by Mara Gan
The pain from his eyes was gone, but in its place was an expression that clearly wanted me to forget that pain existed. At least for the moment. “I guess this sort of attitude is to be expected from someone as menacing as you, eh?” I said, shifting the conversation back to a safer zone.
He raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re not afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
“Probably.”
“Well, I’m not.” I grinned. “And I’m curious about you. Why did you not choose a more… stable profession?”
“I take it you’ve not visited Mathos before,” Perseus said, dropping my hand. I immediately missed the strength of his rough fingers on mine. “There aren’t a lot of ‘normal’ jobs there. It’s generally thief or nothing.”
“I’ve heard of the merchant guilds before,” I argued. “What about that? Or politics?”
“Those, little one, are merely another kind of thief,” he said, his gaze shifting over my face in a way that made my stomach fluttery. “At least mercenaries are honest about being thieves.”
“I’m not sure being honest about being a thief can qualify as honesty.”
“All depends on your point of view,” he replied easily, taking a drink of ale. He leaned his chin on his hand and studied me, his features softening a little. “What else have you heard about me?”
I grinned. “Don’t like it when people know secrets about you, do you? Worried about blackmail?”
“You’ve got nothing,” he said, his eyes teasing.
“True,” I admitted. “You’ve pretty much tapped out my knowledge.”
“And yet you still probably know more about me than most people ever do,” he said, his eyes growing serious again. “When did my tongue get so loose?”
My chest fluttered a little at what felt like flattery. “Dear me, did you just pay me a compliment?”
“If you wish to take it that way, I won’t stop you,” he said, giving me a half smile and what could only be described as an eyebrow shrug. “But suffice to say I’m not sure I like how much this station knows about me, when I know so little of it.”
“Education is a powerful weapon,” I admonished, wagging my finger at him. “Not our fault you came unprepared.”
“Touché.” He took another swig of my drink, that half smile still in place. I liked that half smile. “So fix my ignorance. Tell me about this city.”
I laughed. “You’re going to be living here, yet you know nothing about it?”
He shrugged. “I only received this contract two days ago. I had a lot to do before I came.”
“So you’ve never been here before?”
“Not once.”
I wasn’t surprised. Mercenaries did try to stay under the radar here, although the temptation of so many shops with opportunities for pawning was too much for some. Like Yalan.
I told Perseus a little about his new home, noting that he seemed to be absorbing every little detail—not just of what I was saying, but about me, my habits, even our surroundings. He was certainly astute.
Galaxia was not only the name of our city, but our government. The galaxy had never been safe, perhaps due to its mythical origins as a prison for a mythical deity, but over a millennium ago, several planets had banded together under the operating theory that there was safety in numbers. They constructed an enormous city built into an asteroid that, for neutrality’s sake, they named Galaxia, and they called their government the Galactic Confederation. Theoretically, the government is a republic, but much more divination is involved in the process. The Heir to the throne was chosen through a complex system of political lobbying and Moirae mysticism rather than any kind of biological relation to the current rulers, and upon reaching the ripe old age of twenty-one, would take the throne and become king or queen.
“Doesn’t really sound like a republic,” Perseus mused.
I shrugged. “It is a bit odd,” I agreed. “A thousand plus years of regulations and prophecies has mangled the system a bit, but it works.”
“Sounds a little more like a crazy magical monarchy.”
I smiled. “Maybe, but we function like a republic.”
“Is that so? Anything involving a prophecy from a bunch of women who claim to be speaking with a supreme being from another galaxy can’t be much of a republic.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “The Moirae are definitely a little… offbeat.” k12
“So it would seem.” He took another drink. “So with this entire city at your disposal, what do you do for fun?”
Immediately, I thought of the Hypethral. It wasn’t really “fun,” as I imagined he meant it, but it was, in my opinion, the best we had to offer here and easily my favorite place. At the center of the city, surrounding the palace structure like a moat, was the massive Hypethral. Essentially an enormous forest, it contained a small lake, along with birds, insects, and trees and flowers from every planet in the Galactic Confederation. It even had randomized wind and rain generators to make it feel more like a forest on a planet. Seemingly endless trails led through the thick foliage. A true hypethral was open to the sky, but that was naturally unrealistic in the middle of the city on an asteroid, so the Galaxia’s Hypethral had a simulated sky, which changed according to the same climate generators that operated the weather. It even shifted between day and night according to city time.
“The Hypethral,” I said, knowing no other answer would be as honest.
“A Hypethral, hm?” Perseus murmured, his features softening as he studied me.
I almost shivered under that look. What was he thinking? It was so strange to be without one of my basic senses, like suddenly going blind.
“It’s my favorite place in the entire city,” I replied, rubbing my arm.
“I’d love to see it,” he said softly. “Perhaps you could show me.”
I nodded, frozen by his intense stare.
We stared at each for a few long moments, the silence feeling more comfortable than most conversations ever did.
He shook his head suddenly. “I confess, Meda, you don’t especially look like a Mousai,” he said, studying me. “You dress like a Mousai, but you seem—if you’ll excuse the observation—a bit small to be as strong as they are. And I don’t recall Halians having super strength.”
I shifted uncomfortably. Perseus caught the gesture with curiosity; as I had displayed little discomfort from the chairs so far, he probably realized my unease now was more likely from his question.
The Mousai were the nine female guardians of the city, and of the king and queen, specifically. Synie had recruited and trained each one personally, and they were warriors through and through. They were athletic, naturally, and dressed in simple, sleeveless, black tunics that fell just above the knees and which were worn over black leather pants and slit up the sides to the hip for ease of movement. Each wore a silver band on her upper right arm, denoting her status as a Mousai. Synie wore gold bands denoting her status as their leader, but otherwise she dressed in an identical fashion. As warriors, they also wore a veritable armory strapped to their belts, each of them specializing in a different kind of weapon and a different aspect of culture and administration.
I supposed I could see why he thought I must be a Mousai, some of whom he had clearly met already; although my tunic was a little different and I certainly did not wear either leather or weapons, the similarities were fairly striking.
“I’m not one of the Mousai.”
He nodded, taking this news in stride as though he expected it, and took a swig of the ale. “So you’re not psychotically strong under that small packaging?” he asked with an amused smile.
I gave him an indignant pout, but my eyes were laughing. “I’ll have you know that I could very easily—”
The gigantic crash from the other side of the tavern made me forget anything I had intended on saying.
CHAPTER SIX
I wasn’t usually klutzy, but I was easily startled. Hence why the crash surprised me
so much that I fell out of my chair.
Well, almost. Perseus’s hand shot out to catch me before I could hit the floor, saving me from several bruises—and a slight loss of dignity.
I stared at him, wide-eyed, but was too busy noting the fight on the other side of the room to thank him. Instantly the sense of the combatants’ Rage swamped me, and it was every bit as bad as I had expected: a million tigers accumulated behind my sternum, clawing at my organs, making me feel ill. I could even smell it, the Rage was so intense. It smelled like rotting meat.
My stomach churned with nausea, and the hammers swelled against my skull.
Perseus’s hand settled on mine, pulling me closer to sit on the chair next to him, and suddenly, the feelings were gone.
Just like that.
I stared down at his hand on mine, then turned to gape at him. How had he done that? Just… erased my ability?
He wasn’t looking at me, though; he was casually taking a sip of his ale—or, rather, my ale—while he watched the two gigantic Mathans squaring off.
“Oh my god,” I breathed, my concern for them overwhelming my confusion at losing my ability. “Are they going to kill each other?”
“Likely not,” he said casually. “Rage fights are probably nightly entertainment here.” He glanced down at me. “Although it is possible that my presence set it off, given my reputation.”
The two Mathans had begun an all-out brawl. Both were in the throes of the Rage, and I couldn’t keep the shock or terror from my face. I hated violence and had rarely been around it. Reminded me too much of the Destruction. And, despite having been here numerous times, I had never witnessed a Rage before.
A Mathan in his Rage state was perhaps the most dangerous force in the galaxy; their eyes dilated, their vision grew painfully acute, and adrenaline completely flooded their bodies, making them stronger and more out of control than they usually were. Thought and reason fled, and the only thing that remained was the urge to destroy.
Nothing could stop them except, perhaps, another Mathan in a Rage state. Or a nuclear bomb.
These two were probably going to take half the bar with them, at the rate they were going; most of the other patrons had either begun cheering on the one of the fighters, or were now brawling themselves. Some even seemed to be entering their own Rage state.
I stared, mouth open, then looked back to Perseus and was surprised to find him studying me instead.
He smiled faintly. “Never seen a Rage before, have you?”
I shook my head, my eyes turning back to the brawlers. “Should we…? We should… we should go.”
He shrugged and flicked his gaze over to the brawl. “It’s not a big deal.”
I gaped even more. “But… they might—they could hurt—” I shook my head and tried again, at a loss for words. “It’s dangerous here.” I flinched as a chair went sailing across the far side of the room.
He raised an eyebrow. “It was dangerous for you long before they started brawling.”
Inwardly, part of me rolled my eyes; already he was sounding like Kos and Synie. Which I supposed was a good thing, but it undoubtedly meant we were going to butt heads about something in the future.
A Mathan was body-slammed onto a table a few feet away from us and I swear I jumped three feet into the air, knocking my chair over.
I turned to Perseus, hand fluttering to my pounding chest, and noticed a funny look on his face. He was incredibly stoic; I had never met anyone with such control over his facial expressions, nor anyone who could remain quite so still. Most of us fidget constantly, but Perseus never did. I realized that was probably one more reason he unnerved people.
But I was an expert at reading faces and noted subtle changes in his.
He was studying me, but his eyes looked a little hazy, his expression narrowed but deceptively casual.
My eyes widened. Was he losing control over his own Rage? That was something I did not want to see. “You’re not—are you—”
He gave me a gentle smile. “Fear not, little one. I don’t Rage, remember?”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
The Rage slammed into me again, making me stagger against the table. I gripped my head in one hand, desperately trying to use the tactics Kos had taught me to block out the powerful swarm of emotions, but nothing was helping.
“What is it?” Perseus murmured, swiftly standing and moving to my side. He craned his neck to look into my eyes, concerned. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”
I hissed in a breath and swayed a little. “It isn’t that,” I whispered. “I can feel it. The Rage—their emotions are… unpleasant.” I studied the crowd, worried, and swallowed my discomfort again. “Shouldn’t we stop them somehow? Intervene?”
Perseus chuckled, glancing back at the fight. “Even if it were possible to stop a Rage, I don’t think I would.”
“Why not? It looks so horrible—”
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Meda,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. He paused for dramatic emphasis. “Mathans like the Rage.”
“You like it? But… doesn’t it leave you out of control?”
“So much so that we rarely recognize people we’ve known our whole lives,” he confirmed.
My look was incredulous. “And Mathans like this?” At his nod, I frowned. “But… why?”
“Power.” He nodded to the crowd. “A Mathan is never more powerful than when he is in his Rage state. And you won’t find a soul in the universe who doesn’t like power of some kind.”
“I don’t,” I murmured.
His gaze swung to mine as he studied me thoughtfully. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I don’t believe you do.” He set his ale glass down. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I scrunched my nose up against the potent smell of the Rage. That was relatively new; I didn’t usually smell emotions, but it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility for me. “That sounds like a great idea. I would like to go home.”
“Not so fast, Meda.” He grinned. “I will take you out of here only if you do something for me.”
I looked at him with mild exasperation. “You are such a mercenary,” I said, scowling slightly. “Fine, whatever,” I hastily agreed, as another crash made me jump.
He grinned wider. “Give me a tour of this Hypethral you’re so fond of.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“You’re seriously offering to help me get out of this bar, but only on the condition that I go for a walk with you?” I asked, incredulous.
He shrugged, giving a half smile again and raising his glass. “Mercenary.”
“You’re… blackmailing me?”
“Not at all,” he answered, flipping the barkeep a few coins as he stood. “It’s hardly blackmail. More like… an exchange.”
He wasn’t wrong, but it was still annoying. “I will remember this about you,” I muttered.
He smiled as he gripped my elbow, and instantly the Rage sensations dissipated again. I couldn’t believe it; for whatever reason, physical contact with him muted my ability to sense emotions. At the moment I didn’t care, since sensing Rage was horrible.
With my empathic senses muffled, I became acutely aware of his size. He towered over me, and his fingers easily encircled my upper arm. His hand was warm and made my chest flutter with some feeling I was disturbed to find I quite liked.
His fingers tightened on my arm as he steered me toward the exit. “Follow close behind me.”
He stepped forward, moving easily through the crowd and deflecting the stray fists—and chairs—that came our way. I stuck to his shadow, easily dodging an elbow here and there.
We were almost at the exit when a large Mathan, roughly the same size as Perseus but in full Rage, moved directly in front of us, just a few feet away.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he snarled, his voice gravelly and mottled. “No one leaves.” His gaze swung to me, half-hidden behind Pers
eus. The Mathan started yelling, but his voice was so far gone that words weren’t really being formed anymore. He was, however, gesturing wildly at me.
To say it made me nervous was a bit of an understatement, but logic told me not to worry—even if Perseus didn’t help me, I knew Geôillur would.
“She stays with me,” Perseus replied, unfazed. “And I would advise you to get out of my way.”
The Mathan snarled in fury and launched himself at Perseus. Perseus didn’t even bat an eye as he smashed the heel of his palm into the Mathan’s nose, breaking it, and swept his feet out from under him. One solid blow across the Mathan’s face and he was out cold.
I couldn’t stop the yelp of surprise that escaped my mouth. Perseus had released my arm to knock out our would-be attacker, and both of my hands had flown to my face in shock.
Perseus turned back to me, his expression turning concerned as he gently took my arm again. He frowned as he pried my hands from my face. “Are you alright?”
I shook my head, stunned. “Yes,” I said shakily. “How did you do that? I’ve never seen anyone move that fast!”
Perseus gave me a smile that I might almost describe as pitying. “That was hardly difficult, little one.”
I gaped at him. “But….”
“I told you I would take you out of here,” he said, taking my elbow and guiding me out into the dimmed lights of the Esplanade. It was well past the time when most people were in bed. “Didn’t you trust me?”
I couldn’t quite regain the use of my speech yet. “But… he was so fast—”
He chuckled. “You’ve not heard much about me before, have you?”
“I… heard you’d never been beaten before,” I said slowly. “But I didn’t think that was literally true. More like a legend, exaggerated through so many people telling it differently.”
“No, it is actually true,” he said. “It’s been years, anyway.”
“But… how?” I asked, staring up at him with awe. “Are you really, then, precognitive?”
His gaze hardened a fraction. “I take it you and Kos have talked, then.”
