Chapter 14: Holding Court

The next two hours involved a lot of Marcus and Simon saying numbers, a lot of sneering at the other side's numbers, a few barely-contained growls from me, and a lot of mind-numbing jabbering as the minutiae of the contract was hashed out before it finally got signed. Also, a massive amount of pain when I jabbed my paw on that heckin' quill and let it suck sixty Spirit out of me. Still, it didn't go as badly as I had feared; on my first visit, when I had given up a pawful of Spirit to Simon's quill, I had ended up with a big scoop missing from my paw. Given how much more I was going to lose this time I was afraid I would lose my entire leg. The outcome was weirder: I shrank.

Still, painful or not, weird or not, it got us what we needed. I had my ID tag, good for three days, and therefore had protection under the laws of this stupid city. Zabazel and Murray's contracts were expanded so that we could take them into other Realms without losing them. We had acquired for Murray a 'language extractor', a device that looked like a hand-cranked whisk. It would allow him to analyze the 'language centers of a creature's brain' (whatever that meant) in order to give Murray the ability to speak any languages that the subject spoke. We had confirmed that yes, a portal stone would open a portal that would stay open for ten seconds and could transport as many people as could get through it in that time. We had gotten Simon to agree that he would search around for as much detail as he could find on the various domains of our route, although he hadn't been able to promise much.

Most importantly, the initial stabilization was done and Simon was confident that he'd bought us at least three sundowns to raise the necessary 553 Spirit for the rest of the deal. (Marcus had managed to negotiate the overall price down below Simon's supposedly-rock-bottom initial ask, because Marcus was great and Simon was a giant schmuckface.)

From there, we had wended our way to the Guard bastion on 3rd Street to bail out Eugene, at which point we were told that Eugene's concedendum fee was 500 hellstone or he could go to trial. Fortunately, he was willing to concede to the charge of 'contributing to a public health hazard in the fourth degree', since it meant not spending another week in jail until a magistrate became available. I also learned that there are enough strange beings in Hellsport that four-hundred-pound dogs draw only a momentary glance as they walk into the Guard station, but when we speak we make people, especially clerks, freak out at the surprise. It was hilarious.

"I expect you to pay me back," Marcus grumbled as we all walked out. "Not kidding. Rent at the caravansary is paid through the end of the week but getting you out of there burned most of my cash. I've got like, two days of meals at these prices."

"Sure, sure," Eugene said. He turned to me. "Thanks for—" He stopped, staring. "Am I crazy or are you smaller? And your tail is bigger?"

I shrugged. "I had to pay sixty Spirit for something. The first time, when I got Murray, I paid a few points and I lost a chunk of my paw. This time I guess I lost a little from all over."

Eugene considered that. "Right. Well...at least it healed you?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm still down all the hit points and Recuperation, it's just that when I shrank I went back to my original form." My tongue lolled out in a doggy grin. "But it means I got my tail back! And my fur! And my snoot! And I'm not bleeding anymore!"

"...Well, that's good," he said after processing the surprise for a moment. "Really good. Wouldn't want another problem like last time." He glanced around. "Thanks for bringing these guys, Athos. And don't worry—I don't blame you for running. Perfectly understandable that you wouldn't want to get caught too, even though you were the one causing the health hazard."

"What? No I wasn't...I mean...okay, I guess I was the one bleeding, but—"

"Hey, don't sweat it. It's fine—better that I take the fall and you get away to bring someone back with bail. Those Guards were looking to stick us with everything they could, even if they had to make stuff up—which, honestly, is hardly surprising. This whole city is corrupt and the Guards make most of their money off of fines, so they're motivated to charge people. If you had been in jail without a tag they probably would have just killed you. I'm human, so they wouldn't do that to me as long as I was a good little prisoner. Well, and as long as I made sure that I had friends who could show up with bail."

"Oh." I shrunk in on myself a little, looking around nervously.

"Anyway, where do we stand? Marcus, you said you're strapped so I'm guessing you weren't able to sell anything. I guess the merchants here are better negotiators than you're used to, huh?"

"No, I did fine on the negotiations. There's been a market shift that tanked silks, a Patch that tanked honey, and I haven't had time to scout the general goods yet."

"Oh...you did the research on all your own stuff but not on the caravan's?" Eugene looked at Marcus in surprise for a moment, then plastered on a smile. "Well, no problem. I'm sure you'll do fine once you get to it."

"We've been a little busy!" Marcus said. "I spent the morning doing market research and yes, I did my and Estelle's goods first because that was the deal. Then Athos came back saying that you got your fool ass thrown in jail and we had to come bail you out."

"Also, that whole trip to Simon's took a lot of time," I added.

Eugene cocked his head. "Simon? That demon? Why were you going back to him?"

"It's not imp—" Marcus began.

"He found a way for me to go home! I have to go through twenty-seven domains to get there and apparently it's going to be really dangerous with lots of fighting, but Marcus and Estelle are going to come with me and watch my tail."

"Watch your back," Estelle corrected. "'Watch your tail' means something else."

"Like what?"

She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Watching tail is what men say when they stare at womens' asses and think about having sex with them."

I cocked my head in confusion. "That's dumb. Humans don't have tails. Why don't they call it 'watching asses'?"

"No idea. I guess men just aren't that smart."

"Oy!" Marcus said. "Eugene resembles that remark!"

"Fuck you, Marcus," Eugene said, glaring.

"Hey, it's just a joke," Marcus said, grinning. "You can take a joke, right Eugene?"

"I don't get it," I said. "What was the joke?"

"It wasn't funny," Eugene growled, stomping ahead.

Estelle smiled. "It was a little funny."

I shook my head at the dumb humans and hurried to catch up to Eugene as he stomped through the streets in the light of the setting sun.

o-o-o-o

By the time we made it back to the caravansary, it was locked for the night. Eugene pounded on the gate and spent several minutes shouting for the porter to no effect. Then Marcus got fed up. He looked at Estelle and said "Alley oop?" She nodded and took off her pack. The next thing I knew she was running forward, stepping on his interlaced fingers, and leaping up as he threw her into the air. She got her hands on the top of the fifteen-foot wall, pulled herself up and over, and opened the gate from the inside.

"All this and burglars too," Eugene said as we went in, laughing at his own joke. Marcus and Estelle didn't seem to get the joke because they stared pointy things at Eugene's back instead of laughing.

The sun was only just down which, given the fact that it was late winter, meant that it was probably only about seven at night. The main hall of the caravansary was still open; people were inside, talking and laughing, eating and drinking, and doing all the normal human things that people did with friends and family. I missed being around those things. I missed my family. At this time of night, Mom and Dad and Cassie might have been playing boardgames. Cassie liked Connect Four and hated Scrabble. Apples to Apples Junior was a favorite of hers, although she often chose weird words that made no sense for the prompt. Somehow, she always did well. I suspected shenanigans on the part of Mom and Dad.

I shook myself to settle my fur into place and get rid of the sadness. Silver linings for everything, right? Losing more than half of my Spirit had shrunk me down until I was only about half again larger than I had been before I got Patched to this world—about waist high on Marcus—which meant that now I was small enough that I could fit through human doors again. That in turn meant that I could go into the dining hall with my friends.

The room had a large fireplace at each end, flames crackling cheerily. A dozen round wooden tables, each with half a dozen chairs arrayed around it, took up the rest of the room. The door to the kitchen was opposite the one we had come through, and a narrow pass-through allowed the diners to ask the cooks for food or drinks.

Estelle got us a table and three chairs while Marcus, Eugene, and I went over to the kitchen's passthrough.

"Do you have any of that stew from last night?" Marcus asked. "That and some beer would be great. Same for my friend." He gestured back towards Estelle.

"Can do," said the young woman, smiling. She was short and slightly chubby, with a nice smile and a long black braid that reached to her shoulderblades. She served up two bowls of stew and two large mugs of beer, put them on a tray, and slid them across to Marcus. He thanked her and handed her a bunch of the greasy reddish hellstones that we had bought when we first arrived.

"For you, sir?" she asked Eugene.

"You guys had eggs out at breakfast," he said. "Can I get four of them, scrambled, with some of the mushrooms that were in the stew? Water is fine."

"No problem, sir. It'll be a few minutes, but I'll call you when it's ready. That'll be fifteen stone."

"Thanks," Eugene said, smiling as he passed her the money. "I don't suppose I could call you, after you're done for the night?" He winked.

She giggled and covered her mouth. "Sorry, sir. Dad doesn't let me fraternize with the guests."

He sighed and shook his head. "Ah, rats. The world is suddenly a darker and sadder place."

"I would like some bacon, please," I said by way of Murray. "Oh. Except I don't have any money."

The girl looked at Murray, clearly confused. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize imps ate. Regardless, this is a cash-only hall."

"Da bacon ain't fah me, lady. It's fah da Boss here." Murray hooked a thumb towards me.

I stood up, putting both front paws on the counter and yorped at her. Murray flew down and hovered next to my head so that the sound of my translated words would come from next to my mouth.

"Hello! I'm Athos. I got my tag today, so I'm counted as a person. It's nice to meet you."

The girl stared at me in shock, her face utterly slack.

"I got this one," Marcus said. "Bring the guy some bacon. As much as this will cover." He slid another two dozen hellstones across the board. The girl seemed not to notice.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, cocking my head.

She shook herself as though coming out of the pool and smiled. "No. Nothing. Sorry, sir. I didn't realize you could talk, that's all."

"Well, I can. Please don't burn the bacon. It's horrible when it's burned. Especially with my new taste buds." The words brought the thought and I recognized what I had been trying to not pay attention to: The air in this entire city smelled faintly of soot and rotten eggs. The scent was so pervasive that it built up on my tongue until I could literally taste it. I'd considered keeping something in my mouth that I could use with my Modify Flavor Skill in order to get rid of the taste, but it was hard to hold something like that while walking around and talking with people.

"Yes sir. I mean, no sir. I mean, I'll be careful."

"Thanks." I dropped back to all fours.

We went back to the table and settled in. I lay on the floor beside Marcus's chair and rumbled appreciatively when he leaned down to pet my back and give me a few affectionate rib thumps. Unfortunately, he stopped so he could focus on his food, which I thought was very unfair since I didn't have my bacon and I was hurting a lot and would have liked some pets to make things better.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before the girl came out with a plate for Eugene and a bowl full of crispy and perfectly done bacon. (Well, almost perfectly done—there were a few burned or undercooked edges here and there, but I didn't even slightly care.) I shoved my head into the bowl and chomped and slurped and reveled.

Eugene ate in quick, neat bites that made his food vanish with nigh-magical speed. Once he was done he sat back with a sigh.

I felt eyes on me and looked up. I knew there were bits of bacon caught on my lips and chin and I could see one stuck to my nose, but I didn't care.

"Feelin' better, brother?" Eugene asked.

I doggy-smiled at the word 'brother' and held one paw up for a bump. "Yup."

Eugene laughed and fistbumped me. "So, we've gotta get you a bunch of Spirit quickly. Any thoughts on how to do it?"

"I guess we could buy it? Simon was willing to give us some candy that he called 'helloin'. Apparently people will sell their Spirit for it."

"We are not doing that," Estelle said sharply. "Helloin is not candy. It is a very addictive and very harmful drug. I will not associate with anyone who sells anything like it."

I looked over at her, eyes soulful. "I'm sorry! I didn't know."

She relaxed slowly, watching me for...I didn't know. Signs that I was joking, maybe?

"It's fine," she said. "Still, we aren't doing that. We can buy Spirit, but not with drugs."

"Which turns the problem into 'how do we make a lot of money very quickly?'" Marcus noted.

"You said that you're still hurting?" Eugene asked me.

I nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Can you still fight? The tournaments have some big prizes."

Estelle shook her head. "Not on our timeline they don't. They're only doing quals right now. The next Grand Tourney doesn't start for two weeks."

"Well...maybe we could—" Eugene cut himself off in mid-word as a thought visibly hit him. He blinked, looked at me, looked at the others, and looked back at me. "Can you still fight?" he demanded.

I licked my nose nervously. "I can, but I'm not nearly as strong as I was before. Because of Dy...um. I mean, I'm not as strong and I don't have as much mana."

Eugene nodded slowly. "That's fine. You'll do fine. I need to see a guy. I'll catch you at breakfast." He stood up, pulled his jacket around him, and walked out.

Marcus and Estelle watched him go until the door closed behind him, then they looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Drama queen," Estelle muttered, before going back to her stew. "I'm thinking maybe bodyguard work."

"Not even close," Marcus replied. "We could try to sell Simon on letting us do the first domain now so we can earn the Attunement to sell a Rare unlock."

Estelle snorted dismissively. "Demons are definitely known for their willingness to work on spec."

"Okay, well, what about..."

Marcus and Estelle were still brainstorming an hour later. I tried to be helpful but I didn't know enough about the city or even the world in general so mostly I had to lie there and listen just like the stupid unthinking animal I used to be. Home had never seemed so far away.

"I'm going to bed," I said abruptly, heaving myself to my feet. "I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Athos," Marcus said.

"Sleep well," Estelle offered.

"Sure."

o-o-o-o

"Up and at 'em, buddy!" Eugene said, beating a rapid tattoo on the door of my stall with both hands. "C'mon, new day, opportunity awaits! Let's go!"

I flopped over to give Eugene my back. "Go 'way," Murray muttered for me, since I couldn't even manage to talk for myself. "Leave me alone."

"C'mon, man, we gotta go. Things are happening."

"Why? It's not like we can do it. There isn't enough time. I'm stuck here. I need to accept that."

{Hey!} Murray chuffed in Dog. {You're being sad. No being sad.}

{Heck off.}

{No! No being sad! Eugene is helping!}

{He's trying to help but he can't. It can't be done. I'm stuck here and I need to accept that. Stuck in this stupid place with this stupid giant body and this nose that's all stuffed full of rotten eggs and soot and I can taste it in the air and my shoulder hurts because of all the stupid cobblestones. I'll never see Mom or Dad or Cassie again and now I know that, because stupid Mr. FloatyBox had to go and make me smart. At least when I was a dog I wouldn't have understood what was happening.}

{You're still a dog.}

{No I'm not. I'm too smart to be a dog and too useless to be a person. I can't pay for things or carry things or do anything for myself. I can't even talk to people without you there, and what's going to happen when I can't pay your fee anymore? I'm no good for anything—I can't sell stuff like Marcus and Eugene. I don't know things like Estelle. I can't heal like Zoola. Even if I could somehow support myself, people are going to try to kill me to get my Skills.} I curled a little tighter. {Maybe I should let them. I sure can't do anything useful with them.}

OW! I rubbed my nose with one paw and glared resentfully at Murray. He had zipped in, thwapped me across the nose with his tail, and then zipped up to the corner of the ceiling so as to be as far from me as possible.

{What was that for?!}

"You was bein' all self-pityin'," Murray said in Ozurdati. "I can handle a lotta t'ings, but I can't deal wid no self pity. Like da joik here says: Up and at 'em, Boss! It's always brightest right before da dragon eats you, or however dat goes. Da joik is all excited an' bouncy so I'm guessin' he's got good news."

I glared resentfully at Murray, then turned to Eugene. "What?"

He grinned. "C'mon. You've got time for a quick bite and then I'm going to solve all our problems."

o-o-o-o

"Meatsacks and pusbags! Gather round, gather round, gather round! Today's game: Champion's Court! And here comes our champion!"

I stopped short at the entrance to the arena. I hadn't realized what I was literally walking into; the building Eugene and I had entered through looked like an office building. We had passed down a long, high-ceilinged hall to a desk where a fifty-something human was reading a book. Eugene gave him a pleasant "Good morning!" with a tip of his nonexistent hat, then handed him a piece of paper. The man had resentfully looked it over, grunted, stamped it in red, and handed it back before hooking a thumb down the hall and going back to his book. Eugene set off down the hall, whistling happily, and I had followed in his wake feeling confused and grumpy.

The arena was smaller than the one Eugene and I had fought in before, and rough-textured rock instead of sand. A dozen small cages were scattered around the perimeter and my newly-sharpened vision could see mice running around in each one. There were three rows of stadium seating, with stairs leading down into the arena at each of the cardinal directions. In the center of the arena stood a nine-foot tall wine-red demon with goat legs, hooves, horns, and three arms. Two of the arms were in the usual place and the third grew out of his chest. Each one ended in a different manipulator—a massive crab claw, a humanoid hand with five fingers and two thumbs, and an octopus tentacle covered in suckers that dripped slime. A leather belt circled his hips, supporting holsters for two spikes suitable for nailing down railroad ties.

A thirty-ish man with dark hair and a bulging gut stood opposite us by the north set of stairs. His clothes were coarsely woven with red dirt ground into the cuffs of his pants. On his belt was a short knife like most of the city's residents carried and in his hand was a long metal rod, the end crudely cut to a point. Calling it a 'spear' was an insult to spears everywhere, but it would clearly do the job.

"Eugene, what did you do?" Murray muttered for me.

"Last night I went down to one of the dockside bars," Eugene said. "I drank a lot and talked about how one of my buddies needed to raise a lot of money in a hurry and so he was going to be doing a Champion's Court under the Voloni Protocol. They're staking Spirit, we're staking an unlock for Mystic Acceleration. Isn't it great?"

"What do you mean, 'we' are staking an unlock?" I grumbled. "I'm the one who would have to pay for it. And lose access to it."

"Ah, don't sweat it, buddy." He clapped me on the shoulder reassuringly. "These guys are all unaccessed and poor. They don't have anything except normal human muscles and some shitty-ass weapons. You won't have any trouble."

"Wait, what do you mean 'you' won't—"

"Enough yammering!" the demon roared. "You pusbags are so happy about rules, so here's some rules for you! This is a Champion's Court under the Voloni Protocols! All weapons and all Skills are permitted so long as they do not endanger anyone outside the arena. The Champion stays in until there's no challengers left or night and day have changed places! The fight ends with surrender if you're a complete coward, knock out if you're a loser, or...death!" He lingered on the last word, savoring it the way Mom savored chocolate fondue.

"The champion is allowed a two-minute rest between bouts.

"Challengers who lose get spiked for ten Spirit," he said, drawing one of the two massive metal spikes that he wore holstered on his belt and holding it up. He twirled it between his thick fingers and slapped it dramatically back into its holster. "If challengers want to fight as a team then they have to stake extra Spirit for each person on the team, so please do that! The house takes ten percent of all winnings and the champion gets the rest if they win the Court.

"If the champion loses, the current challenger or challengers get the promised prize! In this case, that's an unlock for the Uncommon Mystic Acceleration Skill."

"What did you mean 'you'?" I whispered to Eugene. "Aren't we fighting together?"

"Sorry, buddy. Champion's Court means only one champion and you're way stronger than I am. Don't worry, this will be great. There's, like, fifty guys here. We'll make our nut by lunchtime and you'll probably earn two or three thousand Attunement for it too."

"I get about that much just for waking up in the morning."

"Yeah, well, it's still nothing to sneeze at."

"Step on up here, champion and challenger!" the demon shouted.

"I don't want to do this," I whined. "I don't like fighting people. I certainly don't like fighting this many people."

"Too late, they're calling you," Eugene muttered, putting his hand behind my shoulder and pushing me forward. "Trust me, it'll be fine."

"But—"

"Go on! If you back out now we'll both be in trouble."

Reluctantly, I shuffled up to the demon.

"Tiny little thing," he said, amused. "I'd best be careful where I put my hooves or I could squash you without even noticing."

I ignored him and studied my opponent, who was studying me right back. Twenty-four hours ago my shoulders would have been at his eye level. Now, after paying all that Spirit yesterday, they were just below his belt.

"The drunk guy said you can talk?" he grunted.

"Yes," I said. "Are you sure you want to do this? I don't like fighting people and I don't think I'm very good at doing it safely. I might hurt you."

He snorted. "Cocky, aren't you? Gotta admit, I thought this whole thing was probably a joke, but what the hell? I haven't been able to get a shift in three days so I figured I'd come down here and see if there really was a talking dog with Skills. Anyway, you might talk but you're a dog and I've got a spear." He shifted the weapon to be unnecessarily clear about what he was referencing. "I think I'm going to hurt you, mutt."

Hmph. Mom always called me a Rotty-mutt but she said it affectionately. I didn't like the way this guy used the word. He made it sound like a bad thing.

"You're mean," I said.

He started laughing and took a moment to get himself back under control. "Just give me the unlock and you can walk away." He visibly thought of something and looked up at the demon. "Does he really have it?"

"Let's find out," the demon rumbled. "Hey, champion! The following conversation will be monitored for quality assurance and training purposes, as well as to make sure you aren't a lying sack of shit. And I'll be reading your spirit to ensure you aren't lying. So. Do you have the Mystic Acceleration Skill?"

"Yes."

"Do you have enough Attunement to unlock it for the challenger after he stabs you full of holes and pours your ugly blood out all over my nice clean floor?"

That...was actually a good question. {Character sheet, please.}

Character Sheet Name Athos Physique * Recovery * Spirit * Restoration * Channeling 27(+) Essence 48 (113) (+) Recuperation 49 (123) (+) HP 317 (480) MP 350 (480) Attunement 3011 Skills Name Level (Progress) Supreme Exemplar (MAX) Physique +1 (x2) (MAX) Spirit +1 (MAX) Channeling +1 (MAX) Recovery +1 (x2) (MAX) Restoration +1 (MAX) Perk: Modify Flavor (MAX) Perk: Sensory Enhancement (MAX) Mystic Acceleration 4 (18/50) Spirit Transference 5 (10/60) Status Effects Worm Infested (x74)

Hang on. Why was Worm Infested at 74? Yesterday Aerith had knocked it down to 70.

A shiver went down my back as I realized the obvious: The worms were spawning. As in, having gross little worm sex and then pooping out baby worms. And probably worm poop. Inside my body. Gaaahhhh!!!

"Well, champion?! Do you have the Attunement or not?"

"Hm? Oh. I don't actually know. I have 3,011...is that enough?"

The demon stared at me and then snorted in disgust. "Were you born this stupid?"

"I don't think I'm stupid, but I'm smarter now than I was when I was born. See, I was a regular dog until I got—"

"It was rhetorical, you idiot! And yes, that's enough to unlock an Uncommon Skill! Now answer the question so I can read the answer off your spirit: Do you currently have enough Attunement to unlock Mystic Acceleration if one of the challengers beats you? Furthermore, do you understand and agree that you will be compelled to provide the unlock in the case where you lose?"

"Yes, I have the Attunement to unlock Mystic Acceleration and yes, I understand and agree that I'll have to unlock it if I'm beaten. That said, I'm not sure I want to fi—"

"He's excited to get started!" Eugene yelled from behind me. I glanced back to see that he was standing partway up the steps to the seating area, leaning casually on the railing and watching me intently. He gave me a very pointed look and made a 'get on with it' gesture.

I turned back and sighed. "Fine. Go ahead."

"And it turns out that our tiny furry ball of blood and meat is not, in fact, a complete coward! All right, pusballs, hold for my signal." He stepped back several paces and raised his hand. "Three! Two! One...FIGHT!" He dropped his hand in a cutting motion and jumped back even as my opponent jumped forward, thrusting his pointy metal stick at my eye.

Unfortunately for him, I was moving before he was. I ducked below the thrust and went in fast, thwapping him in the belly with my head. I thwapped him as gently as I could; I had popped two-ton wagons out of mudholes with almost no effort, so I was afraid of really hurting him if I didn't hold back.

I may have held back too much. Or maybe it was simply that I'd lost a lot of my strength when I gave up so much of my Spirit. Either way, I knocked him back and off his feet but he got right back up. He was holding his left arm across his stomach and leaning on his spear but he shook it off after a moment and got back in a fighting crouch, both hands on the spear and the point leveled at my face.

"Cheap shot," he growled.

"Do we really need to do this?" I asked. Murray was hanging back, hovering over the base of my tail so as to be near enough to translate but as far as possible from danger. It was weird, hearing my words come from so far off. "You could just leave."

"Shut up. I'm gettin' that Skill." He started moving forward carefully, shuffling so that his feet stayed on the ground.

"Why?" He was far enough away that I felt safe in sitting down and cocking my head in curiosity. "You could get hurt."

He frowned and hesitated. "Are you stupid? Get access, get rich. Everyone knows that."

"I didn't."

He snorted a laugh and then frowned. "Stop distracting me. Come and fight." He jabbed the spear at me. He was still ten feet away so it was more suggestive than threatening.

I sighed and straightened up. "Okay." I watched carefully, enhanced senses showing me the pulse hammering at his throat, the reek of fear and aggression pouring from him, the slight sound of his foot shifting as he braced himself. His fingers whitened as he gripped tighter on his spear—

"."

Blue fire washed across my body as I lunged forward at supercanine speed. The tip of his spear was moving backwards as he gathered himself for the leaping thrust that he thought would end with his steel in my throat. I swatted the haft with one paw, sending it flying halfway across the arena, and then I jumped back.

"You should really surrender," I told him kindly. "I'm pretty sure you can't win without your spear."

To my absolute shock, he grabbed the knife out of his belt and leaped at me, screaming and stabbing down at my head. I wasn't expecting it and Mystic Acceleration's brief effect had expired, leaving me with only my own physical speed. It was enough to let me duck the direct assault but not enough to keep the blade from stabbing into the meat of my shoulder and tearing a ragged three-inch slice down my leg.

I yowled in pain and reflexively swatted him.

I felt ribs crunch under the impact of my paw. He went flying twenty feet on a high arc that slammed him into the ground, hard. He bounced twice, grunting each time, and landed face-down. He coughed wetly and then started to drag himself to all fours, his right hand groping dazedly towards the knife that had landed beside him.

The sheer stupidity of it infuriated me. I was trying to be nice! I didn't even want to fight him and I was trying to make it so we didn't have to! I disarmed him when I could have hurt him and he responded by stabbing me in the heckin' shoulder! Why couldn't he just admit when he was beat?

I blurred across the distance between us and reared up, both forepaws landing between his shoulderblades and slamming him face-first into the rough stone. I heard his nose break and smelled the blood that splashed forth.

"STAY DOWN!" I bellowed in his ear, Murray zooming in close to place the sound correctly. "You lost! Stop fighting or I crush your heckin' head!"

He resisted, gasping and struggling weakly as he tried to suck in a breath while I stood on his back.

I leaned down close, fury and the joy of victory drowning out all thought as I growled deep and low, my mouth opening so that I could rest my teeth very lightly on the sides of his head. I remembered the fight with the wolves, the sweet coppery taste of blood on my tongue as I destroyed an enemy, proved myself stronger than the arrogant, vicious—

"...surrender," he grunted.

I froze, panting heavily as I slowly fought to calm myself. The sense of power was intoxicating and it took me several seconds to make myself step off his back. I panted, chest heaving with the readiness for war, and focused on calming myself.

"Winner!" the demon referee called. "The challenger has surrendered like the cowardly little bunghole he is!" He stepped in close, wrapped his tentacle around my opponent's neck, and hoisted him up until the man was standing on his tiptoes and gasping for breath.

"Hold still and this will only hurt a lot," the demon said, cackling in basso profundo as he pulled a spike off his belt and rammed it into my opponent's chest.

I yelped in fear, expecting to see blood geyser forth, but nothing of the kind happened. The spike slid effortlessly into the man's flesh without leaving a mark. He screamed in pain and thrashed, disregarding what must have been agony from several broken ribs.

The demon waited, savoring his victim's screams for several seconds, before removing the spike. The injured man went instantly limp.

"There, that wasn't so bad," the demon said, chuckling as he tucked the spike back into its holster on his belt. "Anyway, now that I've taken the house's portion let's get the rest." He drew the other spike and rammed it into the man's chest again.

o-o-o-o

The second opponent went much like the first: I gave her every chance to walk away and she tried to stab me in the eye with her knife. There was a desperation to her that was unlike the determination of the first man, and it made me feel even worse about hitting her than I already did. I tried to be gentle but all that got me was another knife slice, this one on my back. It was only eight points but I hadn't recovered any HP when I woke up this morning; until I got rid of the worms, I had no way to heal. I was at 294 out of 480 (down from 1130!) and I wasn't going to get better. The only positive news was that I had picked up another 27 Attunement to my Mystic Acceleration Skill. One more use would level it up. Of course, I currently only had two uses left for today. Leveling it would get me an additional use, but there were easily fifty people in the stands and I wasn't sure how many of them were waiting their turn to fight.

After the second batch, five men came down the stairs together.

"Oh ho!" said the referee. "Teaming up, eh? With five of you together you'll be risking 24 Spirit each. Can you pay the freight?"

The men looked at one another and then one of them handed his weapon (a long-handled shovel) to a friend and moved back to the stairs. He didn't go up, opting instead to stand on the lowest step and fidget nervously as he watched his friends.

"That brings it down to 19," the referee said. "Still in or you all as straw-weak as I think you are?"

One more man backed up to the stairs.

"Aaaand, 15. Think you three pansies can take it?"

The men looked at each other nervously and then nodded in determination. They did not present a warlike front; yes, all three of them were big and strong but their weapons were ridiculous. In addition to the universal belt knife, one of them had brought a pitchfork, one had a shovel, and one had a three-foot chopping blade, something like a machete but more curved.

I watched them in dismay. "Please don't do this," I begged. "I can't fight three of you safely. You'll get hurt."

"Stop screwing around, Athos!" Eugene shouted from the stands. "Fuck 'em up!"

"No, you'll get hurt," their leader said, ignoring Eugene in favor of brandishing his not-machete. He was a big man, easily over six feet and with the heavy shoulders and arms of someone who did heavy physical labor. Despite the bravado in his voice I could tell that he was nervous.

"Oooh! Smack talk! Daddy likey!" the demon said, grinning with a mouth full of fangs. "Ready! Set! Kill!" He stepped quickly back so as not to be between us.

The three men raised their weapons and closed ranks. I turned and fled.

I only went as far as the opposite wall of the arena, and then I turned around and waited for them, head down and growling with my ruff puffed out. I needed a moment to think, because charging straight into a wall of weapons was going to get me hurt and I had no way to heal. Bandages would stop the bleeding and get the wounds to scab over, but that was the limit until I got rid of those worms. Which, based on what Zoola had said, was going to be hard.

I needed a plan, and I needed one fast. My opponents had hesitated when they saw me run but now they had recovered and were advancing slowly, staying close together with their weapons held out like those pikemen in that movie Dad liked so much, the one where the hero used up all the blue facepaint and all the men wore plaid skirts. Charging straight at them wasn't going to work and I doubted my ability to get around them—humans were slow but they had a much better turning radius than I did.

I opened my character sheet and skimmed through my Skills. Mystic Acceleration was good but I only had a limited number of uses. Spirit Transference wasn't useful here, as I had no interest in giving away yet more Spirit. That left me with a bunch of stat boosts and the utterly useless Modify Flavor.

"Please stop," I called to them. "I'm a good dog. Good dogs and people aren't supposed to fight. We're supposed to be friends and take care of each other. Please don't make me fight."

"Give us the unlock and we don't have to," the leader called back.

Oh. Hey, that's right. That was actually a perfectly workable solution. I got enough Attunement from my various Skills that I'd be able to unlock Mystic Acceleration for myself tomorrow so I wouldn't actually be losing anything.

"Athos!" Eugene shouted from the stands, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Don't you dare! Just kick their asses! You can't afford to pay enough of them!"

"I can do that," I said, ignoring Eugene. I sat down and panted to make myself look non-threatening. The three of them stopped in confusion. "The only thing is that I need to earn 553 Spirit in the next two days so that I can go home. Will you sell me some for the unlock?" I asked.

The three humans stared at me in incredulity; the one with the pitchfork laughed.

"We've only got about fifteen Spirit each," said Mr. Pitchfork. "Do you have any idea how much a point of Spirit is worth? There's no way we could get that amount for you."

"Hang on...you've only got fifteen each? Doesn't that mean that if you lose this match then you're going to die?"

"No," said Mr. Shovel. "He said 'about'. And besides, if you agree to pay more than you've got the demons will just take you to a hellpit for a while and keep draining you and then letting you recover until they've got their due plus interest."

"In fairness, they keep you there until you or someone else buys your way out," Mr. Pitchfork said helpfully.

"Charlie, don't be that guy," the leader told him. "Hey, dog. Are you serious about tapping out? You know you'll be required to unlock for all three of us, right? That's gonna tie up your Attunement for a long, long time."

"Not really," I said, shrugging. "WeirdoRefereeGuy over there never said exactly how much it costs to do an unlock, but I earn about two thousand a day. I can probably take care of you pretty soon."

All three of them gaped at me. Mr. Shovel almost dropped his 'weapon'.

They were still forty feet away but my magically enhanced ears had no problem catching the leader's soft-voiced words.

"If he really gets two thousand a day, we need to kill him. We'll each get one of his Skills without having to buy it—way better than an unlock, and he's got to have some stuff we could never afford to unlock. The mice will catch whatever we don't and we can harvest them if we move fast enough."

Mr. Shovel nodded very slightly and also failed to speak quietly enough that I couldn't hear him. "If he gets that much then he's got a damn lot of Skills. What if he uses them on us?"

"I don't think he's got anything offensive," their leader muttered. "If he did, he would have used it against Tramul or whatsername, that second chick. He just did that speed Skill."

"We need to move this along before he gets suspicious," their heretofore-silent partner whispered. He looked at me and raised his voice. "Okay, dog! We're fine with that. We're going to walk over now so that you can unlock for Zavel. Me and Tomas will get ours later. Stay calm."

All three of them straightened from their fighting crouch and started walking slowly towards me.

{They're going to attack me, aren't they?}

{Probably. Sorry, Boss.}

Part of me couldn't help but marvel at how strange it was that Murray barked in completely accentless Dog even though his Ozurdati had a thick accent. The larger part of me told that part to stop being silly and focus on the important things. Like the idea about how I might possibly get out of this with all of us alive.

I huffed my disappointment. {Don't translate from now until I say.}

{You got it.}

I ran a quick test of my new and very speculative plan; a wave of profound relief went through me when I discovered that yes, my Skills worked the way I expected. Buoyed on the tide of that relief, I gathered my haunches under me and waited, doing my best to look like a calm and oblivious pupper waiting for scritches. The humans were dopey and unsuspicious of my cunning trap; they had their weapons in hand but only half-raised and were standing straight instead of braced to receive my attack. I waited until they were almost to me and then I charged forward, straight at the big guy in the center of the enemy formation. They reacted slowly because I was a brilliant actor-dog and they were stupid humans so hah!

Eight feet from them, I whispered in my mind. {: Saliva tastes like cat poop.}

All three of the men gagged and retched, raising an arm to wipe at their mouths. I ignored the embarrassingly familiar taste of Hazel's butt cookies and took advantage of their distraction, changing course and lunging at the one on the left. He had the six-foot shovel, and with only one hand on the shaft he wasn't going to be able to swing it very well.

{.}

The Skill leveled up as I shot forward, slamming into Mr. Shovel. He managed to knee me in the face as I charged, and the pain spiked through my head and used up the last scrap of patience I had for these three.

I got my jaws into Mr. Shovel's thigh and bit down hard before shaking my head violently; he screamed and convulsed as I tore a fist-sized chunk of meat out of him. I spat it out and pivoted, hindquarters bunching so that I could leap, my speed still magically enhanced as I smashed into Mr. Machete from the side. He fell into his friend and the two of them collapsed to the ground, Mr. Machete on top. I bounded up in the air and landed on his ribs with all four paws together. Hazel, our cat, had liked doing that to Mom and Dad when they were sleeping. They always oofed and complained for a minute, but then they ended up petting her. They were not so forgiving when I tried the same thing.

Mr. Machete was even less forgiving than Mom and Dad had been, possibly because I weighed at least half again what he did and was dropping that entire weight on him from a height of five feet. His ribs collapsed like a beer can and he gasped as all the air went out of him. Mr. Pitchfork, trapped under him, grunted as well and started gasping for air.

Squishy ribs don't provide the best traction; my feet went out from under me and I ended up falling off of him to sprawl on my side. I scrambled back up and put my forepaws on Mr. Machete's chest so I could hold both of the humans down. I leaned down close, baring my teeth in his face.

{Translate, please.} "I told you not to make me fight."