10 - False Readings

The inverted suit masters don’t always follow what we commonly understand to be the rules governing the Deck of Wills. As such, they are both more discerning and more demanding than their orthodox cousins.

-Lancaster’s Manual of Wills

I sat down opposite Annalisa. “Just one card,” I said. I shuffled and cut, but instead of infusing my will to do a true reading, I did a false one.

The Deck of Wills is called such not just because the cards themselves have a will of their own, but because Soul Seeking is, itself, a form of magic. Without the focused will of a talented reader, the deck is little more than a child’s parlor game. And this was the game I played for Annalisa. As you can imagine, after following me home, badgering me, soiling my freshly-tailored robes, and implying I was some kind of tail-pervert, I was not this girl’s biggest fan.

Her coppers dropped into the cup and I slid the top card off of the deck and flipped it. “The villager, inverted,” I said. Drinking, superstition, narrow-mindedness. Huh. I definitely hadn’t put will into a true reading. Even broken clockworks are correct twice a day.

Annalisa looked down at it in awe. “But what’s it mean?”

“It mean’s you’re going to win your fight,” I said. A plan began to form in my head.

“Really?” she said, getting excited.

“Really. You’re going to clobber the other girl.”

“Guy.”

“You’re going to clobber the other guy.”

Annalisa’s wide grin revealed sharp canines, and I swear her horns quivered. She jumped up from the chair, punching in the air above her head. “Hells, yeah! I’m going to kick his ass! I knew it!” Her eyes widened. “I’ve got to go practice!”

If you knew it, why did you need the reading so desperately? I thought to myself. Before I could tell her to get out, she shot out the door like a crossbow bolt, barely stopping to open it first. I heard her feet pounding down the stairs, and then the aggrieved shout from whoever she apparently knocked out of the way in her mad dash back to the pits.

I leaned back, staring at the door she hadn’t bothered to close behind her. Honestly, I was just grateful she’d forgotten about her promise to guard for me. I reached out to grab the deck, and flinched back as I felt a snap of power. Something in there was very, very unhappy at what I’d just done. My heart raced. I’d never experienced or heard of a reaction like that. What’s more, it hadn’t been from the suit of dragons or knaves. In fact, I could sense the dragons were content at the acquisition of money, while the knaves enjoyed the ruse.

A third, unknown suit had just spoken to me, even if to voice its displeasure at my actions.

I reached out and brushed my fingers against the cards. Nothing happened. Whatever the mystery suit had been, it was silent now. It had felt resolute, solid, firm. Peaks, maybe? Demons, perhaps? Devilborn had demon blood from the elemental planes demons. Hell, that’s where the term plane-touched came from. Maybe they were pissed that I’d lied to their second cousin. I flipped the deck and pulled out the five cards in the suit of demons, regarding them. Their suit master was the prince, and his visage stared back at me, still and silent. I felt nothing, now.

I hoped it wasn’t demons.

For the moment, I had bigger concerns. I pulled the loose brick from the hearth. Not the one I’d hit Salamaz with, but the one holding my stash. To be fair, most of the bricks were loose. That’s what two cunnings gets you in Barrowdown. I pulled my reserves from the hiding place and went down the steps to the street.

A figure in a coat and fingerless gloves was currently trying to pull himself out of the gutter. I helped, then picked up his bowler hat and dusted it off before handing it to him.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, pulling it on and tipping it toward me. “Some frigid blue blur went and knocked me flat, it did.”

“They’re a menace,” I agreed. “You for the pits?”

“Aye,” he grinned with a smile missing at least two teeth. I returned it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Know a good bookie?”

He considered, fingers drumming against his mouth. “Hmm. More’n I’d admit to the missus. But they all go through Kridick out of the ol’ Mop n’ Bucket. Don’t mention his nose. You know where it’s at?”

“Presumably on his face,” I said.

My newest friend grinned and put a finger under my nose. “Cheeky git! I love it. But, that’s a smart mouth, no mistake. Get you in trouble, ‘round here.” His grin disappeared and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m shit serious, my son. Snark will get you killed down ‘ere. Don’t. Mention. The nose. Head three streets south and down the steps dockwise. You’ll see the sign. Tell him I sent you.” He tugged his hat again and set off without ever actually telling me his name.

Nothing for it. I set off south, looking for this pub.

It turned out to be a brothel, which I realized as soon as I saw the sign. It featured a very suggestive, knobby broom handle entering a suspiciously oblong bucket that dripped soapy water. I pulled my hood up and ducked inside.

I got a few looks when I entered, but not as many as you might think. Plenty of the upper city academy students from various guilds would sneak out to visit mistresses and ladies (or gentlemen) of the night. In fact, a couple of them occupied tables across the room, with companions in various states of undress. None of them were from the Seekers Guild, thankfully. But, in my Seeker’s robes, I probably looked like a bright-eyed and bushy tailed acolyte looking for some mischief on a budget.

I made my way past a trio of rough-looking individuals playing cards with a bard in a red jacket. I didn’t recognize the game—or the cards, which was interesting. Some foreign deck. A muscled dwarf nearly tripped me as I craned my neck for a better look.

“My pardons,” I said down.

She crossed her arms and looked up at me. “What’ll it be then, schoolboy? A Girl? A Boy? Or are ye just here for some window shopping.”

The last line was a statement. She was suggesting I didn’t have the stomach (or maybe the balls) to actually hire a girl—a few of which (and one boy) looked on from the bar, giggling. I rolled my eyes. Looks like I’d found the madam.

“I’m here to see Kridick,” I said.

The madam scowled under her beard. “Wasting good coin on bad bets what’s better spent on fine company. Sure I can’t ‘suade you to take Mithra for a toss first? She’s got a thing for breaking in schoolboys.”

Mithra, presumably, waved from the bar where she stood with an elf and a drakkyn. She was a wine-colored plane-touched. Unlike Annalisa, she was tall and angular, the way plane-touched are supposed to look. Her horns curved back and came to points near her chin. She leaned against the bar in a way that arched her back and puffed out her chest. The tip of her tail drew tiny circles on the bar top as she bit her lip with a sharp canine.

Something stirred below my belt line. I’m only human. Dragons above. Maybe Annalisa was right about the tail thing. But I’m not one for bought affections. Such things is fleeting at best, and more addictive than most drugs.

The madam leaned in, wiggling bushy eyebrows. “She’s got built in handles.”

My silver burned in my pocket as my face did the same. Hmm. Stay on task, Darcent.

“Another time, maybe.”

She scowled and flicked a thick thumb behind her. “Students are usually more fun. Up the steps, take a left. End o’ the hall. Knock, ‘less you want a hatchet to the face.”

I had to walk past the trio to get to the steps. Mithra and the drakkyn both eyed me, but the elf seemed indifferent. Mithra’s tail flicked out and traced down my arm.

“Come and see me if you win your bet, yeah, love?” she said.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I don’t think your madam likes me very much.”

Mithra laughed. “Of course she does,” She made a throwing motion with her hand. “She actually warned you about the hatchet.”

Fair point.

I climbed up the steps and went left past several doors with alternating moans, croons, and for some reason, trumpeting coming from the other side. I didn’t want to know. Instead, I found the one where I could hear the clink of coins, and knocked.

The door opened, and I stepped into the apartment. A half-orc half-drakkyn (commonly called crowns, for the boney look the drakkyn blood gives their faces. Less often, on account of the lifespan of people who use it, they’re called drorks) looked up from his counting. “I don’t know you.”

To my chagrin, his nose was absolutely not on his face. A pair of hollow pits stood out, with a scar tracing from cheek to chin. Kridick looked like he was no stranger to the pits himself with thick arms and a broad chest. His bare shoulders had a number of scars. One of his hands was out of view behind his desk.

“I’m Darcent. I’m told you give odds on the pits.”

“See that in your little cards, did you?” he asked. He recognized the robes. “I don’t go in for all that reading nonsense. I seen Seekers lose money just like everybody else.” Above the stubby bone ridges on the drork’s forehead, the head table arcana hung, inverted. Power-hungry, jealousy, micromanagement. I’d been seeing a lot of inverted virtues since coming to Barrowdown. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this wasn’t a nice place.

Behind me, another half-orc closed the door. This one was half human, from somewhere south of the straight of kings. He patted me down and pulled out my knife.

“Clean,” he muttered.

Kridick’s other hand came out from behind his desk. “So, you want odds. Dragon light’s burning, kid.”

Straight to business. I could appreciate that. “Tomorrow there’s a fighter going into the pits. Annalisa, a plane-touched.”

The crown shared a look with his thug, eyebrow raised. “I know ‘er. You musta seen something real special in your cards, boy. Yeah, I’ll give you odds on her. Six to one that she wins it. Twelve that she does it in the first three rounds.”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand.” I pulled the meager stash of silver from my pocket. “I want to bet everything against her.”