I used to love this game. I relished being underestimated, delighting in
the way I could swipe piles of coins from players unaware of my reputation.
By the time I was old enough to take a seat at the backroom tables of the
Thorn’s most notorious taverns, I was winning enough to supplement my
mother’s meager income.
Some part of me still misses the thrill of studying my opponent, of
keeping my own expression carefully neutral while I surveyed my hand …
even though I know it attracted too much unnecessary attention.
At least fifty people linger over wine, ale, and mediocre food. Tables are
packed tight, forcing strangers into reluctant intimacy as they jostle for
space. It’s a typical crowd for this time of night—late enough that anyone
still here is relaxing after a long day of work or planning to stay until last
call, unwilling to go home to their own loneliness.
From behind the bar, Yorick meets my eyes, his bald head proclaiming
his sigil-less state. I shake my own head. Stubborn bastard. No matter how
many times I tell him he should refuse Gaius entry, he insists he won’t turn
away a paying customer. It’s difficult for mundanes to eke out a living
anywhere in this city, and Yorick knows that better than anyone.
One of these days, that collection of high-quality wines he’s so proud of
will end up in pieces on the scarred wooden floor—along with the mirrored
wall behind him. The customers who have been his regulars for the past
decade will find their night ruined, and his reputation will be shattered
along with his wine.
Another glance at the clock. Ten minutes.
At the table, Gaius still hasn’t folded. Magnus has the better hand. He
throws his cards down with a grin, and Gaius curses.
I crane my neck. If he’d played smarter, he could have won.
Gaius’s shoulders tense, and he shifts his attention toward the door. All
my senses go on high alert.
When he first hired me, I’d assumed my presence was a way to display
both his wealth and his sense of self-importance. I soon learned he had
good reason to fear for his life. If I’d known how many men would attempt
to kill him for sleeping with their wives or cheating them in business, I
would have negotiated a much higher wage.
At least I would have attempted to negotiate a higher wage. Everything
they say about beggars and choosers is true.
