The lock, badly in need of oil, clicked under the slowly turning iron key. Carrying a basket, Annise forced the door open with a shoulder, cursing softly. She glared at the door and the lock, cursing everything. I could do nothing but wait for her to complete this ritual of anger. She'd been following the same pattern for several months, since Dumoss first approached her with the promise of that pendant, that magic, he wore.
She shouldered the door closed again and dropped the covered basket onto a table in the corner. Her foot caught the hem of her long, red skirt, and she nearly tripped. She didn't like to be helped. I continued to wait.
Dressed in the rich crimson of the casino, she finally looked at me, thumb bloody, sitting near my cages. She said nothing, remained motionless. Her magic was small, so she was forced to rely on her hands and her beauty.
"I'll make us something to eat," I said.
She nodded, frowning. Annise took from a pocket a spool of thread, needle, and gold lace. Her features were not delicate but filled with strength. She had long fingers and elegant hands.
I nodded toward the lace. "You've been bumped up?"
"Today. Raised my salary." She fell on her bed, slipped off her blouse, showing a colorless shirt underneath made of worn cotton.
I wanted to look at her. I loved to look at her. I hoped she was not angry with me for something. The food was simple, bread and old cheese and water. These fears about her were always more frequent, stronger, when she was near.
"I'm going out. There's a traveling game near the town hall."
She let out a breath. "Please stay with me tonight."
"Do you want to come? You can watch."
No answer. She never watched me game. I asked many times. She never liked to share her most personal effects, and by that token, never wished to share mine.
I said, "I need to work."
"I'm earning a little more money. Can't you give up tonight. Just tonight?"
I piled the food onto a plate and brought it to her, my smile pained. "You had a hard day?" I didn't mention that I watched from the alley.
She nodded. I wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't like to be touched, particularly after work.
"I have to make this game. The money will buy back some of the things we lost."
Her eyes slowly swept the room. Once we had a chair, a real book too thick to finish in a year, and a mirror. That had been the last to go. Her eyes settled on the cages. Of course, these would never be sold. They were the means to my living.
Her eyes finally fixed on me, and she smiled, nodded understanding. "If I had your magic, I would have better luck. There'd be more money." She waved, despairing, absent. "More magic, more luck. More luck, more money."
I leaned forward to stroke her hair, but stopped myself. Instead I stood to get some water. She threaded the needle to sew the gold lace onto the cuffs of her red blouse, the symbol of rank at the casino. Water from the jug filled my cup. My thumb caught the rim of the jug's handle. It started bleeding again and dripped into the filled cup.
"Let me try the game on you," she said.
"What?"
"That old gambler's game," she repeated with a coy smile. "Let me try it on you."
I turned to face her, smiling. "All right, try it."
Her magic was weak. Her hands fell into her lap, eyes slowly closed. Annise breathed deeply and evenly. I had the sensation of the Flow being drawn from me to her. Time passed as she concentrated on the game.
She lifted her arm with great deliberation, elegant hand palm up, open fingers spread as if they held a melon. She opened her eyes, concentrating her gaze on mine. No longer coy, she held an expression of honest enjoyment. She must have seen little joy in a day.
Her magic sought the root of mine, the source of my spirit. Her fingers slowly closed, and she laughed lightly. There was a vague feeling of constriction in my chest. The mysterious power making my heart pump was being influenced by her magic. The sensation was nothing more than a discomfort. From a more powerful practitioner, it could kill. Surviving was the other part of the game.
I clutched my chest and emitted a false groan. Her magic fell away as if dropped into a ravine. She sighed loudly, drew deep breaths.
"Excellent, very good."
"Thanks." Smiling at her own fatigue, she motioned for the water and managed to add, "Fun."
I stood over her, water in hand. I gave her the water. She drank it greedily.
"Please, more."
Arenas were fixed or floating. Fixed arenas were housed within the casinos themselves and owned by Dumoss and others like him. Floating games were announced in secret, preventing "interference" by players with more magic, like pendants brimming with control, like Dumoss. These true gamblers ruined evenings without effort and drove arena bosses out of business. They smashed chances of lesser players without regret. Nobody ratted out a floating game to a professional. To do so and get caught meant death.
Town hall games were large, loud, and hidden in unused sewers and tunnels. The torch burning in the town hall's high tower announced the arena was still open; no torch, no game. Dustfall started early that night, before sunset. Jogging, I covered my head with a scrap of cloth to keep out the city. Still, my face felt dirty, and my nose itched from dust. Some people believed that the falling dust were the ashes of the dead, ashes from the war. I didn't worry about that much, since it meant time away from practice and training, time too precious to waste.
I entered the arena near a row of houses, all of brick, all better than mine, all kept empty by the floating arenas. There were many such blocks controlled by the bosses, because it prevented major players from learning in advance when and where a game would be played. Invitations came by word of mouth, came quickly to those living on the street, in cheap flats, or parks.
Two men stood in the shadows on either side of the door. I moved to the short line of gamblers shielding themselves from the dust. Testing the luck, I let my eyes drop half-closed: not weak, not strong. Perhaps a trick such as I had planned would win the night. When luck ran my way…
Luck made everything better. There was no other way to describe it. Your animal could do something surprising, your opponent could slip, could sneeze, could look away. Looking away was the worst, the most common mistake. It broke concentration and confused the animal. Good luck made all the difference.
A hand fell on my chest at the door, pushing me back a step. Another hand lifted the cloth from my head. Grunts sounded from the dark, and I was pulled into the darkness. The guards were different tonight, looking for professionals like Dumoss. I ignored them and stepped from the darkness, lamps and candles lighting the path to the arena.
The air was heavy with the scents of dust, dirt, and sweat. Noise from the arena built slowly. My heart beat harder. This kind of excitement was better than the Bloodletting game, better than the Freeze game I played with Annise. People watched the arena, acknowledging the victors. My feet carried me faster.
A game ended as I entered. The crowd jumped to its feet. I smiled and shouted along with everyone else. I'd seen nothing, but it didn't matter. The thrill of the arena moved me. Money was collected by arena guards and given to the victor, someone I didn't know. Faces were hidden by darkness, sometimes washed red by torches.
The arena guard lifted his arms to ask for the next challenger. I pushed through bodies like the arena was a crowded street-men in poor clothes, men in city work uniforms, men in rich blue with gold trim-so many I cannot remember them all. The bright light blinded me, sand shifted under my weight. The crowd was ready for more.