“I suppose you’re right. You do know far better than I do about these games.”
“I’m glad you realize that.”
“Clearly, you know alotmore than either of us do. As you said, we’re not from around these parts and it’s all new to us. But hey, what happens if we lose? Something about becoming a slave?”
“Not a slave, no. But as a fill-in for a regular competitor, you face a different set of rules. If you lose, and lose you will, you will become an indentured servant for whichever of the elites sponsored you to the games.”
“So, there’s no choice in the matter?”
“None. You will become a servant for them, working until the end of your term of indenture. Of course, any wages will be usedto offset the cost of your food and board. And, in your case, the expense of applying your runes.”
“Are they expensive?”
“I was directed to use a fairly pricey set of pigments, yes.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. The chancellor was setting her up not only for failure, but for a pretty hefty debt if she lost.
“Well, how long might that sort of thing take to pay off?”
The Skrizzit’s smile remained but there was hesitation in his eyes. But the ice had been broken, and now that words were shared, they kept flowing.
“I was a competitor once,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “In much the same situation you now find yourself in.”
“Really? You were a fill-in competitor?”
“Yes. I lost, of course, and now I work for the chancellor, paying off my debt.”
“Wow. I had no idea. How long has it been, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He sighed, contemplative a moment, then his smile brightened. “I am treated well, and I live a comfortable life.”
“Sure, but how long?”
He locked eyes with her, now, for once, trulyseeingher. His smile faltered. “Twenty years.”
Ziana felt her stomach somersault into a knot.Did he just saytwenty?Oh, shit.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ziana and Maria were both quite sore after their rune tattoos had been inked onto their bodies. Apparently, while the Skrizzit was quite skilled, the quality of the pigments he’d been given to work with was mediocre at best, which meant their flesh would take a bit longer to mend. Only the small bits of the expensive stuff felt okay, but that had been used to ensure they were well and deep in debt, before the games even started, and those special pigments were not meant for their whole bodies. But that little bit was worth a small fortune.
They’d be slaves for life.
Adding insult to that injury, it seemed the pain-relieving creams normally on-hand were not available. All they were given was a healing salve to speed the process enough for them to be ready when the games began.
The Skrizzit apologized to the women as they were being led away to their quarters by a lone female guard, the ebony-skinned man bowing his head in what looked an awful lot like shame, even though none of that seemed to have been his intention in the slightest. He was a slave, essentially, and doing what hisboss-slash-owner wanted of him, and neither could fault him for that.
“So. Damn. Sore,” Ziana grumbled as they were led through the tunnels back the other direction to their respective quarters.
Maria definitely related. “Tell me about it. This sucks.”
“Everything itches.”
“Like, seriously.Everything. And that one he put on my chest? The whatchamacallit? Infallia?”
“Infala.”
“Right. That one. Damn that one hurt the most.”
