The Crimson Claw

by Deborah Chester

  Ampris tried not to watch her. She knew Ylea was crazy. So did everyone else.

  “Ylea?” Sanvath asked around another mouthful of food. “I asked if we’re starting at Rentaur.”

  Ylea finished her arrangement and took a dainty bite of her meatroll. She would finish it and then begin on the next item, moving in a clockwise direction. Her eyes flashed at Sanvath. “Yes, Rentaur.”

  Sanvath tipped back his head with a mock roar and chuckled. Omtat leaned forward. “Sure?” he asked.

  Ampris knew then that they had a bet laid on the answer.

  Ylea finished her fruit and started on her grain. “I be sure,” she said, almost growling. “Got it from the master, when he give me strategy. We’ll go through that tonight, plus we got training vids on our opponents.”

  “But—”

  Ylea’s eyes shifted to Ampris. “You speaking to me?”

  They all stopped eating and stared at Ampris. Disconcerted, she wished she’d kept quiet. But now she had to answer. “I thought our opponents would be chosen by lot, from the entrants.”

  The males laughed, and Ylea snarled in scorn before resuming her meal.

  It was Teinth, finishing the last morsel on his tray ahead of everyone else, who explained. “Chosen, sure. By bribe, not lot.”

  “Oh.” Ampris looked down at her food, while Omtat snickered. She didn’t know why her ignorance gave them so much amusement. After all, she couldn’t learn everything just by watching. Sometimes she had to ask questions.

  But Omtat forgot her a moment later as Sanvath pounded him on the shoulder. “Owe me,” he said, holding out his hand.

  They started a low-pitched argument, and Ampris glanced up to find Teinth staring at her.

  She bottled up what she wanted to say until Ylea finished with her tray and left. Sanvath and Omtat followed her out, still arguing over the bet. That left Nink scratching his jaw and Teinth still staring.

  “How am I going to fight with her in the paired events?” Ampris demanded. “You two are so good together. You make pair fighting an art. But we’re terrible. Any suggestions?”

  Teinth smiled, slow and lazy, and gazed deep into her eyes.

  Finally Nink answered, “She won’t work with you.”

  Ampris wanted to choke both of them. Thoroughly exasperated, she rose to her feet. “We’re supposed to be a team. Don’t you think we’d be better if we all tried to get along, tried to be a success?”

  “Blues already a success,” Nink said without concern. He studied his claw tip, then scratched his shoulder.

  “Ylea and I aren’t going to be,” Ampris said. “If we don’t improve, we’ll be killed in the opening round.”

  Nink grinned. “You will. Ylea will let you take the blow. She’s practicing already.”

  Ampris’s mouth fell open. It made sense, the way Ylea kept her off balance, the way Ylea jerked her suddenly off her feet and whirled her around. “You’re right,” she said slowly, while fresh anger began to burn inside her. “So she is practicing to swing me around into a blow. That—”

  She broke off with a growl and started to rush out.

  “Hold,” Teinth said hoarsely, grabbing her arm.

  Ampris tried to twist free of his grip. She was going to take Ylea down here and now. “Let go,” she said and kicked him.

  He grunted, but didn’t release her. “Listen close,” he said, giving her a shake. “Take her on now, and the master will have you whipped. Got to outsmart her. Got to think. Ain’t no getting out of it.”

  “But we can’t work together if she won’t cooperate,” Ampris cried in frustration.

  Teinth looked at her. “You work with her. She won’t work with you.”

  Letting go of her, he jerked his head at Nink. The two of them went out together, leaving Ampris standing by the table. A moment later Ruar came stumping inside, bowlegged and sour-faced as usual. He coiled his tail at the sight of her. “Come now!” he ordered. “Lazy one. Hurry!”

  Ampris rushed back to the arena to join her teammates. Halehl had them sit around and rest until their meal was digested. He talked to them about the upcoming competition, explained who their opponents were, and showed them the illegally obtained vids of their foes in action. While he droned on about strategy, Ampris was thinking over a plan of her own.

  Nink and Teinth were right; she was sure of it. That meant she had to find a way to keep Ylea from getting her killed. That Ylea was more clever than she appeared. She could fling Ampris onto an opponent’s blade, then attack in retaliation. At the end, Ampris would be dead and Ylea would look braver than ever. Extending her claws, Ampris stared at the back of Ylea’s head and snarled silently to herself.

  When they resumed practice, Ampris let herself be harnessed to Ylea without hesitation. As soon as the subtrainer walked away out of earshot, Ampris met Ylea’s hostile eyes.

  “I know what you’re doing,” she said clearly. “It won’t work.”

  Ylea snarled, not even bothering to pretend she didn’t know what Ampris was talking about. “Works fine,” she said.

  “Ampris! Ylea!” Halehl called to them as the machines were positioned in place. “Maneuvers five and six. Start with five until I give you the voice signal through your collars, then shift to six. I want the shift to be as smooth as possible.”

  Chained together at the hip, they walked over to their starting place and got ready. Their practice was as jerky and as awkward as before. But this time, whenever Ylea jerked Ampris around, Ampris leaped with the motion, using the momentum of Ylea’s strength to hurl herself around. Her glaudoon whacked into the shield of the machine with a crash that shattered the blade.

  Smoke curled up from the machine, and a grinding whir could be heard from inside it. From over to one side, the males cheered.

  “Enough,” Halehl said, halting the practice.

  The subtrainers shook their heads over the broken machine, and even Halehl came down from the stands to examine it. Ampris stood quietly next to Ylea, expecting to be reprimanded for breaking it. She still clutched her shattered glaudoon in her hand, which was tingling from the shock of impact. Well, she had tried her best. Now she would probably be whipped for it.

  Halehl ordered the machine taken out, then he came over to Ampris and Ylea. His rill stood at full extension behind his head, but it had not turned red. “Well done, Ampris,” he said. “I am pleased to see such enthusiasm. If you attack with that much force in your opening round, you will intimidate everyone exactly the way I like.” His tongue flickered out. “Ylea, you were wise to think up this new move. When you refine it, we will let you give it a name. Together, the two of you are becoming a formidable pair. Let’s see more work like this. Start again.”

  As he walked away, calling for Sanvath and Omtat to be harnessed quickly to oppose the female team, Ampris and Ylea looked at each other.

  “Can we make a truce now?” Ampris asked, looking up at the taller female. “It’s clearly to our advantage to work together. I’d like to be part of the most formidable fighting pair. Wouldn’t you?”

  Ylea snarled at her. “Don’t push me, ruvt.”

  But as the practice went on, she no longer crossed Ampris’s footwork, and instead of trying to impale her on an opponent’s blade, she positioned Ampris and herself where they could fight the most effectively.

  By the end of the day, Ampris sank exhausted into her bath with every muscle aching and the feeling of having done well. At last she was beginning to fit in. At last she had found neutral ground with Ylea.

  “I’m making progress,” she boasted to Elrabin as she seated herself in her evening robe at her tiny table.

  He filled her platter with steaming, aromatic ragout, making her mouth water in anticipation. His tall ears swiveled with alert twitches while she told him of the day’s events.

  “We will never be friends, but I think she’s beginning to respect me now. Halehl was very diplomatic with her, and that helped also.”

  Ampris
finished, only then growing aware of how silent Elrabin was. Swallowing a bite of hot food, she glanced up at him and saw his expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You.”

  Ampris backed her ears and reached for her cup of cold water. “Speak up, then. I’m too tired for mysteries tonight.”

  “You’re too quick to trust her, see? She ain’t making friends with you.”

  “Well, she stopped trying to get me killed.”

  Elrabin yipped in exasperation. “For now, maybe. She’ll have to think up new tactics, that’s all. Don’t trust her. You ain’t made progress. All you’ve done is get her to back off some.”

  “That’s progress,” Ampris said stubbornly, reaching for her fruit and wishing she could have some civa cakes. But sweets were a violation of training. Elrabin had already let her know he wouldn’t steal any from the Viis larder for her. The mandatory medical scan prior to competition would betray her if she’d eaten refined sweets, and Elrabin wouldn’t go to the whipping post just because she couldn’t control a craving for dessert. “If Ylea leaves me alone, then I’ve accomplished a lot,” Ampris said.

  “She’ll try something in the arena,” Elrabin insisted. “You watch her close.”

  Ampris sighed and tilted her head to look up at him. “You really are a pessimist.”

  “Yeah, and I expect the worst too,” he said. “You watch yourself.”

  “I will,” Ampris said, swallowing the last of her fruit. “Any luck on my vid?”

  Elrabin shot her a stern look and shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe after season is over. I got a lot to do now, packing your gear.”

  Ampris didn’t believe him. “That’s quite an excuse. What is there to pack? My glaudoon? The armory takes care of that. My harness? Oh, that will take a very long time to fit inside a duffel.”

  “Don’t get so smart,” he shot back and beckoned. “You come here.”

  She followed him into her bedchamber and watched while he pulled a shallow storage chest from beneath the bed. Opening it with a flourish, he pulled out a vibrant blue cape made of a lightweight synthetic fabric that billowed and flowed with the fluidity of silk. He held it up before her a moment, while her eyes widened and she reached out a hand to stroke the shimmering folds. Then he spread it across the bed.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, touching it again. “Much brighter than what I’ve seen on the vidcasts.”

  “There’s more,” Elrabin said. He bent over the chest and pulled out a fighting harness fashioned of supple leather, very lightweight but incredibly strong. The oiled leather was adorned with tracings of worked gold, like stylized tongues of flames.

  Ampris ran her fingers across it. “Real gold,” she said in amazement.

  “Of course. You’re one of the Blues,” Elrabin said proudly. He pulled out a wide blue collar of stiffer leather.

  Ampris grimaced at it, refusing to admire it.

  “Required for all entrants,” Elrabin said, then he turned it over and showed her the delicate wiring beneath the leather lining. “The communications wire is hidden inside the restraint circuitry. Pretty slick, see? Ain’t been detected yet.”

  He held it up again, then dropped it on the bed. “You’ll like these better.”

  Leather wrist protectors, also adorned with the flames of gold. Greaves for her lower legs. A belt of fine workmanship, studded with blue semiprecious stones in gold settings. And finally, a dagger and a pair of swords in ornate sheaths that Elrabin held out to her with a proud gleam in his eyes.

  Ampris felt stunned. For a moment she could not touch them. She stared, unable to believe that she actually had her own weapons.

  “For show or use?” she asked, thinking of how they had to parade around the arena in the precompetition show. If they survived, they went on the vidcast, standing behind their trainer, who granted a short interview.

  “For use, of course,” Elrabin said quickly. He swiveled his ears. “Don’t you want to look at them?”

  He held them out to her again. This time Ampris grasped the hilt of the glaudoon and drew it from its scabbard.

  The weight and balance of the weapon were exactly right, as though it had been made for her alone.

  “It was,” Elrabin said as though he could read her mind. “Remember all those medical scans and measurements you went through when you first came here?” He gestured at the finery on the bed. “Everything tailor-made. Only the best for the Blues.”

  Ampris could not find words. She hefted the glaudoon again, then sighted critically down the blade. Although the weapon had a fancy, wire-wrapped hilt with an elaborate guard of engraved metal, the blade was simple and strong. It remained a serviceable, working weapon. She tested the edge with her thumb, and found it honed to razor sharpness.

  In silence, she sheathed it and drew out the other weapon. It was a glevritar, curved and serrated, a deadly piece intended only for destruction. How it shone in the lamplight as she turned it over in her hands. Only yesterday Halehl had mentioned to her that he wanted her to become proficient with swords showier than the simple glaudoon. It appeared he had meant what he said.

  By the time she sheathed it, Elrabin was opening a long, slender case. Inside it lay a spardan, as tall as Ampris herself, the wood polished and smooth against the curve of her palms. She lifted it above her shoulder and hefted it, knowing already that if she threw it, it would fly true. If she stabbed with it, its haft would not break.

  She put it back in its case, and Elrabin grunted as he lifted another. Inside this one lay a parvalleh, a heavy brutal weapon that was half hammer and half ax. She had never used one, but she had seen demonstrations. Both hands were required to throw it, and it was necessary to spin around and around in a circle to get up enough momentum to hurl the thing at its intended target. It was an ancient weapon, impractical in close combat, but the Viis audiences for some reason always cheered when the parvalleh was brought out.

  “Ylea can use these single-handed,” Elrabin said.

  Ampris backed her ears, understanding his warning, and lifted the parvalleh from its case. Although she had expected it to be heavy, its actual weight still surprised her. She nearly dropped it, then fitted its carved wooden handle properly into her grip. She swung it back and forth experimentally. There was a rhythm to the handling of it. At once she understood on some instinctive level that to swing it two-handedly was wrong.

  She lifted it in one hand, and Elrabin took a step back. His eyes shone a moment, reflecting the lamplight, and she felt something primitive and ancient go through her. She growled deep in her throat.

  “You know how to use that?” Elrabin asked. His voice sounded shrill and oddly breathless.

  “It’s a parvalleh,” she answered dreamily, holding the Eye of Clarity unconsciously in her free hand while she swung the hammer back and forth. “A weapon of war.”

  “I—I looked it up,” Elrabin said nervously. “It’s not Viis. It’s Aaroun, some kind of old, ceremonial weapon.”

  Ampris nodded, accepting the information which he offered like a gift. Instinctively she knew he was right. “The Viis do not know how it should be handled,” she said. “This way.”

  And again she swung it aloft with one hand.

  Elrabin backed up until he stood with his back to the wall. “Be careful with that thing.”

  But Ampris was thinking, flexing her muscles and feeling the quiver in them that told her she needed to double her strengthening exercises. The parvalleh should feel lightweight in her grip, not heavy. It should be thrown in an underhanded swing, with the wrist not snapping but instead held like an extension of the haft. Then the release—

  “Be careful!” Elrabin said with a yip of warning.

  Ampris blinked back to the here and now and found herself clutching the Eye and growling loudly while she swung the parvalleh back and forth.

  She stopped immediately and put the weapon in its case. For an instant she imagined the Eye to be warm inside her h
and, but when she looked at the clear stone, it was not glowing. She must be imagining things, she thought. The only warmth here lay in her blood, which still thudded through her ears.

  Ampris closed the lid of the case and left her fingertips pressed against its top. She drew in several deep breaths, trying to still her raging instincts.

  “This is the proper Aaroun weapon,” she said, and her voice sounded deep and foreign to her ears. “It had another name, once.”

  “I—I don’t know it,” Elrabin said cautiously. He stayed by the wall. “You, uh, like it, don’t you, Goldie?”

  She forced herself to stop staring at the case and glanced over at him. “Yes. It feels right to hold it. Natural.”

  “Yeah, Ylea likes it too.”

  Something about the way he said that made her attention suddenly snap and focus. She stared at him in suspicion. “Does Halehl know it was originally an Aaroun weapon?”

  Elrabin looked everywhere but at her. “Don’t know. Maybe. Uh, what difference does it make?”

  “He knows.” She drew in a sharp breath and turned away, thinking hard.

  Elrabin crept up to her. “Why do you care, Goldie? It’s just a weapon—”

  “No it’s not,” she said sharply. “Do the males have these? Or just Ylea and me?”

  “Just you two females. He said something one day about it looking flashy for the—”

  “Flashy,” she said in contempt. She snarled and left the bedchamber.

  Elrabin trotted after her. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d like to see your new gear, Goldie. Thought you’d be proud of it.”

  She turned on him so fast he yelped and jumped back. “Halehl is manipulating us,” she said.

  “Sure. That’s what trainers do,” Elrabin said uncertainly. “Make you fight.”

  “What kind of ceremony was it originally used for?” she asked, feeling the fur starting to bristle around her neck.

  “How should I know? Just a ceremony, see? Don’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does matter. You find out.”