her and then spoke looking at her for the answer. “Which is it,
girl? Did you belong to Barnos?” He leered as he looked her over, and then
said something lewd and quite rude in Lara’s opinion in what she recognized as Hyperion
to the rest of his men, and she told him that in the same language, and watched
as they all just stopped talking, every eye turned her way. She kept her
serenity with an effort. She did not think her phrasing had been at all confrontational,
nor had her tone, but maybe they were just not used to women talking at all,
let alone in such an obscure language.
“Well now, that is
interesting,” the Brutan said with a gleam in his eyes, back to ship standard.
“Not many people speak the Hyperion language, certainly not like that,” he
murmured. “Why do you?”
“I am an interpreter,”
Lara said, doing her best not to look at Tolan Lark. “I speak many languages.”
Lara sighed thinking back
to what had led her to the present time. Once they had decided she was worth
something they wasted no time in negotiating with Tolan Lark. Lara would say
this for him, he tried to keep her, but short of blowing them all up together,
he had no choice. So here she was, interpreter for the death games. Deemed
too fragile for casual appetites; the powers that be figured she would earn her
money longer as a straight interpreter. But it was the Brutan who
disillusioned her about the safety of her virtue.
“I want her for my years
of service,” he said bluntly, making Lara turn and look at him with wide eyes.
“Nonsense,” the Hyperion in
charge answered, waving him away dismissively. “You have many pleasure slaves,
and look at her. You would break her in one night. I would be lucky to find
another interpreter with half her ability. She can interpret for the exotics
who cannot learn fast enough, and save me much wear and tear on the merchandise.
And I will have her make announcements in a few of our investors’ own languages
at the fights. They will love it, and she will add a certain aplomb to these
games that it has lacked. You have your pleasure slaves. Use them.”
Probably, he would ,
Lara thought looking the massive brute over with trepidation. He did not argue
further, but from the lock of his jaw and the way his eyes cooled, she knew it
was not the end of her trouble from that direction. His eyes said clearly that
he would have her.
Lara shivered at the
memory. The Brutan had forbidden anyone else from touching her, but the
promise in his eyes had her pacing just as much as the thought of Barnos
fighting for his life. If Tolan Lark did not get to them quickly, there wasn’t going to be anything to rescue.
CHAPTER NINE
Barnos was about to begin
his first death match and he did not look exactly thrilled at the prospect. He
didn’t look scared either, Lara thought, watching him saunter behind the bars,
rather than the crazed pacing of his opponent. He looked almost bored waiting
for his box jail to open and the fight to begin. On the other side of the
massive arena was his opponent. He might not be scared facing the eight armed
insect-like Hortiem, but she was scared enough for the both of them. Stretched
a full eight feet with arms that resembled more dangling claws than hands, his
people were known for their quick movements, bizarre eating habits, and
poisonous bite. Not deadly poison like some of the other races could have, but
a type of poison that subdued and, in most cases, knocked out the receiver of
that bite. If Barnos let him get a bite in, he could eat him at his leisure,
and considering she could see the brown tone of the Hortiem’s skin signifying near
starvation, that was exactly what would happen when he smelled fresh prey.
Barnos was a big strapping man, not the usual food of the Hortiem. They liked
small furry prey, but if he could knock him out with a single bite, he would
still feed. They were an obscure
girl? Did you belong to Barnos?” He leered as he looked her over, and then
said something lewd and quite rude in Lara’s opinion in what she recognized as Hyperion
to the rest of his men, and she told him that in the same language, and watched
as they all just stopped talking, every eye turned her way. She kept her
serenity with an effort. She did not think her phrasing had been at all confrontational,
nor had her tone, but maybe they were just not used to women talking at all,
let alone in such an obscure language.
“Well now, that is
interesting,” the Brutan said with a gleam in his eyes, back to ship standard.
“Not many people speak the Hyperion language, certainly not like that,” he
murmured. “Why do you?”
“I am an interpreter,”
Lara said, doing her best not to look at Tolan Lark. “I speak many languages.”
Lara sighed thinking back
to what had led her to the present time. Once they had decided she was worth
something they wasted no time in negotiating with Tolan Lark. Lara would say
this for him, he tried to keep her, but short of blowing them all up together,
he had no choice. So here she was, interpreter for the death games. Deemed
too fragile for casual appetites; the powers that be figured she would earn her
money longer as a straight interpreter. But it was the Brutan who
disillusioned her about the safety of her virtue.
“I want her for my years
of service,” he said bluntly, making Lara turn and look at him with wide eyes.
“Nonsense,” the Hyperion in
charge answered, waving him away dismissively. “You have many pleasure slaves,
and look at her. You would break her in one night. I would be lucky to find
another interpreter with half her ability. She can interpret for the exotics
who cannot learn fast enough, and save me much wear and tear on the merchandise.
And I will have her make announcements in a few of our investors’ own languages
at the fights. They will love it, and she will add a certain aplomb to these
games that it has lacked. You have your pleasure slaves. Use them.”
Probably, he would ,
Lara thought looking the massive brute over with trepidation. He did not argue
further, but from the lock of his jaw and the way his eyes cooled, she knew it
was not the end of her trouble from that direction. His eyes said clearly that
he would have her.
Lara shivered at the
memory. The Brutan had forbidden anyone else from touching her, but the
promise in his eyes had her pacing just as much as the thought of Barnos
fighting for his life. If Tolan Lark did not get to them quickly, there wasn’t going to be anything to rescue.
CHAPTER NINE
Barnos was about to begin
his first death match and he did not look exactly thrilled at the prospect. He
didn’t look scared either, Lara thought, watching him saunter behind the bars,
rather than the crazed pacing of his opponent. He looked almost bored waiting
for his box jail to open and the fight to begin. On the other side of the
massive arena was his opponent. He might not be scared facing the eight armed
insect-like Hortiem, but she was scared enough for the both of them. Stretched
a full eight feet with arms that resembled more dangling claws than hands, his
people were known for their quick movements, bizarre eating habits, and
poisonous bite. Not deadly poison like some of the other races could have, but
a type of poison that subdued and, in most cases, knocked out the receiver of
that bite. If Barnos let him get a bite in, he could eat him at his leisure,
and considering she could see the brown tone of the Hortiem’s skin signifying near
starvation, that was exactly what would happen when he smelled fresh prey.
Barnos was a big strapping man, not the usual food of the Hortiem. They liked
small furry prey, but if he could knock him out with a single bite, he would
still feed. They were an obscure
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