. Sparr found his eyes moist, saddened by the loss of the man, and at the hollowness of his passing.

An hour crept by. Sparr congratulated Stef on his victory, but otherwise kept to himself. He sipped more wine than was his habit, thinking on his escape plans. There were still several gaps, more than a few if Sparr was honest with himself. In his fogged mental state the challenges remained beyond him.

The summons to spend the night with Syreet arrived just as he had given up on the idea. Sparr had assumed the gladiator was dedicating her attention to Blonde. The whispered parting words between the two could hardly have been anything other than an invitation. Still, the opportunity was a welcome one. In her company he wouldn't fret over Jinn's death or the sorry state of his escape plans. Sparr leapt to go.

The rickshaw ride to the crazy house was uneventful. After two weeks, the town, even the narrow alleys where Syreet dwelled, offered fewer and fewer mysteries. But as Sparr mounted the stairs something was amiss. His lover wasn't waiting for him on the top step. Cautiously, Sparr stepped forward.

Syreet pressed a finger to her lips, urging Sparr to quiet. She lay on her side atop the bed, naked and oiled as before, her body a landscape of lean curves. The blonde lay facing Syreet, her slim, pale body pressed against the sss. Syreet held her in a protective embrace, holding the girl's face to her bosom, stroking her hair. Both women were fit, but the slim blonde looked almost waif-like next to the gladiator. Sparr's c**k stirred immediately seeing the two together. With an encouraging nod from Syreet, he began to disrobe.