The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [15]
Wide-eyed, Vor-On looked at Zod as if he knew all the answers. “Is that allowed?”
“It is not forbidden by the rules.”
“How could it not be forbidden? This is…horrible.”
“One might call it innovative.”
Zod felt a thrill as he watched. Nam-Ek’s hrakkas lashed out with their long tongues to strike at the team on the right, also driving it into ruin. By now, the big mute had an indisputable lead. Zod didn’t even need to watch the rest of the race; the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He let Vor-On pick over the refreshments that servants had placed in the Commissioner’s box.
While all eyes were focused on the climax of the races, no one noticed Zod slip quietly away. He had to get down to the stables and begin his preparations before Bur-Al arrived.
The black hrakkas exuded an oily scent from musk glands behind their powerful jaws, but the stable smells did not bother Zod. He had built these pens adjacent to the big arena; they were dim and cool, and also very private. To his fellow noblemen, the stables showed that the Commissioner spared no extravagance to keep Nam-Ek, his chariot, and his hrakkas in fine form. For Zod, though, the stables served as a perfect place for unobserved meetings.
After the hard-fought race, Zod met his charioteer in the comforting shadows, standing aside as the victorious mute pulled the three black hrakkas into their pens and fastened thick chains to anchors on the wall.
Sweaty and exhilarated, Nam-Ek gulped directly from a bucket of cool water. He grinned at Zod, who patted his hefty shoulder in sincere congratulation. Though he must be famished, the mute would not eat until he had tended his hrakkas. The black lizards would also be ravenous from all the energy they had burned during their run, but Nam-Ek was careful not to feed them just yet. In their condition, they would gorge themselves and get sick.
The big charioteer rubbed a handful of oil into the hrakkas’ hides, giving their scales a perfect obsidian sheen. He worked meticulously, massaging the beasts’ muscles. The hrakkas growled and hissed and purred, but they made no threatening moves against Nam-Ek. They were also accustomed to Zod, who often came to the stables to do his thinking, frequently using Nam-Ek as a silent sounding board. He found it refreshing just to be able to speak his opinions without being interrupted by foolish comments.
After he explained to his muscular companion what he needed, Nam-Ek gave a brusque nod. Zod could still hear leftover noises from the crowd outside as people filed out of the stadium, chattering to one another, excited by the outcome of the race.
He looked up and saw a thin figure at the doorway. Bur-Al had come exactly as Zod had instructed him. The Commissioner leaned against the stone-block wall near the pens, looking at his fourth-level assistant. “I had hoped you would come to your senses by now, Bur-Al. You made some alarming accusations.”
“Not just accusations. I have proof, and you know what I’m talking about. Don’t even try to bribe me!”
“Who said anything about a bribe? I would never dream of it.” You’re not worth the investment.
Bur-Al gathered his courage. “I was a great admirer of your father, and it makes me ashamed to see that you don’t follow in his footsteps. You put personal ambitions ahead of the perfection of Krypton.”
“I thought Krypton was already perfect. And do not bring my father into the discussion. He was a great and visionary leader.”
“In that, at least, we agree. But you have broken the law! All dangerous inventions submitted to the Commission must be destroyed. But that isn’t the case, is it?” Bur-Al actually seemed to think he had the upper hand here.
“If you are so convinced, and if you insist that I cannot bribe you, why in the world would you broach the subject here? Why confront me with this? It seems foolish