Chapter 9: Qualifier

"Well," that's a thing," Bjorn said with a grin. "Nice to meet you too, Athos."

Estelle gave me a smile and a nod but didn't say anything.

"Talking like this is certainly easier than scratching words in the dirt and pointing," Marcus said, grinning.

"I know, right?" Murray translated for me. "I thought I was never going to get you to give me the word for 'tree'."

"Hey, in my defense, you walked up to the thing, looked at it, looked at me, and then cocked your head. I thought you just needed to pee but were feeling shy."

Pfffbbtt.

"Hello, Athos," Marza whispered in her soft furry-alien whisper voice. "I'm glad you're finally able to speak. I know how hard it can be."

"Thanks! I'm glad too. I've been wanting to talk with you all because there's so much! All of this is new—this world, this body, thinking—and I wanted to talk about it but talking is hard, you know?"

I bounced around to face the proprietor in all his deep-yellow glory.

"Hey, Mr. Simon Demon! You mentioned that it was possible to go home again by way of your place?"

Simon chuckled, seeming bemused. "Indeed. I take it you are interested?"

"Yup! What do I need to do?"

"It's a simple process. I'll put out inquiries to find the specific domain that—"

"Excuse me," I said, cutting him off. "What's a 'domain'?"

He paused, considering. "It's a [something] region within a Realm. It has space and time but also a unique identity. For example, our dear hammer-bearer comes from a particular spacetime that contained a port named Bolmere, and he refers to his afterlife as the Dim. The Dim is a domain, the spacetime that contains Bolmere is a domain, and both are part of the same Realm while being distinct from and overlaid upon each other. Some Realms contain [something] interconnected domains—"

"Oi, Simon! Cuddit out wid dah fancy talk! Our boy here's got a limited vocab in this 'English' language and Dog ain't got nuttin' fah dis!"

Simon looked down his nose at my translator. "Murray, it's your job to convey the information, not the [something]'s job to simplify their speech. If you can't even—"

"Eh, shaddup fah a second, crabface." Still hovering, Murray turned to me. "Look, it's simple. A Realm is made a' multiple woilds all on top a' each uddah like pages in a book. The separate woilds are called domains. There's always some way to move between the various domains in a Realm. Most common way to move between domains is ta die; which domain yah soul moves to depends on dah rules a' ya cultcha and yah own poisahnal beliefs. Make sense?"

"Yes, thank you." Mom always told Cassie to say her pleases and thank-yous, so I figured I should do the same. "So, Simon—what do I do to get home?"

"As I was saying, I'll put inquiries out to find a domain that serves as an afterlife you could access. Once it's found, you can travel through there"—he hooked a taloned thumb towards the door behind him—"and into that domain, then from there to your original spacetime, although you may need to move through multiple domains along the way. I can't guarantee where you'll come out in your final spacetime, although I should be able to get you to a planet that contains [something]s representative of your source culture. That will probably be your birth planet. Once there, you'll need to arrange your own travel. There will of course be a nominal fee of three Spirit to start the process, if you're interested." He extended his pen towards me in offer.

That...sounded like a lot, honestly. Still, I had enough to spare and it was better than not having a chance. Loneliness stabbed at me at the reminderer of just how far I was from my family; if it would get me back to them then three Spirit was fine. I started to step forward, raising my paw and bracing myself for the pain of touching the quill.

"Hold on there!" Marcus said, stepping between me and Simon. "Never trust these guys, Athos. Always get a written contract."

Simon rolled his eyes. "What is it with humans? This office has never once been found in violation of contract, yet you're all so distrusting. It says more about you than us, I'd say. Classic projection."

"And yet, he still wants a written contract," Estelle said calmly. "Right Athos?"

Honestly, it didn't seem that important—Simon had already said that he'd ask around, and I didn't think he'd need a reminder note for something so simple—but I figured it would be nice to humor my friends. "Thank you, that would be lovely."

Grumbling, Simon conjured a scroll out of thin air and started scribbling on it, the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he did. "We can keep it simple," he said. "Three Spirit et erogatio for locating the domain, refund of two Spirit if I can't find it within ten local days. Once I have it located we'll move forward with discussion of entry fees, transit methods and such." He finished the writing with a flourish and turned the contract towards me.

I stepped forward and examined it; he'd been nice enough to write it in English instead of Ozurdati, so it was easy to understand.

"I can't read that," Marcus said, crowding in under my head so that he could see the writing.

"It's in English," I said via Murray. "That's my home language." I paused. "Well, I mean, it's my family's language. My home language is obviously Dog, but we don't have a written—"

"You shouldn't sign this without someone else reading it over for you," Marcus said, rudely interrupting me.

Hrmph. What, did he think I was stupid? I could read perfectly well!

I ran an eye over the scroll that Simon was patiently holding open for me. It said exactly what he had said, except with some extra details...hm.

"What's that bit?" I asked, pointing at the two unfamiliar words.

"That? Oh, just standard legalese. 'Et erogatio' means 'and standard expenses'. It covers minor costs like processing fees, delivery fees, that sort of thing. There's a list if you're interested, but it's all minor stuff. Nothing over five mana."

"Five mana total or five mana each?" Marcus demanded.

Simon looked irritated. "Excuse me, are you this gentledog's solicitor? I'm trying to converse with my customer and you keep interrupting. Unless you're his solicitor, I'm going to have to ask you to stop interfering in my practice of business."

"Is it important?" I asked Marcus. "Five mana isn't much when I'm already paying three Spirit." After all, a single point of Spirit could refill my entire 1,000-MP mana pool.

"If it's a max of five mana then no, it's not a big deal. If he's allowed to put a hundred different five-mana charges on the bill then yes, it's a lot."

Let's see...five mana, one hundred times was five hundred. That was half of my total mana pool and I recovered a hundred and twenty-two per day. Five hundred mana was a fair bit, but it wasn't that bad if I got to see home again.

"Here, I'll make it explicit just so we can move things along," Simon said, scribbling on the scroll. The words bumped over to make space as he changed 'et erogatio' to 'et erogatio (maximum 5 mana)'. "Is that satisfactory, sir?"

"Athos, tell him to translate it to Ozurdati so I can read it," Marcus said, his voice tight. "These demons will cheat you if you give them the chance."

Simon glared. "Excuse me! I do not appreciate such racist slurs! You don't hear me throwing around words like 'pusbubble' or 'meatbag', do you? I let it go earlier when you claimed that demons and imps were the same, but—" He cut himself off and took a deep breath. "You know what? I don't wish to do further business with any of you. Please leave."

"Wait!" I yelped. "I need to get home! Please, don't kick us out."

He shook his head firmly. "No. I am a decent, hardworking demon and I don't need to tolerate this sort of abuse. Please leave, all of you."

"Aw, c'mon, Simon," Murray said. "Give the kid a break. Ain't his fault his friend is a tool."

"No."

"Hey Boss, you willin' ta pay a little extra?" Murray asked me. "Simon here woiks on commision. Make it five Spirit and he'll probably stop being such an oversensitive wuss."

"I am not oversensitive, Murray! I'm simply tired of the abuse that I get from these mortals. As I said, neither I nor any other employee of this office has ever been found to violate a contract, yet this ugly squeaker is saying that I'm a cheat? I won't stand for it!"

"Five Spirit is good!" I yelped. "I'll pay five!"

"Athos, don't!" Marcus told me, holding up both hands. "It's dangerous. We can—"

"I am not losing my chance to get home, Marcus!"

"Here you are," Simon said, setting a new scroll down on the counter and tossing the old one in the garbage. He unrolled it and I read it over:

For a fee of five (5) Spirit et erogatio, PortalCo Representative #67981492, hereinafter 'Simon', agrees to make inquiry for a path from the local domain to a domain via which Athos the dog (hereinafter 'Customer') could return to his/her own home spacetime. Said route shall be free of barriers, natural or otherwise, that would render the path impassable for a being of Customer's size, bodily form, available methods of locomotion, and other limitations as applicable. Customer understands that all travel, including dimensional travel, carries risk of injury and/or death and that there may be tolls, tariffs, guardians, hostile albeit survivable environments, and/or other challenges on the path, and that said path may traverse one or more domains between its endpoints. Customer shall pay three (3) Spirit at time of signing with the balance due when the Customer enters the route, or at sunrise on the fourth local day after delivery, whichever shall come first. If Simon cannot find an adequate route within ten (10) local days (defined as sunrise-to-sunrise periods) then the unpaid two (2) Spirit balance will be forgiven.

I slapped my paw on the quill that Simon helpfully held out, endured the pain, and signed on the dotted line.

o-o-o-o

Chatting with Murray made the limp back to the caravansary much more bearable, despite how much the scooped-out chunk of my right front pad hurt. At least I wasn't dripping blood everywhere; Estelle had bandaged it for me, moving with the calm speed of experience. And sure, the city was still full of noises and annoying people and stuff, but I was super excited: I might get to see my people again! And, almost as good, I finally had someone I could talk to! And he even spoke fluent Dog! And his ears and tail looked like mine, so he didn't have an accent! It was such a relief. I may have talked his ears a little bit off. Estelle and Bjorn kept looking at me in amusement as I chuffed and huffed and barked and flipped my ears and tail at Murray the whole way. (Marcus was riding me so I couldn't see his face and Marza didn't have a face, but they were probably looking at me funny too. I didn't care.)

We got back as the sun was going down; the owner, a fat human named Daro, was waiting at the door and looking jittery. He closed it the moment we were in, the doors closing almost on my tail. I gave him a Look but didn't say anything.

"Hey, Boss, did ya wants me ta translate dat?"

{Nope. Thanks.}

Daro had finished putting the bar across the gates. After Murray spoke, Daro eyed me uncertainly and backed up. Marza had already glided off towards her room, clearly eager to get back to the smols and share the warmth of her hellstone purchase. The rest of the group was looking back and forth between me and Daro, unsure of what was happening.

I huffed and Murray translated. "Don't worry, I'm not mad. You almost caught my tail in the door, but I'm sure you didn't mean anything by it." Murray turned to me and added. "Seriously, Boss, ya too nice. Shouldn't let people go doin' dat stuff witout sayin' nuttin' or dey'll lose all respect fo' ya. Take it from me, dis Realm is a tough place. Innocents don't do so good. Givin' 'im a little nip would'n be a bad plan."

{Quiet,} I glared.

"Ey, don' blame da messenja, right? You wants to be all goody-goody, dat's on you. I'm jes tryin'a help." He snorted and shut up, although he kept mumbling under his breath. I caught the occasional word or phrase ("stupid customers", "aeons of wisdom", "do they listen? Nooo"), but I ignored them with lofty disregard.

"Hey, look who's back!" Eugene said, appearing from the darkness between us and the dining hall. "How'd it go, buddy? Did you get a translator?"

"Yup!" I said by way of Murray. "This is Murray! He's an imp!"

Murray stopped talking when I did. After a moment I nudged the fat little hovering guy. {Say hello.}

"Us translatah imps generally ain't supposed to be chattin' wid nobody but uddah PortalCo reps and our Boss, Boss. Not unless'n ya sez to. But, tanks." He turned back to Eugene. "I'm Murray. I'm da translatah imp fah da big guy heah. Pleased ta meetcha." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the imp on Marcus's shoulder. "For my good deeds, I been pahtahned wid dat ugly lump'a muck ovah dere. His name's Zabazel, but ya can jes call 'im Grouchy. We all does."

Zabazel glared daggers at Murray but didn't say anything.

"Cool, cool," Eugene said. "Let's get you guys put away. Athos, I had the kitchen put a bowl together for you. Figured you'd be hungry. Rest of you can find something in the dining hall if you hurry. I talked them into staying open a little longer."

Marcus didn't move for a moment, then he dismounted and patted my shoulder. "Let me get this tack off you and—"

"Don't worry, I got it," Eugene said with a smile. "You did great work today. Got the caravan in earlier than expected, found a good place...really took care of things. I appreciate it. Least I can do is let you get some food and a drink while I take care of the chores."

"I'll do it," Marcus said coldly. "I rode him, I'll take care of him."

"It's okay," Murray translated for me. "You haven't eaten since noon, you must be starved. And I know that Simon guy stressed you out. Go get some nibbles. Eugene can untie a couple ropes." I snooted him dining-hall-wards.

He looked sour but then nodded and turned towards the warm firelight that came from inside the building. Bjorn was already moving in that direction. Estelle looked from Eugene to me to the retreating Marcus, then turned and followed her friend. I hadn't quite sorted out the relationship between the two of them; they never smelled of each other or of sex but they were rarely far apart.

Eugene stepped close and studied the makeshift saddle that Marcus had tied on me. A few tugs and the whole thing slid off into his arms.

"Damn, that must have hurt," he said, bundling the ropes up into the blanket. "You're a good guy to not complain."

I huffed dismissively; Murray kept his mouth shut, sensing that I felt no need for translation. In truth, the ropes had pinched a little bit across my back, right at the base of my ruff, but it hadn't been a big deal.

"Okay, whatever you say. C'mon, lets get you some food. After that, how about a bath? You're a little ripe."

I turned my head so I could sniff my shoulder. "Am not," I said via Murray. "I smell like dog, just as I should. Your puny human nose is wrong." I was delighted that Murray even translated my offended tone correctly.

Eugene laughed. "Okay, okay. C'mon, food's over here." He led me to one of the water-filled troughs; tucked in at the end of it was a tub three feet across filled with a random assortment of meat, rice, gravy, veggies, fruits, and other deliciousness. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I told them to put in a little bit of everything. I hope it's okay."

I sniffed at it carefully, then shoved my face into the bowl and started devouring the contents. It was delicious, and the aroma had set my stomach growling as a reminder that I hadn't eaten anything except slightly gamey lizard meat for days.

Eugene watched me eat for a minute, a smile on his face at my clear enjoyment. "Hey, I wanted to ask a favor," he said, once I started to slow down.

I lifted my head in curiosity. {Hm?}

"I signed up for the tournament tomorrow, but it's a team event. I don't have the option to not go in; I sank every penny I had into the caravan so that I could hunt up that Rare skill—I planned to make my investment back by selling an unlock to someone, but that didn't work out. Still, the Hellsport tournaments are worth a penny or three and I figure I can make enough to pay the rent until I can do some trade. Anyway, I need a partner if I want to fight. I put your name down because I had to list somebody. If you're not down for it then I'll find someone else and they can pretend their name is Athos, but I'd rather have you. You in?"

I blinked. Fight in a tournament? What?

{What's he talking about, Murray?}

{Two teams of two go into a round Park and fight. You can tuck your tail or run if you want. Last Dog standing in the Park wins for their team. Peoples give treats to the best Dog.}

{We're supposed to bite?!}

{Eh. You can bite, or shoulder-barge, or smack them around. If they tuck tail or run away or you bat them out of the middle of the Park then they lose.}

{And it's four Dogs?}

He shook his fat little head, looking frustrated. "Nah. I was tryin'a speak native so da lummox here didn't get it but, like I said at da shop, Dog gotta weak conceptual framewoik and limited vocabyalary—it's fine fah you wit' your sophont-level intelligence, and I can read yer spirit to get yer intent, but conveyin' it back is limited ta what the language naturally got, ya feel me?

"Anyway, dis city's got a buncha small arenas, mostly fah duels, theater, exhibitions, dat kinda t'ing. Den dere's a few big arenas fah da Grand Tournament and da qualifiah fights. Dey have all kinds a' stuff—duels, battle royale, team fights, whatevah. Geney-boy's talkin' about da two-on-twos, which are generally da qualifiahs fah dah big tournaments. Da demon's set da place up and put up barriahs to keep da people in da stands safe soahs da fightahs can go ta town.

"Killin's allowed but ya don't gotta. Ya can jes knock 'em outta da ring, knock 'em out, or make 'em surrendah. Da prize money's pretty good, 'specially in da higha level fights. Fightahs can be any species. Dogs ain't dat common in dah fights—it's usually jes sophonts, aldough sometimes ya'll see a battle summon or a familiah or somethin'. Also, dis part'a da Realm is mostly human-occupied. Hellsport's a little more cosmahpalitan den da area around it, but still mostly humans last I checked, so dat's what ya'd most likely be facin'."

I frowned. I was supposed to go into a park and hurt humans?

I side-eyed Eugene, but he was standing there, waiting patiently with a hopeful look.

"What happens if I don't?" I asked via translation.

Eugene shrugged. "It's probably fine. Hopefully I can find someone else to fill in—maybe Marcus or Bjorn would do it. I'm sure Estelle would, but she's a ranged fighter so not good for a tournament match; too likely to get killed if she can't maintain distance, and a lot of the people around here think it's easier to kill than disable. That's why I was hoping to get you as a partner—you're strong enough that we'd be less likely to get hurt, and we could probably afford not to kill the other team." He shifted his weight, the confidence slipping for a moment. "If I can't find anyone...well...I guess we could sell the wagons? And I could sell off some of my primary Skills; I've got a couple Uncommons, so that would cover the bills for a few days, although it would make it harder to earn coin, and more dangerous to travel when we eventually decide to leave. After that...well, I guess we could get out of the city. Couldn't go back to Ozurdati broke—they'd strip my Citizenship—but there's other towns in the area." He paused. "If it helps, the tournaments usually net a bunch of Attunement."

"I'm pretty set. I get nineteen hundred Attunement a day from Supreme Exemplar and all my Skills except Spiritual Transference are maxed," I said absently. I was still chewing on the idea of deliberately going into a fight against humans. There was a human expression that I remembered seeing on the noisybox a few times: 'It went against everything I believed in.' That didn't even begin to cover it for me; loyalty to family and to humans in general was what made a dog a good dog. It was literally bred into us, deeper than bones, thicker than blood.

Still...Eugene was my friend, and he was clearly in a real jam, despite how he was trying to downplay it. We would be facing strangers, hopefully even non-humans. I owed strangers a lot less loyalty than I owed friends...and, also, I was a guardian. Not one of those yappy little annoyances that rich women carried in their purses. Not one of those stupid poodles, flouncing around putting on airs. I was big, and strong, and bred to keep my friends and family safe. That was the other side of being a good dog: Defending my Peoples against any threat. If anyone had ever tried to hurt Mom, Dad, or Cassie, I would have bitten the schmuck without thinking twice, human or not. Bitten them multiple times if necessary. Eugene had said he was going to fight no matter what; could I really let him risk himself without being there to protect him? Would a good dog simply take a nap when their friend was in danger?

"Hey, it's cool," Eugene said, giving me a brave smile. "I don't want to push you into anything you're not comfortable with. I'll ask one of the others." He turned towards the kitchen.

"No," I said through Murray. "I'll do it. Let's just not hurt the other people if we don't have to."

Eugene's face creased in a giant smile. "Fantastic! Our fight is at eleven, so you should get some sleep. Need to be well rested." He clapped me on the shoulder. "See you in the morning, A-dog!" He turned and strode off, leaving me standing in the gloaming courtyard, alone except for Murray.

"Ain't no way dis can go wrong," the little imp noted.

{Hush.}

o-o-o-o

Marcus came out to check on me after dinner; my blunky new body was so big I definitely couldn't share a human bed with any of my friends—in fact, it was so big that I had to squeeze through human-sized doors! Instead, Marcus arranged for me to get a stall in the stable and for Daro to cover the floor of it in a nice thick layer of straw with several heavy blankets on top to keep me from getting poked too much. It was pretty comfy, all things considered. I tried to thank Marcus with a thorough slurping but he ducked away, laughing, so I settled for the much less satisfying use of words. Hmph.

Comfy as the stall was, I wiggled and sighed all night. Somewhere I'd swallowed a bunch of squiggly things and they were fluttering around in my stomach, tying it in knots. I was supposed to fight humans tomorrow. I was going to have to swat them, knock them around, maybe even bite them. What kind of dog did that?

I spent a little while curling and uncurling, standing up to turn in a circle before lying down again, and occasionally whining softly about the state of the universe. Eventually I gave up and spent a little time browsing the Skillweb, hoping it would tire me out. Also, if I was going to be fighting tomorrow (eep?!) then it seemed like a good idea to pick up any boosts I could get. I still had almost nine thousand Attunement burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket. (Tangential thought: As much as I liked humans, I would never want to be one...but pockets sure did look useful. And thumbs. Mustn't forget the thumbs.)

The first thing I unlocked was an Uncommon node that I'd noticed yesterday.

Unlock for 1,296 Attunement? (Yes) / (No)

I tapped on 'Yes', hoping that this wouldn't turn out to be a big waste like some higher-ranked Modify Flavor.

Mystic Acceleration Rank: Uncommon Duration: 5 seconds Max Level: 10

You may tap into the power of magic to speed your movements. N mana = N% faster.

This Skill may be used no more than (Level) times per day.

This Skill generates 1 Attunement per 1 mana spent. As with all levelable skills, the Attunement goes to level up the skill until it reaches max, after which it goes into the owner's general fund.

I bought that one without having to think twice! I wish I'd had this back home; I might have been able to keep up with Bo, that silver-colored greyhound from the dog park.

I pushed the stall door open and padded out to the courtyard, trying not to favor the paw that I'd sacrificed to Simon's quill. It felt like there were hot steel splinters in it, but I made myself ignore the pain and walk normally. I needed to be ready for tomorrow; that meant practicing my skills, which meant walking, but more importantly I needed to practice hiding the pain. I couldn't afford to show weakness in the arena tomorrow; that was the quickest way to get a challenger calling you out in the park.

Murray floated along behind me while muttering under his breath about how he'd been having a lovely nap and why did we have to be up and blah blah blah. I ignored him and positioned myself next to the kitchen with my nose pointed at the closed gate of the caravansary.

{Mystic Acceleration} I thought, shoving a hundred mana into the Skill—

Except I couldn't.

{Murray,} I asked, {why can't I use this new Skill?}

Murray yawned. "How should I know, Boss? First guess would be dat ya either didn't use enough mana to pay the activation cost or maybe ya tried to pay more than yer Channeling stat. Ya can't spend more in one go than yer Channeling. Or maybe there's some requirement on it dat ya don't meet? What's da Skill?"

Hrmph. My Channeling was 27, so I dumped 27 mana into it and mentally shouted {Mystic Acceleration}!

Shimmers of blue heat swooshed over my fur and I leaped forward, toenails scratching for purchase on the rounded cobbles of the courtyard and failing to find it. I was moving faster than my body expected so I ended up going down in a spraddled heap. Murray started laughing so hard there were tears flowing from his eyes.

{It wasn't that funny,} I grumbled.

{It was a little funny,} he replied, the flicker of his ears expressing benign intent so that the statement came off as sympathetic instead of mocking.

{Yeah, well—}

Skill Up! Your Mystic Acceleration Skill has earned 27 Attunement! Mystic Acceleration is now level 2. Progress to next level: 7/30.

I swatted the box away, then got my legs sorted out and stood up, readying myself for another try. This time I crouched down low and made sure my feet were well braced before activating the Skill and leaping forward.

If pratfalling had been funny, apparently misjudging my stopping distance and bonking my nose on the gate was hilarious. Murray turned over so he was floating on his back in midair, his little legs kicking and his fat belly jiggling from how hard he was laughing.

Skill Up! Your Mystic Acceleration Skill has earned 27 Attunement! Mystic Acceleration is now level 3. Progress to next level: 4/40.

I swatted the message away, then licked my throbbing nose. That didn't help, so I rubbed at it gently with one paw, hoping to brush the pain away. I'd actually taken 2 HP of damage from slamming into the heavy wooden gate and my nose was now hurting more than the spikey pulsing in my paw from where I'd signed Simon's deal, or the dull ache in my shoulder from where I'd jammed it on the cobbles walking into the city.

With a sigh, I got up and got back in position by the kitchen. It was important that I get this thing leveled up as much as possible so that I could use it more often; I still had one more use of it today, so let's get it over with.

I had learned my lessons; I braced myself before pushing off and I started slowing down sooner than normal. I skidded a little before coming to a complete stop, but at least I kept my paws under me, despite the shrilling pain in the injured one.

{Good job, Boss! You learned that quick.}

{Thanks. Also, ow.}

Murray gave me a gape-jawed doggy grin, lolling the long tongue that he had not had a moment ago. I gave him a sour look and then put my snoot in the air with a disgruntled hmph! and went back to my stall to lie down.

I was done with the active part of the evening, but I still made myself spend the rest of my Attunement. Two Common nodes yielded Physique +1 and Recovery +1, both of which I purchased. Unlocking Recovery +1 revealed another Uncommon node, but Mr. FloatyBox wanted to charge me 4,374 Attunement to unlock it so I said no and moved off to another part of the web. There I managed to unlock and acquire Spirit +1. I unlocked a Channeling +1 for 1,641 Attunement but didn't have enough to acquire it so I left it for tomorrow. It was time to sleep.

I stood up, circling twice around to get settled, then deciding to throw in a third circle for good measure. I lay down, my floofy tail keeping my throbbing nose warm, and closed my eyes. Yup. Time to sleep.

...Okay, definitely ready for sleep.

...Sleeeeeeeep.

I was not sleeping. Stupid brain.

Tomorrow, I was going into an arena and would be expected to hurt humans. Just as bad, they were going to be trying to hurt me. Humans weren't supposed to hurt dogs; they yelled at us if we were bad, and on two occasions Mom and Dad had given me a swat on the bum. (The first time was Mom, after my discussion with Mr. Pooperkins which I still assert did not require human intervention. As to the second time...I mean, how was I supposed to know that I wasn't invited to Thanksgiving dinner? Everyone else was off setting tables or pouring waters and the turkey was sitting right there on the counter, only two feet above nose level.) It sounded like tomorrow our opponents were going to be trying to do a lot more than swat me on the bum.

I really wish I had tried to talk Eugene into finding a different solution than fighting.

o-o-o-o

"You ready?"

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the sand on the other side of the portcullis.

We stood in the arena's northern entrance tunnel, a few feet back from the gate so that we were hidden in the shadows. Eugene was leaning calmly against the wall, studying the edge of his sword for nicks. Beside him was a pair of his wicker mouse cages, over a dozen mice between them.

Through the grate I could see the arena itself: mostly circular, fifty yards across, sandy floor. A brownish-yellow ring was painted on the ground twenty feet from the wall, marking the area that counted as a ring-out.

From where we stood I could see the portcullis blocking the tunnel opposite us, as well as an arc of the stands. They were half-full and the people in the seats seemed distracted, more focused on their books or conversations than on the arena. I could hear food and drink vendors plying their trade; the scent of roasted meat was heavy in the air and somewhere nearby a band was playing music with a heavy beat and lots of brass.

Eugene finished with his sword and slipped it back into the sheath. "Remember," he said, "absorbing a new posthumous Skill drains mana out of you and it can knock you on your butt if you drain your pool and a Spirit unravels to refill it. If one of us gets hit and goes down, the other one has to keep an eye on them. If one of the other team goes down, take them out before they get up again." He gestured towards the cages. "I brought mice to soak up anything flying around, so hopefully we don't have to worry about getting hit ourselves."

"Or we could just not kill anyone?"

"Sure, that's an option." He glanced down. "How's your foot? From what you told me, that pen really messed you up. If you can't fight then I need to know."

I sat down and raised my paw to show that it still had a big gouge in it but it was a lot better than it had been, and the pain was mostly gone. I neglected to mention the general feeling of exhaustion and achiness that had resulted from having four Spirit drained out of me. One of them had regenerated overnight and the extra point that I had bought from the Skillweb helped with the discomfort. There was still discomfort.

"High four," I demanded. Murray rolled his eyes after translating; apparently he felt I was being silly.

Eugene laughed and slapped his hand on my pads. He accidentally caught me on the wound and a little harder than he meant to; it sent a flash of pain through me. I suppressed the wince, determined not to seem weak.

"Let's do this," Eugene said. "You sure I can't ride you?"

I huffed in the negative, not taking my eyes off the arena. As appealing as the idea of being a Mighty Wardog had seemed, once I thought about it I realized it was a bad plan. I needed to be able to move fast and freely, and possibly roll over my opponents. Having a rider would be too limiting.

"No, dumbass," Murray said.

{Hey!} I said, glaring at him. {I did not say it like that!}

"Really? Ya sure felt annoyed. I was jes tryin'a capture da essence of da thought."

{Well, capture it more politely! There's no need to be rude.} I nodded towards Eugene, who looked annoyed and hurt. {And apologize to him. Explain that you mistranslated.}

Murray rolled his beady little eyes. "Ugh. Fine. Oy, meatsack. Da Boss says I gots ta apologize fah mistranslatin' or sometin'. He did not mean to calls you a dumbass, no matta how stupid ya question was or how many times he's a'ready said no."

{Murray!}

"What? I needed to explain da nature of dah error."

{Be polite to my friends! And apologize for hurting his feelings.}

Murray snorted. "Dis guy is ya friend? Fine, watevah." He looked back to Eugene. "Anywayz, I guess I regrets hearin' dat youze feelings was hoit."

I gave him a tongue-loll of approval. {See? Doesn't it make you feel better to take responsibility for your mistakes?}

"Sure, watevah."

Eugene snorted in amusement. "We need to work on your understanding of subtext," he told me.

I started to ask what 'subtext' meant, but a wave of sound from inside the arena distracted me.

A big yellow demon had appeared in the center of the arena. He was taller than Simon, maybe eight feet, covered in fine scales, and had three thick fingers on each hand and foot. Two horns came out the sides of his head and curled upwards in wicked points. A third horn came from his forehead and jutted straight forward a good six inches. A headbutt from him would be very painful.

"WELCOME, DEAR AUDIENCE, TO TODAY'S FIRST QUALIFIER BOUT!" he called, his voice booming out such that it would be clearly audible in the top row. "THE GRAND TOURNAMENT IS THE MOST EXCITING, MOST LUCRATIVE, MOST DRAMATIC EVENT OF THE YEAR—BUT IT'S NOT FOR EVERYONE! NO, ONLY THE BEST ARE ALLOWED IN, AND THE WINNER OF TODAY'S BATTLE WILL BE ONE STEP CLOSER TO PROVING THEMSELVES WORTHY!"

I winced back from his ear-splitting volume. I was glad he was facing the other way, because his voice was virtually a weapon of its own. Not only was it loud, it sounded like a half-dozen straight razors grinding their blades together.

"THE RULES FOR TODAY'S BATTLE ARE SIMPLE! GET INTO THE RING WITHIN THIRTY SECONDS AFTER THE GATES DROP OR YOU LOSE! YOU CAN WIN BY RING-OUT, KNOCK OUT, SURRENDER, OR BY JUST GIVING THE AUDIENCE WHAT WE ALL WANT AND RIPPING THE ENEMY'S GUTS OUT THROUGH HIS FACE!"

A wave of cheers went around the stands. The seating was still only half-full, but the people had stopped being distracted and become downright enthusiastic. It made my stomach flip over.

"ENOUGH OF THIS JIBBER-JABBER! YOU READY TO SEE THESE MORTALS GET IT ON?!"

The crowd roared.

"CONTESTANTS, YOU MAY BEGIN WHEN THE GATES DROP IN THREE...TWO...ONE...!"

The announcer vanished in a puff of smoke ("Show off," Murray muttered) and the portcullis plummeted down into a slot in the floor, leaving us a clear path to the sands.

"Remember!" Eugene snapped. "Keep them off of me until I can get the Fist charged up! Now go go go!" He slapped me on the flank and I surged forward onto the sands, crossing the space between me and the discolored ring in two long bounds. Across from me, the enemy was emerging from the shadows of their tunnel. They were a pair of nagas, like the ones at the gate—human torso, body of a snake—except far larger. The one on the left carried a pair of double-bladed axes. The one on the right carried a spiked buckler in his left hand and a wand in his right.

Oh, thank Family: They weren't human. They weren't human, and they were here to hurt Eugene.

I lunged to meet them, teeth bared as blue fire washed across my fur.