When Tif got to the main lotto building the crowd around it was already at least a couple hundred strong. Unlike the smaller buildings spread throughout Lercel where tickets were sold, the main building was a sprawling, two story structure with multiple domed rooftops, all of which looked to be made of gold. Tif had heard that it was really just brass, but the way they shone in the setting sunlight looked like molten gold to her, real or not.

Tif slowed as she reached the edge of the throng. She had been running hard ever since purchasing her last tickets and was actually short of breath, the distance she had covered a fair stretch longer than her usual jog home. A young man at the edge of the milling mass apparently heard her sucking in breath because he turned away from the distant building to look at her.

“Run up from the lows?” he asked. He was older than her, five or so years, and obviously from the university in the mids, what with his grey and blue robe and the thick book on a strap slung over his shoulder. His voice had a nervous quality, and he held something tightly she couldn’t quite see.

Tif shook her head. “The highs.”

He whistled, giving her a jerky nod of respect. “Well, no need to worry. They didn’t start yet.”

Tif laughed, gesturing toward the shifting mass of people with her shoulder since she still held her crate in both hands.

“If it was over, they’d be gone, and if the criers had started calling symbols, they’d be so quiet you could hear a pin drop at twenty paces.”

He blushed. “Ah, yes, of course. I just meant--”

“Maybe if you win, you can get something to eat instead of chewing on your foot.”

Tif found the speaker easily: a nearby woman in her forties, whose hair was covered by a checkered bonnet, and whose hands held a basket with a dog in it--the small creature sniffing the air as it watched all the people in fascination.

When the young man didn’t answer, Tif looked back at him and saw that he was standing stiffly, looking very uncomfortable. She also saw that what he was clutching was a single, mangled ticket, and Tif couldn’t help but frown. She never touched her tickets during the draw--bad luck that. He saw her expression, and his face got even redder, which hadn’t been Tif’s intention at all.

“He’s just talking to pass the time,” Tif called over to the woman. “You remember what your first draw was like, don’t you?”

“Doubt it,” a lanky man beside the woman said. He was tall as a keshe and his clothes were covered in black soot, marking him a chimney sweep. “Her first was likely before her eyes had feet.”

“Oy!” said the woman, slapping him on the arm, which created a puff of soot in the air between them. “If I wanted lip, I would have stayed married to my husband.”

The chimney sweep loomed over her, pushing out his lips.

“If I win, maybe I’ll take you out to eat.”

She gave him a considering look. “You’ll clean up first.”

“By the Aspect I won’t. This is my best suit!”

They continued talking, but Tif had stopped listening and started looking for a way through the crowd. She normally liked standing closer--Pep and her disagreed about whether it improved her chances, but there was something about it that just felt right to Tif. If she could see the wide double door of the main lotto building, she could imagine walking through them, stepping onto the marble tiles of the antechamber, and then down to the prize vault, which was said to be as large as the building was wide. And if she could imagine it, then it could happen.

It hadn’t worked yet, of course, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

“How did you know it was my first time?” the young man asked her.

Tif turned, giving him a friendly smile. The way he continued to hold his ticket like he was choking it made her think he could use one.

“Pep told me,” she said.

He tilted his head. “Pep?”

Tif held up her left hand. The sweat of her run had smudged some of Pep’s lines, but the face was still obviously there.

“I...see,” he said, awkwardly. He looked back toward the lotto building like most everyone else was, letting the conversation lapse.

Tif expected him to move off after that, but he stayed beside her. She considered getting closer again, but the crowd was even bigger now, more people having filtered into the large square the lotto building sat in the center of. The structure and the waiting space around it was one of the biggest in the mids, due to not only the popularity of the game but because it was where most of the lotto sellers' customers came from. If she won, she’d have a walk ahead of her being so far back, but that would be okay. She was sure she’d be walking on air if that happened.

Out of the corner of her eye Tif saw Aspects filter into the square, people stepping quickly to make way for the tall golden beings. The drawing always seemed to attract them, and with their coming the crowd became more alive, talking louder and faster to each other.

“Do you feel it?” she asked.

“It?”

She had been talking to Pep but went ahead and answered the young man.

“The excitement. Everyone’s waiting for something to happen, and that energy makes the air...crackle. It’s like ris. You can’t see it, but it’s there.”

Tif turned to him to see if he was getting her meaning. She found him staring at her with a frown.

“I don’t know how you can make something this stressful sound good.” He swept a hand out to take in everyone who was gathering. “All these people and only one winner. The odds are ludicrous.” He looked back at the far off building, his expression forlorn.

“It is good, and it isn’t just about winning.” She pointed at the woman and the chimney sweep who was now petting the dog in the basket. “It’s about having something to hope for and sharing that hope with others. Those two would probably never have met if not the lotto and who’s to say how their lives will be changed because of it. I’ve seen nobles hug citizens, and keshe and humans dance together when they’re getting close to winning.”

He thought on this, a far off expression taking hold of his narrow features. “A time when caste is forgotten, you say? I suppose I can see the value in that. At least I think I can.”

Tif wished she could have said things this well when Sur-Rak had asked her. Sur-Rak...even thinking about the arrogant keshe made her want to spit. Claiming she would be Archon some day. Not if Tif had anything to do with it. And after today, she would.

“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his voice jumping an octave. “Did I say something wrong again?”

“Sorry, no. I was just...talking with someone before this. She wanted to get rid of the lotto, and I was thinking how much we’d all lose if that happened.”

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“Get rid of the lotto?” a child piped up. Tif turned and saw that the girl who had spoken couldn’t be more than ten, with wide freckled cheeks and wearing a smock that was rattier even than what Tif had on. “Who would do that?” An older man held one of the young girl’s hands, probably her fa, and he had a tight, desperate look on his face. Not nervous like the young man beside Tif but afraid--afraid that if this didn’t work, there would be no options left. Tif had seen that look many times before, people putting their last bit of hope on the lotto, and facing it always steeled her resolve.

When Tif had been younger than this girl, she had planned to win the lotto and give the money to everyone she knew. But as she had gotten older she had realized that even with the riches the lotto gave, it wouldn’t be enough for all the people in the lows and mids who needed it. The only way she could really help them, all of them, was to become the Archon. Not that the current Archon wasn’t doing a good job. With the Gargant, she had single handedly ended the invasion that had killed Awt’s parents. She had also abolished the despicable Life Trade and survived assassination attempts because of that act, making her more than a hero in Tif’s eyes. In fact, Tif knew that change was possible because of her.

But being so high up, she didn’t think any Archon past or present could understand what so many in Lercel lacked, just like Sur-Rak hadn’t.

But Tif did.

She kneeled down in front of the girl so they could be on the same level.

“No one important.” Tif tried to sound as reassuring as she could. The girl’s fa wasn’t looking at her, but she hoped he heard, too. “Aspect’s luck be with you.”

The girl smiled, revealing that two of her front teeth were rotten.

“You said it, which means you can’t take it back. Don’t be mad at us if we win now!”

Tif grinned at her in return, grinned so she didn’t cry. “I won’t. I promise.”

A growing murmur from the crowd got Tif back to her feet.

“It’s starting, isn’t it?” the young man said.

“Yup,” she answered, watching him wipe the sweat from his upper lip at her confirmation. Tif didn’t know what he was wishing for, but it was something he obviously cared a great deal about. Both universities were supposed to be quite costly to attend. Maybe that’s what he needed the winnings for.

A slight shift in the air, and Tif felt the hairs across her whole body raise. It was the sound of people trying to be quiet, waiting for the words from the caller outside the main lotto building to reach them. Tif strained her ears to hear what the first of the five symbols would be. Sometimes people, usually drunk, tried calling out a false symbol, but anyone not wearing the crier's black and yellow caught shouting were quickly silenced, often painfully, by unforgiving bettors standing nearby.

“Sq…..Sqa….Square!” Tif finally heard from a crier she spotted briefly fifty paces away.

Someone behind her cursed, and she looked over her shoulder to see a gnarled keshe throwing his ticket to the ground. He wasn’t alone in his frustration: people all around were doing the same or tearing the thick paper apart to vent their anger. Tif knew that three of her own twelve tickets were just as useless now, their worth disintegrating faster than if they had been thrown in a fire.

“First call, and I’m already out.”

Tif turned and saw that the young man beside her was hanging his head.

“Waste of money,” he said, “just like everyone told me it would be.”

“There’s always next time,” she said, consolingly.

“Not for me. Before buying the cursed thing, I swore it would be my one and only attempt.” He shrugged, looking up at her. “I guess it could have been worse. I could have been stuck next to the dog lady.”

Tif laughed at that, and he smiled.

“Good luck,” he said but then paused halfway in going. “Am I being rude leaving before it’s over for you? I don’t really know the etiquette…” he trailed off.

She laughed again. “You don’t owe me anything. Good luck with whatever it was that brought you here.”

“Oh, that. I, uh, let a really rare record get stolen from the university archives, so I thought I could win enough money to pay someone to find it or maybe buy it back from the underground if they have it, but those things obviously won’t work now. I’ll be expelled most likely.”

Tif stared at him, more than a touch surprised by the sudden confession.

He smiled wanly at her. “Probably for the best, I was never a great fit there. Anyway, hope you’re luckier than me.”

With only a few steps the young man was lost to Tif as the crowd continued to shift, some leaving, others moving closer to the main building. She wished he had talked about that from the start. Sounded like a story that would have easily kept her mind off things until the first call. Not that it mattered now; the criers would announce the second symbol soon. They always like to delay in the beginning to give the masses time to thin, but it would get faster and faster after that, building to a crescendo for those few who were left.

Even though she had been through the same dozens of times before, Tif could feel her pulse speeding up with each passing moment. She had made it as far as the third symbol before, and she’d only had one ticket then. Now she still had eight potential winners, five at her waist and three left with her ma, safe in their alley wall. Tif had planned to collect them all before the draw, but her day had hardly gone as expected, and thank the Aspect for that. She had twelve tickets, more than she would have ever dared dream, and Tif was sure that one of her remaining eight would take her the whole way.

“Tri….Triangle!”

More cries of disappointment, and Tif felt a bit of a sting, knowing that one of her original tickets was now worthless. Glancing through her new ones which she didn’t have fully memorized, she found two more and dropped all three from her hip pouch to the ground. She could have watched the stiff paper fall, but instead she turned to see how the little girl and her fa were faring. Her throat clenched--they were gone and nowhere in sight.

“Circle!”

The cry brought Tif back to the draw.

“Still have four,” she said to Pep.

More curses but also hoots from those who were excited to have made it past the halfway point. Tif remembered shouting her head off her first time there, too. Now though, she waited for the next symbol, her body tense. She just needed two more to match, and she could end the day with as much ris as Sur-Rak.

“st….Star!”

Tif stopped breathing. She had that sequence: square, triangle, circle, star. Not only did she have it, she had two tickets with it, one ending in a circle, the other a triangle. There were only five symbols used, which meant she had almost a fifty-fifty chance of winning.

She waited, listening harder than she ever had in her life but no final call happened. Had something happened? Why would they stop? They always did the last two in quick succession. Tif pushed forward against people leaving, and the cry came out of nowhere, hitting her like a punch to her blindside.

“Triangle!”

She froze mid step. “I won,” Tif said. Or at least she thought she had spoken--the shouts and calls around her were so loud she couldn’t even hear herself. Tif felt like a bee was buzzing beneath her skin as she opened her pouch and began digging through it. All of the tickets she had bought in the highs were losers, and she tossed them away. Next were the four from the day before. Thumbing through those, three in she found the one that was square, triangle, circle, star, circle.

“Not you,” she said, letting the almost winner fall to the ground. Any other time she would have kept it as proof of how close she had gotten, but today wasn’t any other time, today she had won.

However, the last one wasn’t right either, so Tif squatted on the ground to double-check what she had let go. If it wasn’t in her pouch, her ma had it, but if she ran all the way home and none of those were right either, she’d never forgive herself for leaving the ticket that would change her whole life in the square.

As she looked through all the ones at her feet, searching for the winning combo she knew she had, Tif heard some mumbles from those close by: “Girl can’t take a loss,” and, “What was someone like her doing with all those tickets?” What caught Tif’s ears more though was the general rumble happening throughout the square.

She popped up, looking over the heads of the people between her and the main building. If someone else had won, they would be shouting it, holding the ticket up, and the Aspects would come and escort the person to the front. The fact that no one else had yet proved it. The win was definitely hers and it definitely hadn’t been in her pouch.

Trying to look downtrodden, Tif pushed her way through the crowd--she even threw in a few curses for added affect, and received some consolatory looks in return. The mids might be safe, but if someone thought that she had won, they would follow her back to the lows where Aspects rarely roamed.

The winner had until sunrise to claim their prize and losing bettors often camped out around the building to make sure someone actually did. If no one came to claim it, the lotto house would sell tickets again for half the price and do another even bigger draw at noon the next day.

“I’ll be back soon,” Tif promised them all when she was out of earshot, breaking into a sprint for home.