The fight would begin when both challengers stood at the edge of the central clearing. Approaching from the opposite side of that clearing was her opponent – a huge man, more like a slab of muscle with a head attached than a human being. His torso was bare, his head shaved so close that it reflected the sun. He held a thick chain, at the end of which was an iron ball as big as a small child. A mace without spikes.
When baldy reached the edge of the clearing, he tugged at the chains, urging the iron ball to catch up with him. He saw Kino out of the comer of his eye and gaped at her. "What the—? They put me up against a kid?"
His voice was loud enough to be heard over the crowd, and got a ripple of laughter. The king's teeth flashed white in his bronzed face.
"Excuse me," Kino said politely. "I have two questions for you before we begin, noble opponent. First, why did you come to this city?"
Her "noble opponent" responded with a questioning grunt.
"I asked: Why did you come here?"
"What're you, stupid? I came here to live. And to kill... you, as it happens." He chuckled, a sound like gravel rattling in an iron pot.
Kino nodded and said, "Question number two: Will you surrender?"
"Will l what?"
"If you surrender now, you may leave here unharmed. I have no wish to kill you."
In response, the other contestant shortened up his chain and began to swing the naked mace above his bald head. Slowly at first, then gradually faster, the iron ball whizzed through the air, with a sound like the wings of a gigantic dragonfly.
Kino's hand slid down her right thigh and found the Cannon. The audience fell silent. A half-hearted trumpet fanfare signaled the start of the fight.
"DIE!" shouted baldy, his muscles rippling with effort. The iron ball suddenly left its orbit and flew in a deadly arc... to crush a burnt-out car several yards behind him.
The crowd gasped in unison.
For a long moment, Kino's opponent stared down at the limp chain, then he hauled it in hand-over-hand as if it were a fishing line. He held the last link in front of his face and squinted at it. It had been severed by a single bullet.
"Um..." he said. He scratched his head and looked at Kino. The Cannon was in her right hand... still smoking. His expression changed from puzzlement to astonishment. He pointed at the end of his chain. "You did this?"
"I did."
He pointed to where the iron ball had landed. It had rolled off the roof of the car to make a small crater in the sand. "And it flew over there?"
"Would you like to surrender now?" asked Kino.
"Oh, yes, please," baldy said quickly
Kino bowed and holstered her gun.
The tall, thin young man witht he cockscomb of purple hair who faced Kino in the evening round taunted her in much the same way as the first man, but added a sinister chuckle.
If they awarded points for style, Kino reflected, I might be in trouble.
Her new opponent had no weapons in his hands. He was dressed in some sort of loose, black garment, with a thick cummerbund covered in thin metal scales, each about the length of his palm.
Kino thought it was armor until he pulled a scale from the collection and tossed it away. it spun through the air, then turned and started back to him like a throwing star or boomerang. At this point, he raised his left arm, holding it straight out from his body. From his wrist to his left ankle, a swath of cloth stretched, like the wing of a flying squirrel.
The little throwing star flew into the cloth and stuck.
Kino blinked. The cloth was actually absorbing the little bit of razor-sharp metal. As it vanished from sight, the young man put his left hand to his right shoulder, and with his right hand tapped his belly. The two gestures together looked like some sort of comical salute, but when he moved his right hand away from the cummerbund, the metal scale had reappeared among its fellows.
He chuckled, watching Kino's face. "See? I invented these throwing stars myself. Handmade. And very obedient; they all return to their master."
Ooo, thought Kino. Scary. Aloud, she said, "Please surrender. I will accept your submission in good faith and will cause you no harm."
"No, I don't think I shall. You could surrender, of course, but I will only accept.... from your ghost." He laughed again, the same sinister, obviously well-practiced laugh that he had greeted her with. He pressed both hands against his belly, crouched, and glared up at her.
Kino's right hand glided down toward the Cannon. She released the thumb break without taking her eyes from her adversary.
The fanfare sounded on cue.
Purple Cockscomb made an elegant gesture with his left hand, and with his right, grabbed one of the metal scales, and flicked it at Kino. He threw another and another.
Kino leapt to the right, dodging the throwing stars, knowing they would reverse direction somewhere behind her. The man continued to throw, aiming now to Kino's right. She dodged again to the left.
But Purple Cockscomb didn't throw all of his scales at once; about half their number were still attached to his strange sash. Reading Kino's wariness, he began a gyrating dance, thrusting his hips this way and that and taunting her, "They're behind you. Now turning. Now heading back. If I throw the rest, can you dodge them coming from both sides?"
Kino glanced behind her, and saw that he was right; the scales had turned.
"DIE!" the man screamed, and hurled the rest, his hands a blur. They flew straight for Kino.
She dove flat to the ground.
Purple Cockscomb snarled in disbelief.
Kino looked up as the throwing star whistled over her head. they returned obediently to their master, who curled his lip and unfurled his cloth wing to reabsorb them --
-- Just as Kino fired the Cannon from the ground.
There was a terrible roar and a puff of smoke. The bullet struck the man squarely on the one metal scale still clinging to his sash. The force of impact drove the scale deep into his belly. he uttered a horrid, strangled cry and froze, mouth open, eyes wide and blank. He staggered, swaying from side to side like a metronome, gasping for air.
From behind her, a whisper of sound tugged at Kino's ears. She shot her aponnent a second time in the right thigh.
He shuddered and fell over, bleeding from his leg, as the second wave of metal scales passed harmlessly over him.
Kino returned to her underground room, lit a candle, put her guns on the narrow bed, and took off her jacket.
"Ah, Kino. When did you get back?" asked Hermes groggily.
"Just now. We're staying here tonight."
"Meaning you didn't surrender. Thought so. Sweet dreams." Hermes fell asleep again.
He's sleeping a lot, even for him, Kino thought. But she had little energy left to worry about Hermes' laziness now.
The next morning, Kino woke at dawn. She stayed abed until the room lightened enough for her to see her hands in front of her face. Then she rose, washed her face, and cleaned and reloaded the cylinder she'd fired the day before.
Breakfast was more survival rations. Followed by limbering exercises. Afterward, she did some training with the Woodsman, and then with the Cannon.
A little while later, the guards came to take her into the coliseum.
Hermes slept.
Her first opponent that day looked at her in inscrutable silence. He was an older man, short and sturdy, with long brown hair and a beard so full it was hard to tell where it ended and his hair began. Deep lines were etched around his eyes.
He wore a baggy and filthy robe, which made him look like a mendicant monk. There was an odd bulge beneath his robe, behind his right shoulder. Kino couldn't tell whether this was a disfiguring hump or something artificial. He had no visible armor or weapons. Instead, he carried a gilded trombone.
Okay. A mendicant musician, then. She could almost imagine him playing on street comer s for his meals.
She looked him over carefully, then called out, "If you surrender now, I will accept."
The mendicant musician did not verbally respond, though his right fist tightened.
Kino flipped off the Cannon's thumb break.
As the trumpets sounded, the mendicant musician snapped his horn upward, so that the bell pointed directly at Kino.
Kino drew the Cannon and fired. The bullet struck the flared rim of the horn's bell, knocking it sharply to the right. Instead of sound, the trombone spewed a purple, gelatinous liquid. It arced through the air and burst into flame, collecting on the ground in a small, fiery lake.