The elevator drew to a smooth halt.
Murgen twisted his torso to glance back at Drakkal. “This must be terribly exciting for you. I imagine it’s not every day you’re offered such privilege as this.”
Not for the first time, Drakkal was stricken by a powerful urge toward violence. It certainly wasn’t the sensible solution, wasn’t the moral solution, wasn’t therightsolution, but sometimes it was the only way to force people like Murgen—people who thought themselves the most important thing in theuniverse whether they were talking business or taking a shit—to alter their perspectives a little. Drakkal hadn’t survived his one hundred and fifty bouts in the fighting pits of Caldorius only to feign interest in the garbage a person like Murgen had to say.
The best way to show someone they weren’t untouchable usually involved a few well-placed punches.
The elevator doors slid open silently.
Drakkal’s nostrils flared. Both that sense of inevitability and the accompanying scent were immediately stronger, though he still couldn’t identify either.
Murgen stepped off the elevator and into a sleek corridor with dark floor panels and walls that curved at both their bases and peaks. The air—which was recycled and pump-circulated throughout most of the Undercity—had an enhanced crispness here. Murgen’s waddling gait carried him toward an open-topped hovercart.
Drakkal looked at Nostrus. Brows low, the volturian gestured for Drakkal to exit the elevator. Clenching his jaw against an instinctual growl, the azhera shoved away from the wall and strode forward.
Should’ve just made Foltham deal with me in his office. Who the hell would’ve cared if he took offense to it?
Murgen climbed a set of low steps to enter the hovercart’s rear compartment, which was oval shaped with a wide seat on each side. The craft bounced and swayed as Murgen sat down on the left seat. “Join me, azhera. Nostrus will drive.”
“Master Foltham,” Nostrus said, “this is ill-advised. We can’t trust this?—”
Murgen raised a hand and waved it, silencing Nostrus. “All business, yes? I’m sure our friend here is a consummate professional. At any rate, I imagine he will soon be too captivated to even contemplate anything untoward.”
Once again, Drakkal kept silent; Murgen wasconfident in his control of the situation, and there was no reason to shatter his illusion. Ultimately, Murgen’s mistaken belief that Drakkal could so easily be intimidated by flagrant displays of wealth would work in Drakkal’s favor if the situation took a turn.
And there was plenty of time for this to go bad, especially given Nostrus’s demeanor.
As aware of Nostrus’s presence behind him as ever, Drakkal climbed into the cart, seated himself opposite Murgen, and wedged his tail beneath his thigh to keep it still.
The volturian’s boots clacked across the floor as he walked to the front of the vehicle and climbed into the operator’s seat. A moment later, the vehicle’s engine hummed to life. The back steps rose and folded up, sealing the rear wall of the cab, and Murgen grinned around his blunt tusks.
The hovercart moved forward. Drakkal felt the gentle hum of its antigrav engines beneath him.
“This is a real treat,” Murgen said, settling a hand atop one of his thick thighs. “My collection is the best in Arthos. You’ve never seen its like.”
Drakkal would’ve asked what Murgen was talking about if only to garner a better understanding of what was happening—which heshouldhave done before coming this far—but the answer became apparent before he could open his mouth.
The hovercraft passed a shallow recess in the wall—a large observation window at least two meters tall by four across. Beyond the window was a lush, dense section of jungle, within which stood several big, squat, golden-scaled creatures. They were khochi, native to the swamps of Zanjin—popular quarry for intergalactic trophy hunters.
“All genuine,” Murgen said. “Holographic displays don’t do the animals any justice. It’s always best to see directly with one’s own eyes, I say.”
They drove past a few more displays, each containingunique environments and creatures, some familiar to Drakkal, many not. Drakkal glanced toward the front of the vehicle. The corridor stretched on and on ahead, bisected by intermittent perpendicular corridors.
This place was a zoo. A damnedzoo, right beneath the Gilded Sector.
Drakkal’s unease intensified. All these cages, all these cells…
Murgen’s eyes gleamed with pride. “I’ve rare species from across the known universe here. Some of the most beautiful, most dangerous animals in existence. It’s taken decades to build this collection.”
All Drakkal could do was nod and force his expression to remain neutral. His eyes flicked from cell to cell; the hovercart must’ve passed a dozen such displays on either side before Nostrus guided it around a corner into a wider corridor. The mysterious scent strengthened further; it was reminiscent of sundrinker flowers, a fragrance Drakkal hadn’t smelled since before he was enslaved nearly twenty years ago. But this scent was spiced with something exotic, something foreign, something…alluring.
Murgen chuckled, making his body shake. The hovercart trembled. “We’re almost to the best part, my friend. The heart of my collection. The specimens that make it truly unique. You know, I…”
Though Murgen continued speaking, Drakkal didn’t hear the words. The azhera’s chest was tight, his blood hot, his stomach knotted. He’d spent several years of his life hunting and fishing, but seeing these creatures caged in a place like this, held by a person like this…it woke something within Drakkal, a primal rage that railed againstallcages.
Drakkal clenched his fists at his sides, barely resisting the urge to bury his claws in the seat cushion beneath him. AndMurgen kept talking, jowls jiggling, his voice reduced to a meaningless, self-absorbed drone in Drakkal’s perception.
But Drakkal’s rage only intensified when the vehicle came to a stop in a large, circular chamber with viewing windows all around. The fires burning in Drakkal were momentarily overpowered by a chill so strong that it threatened to freeze his blood.