Indentured (Book 2 of the Dana Halliday series)

SCAPEGOAT. P'LIA. FENN PHARMACOLOGY.

An invisible hand twisted my guts into balloon animals. Emhallet wasn't looking at me or Liti—in fact, he was staring resolutely at the opposite wall—but Mennu was. The big Champion's dark eyes fastened upon the Fenn, and suddenly Liti could hardly hold her instruments.

I ignored the pain in my hand and the feeling that I'd swallowed a gallon of ice water all at once, and nudged her aside. "I'll take over."

Liti's teeth were bared. "No, Dana, it's all right, I'll—"

Renden winced as her lacerated skin was pinched too hard in the forceps.

"Step out, taphthli." My surgeon voice came out, unbidden; god, my nerves were shot. Liti stared at me, shoved the instruments into my hand, then averted her eyes and slunk away. Her antennae were pressed to her head.

I sighed, rearranged the instruments in my remaining fingers, and went on suturing. I hadn't meant it to be that much of a rebuke.

One of the other Sturv patrons approached and watched, its golden eyes fascinated. "You are much better than the Fenn creature."

"I agree," grumbled the Pemlo'hban woman.

"Parib sep." As a matter of fact, my left hand felt stiff and clumsy, and was shouting for its lost digit. Pinching the thumb forceps closed without screaming was an exercise in stoicism. "I've just had more experience."

Emhallet had continued his mini-sermon. "During the ceremony, the burden of guilt is transplanted onto a surrogate, and the victim can then attempt revenge on that recipient. After that, all claims of vengeance are forgotten."

"And who is usually chosen as...?" Kez prompted.

"Tradition requires a relative to be the surrogate."

Mennu spoke up, smug and angry all at once. "Or, as in this case, a member of the same species will suffice."

The balloon animals in my belly began to turn cartwheels, and I shivered. My normally reliable hands shook once, and I sternly told them to behave themselves. The lacerated Champion murmured something, and I whispered, "Volshoth?"

"Blasphemy," Renden said, just loud enough for my Earwig to catch it.

"A new school of thought." Emhallet was all serene contrariness. "Although not all approve of that doctrine."

"When a relative is not available to receive the blame, a Pemlo'hban of similar appearance and status can be substituted," Mennu countered. "It only makes sense to expand the tradition to members of the same species. The Grand Mother herself approves."

There followed several long breaths of uncomfortable silence before Kez spoke. "We look forward to increasing our cultural understanding, gentlemen. Thank you for sharing this ritual with us."

The next round in the arena began, and the spectators, led by Kez, exited for the seats above. Emhallet glared at Mennu and started to say something argumentative, but he was brushed off.

Mennu came over and studied me as I finished the last few sutures. "Did you heal sufficiently, Doctor?" the big leader asked.

"I did." I spread antiseptic ointment over the wound, and smiled wanly at the female combatant. I forced my roiling mind to manage the Standard words, though Mennu had a translating device in his ear. "All right, Renden. If there is infection, get antibiotics."

"I thank you." The woman rose. On her feet, she was taller than both the men. She gave them a disgusted look and strode away.

"I wish to apologize. Again." Mennu put a none-too-subtle emphasis on the last word.