Dumoss snaked an arm around Annise's waist, and she still smiled. He leaned over, whispered into her ear, handed her something. Pulling back with surprise, she inspected the pendant on its chain. She'd lost her smile. He'd made her an offer-I could imagine for what. Dumoss waited for an answer. Annise let the pendant drop, pushed at him, playful, laughing. He reached for her in vain when she moved away.
My control was broken. I dove into the Flow to fill myself and drown. The magic was thin and impure. I stepped from the alley, muscling through thick, dusty lines of poor people to the next gambling game. A vendor selling meat-stuffed bread stopped before me with a little smoking cart.
I gestured acceptance and played a gambler's game on him, a game endured by only the most brave, those with the greatest hunger. It was difficult to find the root of his spirit, the basin of his life's magic, but not impossible. There and then I stopped his heart.
His brown eyes went wide. I instantly let go, but felt no guilt. He would have done the same to me. The man fell over his cart, gasping with great pain. I pushed him aside, out of my way. Fists clenched in rage, I pressed on to where Dumoss pursued Annise.
From my left came the noises of horn and armor. Both sides of the street-rich and poor-scattered, pressing themselves against walls, entering doorways and alleys.
Soldiers rounded the corner and paraded up the street. They didn't look at me, at anyone. My gambler's magic would not harm them anyway. Their hearts could not be frozen. They were strong and protected, returning from the Brothers' War. I knew what they thought, had heard their dim views of this city and its people. The feeling was mutual. To us they were nothing more than unwanted lives, refuse with mouths.
The soldiers were a river I could not cross. Dust swirled in their wake, forcing me back, blocking even my view of the casino, which, strangely, tempered my anger. Annise would be home soon enough.
I left the street, its disparity and its river of men, thinking of her. How long would it be before she gave in to Dumoss? I pulled Flow through me, for calm, for power, trying to set my questions aside. The immediate answer was simple: if Annise came home wearing the pendant, I would know her betrayal, inevitable betrayal, would be complete.
I vowed right then to defeat Dumoss for her. A man could be down only so long before his luck changed.
We lived in the bones of a thing long dead. Our room was long and wide, a landing of exposed slats broken with age supporting four walls made from thin plaster by inexpert hands. Small rocks and dirt rained down irregularly from the ceiling, made worse by the cat upstairs, whose nocturnal pacing kept me awake at night. A few oil lamps burned yellow. The wall facing the street had a window without glass, broken out during riots and storms. When the luck flowed our way, a wind unsoured by the city blew straight in.
I sat on my cot, a flat field-cushion gambled from a soldier, and tried not to think of Annise's bed nearby. Instead, I focused on my precious five cages. How many more did Dumoss have? Five times five? Fifty? My hatred for him was a palpable thing, so that even my animals- salamander, poison toad, spider, rat, and my prize, my beautiful mantis, delicate and green-grew restless. Dumoss used a mantis, his favorite sport. He could fight in the aviaries, but birds were more flash than sport, no real money. They were too hard to use, too much effort.
I didn't always like to play. The best gamblers could feel their magic fade, could taste the bad luck. The smart ones knew when it was time to back away. Everyone backed away sometimes, except Dumoss. He never said no to a fight. That wasn't quite true. He never said no to a fight of his class.
The mantis turned toward me, waved its razored arms, pivoted its head. It knew it was my favorite. The others were in their cages like soldiers. Their spirits were simple and pure, easy to control. The best gamblers knew their animals were the means to greater wealth, a better life. The animal arenas saw the greatest flow of money. Games of Bloodletting, games of Freeze like I played on the street vendor, were simple, quick, but required real nerves. The money from them was thin compared to the arenas where the winners played.
I stretched my arm toward the mantis. Eyes half-closed I drew myself into the Flow and rose above the falling dirt and darkness. My spirit followed a sense of motion and was carried a great distance, almost forever. Time was lost. Slowly the stream stopped rushing straight away. It bent, first in a curve and then in a circle. I had it. I had control.
The ghost mantis stood in my open hand, spirit drawn from its mortality. I could see through it, a mirage, perfectly still. Its corporeal form was still rigid in its cage and would remain that way until dead or the spirit was returned. My connection to this ghost was achieved with careful skill and hours of training.
I focused my thoughts on the essence standing in my palm. It raised its two arms in praise. I focused again. It lowered them. I was in control.
This was the weapon I would use to defeat Dumoss: a mantis. The mantis arenas were the best favored in the city. The knowledge of my secret weapon felt like a hidden dagger, ready for a final, fatal blow. The Flow I had taken filled places in my thoughts like rainwater gathered in pools. Each pool wrought a feeling, a comfortable pressure. I released one of the pools.
Washed, the mantis-spirit glided away from my palm, up my arm, attacking the air in practice like a toy. I watched as its back legs dragged and its body slumped forward a fraction too far. My face felt weighted down with disappointment. I wriggled my fingers and its head jerked up, and the body turned to attack. I brooded over my control, fine for the salamander and toad, but not enough for this difficult creature.
The mantis approached my fingers with caution. Every animal's spirit had its own challenges to overcome.
But I didn't want to wait, didn't want to continue experiments that led to disappointment. More practice time meant Annise would have more opportunity to find another home. I needed to hurry.
The early days, when we first met, were sunken memories. The room had been ours for two years. We found each other in much the same way as everyone else: it was a matter of mutual need. We both needed our luck to change, and we both needed someone to share the cost of the room. I learned she had been beaten by a lover, a string of lovers-one of the reasons she didn't like to be touched. I decided she needed to be part of my life.
My eyes lost focus, and magic continued its spiral from my spirit to the mantis. The time of my vending in the streets was long over. Back then, I knew people. One of those people got Annise her job bringing drinks to tables at casinos. I was proud when she moved to better bars. I felt I had done something good, helped someone worth caring about. I gave up the streets to learn gambler's games, the only road to power in this city, the only road out of this city for someone like me.
Annise no longer needed my help. Remembering that tightened my hungry stomach. She no longer needed my help because she was making it on her own. She no longer needed me. I told myself I was happy for her.
The mantis bit my thumb, drawing blood. My control was solid, but I failed on the details. My thoughts were on Annise. Drawing breath, I released the spirit back to the Flow. It faded and was gone. In the cage, the mantis returned to life and tilted its head.
The wound stung where the spirit's teeth cut my flesh.
I didn't bind the gash, but instead held my hand up to slow the blood, letting some drip onto the floor. Living with my animals, caring for them, made me a good gambler. It made the animals trust, opened them to my control.