CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
*~~~**~~~*
Jameson Wicket
*~~~**~~~*
2nd of Janus, 936 PC
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Wicket scratched the back of his neck, wondering if it was a good idea to follow Ashe through his newest creation. A dark tunnel sure felt like the perfect place to get revenge on a man that had killed your brother. That boy ain’t the kind of man that’s lookin’ to get revenge on anything. You cleared the air with him, he said it himself.
“Smell anything Old Wolf?”
“Nothing good, but nothing to worry about either.”
Wicket turned to Ashe. “And it’ll hold?”
The blonde was staring at his work proudly. Not as proudly as when his brother was alive but that was to be expected when a good chunk of him was still standing beside the decorative mound he’d created for Lace back in Howler’s Wood.
“We’ll find out.” Ashe took the burning stick out of Wicket’s hand and moved into the tunnel. Yormir’s crossbow was strapped to his back and dammit if Wicket didn’t think the bolts looked a bit more ominous than they used to. No one could blame Ashe for being less than a warm blanket now but the small remarks here and there about missing Lace were sharp as daggers at times.
Yormir put a hand on Wicket’s shoulder. “If he crushes us for what you did to Lace I’m gonna make your walk home a miserable one.” He showed his yellow teeth then followed Ashe. When the light from the flame faded it left Wicket standing in the dark beside Camila.
Wicket tried to sound lighthearted as he spoke to her. “Can’t think of a better place for a man with no skills with any weapon to even the odds with an enemy.”
When Camila didn’t put his nerves at ease with any kind of words, he started to think she might know something he didn’t. It’d be a shame to turn around now though so he stepped toward the darkness.
“Uncle Wicket.”
He turned to see Camila’s bruised face frowning the way a bruised face ought to be frowning. “Reckon you should never make a face like that. The world needs your smile.” She curled her lips like someone who wasn’t proud of their teeth. “What’s got ya tangled up?”
“I just… I wanted to thank you for what you did.” She wiped the whole length of her skinny arm with an uncomfortable hand. “Doesn’t feel right thanking you for killing someone.”
He started fidgeting worse than her. “Doesn’t feel right killin’ ‘em either.” The words made her sway back and forth and look at the ground like they were trying to see who could be the most awkward. “Never wanted you t’see me like that.”
“I heard the stories.”
“Aye. But stories can be made up. Now ya know the kind of bastard I can be.”
She shook her head. “Heroes kill villains. That’s the only story I saw.” And before he knew it she was stepping toward him, slowly and gently. Then her arms were wrapped around him tight and love was pouring through him. The real kind. Not that shit people call love when they want to get someone in bed. He dropped his chin on top of her head and squeezed her too.
When she pulled away she said, “Why haven’t we seen any Lotus?”
“Because that ain’t the plan.” As the seconds ticked away he started to realize he hadn’t put her suspicions to rest. “Wouldn’t make no sense if we drew attention to ourselves, would it?”
“Still, there are Lotus all over the empire but we haven’t seen any.”
“And I ain’t complaining about that. Are you?” he said. “Now come on, better catch up with ‘em or Yormir will have the boy too drunk to get us all the way through the mountain.”
*~~~**~~~*
Every so often Ashe would come to a stop and hand off the stick torch before using his magic to close the part of the tunnel they’d just come from and create more of it to move through – a way of keeping some of the stress off the tunnel itself. A good way to give Wicket a heart attack too. Every time the artist closed his eyes, Wicket would close his own and imagine the rocks coming down on his head. When Ashe would announce he was done, Wicket would breathe a sigh of relief and put his hand back on the smooth wall for some kind of strange comfort.
It took hours upon hours to get through the tunnel but it was a whole lot warmer and a whole lot easier than climbing into the clouds to go over them. Wicket almost dropped to the ground and kissed the earth when he stepped into the moonlight but that might have made for more tension than it was worth. Instead, he patted Ashe on the back and told him they couldn’t have done it without him. Felt every bit as stupid as it sounded but Ashe smiled as he dropped the burning stick on the ground and stomped out the fire.
“Welcome to White Hall, boys,” Yormir said, looking at Camila. “And girl. Where sins are valued higher than morals and if you haven’t gotten a woman in bed by sundown you can guarantee you’re the filthiest man in the empire.”
“Do you ever think about anything other than bedding women?” Camila asked.
“Course. But those thoughts make my skin crawl and I get to acting grouchy when my skin’s crawling. So, in a way I’m doin’ y’all a favor.”
Wicket stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the miles and miles of buildings that made up the big ol’ city. Someone had once asked him to describe White Hall when they found out he’d been there. All he could say was, “It’s big.” Then he put a better effort into it and said, “Real big.” When they pressed for more, he said, “So big it’d take three lifetimes to walk every street and see every store.” They’d given up after that but he’d gotten his point across. Now, staring at it again, he was full of ways to describe it. Tall buildings, short buildings, skinny ones, round ones, beautiful ones, ugly ones.
Yormir must have been thinking nearly the same thing because he said, “The buildings are like men and women, aren’t they? All shapes and sizes.” Ashe had a laugh at that one; his first since Lace’s death. He hadn’t forgotten how to do it though, still smooth and infectious. It put a hint of a smile on Wicket’s face; his first since Lace’s death.
“It's like every person’s dream come true all in one place,” Ashe said.
“Aye. And if it doesn't make your dream come true, then there are plenty of pretty ladies here that’ll do that for ya,” Yormir said and started down the hillside that stretched as wide as the never-ending city. Camila took off after him, trying to convince him that there was more to the world than sex.
Wicket started to move but when Ashe didn’t he stopped. Never would have known they were just smiling a minute ago by the look on the boy’s face now. Any happiness he might have shown them was lying cracked and broken on the ground beside him now. His forest green eyes and the fingers that were wiping them were mostly hidden by his wavy blonde bangs.
“Ya gonna be alright?” Wicket asked. Ashe nodded his head, bangs swaying.
“Comin’?” Yormir shouted from halfway down the hill.
Ashe ran the back of his sleeve across his eyes and headed off without a word.
*~~~**~~~*
They spent all of twenty minutes walking the crowded streets of White Hall before they ended up in a gambling hall called Lucky Leo’s. The building took up three lots on the main road, which locals had nicknamed Lover’s Lane on account of the dozens and dozens of men and women working the corners. The smell of smoke and sound of cheers that met them at the hall’s doors had reminded Wicket of an itch he’d forgotten to scratch for much too long. The signs on the walls were of made to look like handsome men and beautiful women dancing and cheering, the music coming from the other side of the hall was meant to make you feel full of energy, and there were so many bars all around the room that you almost felt challenged to have a drink at all over them.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
There were so many tables full of hopeful losers he couldn’t even begin to count them. They had sections for ruckus and botsy and hand over fist and every other way to lose Leos faster than a whore can take her clothes off. Which was actually happening at one of the tables in the middle of the room. The men over there were hooting and hollering like crazy.
“Enjoy fellas,” Yormir said, already holding a mug of ale in his hand that he’d taken from one of the waitresses dressed in red see-through gowns. The male waiters were shirtless and muscular and getting every bit as much attention as the women.
A blonde woman that could have been mistaken for a queen with the costume she was wearing caught The Old Wolf’s eye, which led to a grin at Wicket that could only mean one thing.
“No magic,” Wicket said to him. A Lotus or ten could slip into a crowd this big without even meaning to. Drunk or not their magic could sense the use of a Purist’s magic and that was the last thing they needed this close to making it onboard the Seahawk. “And be back at the doors by sun up!” Yormir waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd.
Wicket turned to Ashe and Camila. “You gamble, Ashe?”
“Never.”
“You’re in for a treat. Why don’t ya show him how to play hand over fist. Easier for a first timer,” he said to Camila who took Ashe by the hand and led him toward the table games.
The enormous crowd provided him the perfect kind of loneliness. There was no necessity to entertain anyone, quite the opposite really, and yet there was also enough going on around him to not get lost in the darkness of his mind. He wandered up to a handsome waiter, judging it a bad idea to tempt himself with a lovely lady right now, and took a mug of ale. He thanked the waiter with an extra Leo but declined to drop it into the man’s pocket for him.
It took a couple laps around the ruckus tables but eventually he snagged a seat from an old man who was done for the night. They exchanged the typical small talk about how good or bad the table’s luck had been and then Wicket dug into his pocket for a handful of Leos and spilled them onto the table.
“Evening, sir,” the dealer said, shuffling the cards in a way Wicket knew wasn’t meant to shuffle anything. The east coast gambling halls were known for their cheating dealers.
“First time,” Wicket said. A trick he’d learned from Yormir. The hall was always willing to get a newcomer hooked before they bent them over the barrel night after night. The dealer smiled and changed up the way she was handling the cards.
The man at the other end of the table leaned back in his chair and put his arms high above his head like he was stretching and yawned like a lion. Took no effort at all to see his fingers were glowing purple. Wicket glanced around the hall, studying the people closer than before. There were purple dots moving all around at about ten of the tables he could see. Suddenly, ale didn’t sound so good. He slid the mug over with his elbow and got settled in for what would hopefully be a long night of winning then tossed a single Leo into the circle stitched into the cloth on top of the table.
He tried his best to remember how he used to sweep people off their feet with his natural charm, not the kind that did it for him. “Any words of advice? Maybe some good luck charms I could borrow?” he said when he noticed the two women in the middle of the table had identical dolls lying near their stacks of coins. The women looked awfully similar too, had to be sisters at the very least.
The woman with grayer hair said, “Sorry good lookin’, Helga looks over my coins and my coins only.” She adjusted the doll in front of her slightly and blew him a kiss.
“You wanna get rid of your”– the Lotus interrupted himself with another yawn –“You wanna get rid of your high cards. Toss whatever you don’t like over to her and she’ll give ya some new ones. After that if your four cards equal less than hers you win. Tie and you keep your money but don’t get none either.”
“Easy enough,” Wicket said, picking up his cards. He acted like he was trying to figure out what cards were high and low then tossed two face cards and a black eight toward the middle. When he picked up the three new ones he saw a two, a four, and a five to go along with the seven he already had.
He leaned back and said, “Not bad!”
The dealer showed her four cards and then went through the forced replacement of everything from six to nine, getting all face cards in the new batch. The old women cheered like crazy. All the Lotus did was nod at Wicket as he yawned again.
“Been here awhile?” Wicket said to him.
“All day,” the Lotus said. “Got a day of rest but who can rest in White Hall?”
“I hear ya,” Wicket said. “Pretty tired myself. Been ridin’ for days. You assigned out here?”
“No. On one of the Cloudcruisers. Got sent out here for a quick trip but we’re leavin’ in the morning,” the Lotus said then took a sip of ale. “Gotta be in Thronerock by tomorrow night.”
Wicket’s fingers dug into his thighs but he didn’t let anything above the table change.
“Thronerock? What d’ya gotta do in that shitty little place?”
The Lotus took a look at his cards and tossed two away. “Don’t know. The officers never tell us nothing until we’re about to risk our lives for ‘em.”
“Ain’t it the truth. Still, can’t imagine what’s important in Thronerock. Surprised that place still has people living in it.”
The Lotus bet enough Leos to buy a decent bottle of wine and said, “Doubt it will much longer.”
The old women did their best not to get wrapped up in the conversation but it was clear they weren’t fans of the Lotus.
“Well then, the empire’ll be that much safer for it. Thank ya for what you do,” Wicket said.
“Well, don’t thank me. I try not to get too deep in the fighting,” the Lotus said, then told the table he was done for the night. Generous bastard, gave the dealer a decent chunk of his winnings. Wicket had seen a lot of gamblers leave a lot of tables over the years and they all ended up in one of two types of people. There were the ones who grabbed their coins and darted off without a word and there were the ones who stood up and lingered while the next hand was played. The Lotus was a lingerer.
Wicket put three coins in the circle in front of himself. “Playin’ one for you, sweetheart.” Another trick he picked up off Yormir. Honestly, he wondered why Yormir wasn’t rich with all the ways he could pry money out of gambling halls. The dealer smiled at Wicket, cute as a button. She had soft pale skin that made looking at her easy. Her auburn hair reminded him of the burning stick he’d followed through the mountains.
His next hand was about as good as it gets in ruckus, everything under five. He kept them all and watched the dealer end up with a decent hand of her own but not good enough to beat his. Wicket caught the Lotus leaving out of the corner of his eye and had half a notion to follow him but his ass stuck to the chair like there was a bag full of bricks on his lap. Ain’t no sense in making a scene. He tossed two of the coins the dealer had given him back in front of her. “Keep ‘em rollin’!” He was shocked he could sound so happy when his insides were being gutted by the thought of Iris getting her hands on Cora.
*~~~**~~~*
He let the bottle of rum fall off the bed with a thump and laced his fingers on his chest. Who knew how he’d ended up in a guest room above the gambling hall, but he had – drunk and alone. Except for the memories of Cora that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to distract himself with something else. One in particular had come to the forefront of his mind and sat down like a stubborn mule. He knew it well too. There was no way to forget the day he’d stolen Cora right out from underneath Iris’ nose. Same day he slit Reggie’s throat. Same day he killed two members of the City Guard that had no business dying. Same day he’d cleared out a whole apartment building before it blew up too, even though Iris had told him not to waste his time.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been proud of himself that day. Minus all the killing. He’d held his tongue every time that bastard Gant got to running his mouth and didn’t give Reggie a single reason to think he’d found out what the snitch had done. He even had Iris believing he wanted her back – probably because he did. She tried to make it look like the feelings were mutual but he’d spun plenty of good-looking lies for long enough to know if he didn’t get the upper hand first, a smart gal like Iris would think of a way to have him strapped to her workbench at some point. Whew, she ended up heartless, downright ruthless. Didn’t start off that way. She’d been a pretty little doll stuffed with innocence and hard work when he met her. But by the time he slipped a sleeping Cora out of her basket and tip-toed out of the laboratory, she’d become something there were no words for. What kind of parent doesn’t know who had their hands on her baby? Same kind that leaves a girl with eight years to her name alone in a pub full of scum, that’s what kind. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Not a chance in the three hells I could get back to Thronerock before tomorrow night short of sneaking onto a Cloudcruiser. He gave the idea just the right amount of consideration before he went back to pondering where everything had gone wrong. How’d she know we was living there? Thronerock was supposed to be gone and forgotten and Cora was supposed to be living in that invisibility. He should have known though, Iris had made a life out of finding invisible things when no one else even cared to look for them.
“Are you going to leave soon?”
Wicket’s hands shot to the bed. His head jerked to the side. A woman with black hair and cinnamon colored eyes was sitting at the table next to the bed, eating a bowl of something and staring at him like she’d never seen anything so disgusting. The room started spinning when he sat up. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” Her disgust became even clearer when her face screwed up into an ugly, wrinkled mess.
He clutched his forehead. “I ain’t nobody. How’d I get in here?”
“You just walked through the door and told me not to wake you up. You snore worse than an angry hog.”
He nodded. “I’ve been told that a few times.” He tried to stand up but fell back on the bed. “I didn’t bother ya did I?”
“Just the snoring.”
“Sorry about that.” He managed to get to his feet the second time but moving wasn’t on his leg’s list of things to do. He sat back down. “What time is it?”
“Couple hours til sun up.” The woman said, crossing her legs and pointing at him with her spoon. “Lay back down. I’ll let you know when the sun wakes up.”
He nodded and laid down across the bed, feet still on the floor. “Thank ya.”
“Don’t mention it. A gal doesn’t come to White Hall without expecting something like this to happen.”
He lifted a hand like he was holding a mug. “Can’t think of nowhere I’d rather be.”