11 - A flush Reading

The towers are an inverted suit based on a conceptual misunderstanding of the shield. The primary purpose of a shield is not to protect, but to deny.

-Lancaster’s Manual of Wills

When I got back to the room, I thought the money changer had hired another adventurer to guard the place, but they turned out to be there for a reading.

“Word travels in the Downs. Your sign has seen better days.”

As soon as I’d made the new one, someone had kicked it in half for a lark. That’s Dragonmaw. I’d patched it, but I couldn’t afford to spend money on yet a third.

“So it does. Come upstairs.”

The adventurer, an elf with a guild badge proclaiming him to be a pig-iron ranked mage, proceeded up the steps ahead of me. He turned to the room, and turned his nose up at what he saw, but said nothing. Fair’s fair, it wasn’t much to look at. But if he was a mage, then he likely knew more than most marks about how seeking worked. Which also meant he knew I probably wasn’t on the up-and-up. Yet, he was here anyway.

I pulled out the one chair for him and drew my Deck of Wills. “Money in the cup, please,” I said.

The mage produced a flash of silver between his dexterous fingers. His eyes gleamed in his hood. “I want a five card reading. Can you handle a five card reading? I’ll know if it’s false.” Above his head, the banker arcana glowed. Contracts kept, savvy, resource-minded.

I gulped. Most of my five-card readings over the years had been disastrous. “Of course,” I said.

“Good. Because I can sense the Wills, and I’ll know if you give me a false reading.”

Well, there went that plan. And as a pig-iron mage, he could probably blow up the room if he decided I was cheating him. At least it was night time. His magic would be somewhat muted by the dragons. Still, it was time to push the envelope. I sent my will into the deck, and the elf nodded, satisfied.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Alondalis of the East Azure Coast.”

“What’s your quandary?”

“A pending undercity expedition looms, and I have misgivings.” he said. I whistled. Pig-iron was a bit low for such a thing. Many of the third-rank adventurers were still cutting their teeth on the outskirts of the unsheathing, or the wilds east and north of the city. The hazards beneath Dragonmaw were a cut above, and neither stone nor earth dampened the wane dragon’s appetite’s for magic. Without clockworks, a mage like Alondalis could find his spells suddenly at half-strength.

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“I wish you luck. The cards can’t tell you how it will end,” I said.

The elf smiled to himself. “Of course, I know that. It’s the party with which I have misgivings. I want to know if they are true. If they are the type to keep their words and their bargains.”

I held my hand above the deck and willed its shuffles and cuts. Simple, no flourishes or floating cards or things spinning in a wheel around me. I knew such things wouldn’t impress the elf.

Here came the tricky part. The more cards in a reading, the more unstable. Technically, a reading could go up to nine cards. I’d advertised up to five, hoping everyone in Barrowdown would be too cheap to spring for it. Three cards had been challenging for me before I left the guild - and they still took a toll. Five cards was… uncertain.

The deck resisted me in the shuffle, and I pushed against it with my will. I didn’t have the safety net of the guild any more. I was on my own, again. At the mercy of Dragonmaw. The deck resisted, beginning to vibrate. Even the table shook. Alondalis watched, fascinated. My control began to slip, and the stack became jagged, spread.. The cards clattered against each other like teeth chattering in the cold. They wanted to break free of the reading. I knew that if my focus lapsed for even a moment, they would explode in all directions.

I didn’t let them. I pushed my will from all sides, forcing the edges of the stack flat, forcing the corners to square off. Black spots began crowding in at the edges of my vision, and I worried I’d pass out. But I held the deck in place, refused to let it breach the boundary of my will.

Pop.

The stack of cards stilled. All resistance evaporated. I gasped in relief. Power radiated off the deck, such that it seemed to shimmer in my second sight. I cut without further qualms.

Alondalis quirked one thin eyebrow at me. “You’re no false Seeker. What are you doing in Barrowdown instead of the guild?”

“Sorry, that question isn’t for sale,” I said. I flicked my fingers. The top five cards slid onto the table and revealed themselves. I stared. The elf stared.

What. The. Fuck.

The two through four of towers stared up at me. And at the apex of the reading, the rook of towers. A flush reading.

“I’ve never seen that before,” I said. I hovered my fingers over each of the cards, feeling their intent flow up into me.

“Did it not work properly?” he asked.

“Oh, it worked,” I said. “You wanted to know if your party will keep faith?”

I tapped the two of towers, inverted. “They will not take ample supplies.” I tapped the three of towers, orthodox. “They will protect what is theirs above all else.” Then the four, inverted. “They will not hold safe to bonds.” And then the five, orthodox. “They will quell any challenge to face or reputation.”

Finally, I pointed to the rook, inverted. “They will open the door to danger if they find they have something to gain.”

I sat back and crossed my arms. “I fear you may have fallen in with bad company,” I said.

The elf leaned back as well, mirroring me, and nodding. I felt an odd sort of camaraderie, there. Two wayward mages, out of our elements and surrounded by danger—even if it was of a different sort. The reading could have just as easily been for me as for him. And a small lance of ice felt like it pierced me with that realization.

“It appears I should take insurances and an exit strategy,” Alondalis said, after a moment.

“You’re still planning to go?” I asked.

“I gave my word,” he replied. The banker still burned bright above his head. “But my obligation does not include being used and discarded. This has been… illuminating.” He stood. “I don’t know what you’re scheming, setting up shop in the downs. But there is more to you than meets the eye.”

That was about as close as an elf gets to saying “thank you,” so I stood as well, offering my hand. “Good luck in the undercity,” I said.

Alondalis nodded stiffly. He’d grown a bit pale, as one often does when staring down an unpleasant fate. Hopefully, I’d given the tools to survive it. Oddly, the concern for my newest client outweighed the concern for his silver.

Needless to say, that didn’t mean I offered him a refund.