31. Hull - Juggling Act (Patreon)

Chapter 31

Juggling Act

The Mess Hall was a buzz of morning activity, and every server and functionary that hurried past in my peripheral vision made me flinch and jump. My stomach was in no shape for breaking fast, but I wasn’t so rattled that I’d forgotten the basics: I took three fat sausages and stuffed them into the pocket of my fresh trousers, ignoring the odd looks from a serving girl arranging fresh fruit on a platter. I’d been amazed to find that my room had spare clothes tucked into a drawer that pulled out from under the bed. They weren’t so fine as what Basil and Esmi had given me, but they were in a damn sight better condition than the mess my Demon Marauder had made of the nicer stuff. I couldn’t find the rags I’d shown up in; apparently whoever had cleaned my room while I was out thought they were trash and had them thrown out.

My mind buzzed and hummed, bouncing back and forth between just run now and take your chances and that bastard can’t get away with this. I’d spent the whole night that way, and I could barely remember my own name after so many hours of wrestling my thoughts and getting nowhere. It was like being back on the street, and I couldn’t believe how foreign the feeling was after a single day of passing time with rich folk and having my own soft bed. I shook my head, trying to focus on why I was there. Basil. Gotta talk to Basil. I had no idea what the weedy little prick could do about Ticosi, but maybe there’d be something. He was surprisingly decent for a noble.

Problem was that Basil was nowhere in sight in the Mess Hall, and I didn’t know where else to look. I’d already been to his room and knocked long and loud without a response. Maybe he was off mooning after Esmi somewhere, or perhaps he’d gone out drinking with that skunk of a kid Warrick. There was no knowing, and I was irrationally angry that the little shithead wasn’t here when I needed him.

“Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball,” an angry drawl behind me said.

I turned and saw the hustler boy pretending to be poor walking past me with a plate of food. He shot me an ugly look and let his dish clatter to the table with a palpable air of disgust.

Part of me wanted to plant his sneering face in the middle of his eggs and potatoes and grind it in until either the porcelain cracked or his face did. Another part wanted to ignore him entirely. I split the difference. “What’s your problem?”

He jabbed his fork in my direction like a dagger. “You show up playing my game and I treated you with respect even though you obviously had no idea how to run the con. Then you come out swinging with an Epic and bag yourself a Mythic? It’s offensive. Who’s gonna believe a poor kid would start off fielding a heavy hitter like that? Twins twist me, you walked in looking like a dog shat you out and then you end up with Fate herself tickling your balls. Nobody can talk about anything else. You’d think you were royalty the way these rich girls are panting.” He shoveled his food into his mouth as if attacking it, seething the whole time.

I wasn’t sure what I thought of that last bit, but I wasn’t about to let this poseur dress me down for playing poor better than he did. “I thought your whole thing was to not get noticed.”

“Not if it means missing out on a Mythic!” he cried, spraying food. “Two Rares, an Uncommon, and then my pick of a Common because the abilities contest last night: that is my entire take. And you know what? I was feeling pretty damn fine about it until I heard about your ridiculous win. Just you wait, Hull – or whatever your real name is – because Fortune doesn’t let this kind of thing stand. Your luck is going to snap back so fast it’ll take your head clean off, just you watch.”

I almost wanted to tell him it already had, but half of what had happened he wouldn’t understand and the other half he wouldn’t believe. “You’ve still got plenty of matches to win.”

He flicked a hand at me dismissively. “I’m out.”

I blinked. “What? Did you already play a match today?”

He nodded sourly. “First one of the day, bright and early. I didn’t lose, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He pointed his fork at the wooden name plates on the wall showing the bracket of upcoming matches. “It’s my next one that’s the problem.”

Looking up, I realized I had no idea what his name was and didn’t care to find out. “Who is it?”

He glared at me. “I’m up against Afi, you illiterate pig. Afi.”

I remembered the name. “The one that won the Rare contest. That can step into her Mind Home.” I’d been pickpocketing the asshole Gamemaster at the time, but I’d still kept an eye on the action.

“I know when I’m outclassed,” he said, shaking his head. “No point in losing a card to find out the obvious. I’m ceding the match. Pulling a no-show. I’m getting one last free meal and I’m out the door. May I never see you and your rat’s-ass face again.”

If he thought he’d get an apology from me on the way out, he’d be holding his breath for a while. “Have you seen Basil this morning?”

He threw his arms up in the air. “And to top it all off,” he announced to the air, “he gets a bloody noble patron, too.”

I frowned. “He’s not my patron.”

“If not, then you’ve got the whole city fooled. What have you got on him? Is the Prince right? Are you bedding his fiancée?”

I clenched a fist. “No.” I was tiring of his accusations.

“Whatever.” He scooped the last of his food into his mouth and stood abruptly. “Fortune piss on your boots. You’d better hope you can juggle all those new cards of yours, but if there’s any justice, you’ll choke and flame out in your very next match. It almost makes me want to stay and watch… but not quite. I’m out of here.”

Panic gripped me at his words. That was exactly why I’d been looking for Basil – not just for advice on my troubles, but because I needed to know which of these new cards to play and which to leave out, if any. Just because I knew I couldn’t keep winning with my one paltry move didn’t mean I knew what to do now that I had nearly four times the deck size of the day before. I needed help.

“Wait,” I said as he walked away. I hated how desperate I sounded, but I couldn’t help it. “So you haven’t seen Basil? Are you sure?”

Something in my tone caught him, and he eyed me with renewed curiosity. “No sign of him. Probably got his nose stuck in a book somewhere. What’s got you all bothered?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Nothing.”

He cocked his head and peered at me closely, then barked a sharp, satisfied laugh. “You are going to choke. You’re sweating like a whore caught by her father. Maybe I’ll stick around to watch after all. Seeing you roll out a few bad misplays would improve my day immensely.”

“He said he’d help me with the new cards,” I muttered, shamefaced. I didn’t want to tell him, but unless I could consult with Basil before my next match, this hustler had the right of it: I’d be sunk.

He looked confused. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re fielding a perfectly tuned combo – with an Epic, no less – and you don’t know how to put a deck together?”

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” I said, looking around the room. Maybe one of these other fools knew where my friend was.

“You really are,” he mused. His shoulders softened, and he looked almost pitying. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I know plenty,” I said, stepping in aggressively. Showing weakness was never the right move.

A sad smile quirked at his mouth. “You’re Fortune’s greatest fool,” he said. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so fun to watch you lose after all. Still… I don’t mind telling you this makes me feel much better about myself.” He reached out to clap me on the shoulder and I shied away, so he let the hand drop. “Do what I’m doing, kid: drop out. You’ve gotten an absolutely insane haul, and all you can do now is risk losing the best parts of it. Walk away, learn your cards, sell a couple if funds get tight, and in a year or two you can train up enough to hit the big leagues.”

My throat tightened. “I can’t.” I wanted nothing more than to drop out and disappear, but Ticosi would have every entrance watched, every angle covered. I was making him a fortune and he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers. Why did he say that about my mother?

The hustler shook his head. “I can’t fix stupidity. Do what you have to.” He turned to go.

“You know how to win,” I said, snagging his sleeve. “You only lose when you want to.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That might be overselling it a bit, but yeah. I know how to put together a good deck on the cheap and I know how to play the odds.”

My pride sat like a stone in my throat. This piece of shit pretended to be a gutter kid to game the other players and he was walking away unscathed. I wanted to set his hair on fire. But my desperation was even greater, so with a deep pain in my soul, I swallowed that bitter rock and let it settle in my stomach. “Would you take a look at my new cards?”

He laughed in my face. “Just because I feel sorry for someone who got in over their head doesn’t make me a Tender. I gave you my advice. If you’re too thick to take it, I’ve got nothing for you.” He pulled his sleeve free and walked on.

“I can pay you,” I called after him.

That stopped him. He squinted at me, weighing his odds. “Four crowns.”

My heart leapt, and I said a silent thanks to the Twins that Ticosi hadn’t thought to check my pockets the night before. I still had the announcer’s purse, and it had three crowns and change in it. A downright fortune for a kid like me, and I didn’t want to turn it all over before I’d even spent any. “Two.”

His lip curled. “I knew you weren’t actually poor,” he said. “You play it better than most, but the Epic gives you away. All right, you’ve got a deal.” He held out a hand. “Money up front.”

I reached into the purse in my pocket and withdrew two of the big, heavy coins, holding them up in my fist. “You walk me through the combos and the best sequence of plays. We spend the whole time until my first match. Two hours.”

He eyed the gold in my hand. “There’s a practice hall just around the corner. For a couple of clips the fellow there will summon his training dummy and you can beat on it all you’d like.”

I stretched out my hand and then drew it back as I thought of something. “And you can’t tell any of the other competitors about my cards.”

He shrugged, looking faintly disappointed. “All right. I can’t keep them from watching if they show up, though.”

I let the coins clink into his hand. It hurt to let them go, but I had to do this. The second I washed out, Ticosi would be on me like flies swarming dung. I needed to keep winning, if only to give me more time to think about how to deal with him.

“Not bad wages for a couple of hours’ practice,” the boy said, grinning at me roguishly. “Now take those damned sausages out of your pocket and eat them. We’ve got work to do.”