The Fall of Ventaris (26 page)

The dice flew and players cheered or groaned, and as the game progressed it became clear that the dealer was using at least three sets. Up his left sleeve was a pair weighted in favor of the house, and in his right a pair weighted towards the players. The third set tucked into his belt seemed fair, and the dealer used it often enough to make the game appear balanced. The man was quite skilled at switching them out, but Tyford had trained her to notice just this kind of trick. Fortunately for the dealer Antony hadn’t been as observant, or else he might have wound up floating face-down in the harbor, with Julius beside him.
 

She stood, covering a wince. Her wound was healing well enough, but the pain was a reminder that she’d been through worse than what she was about to face. Then she stepped into the light.

“Good evening, Julius,” she said politely. “Your luck seems to be as good as ever.”

The red-faced, barrel-chested man looked up from the table. “Lady Duchess! Finally found your florin, did you?” He patted his own coin pouch, grinning smugly.

She grinned in return. “I don’t worry about yesterday’s losses. I’m more concerned with today’s prospects.” She nodded to the table. “And I just remembered that the last time I was here I was so busy asking about Antony’s property I never even tried your game.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Care to roll the dice, then?”

She nodded. “I do, and in fact I thought we might put the two interests together.”
 

Julius’ eyes lit up and he shot a look at the ferret-faced dealer. “Ah...you want to play for the ring, is that it?” His sly eagerness was so misplaced she almost laughed. “But what’s the game? What have you got to bet?” The other dicers had begun to take notice, and they quieted to listen.

“What would you like? I’m an easy woman.”

“Easy, are you?” He laughed, delighted. “Well then, if I win, I get you. Until sun-up.” He leered. “Or until I get bored with you. Whichever comes first.”

Duchess hesitated, struck by the lecherous malice in his eyes. She was risking a great deal on her ability to beat a loaded game. Even so, a night with Julius was still less frightening than the prospect of telling the second-in-command of the Red she’d lost both his gold
and
his fiance’s ring. And pulling a blade on Julius in the quiet of his bedroom was less frightening than both.

“Is that all?” she heard herself say. “If you’d said so at the beginning we could have saved ourselves a good deal of trouble.” She approached the table, trying to seem more confident than she felt, and the onlookers parted before her. “And what do these others have to bet?” she said, indicating the other players.

“Oh, this one is just between you and me.” Julius grinned wolfishly. “Everything on one roll, I think. A man’s game!” The other patrons cheered and raised their mugs, but aware that Julius was trying to make her look at the candle, Duchess kept a careful eye on the dealer. Sure enough, she saw him switch out the fair dice with the ones up his left sleeve.

“Then where’s your stake?” she said boldly. “Mine, of course, is right here.” She indicated herself, and the other patrons hooted and stamped their feet. Julius reached into a pocket and then dropped onto the table a golden ring with a black stone.

“Before the night is over this is all you’ll be wearing,” he promised.

“Is that all you think I’m worth?” she said archly. “I’m still missing my purse, after all, and if you really want to see me in nothing but that ring...” She left the rest unsaid, but the crowd shouted bawdy suggestions that would have made a ganymede blush. For the first time a hint of doubt entered Julius’ eyes. He reached into the cashbox behind the table and came out with her coin purse, which he held open for her. Inside she saw a clutch of gold coins, twenty or near enough that she could not complain. He dropped it next to the ring and the crowd
ooohed
with anticipation. He signaled and the dealer held out his right hand to give her the dice.
 

As he did so, she thought on what Tyford had told her about pickpocketing. After visiting Midwife Marna, she’d demanded a lesson on the topic. “It’s less about what you do with your hands, and more what you do with your mark’s
eyes
.” He’d stood next to her and pointed off into the dark depths of the warehouse. “You can’t see it, but I’ve got a special form over there you can practice on.” She turned to look, and when she turned back he was holding up her dagger. He waggled it before her eyes with his left hand. “And while you’re looking there — ” his right hand held up the key to her apartment “ — I’m already dipping in your other pocket.” She goggled as he handed back her belongings. “Pretend you and your mark are in a dark room, and you’ve got the only candle. Wherever you move it is where he looks, and while he’s looking, you’re stealing. Just keep him looking at the candle.”

She held out her right hand palm-up as if to receive the dice, and with her left she gently stroked Julius’ chin. “Julius, now you’re making me
want
to lose,” she purred, and while the crowd hooted, in one swift move she slid two fingers up the dealer’s sleeve. She touched two squares of bone and she quickly drew them forth. The dealer sensed the move and his eyes met hers, then turned to Julius, who was too distracted by her touch and the shouts from the crowd to notice. He was looking right at the candle, she noted with satisfaction, while the dealer was left openmouthed, not daring to raise an objection lest he give the game away. His fingers clamped tightly around the first pair of dice, hiding them from view.

She shook her own dice with an exaggerated motion, giving the crowd time to focus. She wanted all eyes on the table for this. Then she let them fly, sending them
clacking
into a corner of the table where they came up double suns. The watching players cheered and Duchess quietly resolved to buy Tyford a nice, tall mug of ale. Julius froze and the dealer announced, with a marked lack of enthusiasm, “Player wins.” Julius glared, and Duchess could read the unspoken message that passed between them. Smiling modestly, she reached for her winnings, but was surprised when Julius’ hand closed over hers. “Watch yourself, woman,” he growled. The beefy man moved up menacingly.

Before she could reply, one of the onlookers, a tall man with a ring of yellow hair, banged his mug against the table. “Here now, what’s this? The lady won fair and square, Julius!” His voice was thin and reedy, but other, louder, men echoed him. Julius’ eyes, filled with calculation, flickered to the crowd and back to Duchess. The Grey favored cleverness over violence, which had kept her from turning Castor loose on Julius, but now Julius himself was caught in the same snare. Worse, the patrons of the
Grieving Bier
were not an overly amicable bunch when sober, and most of them were now half-drunk. With a grimace he released her hand and waved off the beefy man, and she pocketed the ring and purse before he could change his mind.

Lysander would likely have advised her to quit then, but she felt a burning desire to further humiliate this annoying little man. “Why, I think I feel like throwing again,” she cooed, batting her eyes at Julius.

“I think we’ve all had enough,” he replied, reaching for the dice on the table, but Duchess was quicker. She held them up so everyone could see them.

“Is this a man’s game or isn’t it?” she said with a curl of her lip, and the crowd roared approval. The tall man with the reedy voice hollered, “Let the woman play!” and other men took up the cry until the entire crowd was chanting as one:

“LET THE WOMAN PLAY! LET THE WOMAN PLAY!”

Julius looked fit to spit, but she could see he was defeated. He nodded brusquely and the crowd cheered, calling for more ale and mead as Duchess dug into her newly recovered purse for coin. She placed four sou on the table — the upper limit — dropping the coins one by one to focus the attention of the onlookers. Then she said, “And I’ll take any bets against me, of course.” Chaos ensued as men pushed forward to ante up. The press became overwhelming, so she promised the balding tall man a sou to keep track of it all, which he eagerly accepted and was soon busy taking names and bets. Julius was livid, but as Duchess still held the dice he was powerless to intervene.

Finally it was all settled and there was a sizable pile of sou before her. All eyes were on Duchess as she theatrically shook the dice and threw. “Double suns!” the dealer announced, and there were curses and cheers from the crowd, depending on how each man had bet. Julius glowered dangerously, and she decided it was best not to push him any further. She’d once heard a radiant say the gods frowned on the braggart, and she didn’t need their anger as well as Julius’. She collected her winnings — nearly sixty sou — paid the bald man one sou for his trouble and two more for his honesty, then made her way to the bar to buy a round for all the betters. A show of generosity never hurt, and it ensured an ample supply of witnesses in case Julius tried anything rash in retaliation. The evil look he gave her as she moved off told her it was a wise precaution.

As she drank she savored her victory. She’d return Antony his ring and his money first thing in the morning, keeping a hefty finder’s fee for herself, of course. He could hardly begrudge her that. Draining her mug and watching Julius’ face turn a shade of red deeper than she would have thought possible, she decided the
Bier
measured up to the
Merry Widow
quite well.

*
 
*
 
*

She told herself she was there because Darley was the last dangling thread, but she did not believe it. Learning the girl’s daily routine has been the easiest
frune
she’d ever performed, but actually approaching her was proving far more difficult. Mere days remained before Jana’s move and there was still so very much do be done. A thousand things vied for her attention, yet that morning found her hidden amongst the crowds of Market, following the girl.

She watched Darley amble along the Silkway, the long street that was home to most of the city’s clothmakers, pausing here and there to stare through a shop window, browsing but not buying. She was alone, as she often was. She’d learned the girl had friends but the general consensus of rumor seemed to be that she did not do well amongst the petty nobility, nor among the society of scholars of the lower districts. Neither fish nor flesh, it seemed.

Duchess told herself she’d learned these things in interest of discovering more of Savant Terence, but even that lie had begun to pall. Her interest in the scholar and his daughter was all muddled now, mixed with her anger at what had happened to her father, and the success that his friend had found. She tried to believe she did not see herself in the girl. Tried not to think if she felt relieved or resentful when she saw the life Darley lived, safe and secure in Scholars District.

But she knew better.

It was so easy to wonder what might have been, and what still might be. And so strange, that this girl who never needed to do the sort of things that Duchess found were her bread and butter flirted with such a life regardless. Her wandering in the tunnels, her games and manipulations. Would Duchess have ended up where she was even if she’d remained her father’s daughter? Was there something in them both that led them to the same place, regardless of their starting point?

She shook her head and tried to concentrate on what was before her as she crossed the Silkway to stand at the girl’s side. Regardless of what Darley might seem, what possible pasts she might represent, she knew things about Savant Terence that no one else would. In the reflection of a shop window Darley noticed her approach and turned to face her. At first Duchess hadn’t been sure Darley would recognize her, but the frightened, wary look in the girl’s hazel eyes said she remembered just fine. “What are
you
doing
here?” the girl whispered.
 

“Be at ease,” Duchess told her. “We’ll speak quietly and no one will be the wiser.” It was the first time she’d seen the girl in the light of day: honey-brown hair that hung halfway down her back, large eyes, a heart-shaped face. She could see why Finn had been enamored. “No one will remember that we talked unless you act like they should.”

The girl sniffed. “I can’t think of anything I have to say to you,” she said, prudently keeping her voice down. “As for the other night:
it never happened
.”

“Never.” Having had a nightmare or two about that terrible encounter herself, Duchess was pleased to agree. “In any case, I’m more concerned about what’s been happening
above
the hill; specifically, your little business with Finn.”

“What are you talking about?” Her almost-green eyes bored into Duchess’.

“I thought we’d start with
graverobbing
,” Duchess whispered, returning the gaze, “and then we’d move on to the kind of trouble you could get into if anyone found out you’d been poking around where you shouldn’t.” Darley was surely aware that the Ossuary was strictly off-limits. “But I
hate
trouble, don’t you?” Lifted almost verbatim from the Uncle, but she didn’t think he’d mind. “I think it would be better to settle things quietly, just between us girls.”

Darley weighed her with her eyes, and Duchess could almost hear her mentally ticking over her options. “What do you want?”

“Nothing you haven’t done before.” She stopped smiling, for fear of blowing the game. “I think I know where you found those maps you used to navigate the tunnels so well. Hidden safe atop a shelf in your father’s library, right?”

She started. “How do you...? Never mind, of course you know.” She shook her head. “Clearly Finn and I are not as good at this as we’d hoped.” She looked away, focusing her attention on the window before her. “If you want the maps, I can’t help you. Father would notice them missing immediately.”

Duchess raised a hand, palm out. “Not at all. As far as I’m concerned I’ll be satisfied with what you can remember of them.” She looked through the window, feigning interest at the bolts of cloth on display. “But what I’m more interested in is what
else
might be in that safe.”