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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 and naïve.”
    Bur-Al was flustered, as if he hadn’t considered the question himself. “I wanted to look into your face when I made my accusations. I wanted to see your eyes—and you’ve shown me that I am indeed correct.”
    Zod sighed. The man was an idiot. “Why should you need that, if you have incontrovertible proof? You haven’t thought this through very well, Bur-Al.”
    The young man sniffed, taking the insult as a badge of honor. “I apologize for not being as well practiced in deceit and scheming as you are, Commissioner.”
    Zod walked over to where Nam-Ek had just finished oiling the third hrakka and stood wiping his hands on a rag. “You give me nothing to work with, and most serious of all, you have wasted my time. These few minutes of nonsense with you are minutes that I can never have back. Very inefficient.” Bur-Al clenched his small fists at his sides. Zod turned to Nam-Ek. “The only redeeming factor is that I can make the event entertaining.”
    The charioteer clasped the thick chains with his bare hands, twisted them, and uprooted the anchor from the wall. The black hrakka stood up, thrashing, snarling. Nam-Ek broke the second chain, then the third.
    “They are very hungry after the races,” Zod explained. “You can make up for the waste of my time by at least saving me money on food.”
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