David Baldacci - The Finisher

“Gotta question for ya, Vega,” he said at last.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Roman,” I replied with a smile.

“You’ve beat three males, including Non here. And you done this in your very first Duelum. You done this while almost losing to Cletus here, who’s a fine Wug but not in the league-a Non or even the lad you fought this light.” He rubbed his chin with his greasy hand. “Now, tell me, how can that be?”

“I’m a quick learner and I got better.”

“And stronger. And faster. And everything, it seems. Non here tells me you laid him out with one blow. And put a dent in his metal.”

I looked up at Non, whose face still held the marks of the beating I had given him. If expressions could slaughter, I would be buried in pieces in the Hallowed Ground. “I guess he doesn’t match up well with me in the Duelum.”

Cletus snorted, which drew as condescending a stare as I could possibly make. “If you want a second go at me, Loon, I’ve no issue with that.” I made a little lunge in his direction and he fell backward on his arse on the cobblestones.

Digby laughed out loud at this before catching himself and then aiming another chunk of slop at my boot and, again, missing his target. Cletus scrambled to his feet, his face a sheet of red.

Roman was still staring at me. “Curious and curious,” he said, rubbing his chin so hard I thought he would take skin and whiskers off. “I think I’ll have a talk with Council. ’Tain’t right for no Wugs to have unfair advantage in a Duelum.”

“I completely agree,” I said. “So the next Wug who outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds with arms bigger than my legs can just stand on his hands while I hit away.”

“You’re missing my point, female.”

“Then try explaining it in a way that an intelligent Wug can understand.”

“I think you’re cheating!” he snapped. “And so does every other Wug. A female beating the likes-a Non, why, I ask you.”

The fact that I had beaten all of my opponents without the aid of my special weapons made my face flame with indignation. “I’d say the likelihood is one hundred percent, since it happened.” I turned to Non. “And next time you walk into a quad for a Duelum, you might want to remember how I used your own stupid breastplate against you. I didn’t have to employ tricks to beat you, you creta’s arse, when I used your own heavy metal to tire you first and then knock you senseless. All I needed was your being an idiot.”

I stared Non down until the oaf turned and strode angrily off. With him no longer there anchoring their defense, Cletus and Digby picked up their heels and were soon disappearing in the distance.

“I still say you’re cheating,” Roman said.

“Then take it up with Council. I’ll see you to collect my winnings after the Duelum is over. Why should I let Litches McGee have all the fun?”

“You sound pretty confident of victory,” he said suspiciously.

“If I can’t believe in myself, who can?”

I STOPPED BY MYdigs, picked up Harry Two and together we walked to the Care. Since Non was no longer guarding the place, I hurried in and found Duf’s room. I was surprised because they had put him in my parents’ old quarters. I read the nameplate on the door twice to make sure.

I eased the door open and peered in. As I suspected would be the case, Delph was perched on the edge of his father’s cot, rubbing Duf’s head with a wet cloth. I opened the door all the way and Harry Two and I strode in. Delph looked up.

“Duelum?” he said.

“I won.”

“Who’d you fight?”

“Doesn’t matter. How’s Duf?”

I drew closer to the bed and looked down at him. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I stole a glance at his legs, or where his legs used to be. The sheets lay flat against the mattress there, them having nothing of Duf to cover.

Delph replied, “Okay I guess. Timbertoes coming next light.”

I nodded at this. With timbertoes, Duf would be able to hobble about, but that would be all. No more beast training for him. Sometimes, no matter how good he was, a trainer had to run for his life. And you couldn’t do that on timbers.

“I’m so sorry, Delph,” I said.

“’Tain’t your fault, Vega Jane. Accident. Happens.”

I struggled with what to say next. How could I tell him that my brother had redesigned the straps and that had caused them to fail? Would he go and attack my brother and be thrown in Valhall for his troubles?

In the end I said nothing. Delph’s eyes searched my face for a moment and then he looked away and started mopping his father’s brow once more. I looked from father to son.

“Delph?”

He turned again to me.

“The Quag?” I said in a low voice. “After the Duelum?”

I could see the range of emotions flitter across Delph’s face. He looked from me to his father. From me again and then back to his father. And his gaze symbolically held there. He lowered his head.

“S-sorry, Vega Jane.”

I turned away as I felt the tears climb to my eyes. I patted him on the back and said, “I understand, Delph. It’s the right choice. It’s … family.”

I wish I had some left.

I headed to the door.

“Good luck in the Duelum, Vega Jane.”

I turned to see him staring at me.

“I hope you win it all,” he added.

“Thanks,” I said. I left him there with his father. As I walked out into the warmth of the light, I had never felt such cold in my heart.

MY NEXT STOPwas the Council building. I trotted up the steps, passing several Council members who were heading down them. I ignored their surprised looks at traitorous me and opened one of the massive doors that were carved with eagles and lions and what looked to be a slain garm.

This was the first time I had come in the front entrance. My only other visit here had been through the back, in shackles.

I walked in to see a great chamber with soaring ceilings, lighted torches and a temperature that felt about as perfect as was possible. Council members and their staff, more humbly dressed Wugs, most males but some females, were walking to and fro. I had always wondered why such a small place like Wormwood even required a council and along with it a building of such size and opulence. Yet like most of my queries, that one too had remained unanswered.

I walked up to a marble-topped counter where a short, prim-looking female stood dressed in a gray tunic, her white hair pulled so tightly into a bun that her eyes were catlike. She turned her nose up at me and said in an officious voice, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” I said. “Is Thansius here?”

Her nose turned even more upward so I could actually see down both nostrils.

“Thansius? You are seeking Thansius?” she said imperiously.

Her tone implied that I might as well be here for a consult with the Noc.

“Yes, I am.”

“And how are you called?” she asked in a perfunctory voice.

“I am called Vega Jane.”

There was a flicker across her face that indicated she recognized my name.

She said in a friendlier tone, “Course you are. The Duelum.” Her gaze ran over my battered features and she clucked in pity. “Oh my Steeples, your poor face. I’ve seen you around Wormwood, come to think of it. And you were so pretty too. So sad.”

A mixed compliment if ever I’d heard one. “Thanks,” I mumbled in reply. “So is Thansius in?”

She instantly looked more guarded. “And why do you need to speak with him?”