The Selfishness of Love

Then Dywyr was thrown backwards as Jack Daltrey expanded into, as Iona whispered, “basilisk.” She watched in terror as he became the creature who had originally challenged Dywyr. Having managed to stay upright thanks to his wings and finely honed sense of balance, Dywyr came flying back at it. Iona knew that his only hope was to get behind the head to be out of its line of sight and to stay there. The basilisk moved slowly and without apparent concern as Dywyr zipped past. Iona exhaled. He was going to make it. Now he just had to sit on the thing’s head and blast through its skull.

Her knuckles went white a moment later, though. The basilisk could move much faster than she’d realized and, just before Dywyr got to that point of safety, it whipped its head around and directed its gaze at her friend. The screen obligingly magnified the process, so Iona could see clearly as the scales on Dywyr changed from shiny black to a dull grey. The statue plummeted down from the sky, digging a little into the sand. The stadium erupted into chaos, cheering the basilisk.

Iona thought quickly. She still had quite a lot of money. She could maybe buy him back and have him restored to flesh. Then, she could bring him back to life with her tattoo. If the basilisk wasn’t willing to sell, then some careful planning and a hoard-theft. Dywyr wouldn’t like this technical breach of their agreement not to recover him if it was costly, but she figured that him alive would end up doing more good than the maybe ten thousand restoring him would take. This could be done. It was by no means hopeless.

And then it was. Responding to the fervor of the crowd, the basilisk evidentally decided against keeping its trophy. Its tail smashed into the side of the statue of Dywyr, and stone dust and fragments billowed up, clouding the cameras for a moment.

Iona sat down heavily. That would cost tens of millions, even to attempt to remedy. There was no way she could pass that off as a sensible expenditure to herself or to Dywyr. That money would do much more good spread out among those who needed it to survive.

“Io, come on.” Benny was tugging at her arm. “We have to get out of here before we’re resold. Nobody’s gonna care that we’re not really slaves. Come on!”

“No.” Dywyr was going to kill her. Not really, but this was going to suck. Iona stood up, closed her eyes and started to chant. Benny cursed by stayed put. Then, standing in the center of the booth, was a greater water elemental. Iona managed to remove her collar and chains through sheer force, stow them and turn back just before the booth door was opened.

Two armed arena guards stood in the doorway. Prepared to charge in, they stopped. Addressing Iona, one said with some hesitation, “This the booth reserved by Dywyr Ylan?”

“Yes, it is.” Iona’s voice had icicles in it.

“We were sent to take possession of his two slaves, one male human, one female Thelarian…” the guard looked with some confusion at the water elemental.

“Do I look like a slave to you, guard?” Iona asked, a dangerous edge to her tone.

“You were wearing a collar before,” the other guard countered.

Iona turned to him, the elemental coming up more closely behind her. “How I choose to represent myself and my slave,” she looked toward Benny, “is no concern of yours. The assumptions of incompetent arena staff are not my concern. Unless it is to cite them as basis for punishing them myself.” Iona reached for her staff, and the two guards shifted nervously. Okay, Iona thought, now that they’re properly cowed, “Fetch me the arena mage. Now.”

One guard’s mouth opened, Iona assumed to protest that this was not his job. The other one jabbed him in the ribs and looked pointedly at the eight foot tall pillar of magically charged water, and they left quickly.

“Iona?” Benny spoke once the guards had left. “What are you doing? Covering our asses long enough to get out of here was smooth, but why are we sticking around?”

“If you want to leave, go ahead.” Iona sounded distant. “I need to think before the mage gets here, so please be quiet.” There was a wounded silence.

Oh yes, I do need to think, Iona repeated silently. I have enough money for this. I have the ability now that I’m not posing as a slave. I can do this. Dywyr’s going to be upset that I did it, though. She felt tears start as she thought, and disappointed. He’ll be disappointed that his trust was misplaced. She got the tears under control before wondering, is he going to want me around if I do this? Will I end up just as miserable as I am right now, but having his rejection on top of that? My parents would never believe that I could do something like this. I could help so many or just one. Just me, really. He’s told me what to do in cases like this, and I never thought I’d do anything else. Maybe I won’t. It’s just not practical, but…Her train of thought began to repeat itself, and then the door was knocked on.

Benny answered it, stepped out of the way of a tall elven man with a staff and a collar who bowed before Iona. “You have a service you wish performed?”

“Yes. The Ilothi Knight,” Iona was careful not to use his name. She didn’t think she could keep her voice under control if she did, “who was just destroyed. Restore his body and his life. Deliver him to this hotel.” She handed a card from the equivalent of the Ritz Salamir to Benny, who handed it to the elf.

The elf bowed again. “With much respect, water mage,” he looked at the elemental, “this will be prohibitively expensive.”

“How much,” Iona asked as she gathered the belongings scattered around the booth.

“Sixty million for the first attempt, and twenty million for each further try.”

Iona let herself look surprised. “That’s all?” Disdainfully, “Get it done. Try as many as five times.” She handed her credit stick to Benny, who completed the transaction with the elven mage, and then they left.

Iona was glad that custom kept Benny from talking until they got back to the hotel. She was terrified, and would be until Dywyr got back and passed his judgement. Come to think of it, she might never stop being terrified again. The Iona she had always been would have respected the wishes of her friend. The wishes that she had thought were hers, too. At least he would be alive again soon. But who was she now? She traveled and worked to help those who could not help themselves. Dywyr wasn’t one of those anymore, but she couldn’t imagine traveling without him now. Really, she could, but the thought made her stomach cramp in misery. What would he say, and would Iona ever feel so confident of her integrity again? At least he would be alive. She had done something that wasn’t in line with who she thought she was, but the only way she could explain how she’d feel if he stayed dead was that part of her would be gone. And the deed was done.