This wasn't Qismat's scene.
In fact, he would really rather be doing anything but this at this very moment, be anywhere but here. Watching scarabs rolls balls of dung across the sand would be preferable to being here, among these walls built on the backs of slaves and stained in blood and audience to a fight that would no doubt be a bloodbath. But Ahmira Faliq, talented seamstress with many talented workers beneath her, had insisted she was far too busy to meet with Qismat unless he agreed to meet with her in her down time.
This was apparently her down time.
It curdled even the acid in his stomach, but he had agreed.
Don't worry, she had said. Today's just the game hunts!
Qismat didn't like that, either, the pointless killing of chained animals in a fighting pit--hardly a hunt--but at least the slaves were armed. And so he'd endured it as background noise as he met with Ahmira and discussed a potential partnership, as he endured her flirtations and the hand that kept finding its way to his knee somehow, and had finally sealed the deal when the next fight was announced.
Qismat stood to leave, his job done, and spared the pit a final cursory glance--
And stopped cold.
Lions this time. Two of them, hungry, starved beasts that were already crazed from it, and driven even madder as they were poked and prodded through the bars to piss them off more. Yet as he dragged his eyes from them to the actual human in the ring...
Dear Hakeshna.
Was she...was she unarmed?
The announcer called out her name and her owner's name right as the slaves hooked their poles onto the cage doors and swung them open.
And the lions poured out.
Oh shit.
It's too late, common sense yelled at him, but the owner's name rang in his mind, and registered as familiar. Another merchant, which meant he would be near, as only the wealthy could afford the seats in this section. It might be too late by the time he found him, and yet Qismat couldn't stand to see some girl ripped apart if there was even a chance that it could be stopped.
He scanned the stands, heart thundering, knowing each second was precious and hoping the girl was clever--
And then he saw him, a man he'd done business with ages before, and he pushed through the crowd to reach him, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"How much for the girl?" he demanded, and the man gave him a dumbfounded look. "What?" he growled, and shook off his hand. "Who the hell are--"
"Qismat Nejem, we've done business before and I'd like to do more now. How much is the girl?"
"Are you out of your mind? The girl's gonna be dead here real soon."
"Then she's expendable and you won't mind if I buy her. Stop the fight now and I'll pay you."
The man stared at him, utterly confused. "Why the hell would you...?"
"It doesn't matter. You'll make more off her if she's alive than dead, now stop the fight and name your price!"
"You're one crazy sonnuva..." Shaking his head, the man signaled to the announcer. "Stop the match! We need the girl alive!"