He was a tall, bald man with skin of the darkest ebony. Fine lines of gold danced across his body, the details of his many runes intricate and utterly beautiful the way they both contrasted with his skin tone while also flowing almost organically with his musculature. He had four arms rather than two, the muscles long and wiry, and was wearing an embroidered vest of a metallic black material that had a series of small pouches affixed to the front.
His shockingly blue eyes were almond-shaped, but the corners were vertically aligned rather than horizontally. It was a rather unusual and quite striking look, and one that made Ziana wonder why she’d never seen that sort of morphology anywhere on Earth. Did it exist? She couldn’t think of a reason it wouldn’t, but she couldn’t think of a single instance she’d ever encountered.
“Strip and lay there face-down,” the man said, gesturing to the table with one of his arms while the other three moved in a flurry of activity, taking implements from the pouches on his vest and assembling them into what had to be a small, wireless form of the clunkier tattoo set they had seen Heydar using when he gave them their translation runes aboard the Raxxian ship.
“You want to go first?” Ziana asked.
Maria chuckled. “After your little display with the chancellor guy? Oh, please, after you.”
Ziana shrugged and undressed. “He’ll get to both of us soon enough.”
The Skrizzit set to work immediately, his hands working independently yet also in unison, his mind operating them like a master drummer, somehow keeping track of multiple different tasks at the same time regardless of rhythm or movement. It was impressive, to say the least, and Ziana’s runes were being applied far faster than she’d have thought possible.
The man was clearly an expert. If he was employed by the chancellor, it only made sense that he would be. But there was something in his air. His attitude. As if he was ill at ease. Uncomfortable about something. Was it the act of marking what, for him, was a completely novel species? It would only be natural. After all, she’d heard a few times that the runes sometimes reacted quite differently across the species, depending on the type, power, and placement of them.
Or was it something else? A thought flashed through her mind.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“You mayask,” he replied in a shockingly deep baritone for his lean frame.
“I was just wondering, are you doing this as a job, or are you working as a sort of slave to the chancellor? He kind of mentioned if I lost I’d be working for him. Is that what happened to you?”
The man grunted and shrugged but didn’t say a word. Whatever the situation was, he would not be giving her a verbal reply.
Makes sense, she mused.Guy’s probably terrified of pissing off the chancellor and losing his job, regardless of how he wound up with it.
“Sorry, it was rude of me to ask. Forget I ever mentioned it.”
“Forgotten,” he replied. “Now, please, turn over. I have completed the runes on your back and must now apply them on your front.”
“Am I getting that one in the middle of the chest everyone seems to have?”
“Yes. But the Infala will be the final rune. Just relax. It will make the process smoother. Normally you have days of preparation before receiving the runes. Doing it like this will be a bit harder on your body.”
“Grrrreat,” she grumbled, relaxing as best she could. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”
The process went on for a while longer, then it was Maria’s turn. As no one came to fetch Ziana, she took the opportunity to speak casually with the Skrizzit as he worked, hoping to draw out at least a little information from him if his work kept him distracted enough to actually forget himself and answer. The questions would have to be general and casual in nature, but she felt that if she managed to get him talking, he might loosen up and actually tell them something of use.
Eventually, though it took a while, he did start to engage a bit once he realized the questions were innocuous enough. Most fascinating were his comments on the games themselves and why the two humans were being marked rather than sentenced to death.
“You are of an unknown race. And one from outside the Dotharian realms and possessing no runes. It is quite the novelty.”
“Glad we can be of amusement.”
“You jest, but that is to your advantage. You should remember that being something new and different will draw viewers and gain you a following. It is something you would do well to nurture. The more popular you are, the better you will be treated. Everyone loves an underdog, after all.”
“Underdog? Who’s to say we can’t win?”
At that, the Skrizzit actually stopped working, likely because his sudden and genuine laughter might have caused one of his four hands to falter in their work, and no one wanted jittery designs on their skin for the rest of their life.
“Oh, you poor, naïve woman. There is no way you can win.”
“Hey! We may be new here, but we might?—”
“You just said it yourself. You are new here. And being new means you will not have time to learn the games. Win? Not a chance. Just focus on being an interesting novelty and winning favor with the crowd and you will be okay. That is what they want. The championscompete. You are here toamuse.”
Ziana had a few snarky comments spring to mind but kept them to herself. He’d finally dropped his guard.
