4 - New Lease, Same Rats

Even though I’d lost some blood, along with most of my dignity, having silver in my pocket salved the wound on my pride from being thrashed twice in one day. Five cunnings won’t go that far in the upper city. But Dragonmaw is a big place. It’s got humans, like me, who are suspicious of the devilborn (or plane-touched, if you want to be politically correct). The devilborn look down on the dwarves, and the dwarves hold some grudge against the drakkyn. Drakkyn resent the half-orcs, and the half-orcs, like their full-blooded cousins, aren't fond of full-blooded humans (when they aren’t mating with them to make more half-orcs). The one thing they can all agree on is that none of them like elves. Barrowdown is the district where they all get together to gamble on which race can beat the tar out of each other the best.

I’d been to a few of the fight pits as an acolyte, despite all the downs being off limit. Coin changes hands around the circle. A lot of it. Dragons above, I’d traded a few clips myself.

With all the noise, the smells, and the constant violence, Barrowdown has the cheapest rent in Dragonmaw. And that’s not even counting the pits. Far more blood is shed outside the circles than in. Dragonmaw is a city of long knives and dark alleys. The city has few soldiers left after the reign of terror and trail of broken bodies Margot Bethane left in her wake. And if they know what’s good for them, they stay in the upper city protecting the wealthy that keep their pockets properly lined.

Patrolling the lower city is left to the low ranked tin and bronze adventurers who couldn’t hack it in the undercity where the real threats money was made. Myriad horrors still kicked around the extensive underground ruins, catacombs, and tunnels that made up the undercity, or Dragonmaw’s various incarnations over the ages. Even my mother, who couldn’t describe the sound of two coppers rubbing together, refused to bring us next door to Barrowdown.

The streets were so narrow as to have never seen a horse, let alone a carriage. But plenty of shit still ran in the runnels. A vague smell of fetid filth hung in the air like a miasma. Unlike the upper city, which looked down from the bluff, you could only smell the sea, never spot it from the cramped confines. Also unlike the undercity, the grey walls had never seen a speckle of paint. The stains from soot and smoke stood loud and proud where they weren’t lathered in graffiti in six different languages. Laborers, foreign sailors, thieves, drunks, gamblers, and adventurers pushed past each other, dappled by the light filtered through dozens of drying lines strung between the second stories. I spotted a squad of drakkyn pistoliers with large packs headed for an undercity ingress walk by a pack of urchins looking for purse strings to cut. They were batted away by a clutch of drunks, coming home from the pits flush with silver, less what they’d spent celebrating their good fortune. The drunks passed their opposites, huddled in the gutter, penniless and destitute.

All of them, even blinded by jaded eyes and stoic cynicism, gave me curious looks as I passed in my pilfered robes. These peoples’ lives were full of uncertainty, and yet they never could have afforded the services of a guild seeker at guild rates, even if one stooped to visiting the downs.

It was the perfect place to set up my unsanctioned seeker’s shop.

Two of those silver pieces got me a week in a room above an unscrupulous money-changer (as if there’s any other kind). Barely more of a closet, really. But it had its own steps and an unbroken shutter, which I quickly broke. I needed the wood. Not for the hearth, which had more ash than Kalash had orcs. Not to shore up the wobbly cot, either, with the mattress I had a sneaking suspicion was stitched together from giant rat hides.

What meager belongings I had all fit behind a loose brick in the hearth. In went my emergency fund: two silver cunnings. I thought about it for a minute, and then took them back out. My situation was enough of an emergency already. I did put in the blood-soaked Deck of Wills and the rusty knife. Then, I set to work.

I’d done a bit of shopping after seeing to my bleeding. Master Hedwin’s letter opener only fetched me an extra half cunning because only the wire hilt had been real silver. But that was still enough to get some bread, ale, a small pot of paint, and a few smoked fish that probably hadn’t seen a fire since spring. The book, I kept. It turned out to be a rare, banned treatise on alternate soul-seeking philosophies. Master Hedwin should have known better than to have it on his desk.

With those, and the displaced shutter, in hand, I started carving a sign. I wanted to do it right. I only had the one shutter, after all. So, I took my time. The light through the open window shifted to gold, to orange, to the wane ghost light of the dragons. But that’s when Barrowdown really comes alive.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Rather than getting quieter, I began hearing cheers filter in through the open window. Nothing like a little darkness to shroud the ill tastes of unsavory men and women looking for a little blood on the sand. I put the finishing touches on my sign and stood back.

Fortunes read in the Deck of Wills

-Odds, favors, and pitfalls-

Seeker’s Guild trained

10 clips per draw, 1, 3, or 5

Inquire above

Of course, guild training was a far cry from an endorsement. And if anyone from the Seekers actually made their way down to the lower city, they wouldn’t take kindly to my sign or my business. But they’d have to explain to the guild what they were doing down here in the first place. It was strictly against guild law to perform readings on the outcomes of games of skill and chance alike. Naturally, I’d spent a great deal of my free time in places like this. Mostly because I grew up in places like this. And I knew most people in the lower city wouldn’t know the difference between a guild initiate seeker and a rogue fortune teller. But I figured I’d better keep a tight lid on the fact that I wasn’t just a seeker, but a soul seeker, a mage who could draw power from the Deck of Wills.

I carried my sign down to the street and leaned it against the steps. Then, I leaned next to it, rifling through the deck of cards. And waited. It was no accident, setting up next to a money-changer. People came here to make small change for the pit betting, or more rarely, to turn their winnings into something easier to carry. While this wasn’t the only money changer in Barrowdown, it did have the highest fees and a known slant for shaving silver. Which meant only the most desperate, disreputable gamblers would come by here. Ones that had no compunctions over using a little divine guidance to grease their chances.

It wasn’t long before one took notice. Big half-orc bastard with a flat nose and fingerless gloves. His jacket was old, too small, and torn at the hem. This one might have seen the inside of a pit or two himself, but his limp likely took him out of it. Above his head, the major arcana of the banker floated, inverted. Overextension, burnt bridges, blind to danger.

“You can tell me who’s going to win a fight, then?” he said. “Like, see the future?”

“Seekers don’t see the future,” I said. No lie, that time. “We’re not fate weavers. But we reveal things others cannot. About yourself, about others. Come upstairs.

He grunted, fingering his coin purse. “Ten clips a draw. What’s that?”

I spun the deck between my hands. He eyed the deck, floating in the air. “A simple draw is one card, but to get a better picture, it’s better to do three or five draws.

I could see the indecision on his face and offered my sincerest smile. “How about this: half-price, if you’ll tell a friend.”

“Deal!” he said, fishing out a handful of coppers. I held my hand up to the top of the stairs. For certain, this was a tenth of what I’d gotten in the upper city. But I had to start building a presence here and a regular clientele. Not too big of one, because I still needed to fly under the guild’s radar. But enough to keep a steady flow of coin pouring into my purse.

I closed the door behind us and offered a chair at the overturned barrel that served for my table. I put a clay cup on the edge.

“Put the money in the cup.”

I counted five plunks of copper in the cup, and then spread the deck out.

“Tell me, o’ wills. Will this man find fortune tonight?" With a flick of my fingers, it began to shuffle, and then cut itself. I hadn’t slept yet, and my fatigue had mounted. Before I could stop it, my focus slipped for just an instant. Unbidden, a single card ejected and spun upright on the table. Damn. I was hoping I was past those flubs. We both looked at the card. The four of streams. Well, that wasn’t helpful. That could mean that he was healthy and hale, or that his bladder was full. I’ve never been good at reading streams. The meanings are too windy. But I already knew what I was going to say before I shuffled.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, filthy finger probing the card.”

“It says you’re out on a limb. You’re over extended and desperate, and looking to dig yourself out in the pits. But pits only ever get deeper. Things will get worse. Make no bets tonight. The odds are not with you.”

He looked at me skeptically and picked up the card. “All that from just the one?”

All that from the magic burning card on your forehead that only I can see. “Yep.”

He scowled. “Didn’t tell me nuffin’ what I didn’t know already. Nothing but a scam, this is,” he said, reaching for the clay cup with his five copper clips—my five copper clips. Something in the deck buzzed as I saw him reach for that paltry sum. With my left hand, I pulled the three of dragons from the deck and activated it. With my right, I seized his wrist. The three of dragons didn’t just lend strength and stamina, it made my palms near scalding hot. Not enough to actually burn someone, but enough to give them a bit of a shock. The effect was enhanced by my eyes turning to the slit-pupils of a lizard. The half-orc recoiled, shouting in surprise, but I didn’t let go.

“What was paid was paid. Heed my warning and go.”

My first customer scrambled away, overturning his chair in his haste to exit my little parlor. I got up and followed him to the door as he scrambled down the stairs. I waved after him. “And remember our deal, be sure to tell your friends!”

I watched him jog down the cobbles by the light of the oil lamps, glancing back at me.

A half dozen copper clips wouldn’t make me rich, but it was a start. I settled back on rat-bed and thumbed through my deck. I wanted to know why now, of all times, the deck had decided to open up to me again.

The deck buzzed in my hands. If I didn’t know better I’d say it felt contented.