“Remember, stay focused on the fight,” the sheriff called out. “Don’t get distracted by the little shit going on around you. A handler that gets distracted loses.”

I didn’t bother to reply; he’d told me the same thing over and over the past few days. That didn’t make it any easier – which, I supposed, was the entire point. He wasn’t trying to make things easy for me. That didn’t make him any less of an ass for shouting out such obvious instructions – which themselves were probably meant to distract me – as I worked to stay focused on the battle before me.

I stood atop a boulder, precariously balanced on its gravelly surface. A swarm of some sort of tiny wasp-like insects buzzed around my head and shoulders, occasionally landing on me and trying to sting me. Fortunately, the bugs couldn’t get through my skin, but their attempts felt like having little, blunt needles pressed against my skin over and over again. Behind me, loud braying sounds echoed as Parri chased a herd of what looked like bright yellow buffalo with huge, curving horns and twin rows of smaller ones running down their backs. The creatures’ panicked rushes shook the ground, making my perch even less steady, and their bellows occasionally pounded my ears when the sheriff had Parri drive them closer to me. The dust of their passage through the shorter grass here rolled thickly around me, tickling my nose and making my eyes sting and water.

I did my best to ignore it all and keep my blurry gaze on the scene in front of me. Despite my annoyance with the old man, I couldn’t argue with his point. In any fight, distraction was an enemy, but in a battle with pets, it could prove fatal. A distracted handler meant a distracted pet, and a distracted pet could do anything. It could flee from the battle, or try to eat the opposing monster, or even try to turn on its handler if their control was tenuous enough. Even worse, activating and maintaining runes required moderate concentration, and if that concentration was lost, the magic had a tendency to backlash spectacularly. I’d found that out the hard way when I lost focus casting my Air Web once and ended up getting the magical equivalent of a punch to the face. My bonesnapper darted forward, hissing as its jaws snapped at the six-foot-long snake facing it. The snake had a thick body covered with reddish scales that blended well with the orange clay beneath the grass and inky black eyes without pupils. A bright blue crest of spikes surrounded its head and the upper part of its neck, jutting six inches to the sides and top and looking like the thing had a hedgehog glued to the back of its skull. Its jaw hung open, revealing a row of backward-curving teeth that ran the length of both jaws, the two longest of which dripped venom that smoked like acid when it hit the ground.

The snake reared back slightly, and I mentally commanded the bonesnapper to dodge. The lizard twisted sideways just as the snake struck, its head darting forward toward my pet. At the same moment, I channeled a burst of magic into the card in my hand, and wispy filaments of air lashed out, entwining the serpent and slowing its recovery from its strike. The snake seemed to pause, retracting its body slowly as if pulling it through molasses, and in that moment, I dropped the hammer on it.

A loud screech filled the air, and a bird with four-foot wings dappled in gray and brown feathers plummeted from the sky. A blast of air flew before it, slamming into the snake like an invisible blade. The snake twisted as the raptor’s attack struck it, trying to escape, but the bird’s ebony claws seized it behind the skull. Its powerful wings flapped, lifting it into the air, and its blood-red beak darted down, ripping at the snake’s skull. The serpent twisted and thrashed, trying to impale the bird on its thorny crest, but the spines failed to penetrate its skin. The raptor’s beak clamped down, severing the snake’s spine, and the creature fell still. The bird landed a few feet away, its beak tearing into the snake’s body, but I sent it a mental instruction, and it reluctantly flew back to me, allowing me to cut the corpse in half and toss the tail end to my bonesnapper. As I did, I pulled up my status to see the results of the last few days’ training.

John Gilliam, Guardian of the Sun

Mental Stats

Reason: 24 Intuition: 20 Perception: 25 Charm: 8

Physical Stats

Prowess: 20 Vigor: 16 Celerity: 13 Skill: 22

Professions

Inquisitor (Hidden, Divine): Level 4, XP: 17,667/58,800

Pet Hunter (Standard): Level 4, XP: 1,224/1,600

Tamer (Standard): Level 4, XP: 1,225 / 1,600

Shaper (Standard): Level 4, XP: 1,225 / 1,600

Dominia: 9.7 Personia: 9.9 Arcania: 10.5

After the sheriff showed me the bloodbeak’s nest and I bonded it – a lot more easily than I had the bonesnapper – he’d had me practice using both pets and my runes in combat with various monsters. I’d fought moles with skin like gravel and crystalline claws, spiders the size of a large dog, a floating jellyfish that shot lightning from its tentacles, and even a three-foot-long rabbit with a spiraled unicorn horn on its head, among others. The results were clear: I’d leveled all my pet professions, and they were close to going up again. I’d also ranked Improved Handling and Improved Taming to Adept 3 each. The Adept benefit for Handling gave me a 5% bonus to my pets’ attack and defense for each extra pet I had beyond the first, and the new rank in Taming improved all my pets’ special attacks by 1% per level. It wasn’t a lot, but it all added up.

“Not bad,” the sheriff drawled, and I closed out my screens and looked toward him. He walked over to me and pulled out a card, and I watched with See Magic as a wave of energy pulsed from the rune. That energy seemed to drive the wasps surrounding me back, and the obnoxious little creatures flew away, returning to the nest hanging in a nearby tree – a nest that the sheriff had hit with a rock just as the battle started.

“You’ve got a good head for strategy,” he continued. “Your bonesnapper’s not all that dangerous, but it’s quick and hard to hit, and that water jet it’s got does a good job of keeping beasties confused and off-balance.” He glanced toward the bird that rested nearby, finishing its meal. “That lets your bloodbeak hit things from above without having to worry about getting snatched out of the air by them. The two of them make a good pairing.”

“Thanks,” I said, deactivating my runes and slipping my cards into my pocket. I stepped down from the boulder, at least partially sure that the training session was over. The sheriff had an annoying tendency to send something nasty my way if I shut them down immediately after a fight, so I’d learned to keep them active for a bit just in case. “That was the plan, though, right?”

“It was, but plans don’t always work out the way you’d hope,” he chuckled. He looked over at Parri, who’d stopped chasing the buffalos and instead feasted on one that she’d caught. “Sometimes, though, they do, and when they do, well, it’s a good idea to appreciate it.”

I didn’t have much to say to that. It sounded like he was talking about something specific, and I didn’t have the information I needed to guess what it might be. I understood his point, though. No matter how well plans were laid, they rarely lasted more than a few seconds when the shit hit the fan. Every so often, though, they worked out great, and that was something worth celebrating.

He pulled out his watch and looked at it speculatively, then lifted his head. “Parri, you old girl, finish that thing up! We need to get going soon!”

I looked up at the sky, trying to judge the time by the sun’s position. I didn’t have a watch yet; they were too expensive for Manasi to carry in his store, and not enough people wanted them to justify a merchant coming to the town to sell them. It seemed that for most of the people of Murkburg, knowing the difference between “early morning”, “noon”, and “near sundown” was accurate enough, and when it wasn’t, the railroad station had a grandfather clock that they could check.

“Isn’t it still early afternoon?” I asked curiously.

“Yep, but you’re gonna want to make yourself presentable before the duel,” he told me.

“I don’t care how I look,” I laughed.

“You should.” He turned to face me, his gaze serious. “Tell me, boy. What the hell do you think this duel today is about?”

My first instinct was to say that it was about Paisley being a raging asshole, but a second thought made the answer obvious. “It’s about Paisley feeling embarrassed and trying to prove that she’s better than me.”

“Pretty close,” he said approvingly. “It’s all about appearances. Paisley’s pretty proud of what the townsfolk think of her, and in her mind, you being here makes her less important. She don’t care about the money; she cares about being admired.”

“That’s more or less what the duel between Boden and her was about, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Boden said that she wasn’t really suited for her wolfion – and he’s right. A wolfion’s a straight predator type, and Paisley’s affinities are with Lightning – which are damn rare – Fire…” He grinned at me. “And Prey.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of a Predator type?”

“Damn straight, it is. Fool girl bonded a beast that’s exactly the opposite of her personality. She’d have done better to bond that bull plainstomper Parri’s enjoying right now, and it would have served her just as well in the long run.”

I almost asked why, but I was pretty sure I understood. I was willing to bet that, deep down, Paisley had a lot of fears. She hid them behind blustering and bravado, but that was just a show to keep people from realizing how scared she was inside. Someone like that wouldn’t choose a Prey animal as a pet; they’d choose something mean and vicious, something that instilled fear in other people. The wolfion certainly counted as that.

“Is it really that bad if you bond a pet you don’t have an affinity with?” I asked.

“Well, yes and no. You’ll never get the most out of a pet you’ve got no affinity for, boy. You’ll struggle to control it, it won’t perform well for you, and your scores don’t help it as much as they should. That’s even worse when you bond a beastie with an opposite affinity to yours. That wolfion is a Greater pet, but it had to work against Boden’s Lesser toadspike because the boy’s got a strong water affinity, and his pet is happy to do what he wants. Eventually, Boden will rank it up to a spearfrog, and when he does, he’ll be able to hand the girl her ass without trying hard.

“Paisley, on the other hand, is never getting her wolfion to rank up to a High scorphound, and if she somehow did, it’d probably break free of her control and kill her. That’s what happens when you don’t have an affinity for your pet.”

He spit into the short grass jutting up from the clay around us. “Course, for most people, it don’t matter. They don’t care about ranking up their pet, or using them in the best way. A blacksmith that bonds a flamespurter just wants something to keep his metal hot, and turning that into a firebelcher don’t make sense. Why would he want an eight-foot-long walking bonfire when his foot-long little flame does the trick just fine?

“For a duelist, though, having an affinity with your pet is vital. Without it, hunters find themselves unable to control their packs, and tamers have their beasts turn on them. That’s why smart duelists get analyzed before they choose a pet – and the ones who don’t get dead, fast.”

He started walking toward Parri, and I followed behind him, summoning my pets as I did. I could feel the presence of them both in my head, a dull pressure that was a little more intense than the bonesnapper alone had been, but not anything terribly difficult to manage. I was sure I could handle at least one or two more pets if I wanted, but I didn’t see the need yet.

“Which brings us back to dueling, boy,” the old man continued. “This duel today is about appearances, but then, so is every damn duel I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen a hell of a lot of them. When two people decide to solve their differences with a duel, they’re showing off. They’re trying to make themselves look good and maybe make a name for themselves, nothing more. They don’t usually want to kill one another – hell, sometimes they don’t give a damn about the matter they’re dueling over – they’re just trying to look good and get people talking about them.”

I frowned. “How often do people get killed in duels, then?”

“Oh, it happens, but not as much as you’d think.” He snorted derisively. “See, people that duel want an audience, and that means they’ve gotta be in a town or city, and that means the law’s watching them. Pretty much every city in the world prohibits unauthorized dueling, and so do the better towns.”

“Unauthorized?”

“Yep. Gotta get official permission for a duel, boy. You go to the local law enforcement – or a licensed dueling broker in a city – and you tell them you want a duel and why. If they allow it, they’ll set it for a few days ahead to give everyone nearby time to hear about it and make sure they stay clear – and to make sure there’s an audience. Without that permission, you’re brawling, and that can get you locked up or worse.”

He looked off into the distance. “If two people don’t care about an audience, they go out of sight and hash it out in a fight.” He looked back at me, his face serious. “That’s an important difference to remember, boy. A duel isn’t a fight, and a fight isn’t a duel. A duel’s got rules and proprieties. People follow them, or they forfeit their duel. In a fight, though, two people are just trying to kill one another, and they don’t care about how they do it. If you think a duel’s a fight, you’ll forfeit and might get locked up. If you think a fight’s a duel, you’ll end up food for someone’s pets, no two ways about it. Never forget that.”

I nodded and climbed onto Parri’s back behind him, carrying the bonesnapper again. “You’re not a duelist,” I observed quietly. “Are you?”

“I’m a fighter, boy,” he growled in a soft tone. “I don’t fight because it looks good. I fight because I have to.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “You’re a fighter, too, but you’re the kind that would rather avoid a fight than start one, I think. That’s why you need to look good today. That’s how you make a reputation for yourself, and a man’s reputation can keep him out of stupid fights and let him ignore foolish ones without people thinking he’s a coward. Fight well today, and win or lose, people will start talking about you – and that’s what you want. Trust me, boy.”

Kimari’s place was right next to the river. The barber was a handsome woman in her early middle years, with fire-red hair lightly touched with gray. I paid her a pair of taans for a hot bath and a shave. She took my money and poured water into a tub, then laid a hand on it. I watched with See Magic active as she channeled a tiny amount of energy into a rune etched into the bottom of the tub that seemed to suck more magic into itself. The tub radiated heat for a few minutes before the rune shut down, and when I stuck a hand inside, I found the water pleasantly warm.

Kimari scrubbed me down with coarse soap and a soft brush, then scraped my face clean and trimmed my slightly unruly hair. She offered me a little extra cleaning south of the border that I politely declined, then toweled me dry. I dressed as she pulled a plug in the bottom of the tub, allowing the water to run down a stone-lined channel back into the river, then cleaned it with a couple buckets of river water. I was glad to see that; the idea that I might have been bathing in some farmer’s filth was a little off-putting, to say the least.

Manasi’s wasn’t a tailor or haberdasher or whatever the hell a clothing store in the Old West would have been called, but the man carried a small assortment of clothing, and I’d bought a few outfits from him with Paisley’s money. I slipped on a white shirt with bone buttons, a pair of black denim pants, a matching leather vest, and my gun belt, of course. I flipped open the small leather case attached to my belt and peeked inside, making sure the rune cards within were loose and ready to be drawn. Each card sat a little higher than the last, so I could riffle through them and grab the right one easily – as long as I remembered which card went where. Thanks to Sara, that was easy.

I stepped outside, peering up at the darkening sky. A line of gray-black clouds hovered at the edge of the horizon to the west, slowly rolling toward the town. They’d probably arrive within the hour; hopefully, we’d be done and back inside by then.

I made my way away from the river toward the backs of the buildings running along the main street. As I drew closer, the sound of chattering voices filled my ears, and when I slipped down an alley between two buildings and emerged on the sidewalk running along the street, I paused in amazement. The railings were crowded with people, far more than I’d seen when Boden and Paisley dueled. People stood shoulder-to-shoulder, talking animatedly about the upcoming match and speculating about the outcome.

I walked behind the crowds, and the people nearby, apparently recognizing me, swiftly cleared a path. As I trudged down the wooden planks, a familiar figure slipped out of the crowd and walked deliberately toward me. The man’s dark green hair hung to his shoulders, pulled back from his face with a leather binding, and his round face looked serious. He stood a few inches shorter than me, and his body was wider and stouter than most of the people around us. He didn’t look up at me as he slammed his shoulder into my chest, knocking me back half a step. As he did, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close, speaking quietly enough that I was sure only I heard him.

“Paisley can use four runes, but she never does more than one at a time. Deadly Lunge first, always. Watch for the poison; she likes to use Fire Toxin.” He slipped past me and gave me an angry look.

“Watch where you’re going, naasi!” he snapped. “You’ve got enough problems pissing off one handler today. Don’t make it two!”

He turned and walked away, and I watched him curiously for a moment, then resumed my march toward the duel. It looked like he wanted me to win – not that I blamed him – but he didn’t want to be seen as helping me in case I didn’t. It was pretty clever and sneaky, and I decided that I’d much rather gamble against Paisley than the man.

I stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and waited. The sheriff stood in the middle of the street, scanning the crowd. He noticed me quickly and nodded his head, then raised both hands in the air. The crowd quieted quickly, and a moment later, silence reigned on the dusty street.

“Paisley, step on out,” the sheriff called, and the young woman emerged from the crowd on the other side of the man, sidling into the middle of the street. He looked at me. “You too, Naasi.” The people around me stepped back, giving me space to head down the stairs to the dusty road. I walked to the middle of the street and stood, facing the old man and Paisley. My stomach trembled and fluttered, and I had to concentrate to keep my hands from shaking as adrenaline spiked within me. I wasn’t afraid, exactly – I didn’t think the sheriff would let things get out of hand – but I was nervous. The outcome of the duel would depend on my pets as much as it did me, and I hated when things weren’t firmly in my control.

“A duel’s been offered and accepted,” the old man declared. “Paisley claims offense, and Naasi argues against her. By custom, I’ll give the offended one last chance to change her mind.” He looked at Paisley. “Any chance you just wanna let this go, girl?”

“No,” she snapped shortly. “He cheated me, and he has to pay.”

He looked back at me. “You intend to fight, or you wanna forfeit?”

“I’ll fight, Sheriff,” I replied calmly. As I spoke, I palmed my Analyze card and activated it, focusing the rune on Paisley. The magic shot out, circled her, and rushed back to me. No display appeared; Sara had modified the rune so that it sent the information to her, and she quickly displayed it on a screen that only I could see.

Paisley

Paths: Tamer (Standard), Trainer (Unusual)

Pets: Greater Wolfion

Dominia: 8.2 Personia: 15.5 Arcania: 10.2

“Her stats aren’t that different from mine,” I thought with amazement. “She has to be a much higher level, though!”

“She’s higher leveled, but she obviously started with much worse stats than you. And your levels aren’t as different as you might think; she’s maybe fifty percent higher than yours overall. I told you I’m better at giving you XP than this world is.”

“Well, of course you are,” I laughed silently. “Her Personia’s much higher than mine, though. How will that affect the fight?”

“It’ll give her wolfion better attack bonuses, although with her affinity being wrong, I’m not sure how much. It’ll do more damage, too.”

I slipped the Analyze card back into my pouch and touched the rune cards I knew I’d need, making sure I had their locations memorized.

“Call your pets,” the sheriff instructed.

I sent out a message, and the bonesnapper that had been lurking in the shade beneath the nearby sidewalk pattered out to stand at my side. The bloodbeak I left circling overhead; I didn’t think Paisley really needed to know about it, after all. Paisley’s wolfion trotted out from between two buildings and moved to stand before her.

“You both know the rules,” the sheriff said. “No attacks or runes that might hurt bystanders, and if I call it, you stand down right away. Understand?” I nodded, seeing Paisley give a curt assent as well. The sheriff stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk. “Go on, then. Let’s get this done.”