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I had to walk all ginger-like as I trailed the others up stairs and down corridors through the Coliseum. Those damned kobolds had scrubbed me near to bleeding, and my skin chafed and burned in places I hadn’t even known I had skin. That trollop Esmi had promised me they were only taking me back to my room to help me clean up, but they were relentless. At one point I’d wondered if I needed to summon my hammer to defend myself. One of them had taken a stiff brush and scraped out under my fingernails, of all places. I kept catching sight of my hands as I walked and being distracted by how pink and clean they were. Between that and the fine clothes and soft leather shoes the girl had drummed up somewhere, I felt downright noble.
I hated it. Anybody from the Lows who saw me now would bloody my nose just on principle, and they’d be right to do it. I didn’t belong with these rich fools, even if they weren’t quite so bad as I’d first thought. My shirt was whiter and softer than anything I’d even seen for sale in the Lows, and I had some kind of blue silken stocking covering my feet and calves like a lady’s glove. That damned Esmi had said they were to show off my legs and keep my feet from stinking up the shoes, which didn’t make a lick of sense to me. Sure, the blue looked nice under the tight cinch of the trousers that ended just below the knee, but who’d be looking? And my feet would just stink up the stockings instead, which didn’t seem any better than the alternative, and who even noticed a little stink? A good strong smell let a fellow know he was still alive, but when I’d said that they all laughed to the skies like I’d made a joke. These people thought weird things were funny and funny things were offensive. It made me jumpy.
I trailed behind the other three by several paces, letting them chatter on, but that grinning trio of kobold Souls were right behind me, keeping me from running off. Not that I intended to. I was uncomfortable, sure, and deeply anxious about going to a party full of rich shits, but Basil had said the words exotic traders and that was enough to get me walking through fire. It won’t be that bad. The noble kids’ll take one look at me, see I don’t belong, and ignore me. I had plenty of practice being ignored, and even with all my idiot finery I still looked like a sparrow among peacocks. Basil’s chatty friend was wearing a cape.
Esmi let the other two go ahead of her, and she hung back until she was alongside me, at which point she hooked an arm through mine as if we were the oldest and dearest of friends. It was all I could do not to pull away and shove her into the wall. She was pretty, of course – painfully so, with a cascade of dark curls halfway down her back and gold-flecked eyes that nearly glowed – but in my experience, girls only played friendly for one of two reasons: they wanted you to pay for a tumble in the sheets, or they wanted to knife you for your sleeping spot. I doubted this girl needed to play either of those games, but she had sent her Souls to manhandle me. The instinct to protect myself was strong, and the best I managed was to stiffen like a board and stare straight ahead as we walked.
She noticed and patted my hand. “I don’t imagine you’re used to this sort of thing, but it will be so fun! Just follow my lead, or Basil’s, and soon enough the rest of them will forget to be wary and start imagining you’re some lost royal scion.”
I had a good laugh at that and she joined in, missing the bitter note in my voice entirely.
“So tell me about yourself,” she said easily. “Basil’s taken a shine to you, obviously, but honestly, the mystery boy in rags has everyone else wondering.”
I couldn’t stop a snort. “Basil wouldn’t have pissed on me to put out a fire if it wasn’t for you. He… well, he gave me back my ante after I lost our match – the Epic, you know? – and I was a prick about the whole thing.”
She beamed at the back of Basil’s head, who was deep in conversation with Warrick and his cape. “I suspected as much. He’s a good man, I’ll have you know. He would have warmed back up to you in a moment; I just helped the process along.”
“Why?” I asked, deciding on bluntness. “What’s it to you if the poor kid flames out and loses his cards?”
She gave a thoughtful smile and took her time before responding. “There’s more to elevating yourself than just leveling up your soul card, if you ask me. Yes, we can have eternity as Souls after we die, going from one Mind Home to the next, but what about this life? Shouldn’t there be some joy, some goodness, some beauty? What’s the point of being powerful if you don’t protect and help the people around you? I think the Twins value that at least as much as a well-played game.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to fool me or herself. Goodness? Beauty? Please. “Nobody does that kind of shit.”
“Not enough,” she allowed, “and maybe not often in your neck of the woods, but there are more than you think.” She gave a pointed look toward Basil. “For instance, who’d give up an Epic out of the goodness of their heart and then help the same fellow win a Mythic after getting spat on?”
I couldn’t hide a grimace. I’d been asking myself the same thing all day, and I still didn’t have a good answer. But I’d seen too much of this damned city and its damned people to take her explanation and swallow it. “Not me,” I said roughly, pulling away from her arm.
She kept her mysterious smile, completely unruffled by my rudeness. “You’ve been the target of incredible luck and incredible kindness today, Hull. At some point you’ll have to either accept those gifts with grace or reject the concept of goodness entirely and settle on becoming a truly terrible person.”
I thought of old Behar the duelist dying as I watched and drank his beer, of a thousand alley fights and petty thefts. I was already a terrible person. She just didn’t know me well enough yet.
“Are you excited for the abilities competition?” she asked breezily. I’d been silent too long.
She thought she was making small talk, but this topic was no easier for me than the other. With a mental shrug, I decided to simply spill it all rather than dance around the topic. Something about this girl made me talkative. “I don’t have a soul card, so I can’t say I care much either way about folks showing off. I had one when I was little, but my mother stole it and ran away.”
I expected her to react in shock, to protest at the impossibilities of my story, but she merely closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “That sounds awful.”
Something deep inside of me shifted painfully, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to ease it. A fragment of memory drifted up, of sitting warm and sleepy tucked into a woman’s lap as she hummed an odd, mournful melody that vibrated in my chest. Her arms were wrapped around me, and I played idly with her fingers, so much bigger than mine, the fingernails painted a glossy purple so dark it was almost black.
I spoke without thinking, lost in the half-remembered moment. “Sometimes I wonder, was she in trouble? Did she take it away to protect me somehow? Or was she just a heartless bitch that was glad to find something useful and leave the useless baggage behind?”
I snapped back to myself and shot a glance at Esmi. What’s wrong with you? I cleared my suddenly-thick throat and shrugged as casually as I could. “Sad story, boo hoo. Others have had it worse in their day.”
Pity in her eyes, Esmi reached over as if to pat my shoulder but then appeared to reconsider, folding her hands demurely in front of herself. “I can’t say I understand, but… Fate is good more often than she is bad. It’ll work out.”
I had a dozen cutting answers to that one, but she didn’t deserve any of them, so I let them die unsaid.
We’d been climbing stairs for ages, and Basil looked back as we rounded a corner with eyes only for Esmi. “Ready for the big event? May I escort you in, my good lady?”
The stairway opened up ahead onto night air, and gentle music drifted down at us. Two gleaming palace guards in polished cuirasses and helms stood at the head of the stairs, their pikes held at perfectly matched angles. Streamers of gold and scarlet silk crisscrossed the night sky ahead, and laughter and conversation burbled all around. Esmi hurried up to Basil and took his arm, and I fell in right behind them. We had arrived for the Soiree.
“Competitors Basil Hintal and Esmi Fireheart of the winners’ bracket,” one of the guards announced loudly as we passed, making me jump. Nobody had said a word to the man; he’d just known who they were already. “Competitor Hull of the losers’ bracket.” Somehow, having a stranger know my name without me ever laying eyes on him before made me deeply uneasy.
Basil noticed and leaned his head toward me as we strolled into the party. “Nobody will expect much of you if you keep to yourself. The trading tables will be in out-of-the way nooks and corners so deals can have some privacy. See what you can find and I’ll join you as soon as I’ve made the rounds. And, Hull?”
He laid a soft hand on my sleeve and gave me a serious look. “Behave.”
I wondered if behaving included burying my foot in his ass as he led Esmi and Warrick away, the very picture of a prissy nobleman. Esmi could talk all she wanted about the greatness of his heart – the kid was an unbearable twerp.
I forgot my annoyance as I took in the sights around me. We’d come all the way up to one of the private balconies at the very top of the Coliseum, and the only thing blocking the velvet night sky was a series of bright silk bolts attached to the crenelated walls enclosing the space on one end and soaring up overhead to wrap around a huge, central maypole, making a sort of open-air tent lit with elemental lamps of all colors. People and Souls mingled freely, drinking wine and spirits from delicate crystal goblets and nibbling expensive-looking finger foods. I made a mental note to find the person handing those out and make him earn his keep.
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First things first. The Mythic Life card felt like it might burn a hole in the pocket of my expensive trousers. I looked around for any open tables and found a dozen in easy sight, but they were either full of lounging nobility chatting and stuffing their faces with delicacies or else playing host to friendly card matches. I was tempted to sidle up to those to see what I could learn, but I had to stay focused on why I was here to begin with. Could I dare to hope that I might find someone trading in Nether? Basil seemed to think it was a possibility, and his instincts had steered me well so far.
I was backing through the space trying to look in all directions at once when I bumped hard into someone that yelped and swore. I stepped wide to steady myself and somehow got my foot tangled in theirs. Suddenly I was falling, and I had to turn and pull hard on their arm to keep from going down.
“Watch it,” I grunted, pulling myself upright. “You’ll get hurt–”
My throat tightened convulsively and my words disappeared in a rush of hopeless air as I came face-to-face with my obstacle, still holding tight to their arm. It was the single most incredible woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
Her skin was bone-white and flawless, and her perfectly styled hair swept in raven waves around a porcelain face with blood-red lips and the largest eyes of bottomless black – flecked with tiny ruby stars – to ever grace all the Twins’ creation. Her lithe, muscular body was sheathed in a sleeveless gown of black silk trimmed in gold and cream accents. My stupid brute hand was still clutching her forearm, and I snatched it back in horror. Had I bruised her? I’d cut off my own fingers first.
“I’m so sorry,” I babbled. I wondered if I should drop to my knees. Would she like that? “I never should have touched you. Stupid, stupid.”
She couldn’t have been any older than me, but she gave off an air of ancient mystery as she rolled her perfect eyes. “Stupid is putting it mildly when you show up to a party without protection when you know a vampire is in attendance.”
She reached into a handbag studded with black pearls and pulled out a copper bit. “You’re lucky I keep an emergency stash for idiots. Scratch that: you’re lucky the Nine expressly forbid me to feed on guests or take any pets while I’m here.” She flipped the coin at me with her flawless goddess thumb.
Feed. I imagined her dainty, sharpened eyeteeth pressed against my neck and shuddered with pleasure. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and the coin pinged uselessly off my forehead and fell to the ground. I felt a flicker of confusion, but it passed instantly. “Tell me when you’re allowed to feed again and I’ll follow you ‘til the day I die.”
She suppressed an irritated sigh. “Pick it up, you imbecile.”
Cringing at her displeasure, I stooped to take the coin. If she had given it to me, I’d treasure it forever. The moment my fingers touched the cool metal, my mind lurched and shifted as if I’d just landed from a jump off a second-story balcony. Clutching the coin to my chest, I gaped at her. “What? What did you do?”
She tsked. “Nothing I can control. You think I want every jumped-up undersquire and witless lordling panting after me? The glamour is a common ability among my kind, and if you don’t know it yet then your minders should hardly allow you out in mixed company.”
Shame flooded me as I remembered my fervent words of a moment before. “Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “Sorry about that.”
“Keep the coin,” she sighed, moving away. “If I end up facing you tomorrow, I expect to win fair and not hear you pledging your undying servitude.”
I stared after her. Even with my mind clear she was still one of the most impressive women I’d ever seen. I wished I’d thought to ask her name, but I wasn’t about to embarrass myself even further by trailing after her. The coin in my hand was stamped with a complex sigil and vibrated ever so slightly. Some Artisan must have imbued it with protection against mind alterations. Even if she’d given it out of annoyance, it was quite a gift. I kept it in my fist and resolved to make a bracelet for it as soon as possible so I could keep it against my skin. Not because she’d given it to me; it was just useful. At least, I was fairly sure that’s why I wanted to keep it.
Shaking my head, I headed for the perimeter of the terrace, looking for any tables or small booths that might indicate a card trader. I passed a handful of impressive people, both living and summoned Souls, and even a tiny bird creature with a nearly-human face fluttering by at head level, but nothing useful.
I stopped at a clump of young nobles, each richer-looking than the last. “Um, excuse me?”
They all laughed merrily at some witty remark someone had tossed out over their wine goblet, and not a one of them even glanced in my direction.
I tried again. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
A redheaded boy with a punchable face gave me the most condescending smile I’d ever seen. “Then don’t.”
The others tittered and kept up their conversation.
That stopped when I yanked the wineglass out of the little shit’s hand, drank it down in one gulp – fruity and sweet, not bad – and let the glass tumble to the flagstones, where it tinkled prettily into pieces. I stepped in close to the boy, stepping on the broken glass with my solid-soled shoes and grinding it into bits. I gave that same smile back to him with an added promise of violence. “Tell me where the card traders are before I break your fingers.”
The girls in the group laughed, and he scoffed haughtily. “You can’t just–”
“Okay,” I said reasonably, grabbing one hand and getting his pointer finger clamped in between both fists.
“Wait, stop!” he shrieked. “Over there, overlooking the arena! Stop!” He was yanking his trapped hand ineffectually and slapping at my arm with the other.
“Thank you,” I said, letting him go and walking away. I heard them burst into horrified whispers behind me. No one else nearby had even noticed the commotion; everyone was chatting gaily and utterly caught up in their own self-importance. I knew Basil wouldn’t have approved of how I handled that, but the thought of his horrified dandy face gaping in surprise was almost as satisfying as bullying that redheaded boy toy had been.
The far side of the open-air space overlooked the great arena of the Coliseum. Far below I could see the dueling squares painted with their numbers. Watching from up here might not give the best view, but some high lord and his retinue could easily fill the space with iced drinks and dancing girls while they kept an eye on the competitors below, likely wagering unthinkable sums on the least of outcomes. The arena was dark and empty now, but minor flame elementals trapped in glass boxes gave light to the handful of tables set up for business nearby.
“There you are!” Basil said, trotting up to me. He’d lost both Esmi and Warrick, at least for the moment. “I’ve asked about, and the word is there’s a half-dwarf with some rare goods worth checking out.”
“Half dwarf?” I said. “Never met a Deepkin before.”
“Well, you still won’t have done,” he said, peering over the assorted tables and fussing with his own vest. “A mixed man might be shorter and, ah, rougher than what you’re used to, but that’s nothing next to a full Deepkin. Unsettling, I don’t mind telling you.”
I wondered for a heartbeat just how far this prissy noble kid had traveled in order to see a dwarven Deepkin, but I couldn’t be bothered with the whole how dare he be so rich thing at the moment: there was a short man at one of these tables with cards I wanted to see, and it only took a moment to figure out which. “There,” I said. “Let’s go.”
The man at the furthest table was the smallest full-grown man I’d ever seen. At first I thought he was sitting on a very short stool, but a second glance showed that he was standing at full height; it was just that the flat of the table came all the way up to his chest. He looked… lumpy, almost like he’d been hit with a stick that had raised goose eggs on cheeks, forehead, and chin. Even that wasn’t right, though, because the lumps had an uneven texture, almost like rocks were growing out of his skin.
“Well if you’re not the ugliest pair of bastards to ever slap yourselves on my eyes, then I’m a troll with two dicks,” the little man said, peering at us suspiciously. “Whaddaya want?”
All the air left Basil in a rush. I liked the man immediately.
“Think you can handle a Mythic?” I asked him.
“I can handle your mother and the Queen Consort without spilling my beer,” he retorted. “And if you’ve got so much as a Rare then I’ll eat my own boots for dinner.”
I grinned at him. “Hope you’ve got a big pot of mustard to help choke ‘em down.” I pulled the Shared Wisdom card from my pocket and held it out to him.
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“Hull, that’s not–” Basil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not bargaining like fishwives here.”
The half-dwarf flapped an absent hand at him, never taking his eyes from the emerald-bordered card. “Shut it, rich boy. That’s exactly what we’re doing.” He licked his pebbly lips. “Don’t see a Life Mythic very often. Those tight-ass Elves can’t bear the thought of breaking a card for its shards, any card at all, and it takes a damn long time to get to the higher rarities without ‘em.” He rubbed his hands together. “You’re no Order-pusher, I can see that, and if you were slinging an Elemental source you wouldn’t come to me. You’re not Depths, are you?”
“I might be,” I said, trying not to get too excited. “Never tried.”
“Nah,” he said. “Lessen your dad was twin to mine and stuck his pecker in a rock that turned out to be a dwarf, don’t bother. Or maybe if you’d been living in a deep cave for the last month to cultivate the source, but you’ve got too much color for that.”
I’d held out hope long past the time it made sense that I might have another exotic source capability, but the more I learned, the less likely it seemed. “I run Nether.”
He perked up. “You the little toad that’s got all the fancy knickers in a twist? Good for you. Love to see it. This place could use a little Demon blood.” He reached down to a leather case at his feet and rummaged through it. “As it happens, my ma’s clutch lives in the lowest reaches of the Dwarrow Caverns down south, and there’s a fissure not far from their stomping grounds that links up to the Outer Wilds of the Demon Realm at every solstice. Makes for a good trade stop even if you have to sit in a cage to keep the bastards from eating you. Been sitting on a stack of Nether for ages, wondering what to do with them. Been half tempted to trade ‘em all away at half price, and now you make me glad I didn’t.”
“We’ll not take dross and leavings you can’t trade elsewhere,” Basil broke in. “We know the value of what we have.”
The little man gave him a withering glare. “Find me anyone in any of your three great cities that says Findek the Mender trades crooked. Go on, I’ll wait.”
Basil straightened his frilly cravat, looking away. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
“Talk less and you’ll come closer,” Findek grumbled. “Wait ‘til you see the wares before you start bitching.”
Throwing me a knowing smirk, he laid card after card face up on the table between us, and my heart beat faster and faster with each one. Twins bless the twist that led me to this moment. This is exactly what I need.
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“Now,” Findek the Mender said with a grim kind of relish, “Let’s get started.”