They were all wrong. If they wanted to leave the street, they shouldn't step on each other, but those at the casino. I had dedicated my life to this simple idea. I could have told them, but I chose to keep my own council. I didn't do charity work.
There were a thousand reasons I hated standing in that alley. It smelled old and musty and quickly covered me in a film of dust. I had watched the casino so many times from that alley I would have known if a stone were missing.
There were other things to hate. Annise's shift hadn't ended yet. She was still bringing drinks to well-dressed, wealthy patrons. I hated waiting for her, afraid she'd find someone at the casino and leave me. It was only a matter of time.
There was so much tension everywhere, in me. I needed a release, needed to be calm. I slowly closed my eyes and opened myself to the Flow to clean my spirit. I took a deep breath and the Flow filled me, pale and blue, water seen in the distance. I raised myself above my body, imagined flying like a bird to escape the street and dirt and hateful beggars. Hovering above the city, I could tell where the Flow was strongest this year, this month, could see where the wealth resided. The more luck, the more wealth. My spirit drifted.
The hate would not be dismissed. I opened my eyes to the casino. Nothing had changed, not even my mood. Men in rich, blue cloth moved through the casino crowd, the pit bosses. Frowning, I leaned against the alley wall with folded arms. Still tense, I maintained control.
In the window I saw a sudden flash of red hair, the color of the sun setting in the polluted, dusty sky. Annise. She turned, smiling down at someone. So beautiful. Caring for her, about her, was like a dare against fate, the ultimate gamble. No one had ever cared for someone as I cared for Annise. People were too afraid to give of themselves. I'd not yet told her what was in my heart. She'd never told me what I hoped was in hers.
Through the open window I saw her pause, listening, intent. She threw back her head and laughed. I could hear her above the crowd noise, standing in that wretched alley across the street. She gently caressed an upturned face. And still I maintained control.
Stepping into view was Dumoss. Master Dumoss of the casino was heavyset, had thinning black hair and wore red brocade chased with gold at the cuff and collar. Only the managers wore gold. A face built from high cheekbones gave him a youthful appearance, though he had not seen youth in scores of years. Around his neck he wore a pendant. Without effort I could see its place, its focus in the Flow. It had power.
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.