Gegenes

Just because Astar was a resident of Gaoler didn’t mean she enjoyed the heat. She was counting the days until the storm season began, but at least the winds had begun to arrive in the night.

The city was packed, the main boulevard thick with bodies that choked the flow of traffic. Governor Hautman had begun advertising a Gala for the Theatre, promising an extraordinary new act unlike anything that had been seen before.

Of course, it was on Astar to make sure her father’s prized actress was willing to play the lead she had been cast for.

At the dress shop, she paused to eye the new gowns. The styles in Gegenes were shifting away from their traditional loose silks and towards conservative Lugosian cuts, with close tailoring and fine embroidered designs. While Astar could admire the look of it, it wasn’t for her. For one, the thicker fabrics would be suffocating in the desert heat.

She backed away, and the rest of the crowd that had slowed near the display stepped aside to avoid her. Turning on her heel, she cut across the boulevard, dodging the mix of chariots and wagons that clattered over the packed dirt road.

At least the stone walkways on the opposite side of the boulevard were cooler on her bare feet, the buildings blocking the sun from directly bearing down on the path. Next to the grocer, Astar shoved open the solid wood door to The Dirty Trick.

She blinked when she stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light of the tavern. On one side of the room, a semi-circular dark wood bar hugged a wall with an assortment of glass bottles ranging in size, color, and what was left of the dregs inside of them. The smell of an indeterminate food being either fried or burned emanated from the back.

On the other side of the room was Astar’s quarry.

Kanna was easy to find. She sat at one of the battered tables in the corner where a game of Palamedes was well into play. Despite the heat Kanna wore a long grey jacket, though it did little to conceal the fact that she carried her ever present knives. She slouched in her chair, her expression unreadable.

Yassen was at her side, his own cards face down on the table already. He kept trying to lean to see Kanna’s hand, but she shited it back to her chest every time.

Three others sat with them. One held his arms crossed at his chest, another fold.

As Astar watched, Kanna played another hand. One of the two remaining players slammed her cards onto the table and shoved her chair away. She made a beeline for the bar, followed by the other that had folded, leaving one remaining player against Kanna.

Astar slid to the now unoccupied chair next to Kanna and sagged into it.

Kanna’s shifting grey eyes left her cards long enough to acknowledge Astar before studying her hand once more.

“How is my horse?” Kanna asked, sliding one of the cards in her hand to a new position.

Astar crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair, the back of the worn wood creaking in protest.

“The horse is fine,” she said. “What about me?”

The man that remained in the game with Kanna played his hand, placing a card face up on the board in front of them.

Yassen sat up, his face breaking into a grin. “What’s going, Astar?” he asked.

Kanna’s next play was quick, and her opponent went back to studying his cards.

“Thank you for asking, Yassen,” Astar replied. “I am doing splendid, even after walking all this way to see my friend, who cares more about her horse.”

“Why are you here, Astar?” Kanna asked.

“I can’t just come to say hi?”

Kanna’s brow knit in thought. “You can,” she said. “But you usually don’t.”

The other player reached out to remove one of the cards from the board, replacing it with a new one.

Astar sighed, but it garnered her neither sympathy nor a reaction from Kanna.

“Father is planning an event of sorts,” Astar said. “He would like you to be the star of the play.”

Kanna turned away from Astar long enough to glance at the table before sliding one of the cards out of her hand and absently putting it into play.

“What makes this one different from others?”

Astar shrugged. “I don’t know, but you know how he gets. He feels like he’s losing favor, so he wants to put on a show to try and get some support drummed up.”

Kanna’s opponent played his turn.

“He’s inviting some people from Adur,” Astar continued. “Probably the kind of people with money, and he wants to impress them.”

Kanna sat back in her chair. She eyed the board, then fanned her cards in and ran her fingers along the edges to make a neat stack in her hand. It was almost as if she was going to fold, but Astar had yet to witness Kanna lose a game of Palamedes.

“The pay?”

“Honestly?” Astar crossed her arms. “A lot. Even for my standards.”

Kanna placed her cards face down on the table. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice,” She said, her hands falling to her sides. “But leave Yassen out of it.”

“What?” Yassen asked. “Why?”

When Kanna’s opponent reached for the prizes at the center of the board, Kanna moved.

In a flash of grey and steel, the blade of her knife came down. It pierced through the back of the man’s hand and buried into the wood below, his howl of surprise and pain nearly drowning out the sound of the coins that scattered across the table.

Astar jumped back as the man flailed, pinned at the end of Kanna’s blade.

“Kanna, what are you doing?” Astar asked.

Kanna rose, drawing her other blade when the man attempted to reach for his own concealed weapon. She pressed the tip to his throat and he leaned his head back to avoid it, his body shaking as he met her eyes.

Kanna drew the knife back enough that she could twist her fingers and reach into the sleeve of man’s pinned arm. Three cards emerged from under the cuff of his shirt and she dropped them to the table.

“I am not a fan of those who cheat,” she said.

Astar folded her arms at her chest, her eyes narrowing on the man. “Cheating at any game with monetary involvement is illegal in Gaoler, sir.”

“So is stabbing people,” the man managed to growl out.

Kanna twisted the knife in his hand and he yelped, anything else he may say bitten back.

“I didn’t see anyone getting stabbed,” Astar said. “Yassen? Did you see any stabbing?”

Yassen had sat back in his seat, his hands on the table and his eyes wide. He looked from the knife in the man’s hand, to Kanna, to Astar. He looked back to Kanna, who’s glare didn’t leave the man at the table, then to Astar again.

“Uh,” Yassen said. “No?”

“Kanna?” Astar said.

Kanna didn’t move.

Astar cleared her throat and tried again. “Kanna? Did you see anyone get stabbed?”

Kanna’s eyes slid to Astar’s, and she was grateful that the anger that writhed in them had never been actually directed at her. It wasn’t even on the man, but on something buried in nightmares and half-remembered notions.

Kanna’s gaze cooled and focused. She turned back to the man and yanked her knife free.

Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, he raced from the tavern, not looking back.

Kanna sheathed her knives and sat back in her place. She began to gather the cards that were scattered onto the table together. When she had the stack, she aligned it, her fingers running over the edges to straighten them before tucking the battered deck into the pocket of her jacket.

With the back of her arm, she swept the winnings from the game to Yassen, the blood still wet on the glinting gold of the coins.

“Here,” she said to him. “Get a better weapon.”