“Over there,” Fritz said, pointing. Sure enough, Artemus was sitting at a table near the back, his eyes fixed on the cards in his hand. He didn’t seem to have noticed them come in, although someone evidently had: as Rudi and Hanna began to follow Fritz through the maze of tables, surprisingly many of them still in use even at this hour of the morning, a young man stepped forward, his hand hovering close to the dagger in his belt. He was dressed in what Rudi assumed to be a fashionable manner, since the garments didn’t seem terribly practical, although the cloth was clearly cheap and thin.
“Can I help you at all?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Rudi replied, ignoring the implicit challenge. “We just want a word with our friend over there.”
“Really.” Cheap-suit nodded, his eyes taking in the sword at Rudi’s belt and the knives visible on Fritz’s and Hanna’s. “Make sure that’s all you have. Unless you fancy trying your luck.” It was clear he wasn’t inviting them to play cards.
“It’s tempting,” Fritz said, never one to let a challenge go by. “But I’m used to better odds.” He nudged the fellow out of the way with his shoulder, confident that his greater size and musculature would give him the edge if things got physical. Rudi wasn’t so sure about that. It looked to him as though at least two other men were keeping a close eye on the exchange, but Cheapsuit let them pass without any further attempt to impede them.
“Hello, Artemus,” Rudi said, moving up to the table and standing just behind the scribe. He wasn’t sure quite what sort of reaction he ought to expect, but in the event he was surprised. Artemus barely glanced up from the table, taking in Rudi and Hanna and Fritz who flanked him, effectively pinning the scribe into his chair. Several of the seats around the table were vacant, empty mugs in front of them mute testament to other players who had evidently had enough of the game or run out of money.
“Hello,” he said, with a faint air of abstraction. Five guilders and a handful of silver lay on the table in front of him. “Be with you in a moment.”
“Where’s our money?” Rudi asked, horrified by how little of it seemed left. Less than half the contents of his purse were visible. “What have you done with the rest of it?”
“Invested it,” Artemus said. “On everyone’s behalf.” He discarded one of the cards in his hand. “Draw one.”
“One.” The dealer handed him a fresh card. Like everyone else around the table he seemed to be ignoring the conversation.
“I stick,” the man on Artemus’ left, a prosperous-looking merchant with a faint Bretonnian accent, said, smiling. He threw two more guilders into the pile of coins in the middle of the table. Hanna’s eyes widened as she took it in. There must have been fifty of the gold coins there at least, and twice as many pieces of silver.
“Draw two,” the man next to him said. He was thin and shabbily dressed, his hair plastered to his scalp with a sheen of sweat. His mouth tightened almost imperceptibly as he received his replacement cards and his shoulders slumped dejectedly for a moment before he squared them with a brave show of confidence. “That’ll do nicely.”
“I’m out,” a hard-eyed woman with a sword at her belt said, throwing her cards on the table face down. The man next to her grinned. His clothes were finer than any Rudi had ever seen before, intricate designs embroidered in gold thread on a rich blue background, and he made a show of studying his cards carefully.
“I can’t be paying you enough, obviously.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll stick with these. If anyone wants to know why, it’ll cost you another five guilders.” He threw the money into the pot as he spoke and Rudi felt an air of tension settle across the table, like the crackle of an approaching thunderstorm. He had only the vaguest idea of what was going on, but things were obviously building to a head.
“Too rich for me,” the Bretonnian said, throwing in his hand. The dealer nodded. He wasn’t actually playing, Rudi realised, just distributing the cards to those who were; presumably he was employed by Tilman, or whoever really owned the place.
“Anyone else?”
Artemus reached forward to pick up the remaining gold coins in front of him, but Fritz was faster, pinning the scribe’s hand to the table before he could reach them.
“Hang on a minute,” he said. “That’s all we have.”
“That’s all we have at the moment,” Artemus said. He nodded to the pile of gold coins in the middle of the table. “All that’s ripe for the taking. But I need to make this bet.”
“And lose the lot? I don’t think so,” Hanna said. By way of an answer Artemus tilted his hand so she could see the cards in it. Rudi leaned across for a better view.
The hand was a good one, he knew. Although he and his father had never played for anything but acorns, they’d whiled away the evenings with card games for as long as he could remember, and there were only a couple of combinations that could possibly beat it. The chances were that Artemus really did have the winning hand, and if that was true they’d walk out of here rich. But if he was wrong… He hovered in an agony of indecision.
“How about you?” The dealer addressed the shabbily-dressed man between the woman and the Bretonnian. The fellow shrugged.
“I’m in.” He pushed a handful of silver across the table. “You’ll take my marker for the rest?”
“You know the rules. Cash only.” The dealer’s eyes moved back to Artemus. “Are you in or out?”
“That decision seems to have been taken out of my hands,” the scribe said mildly. He glanced back at Rudi. “Well?”
“In,” Rudi said, feeling a knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Hanna and Fritz stared at him in astonishment for a moment. Then Fritz withdrew his hand, allowing Artemus to pick up the money and add it to the pot.
“Well played,” the richly-dressed fellow said drily. “But if you think I’m about to be bluffed into folding by a piece of amateur theatrics you’re very much mistaken.” He began to turn over his cards.
“Wait!” The shabby man cried desperately. He scrabbled inside his shirt. “I’ve got this. It’s worth twenty guilders at least!” Despite himself Rudi couldn’t help turning his head to look. It was a painting of a woman on a horse, who seemed to be waving some kind of cup in the air, in a plain wooden frame. The Bretonnian glanced at it with an air of carefully concealed interest.
“A grail icon,” he said at last. “Common enough, but quite well done. I’ll give you three guilders for it.”
“Three?” The little man was outraged. “It’s worth five times that at least.”
“I doubt that.” The merchant shrugged. “But you can’t bet with it, can you? The man said cash only.”
“All right!” The little man said fiercely. “Four guilders eight shillings. That’s all I need!”
“No skin off my nose,” the Bretonnian said at last. “I’m out of the game anyway. But if you win you buy it back for ten, agreed?”
“Agreed!” The little man thrust the painting into his hands and after a moment the merchant pulled a stack of coins out of his purse. “Thank you.”
“Are we quite finished?” the richly dressed man said dryly. “No more last minute soliloquies from Tarradasch, no more recitations from Sierck?” He flipped his cards over with an air of smug satisfaction.
“A good hand,” Artemus conceded, “but not quite good enough, I fear.” He laid his own cards on the table and the rich man shrugged.
“Congratulations,” he said.
“Just a minute.” The shabbily dressed man spread his own cards out and a jolt of pure horror punched Rudi in the stomach. The fellow grabbed a handful of coins from the pot and handed them to the Bretonnian with a theatrical flourish. “Ten guilders you said? Cheap at half the price.” The icon disappeared inside his shirt again.
“That was… extraordinarily lucky,” Artemus said heavily, slumping back into his chair. The little man had the rarest hand of all. “With the cards falling as they did, the chances of that combination turning up were�
��”
“Pretty much inevitable,” Hanna said acidly. “Since the cards are quite clearly marked.”
“Marked?” The dealer rose to his feet, incensed. “Tilman’s has always played straight! We’re known for it!” He beckoned with his hand and Cheap-suit and a couple of other men started moving towards the table.
“Three of cups. Five of cups, two of coins, hanged man, ace of wands.” Hanna gestured to the hand of cards the woman had discarded, still face down.
“That was my hand,” she agreed levelly. She stood, drawing her sword and stepping protectively in front of the richly dressed man. “Looks like you’ve just been fleeced, boss.”
“Not just him,” Rudi said, reaching towards the pile of coins. Before he could reach them, the Bretonnian stood abruptly, kicking the table over and scattering the contents.
“Don’t just stand there, run for it!” he cried, all trace of his accent suddenly vanishing and grabbing the shabby fellow by the elbow. The little man moved, drawing a blade from a concealed scabbard.
“Right behind you,” he said.
“I don’t think so.” Rudi moved in to challenge him, but before he could get close he was buffeted off his feet by someone charging into the back of his knees. As he went down hard, he realised the floor was now seething with people scrabbling after the rolling coins. By the time he scrambled to his feet, the little man and the fake Bretonnian were nowhere to be seen.
“We have to get out of here,” Artemus said. The room was turning into a free-for-all, as brawls broke out over the scattered money and the house enforcers moved to break them up. “Things are about to turn very ugly if I’m any judge.”
“What about our money?” Fritz asked grimly, but Rudi nodded in agreement with the scribe.
“Not worth dying for,” he said, taking in the turmoil in the room. Cheap-suit and the heavies with him started trying to break up the nearest brawl, forgetting about them for the moment. Rudi began to draw his sword, but Hanna laid a hand on his arm, forestalling him.
“You’ll just make yourself a target,” she said.
“Good point.” Rudi turned to Fritz. “Fists and feet. We punch our way through and clear a path for Hanna.” For a moment he expected the girl to argue, but she simply nodded grimly.
“Suits me,” Fritz said, turning and lashing out at the nearest face. Now he had something straightforward to do he seemed almost happy. His fist met flesh and the man fell backwards, opening up a tiny space in the maelstrom of bodies surrounding them. Rudi stepped in, kicking out at a sallow faced man who was trying to draw a knife, knocking the feet out from under him.
“Coming?” Hanna asked Artemus as she started to follow them.
“My goodness yes, most certainly.” The scribe picked up his pack and followed them.
“Not so fast.” The dealer grabbed her by the arm. “You were in with them, weren’t you? Caused all this so they could escape!”
“Without the money?” Hanna retorted. “You’re stupider than you look.”
“Let her go!” Rudi punched the man in the stomach, surprised by the surge of anger he felt. The dealer folded and rolled under the table for whatever degree of protection the item of furniture might afford.
“Thanks,” Hanna said, hurrying to stay in the small patch of clear space which followed Rudi and Fritz like the wake of a boat.
“Pardon me, coming through, mind out, oops, sorry about that…” Artemus said, sweeping around them with his walking staff, which somehow seemed to deflect a large number of retaliatory punches.
“Follow them, stick close.” The woman from the card table shoved her charge bodily ahead of her to join Hanna and Artemus, then moved in to stand behind them, facing outwards, walking backwards, her sword at the ready. She flashed a grin at Hanna. “I’m Mathilde, by the way, that’s the Graf von Eckstein.” She parried a sudden thrust from a dagger and retaliated. Someone outside Rudi’s field of vision screamed and when he saw the woman’s blade again the tip of it was red. It wasn’t the only one, either. Many of the weapons drawn had been used. “Your friend was right, this is going to get ugly.”
“You have no idea,” Hanna said, her face paling, and with a thrill of horror Rudi realised that the power dammed up in her by Gerhard’s talisman was beginning to stir again. He punched out savagely at the nearest milling figure, clearing a few inches of space, and put his arm around her waist as she began to sag at the knees.
“Help me!” Rudi snapped at von Eckstein, barely conscious that he was addressing a nobleman in a tone so peremptory that it would have seemed rude to a servant. The man didn’t seem to mind though, stepping in to take Hanna’s arm across his shoulders.
“With pleasure,” he said. “Never let it be said that a von Eckstein ever left a damsel in distress.” He picked her up with surprising strength, cradling her in his arms like a child, and nodded affably to Rudi. “After you.”
“Thanks,” Rudi said, returning to the fray with renewed vigour. Someone swung what looked like a chair leg at his head and he ducked, blocking the blow with his arm and snapping out a counter-punch which caught the fellow full in the face. Something cracked under his knuckles and the man fell, leaving a smear of red across his fist.
“Keep going,” Mathilde said calmly, her sword flickering to and fro, warding off any blows aimed at von Eckstein and keeping most of the crowd at bay by the threat of its presence. Bright metal showed through a couple of slashes in her shirt, revealing the presence of a coat of concealed mail.
“We’re trying,” Rudi called back, exerting all his strength against the press of bodies, but they were becoming hemmed in. Even Fritz was making little headway, his muscles more than outmatched by the sheer amount of flesh facing them. Over the heads of the crowd he caught sight of Cheap-suit and his friends making their way towards them as fast as they could. He tried to draw his sword, but couldn’t get a hand near the hilt.
Suddenly, without warning, he was blinded by a bright flash of lightning and deafened by a peal of thunder, which echoed through the confined space loud enough to hurt his ears. As he blinked his eyes clear, the babble of voices around him grew even louder, tinged now with panic.
“Sorcery!” Von Eckstein said, sounding intrigued rather than frightened. A gust of wind erupted from nowhere, howling through the room, and Rudi tensed against it, keeping his feet with an instinct honed by a lifetime in the open air. Fritz remained standing too, more by sheer strength than skill, and the rest of the group seemed sheltered behind them, doing little more than swaying on their feet. Most of the other patrons were less lucky, though, being blown to the floor if they hadn’t been down there already.
“There must be a wizard or two in here,” Artemus agreed. “Not that surprising, I suppose. They enjoy a game of chance as much as the next man, although they inevitably get accused of cheating by thaumaturgical means if they hit a winning streak.”
“Who cares?” Mathilde said. Somehow the gust of wind had left a relatively clear path to the door and she pushed von Eckstein into motion. “Just use it.”
As the graf rushed past him, Rudi glanced at Hanna, wondering if somehow the power within her was manifesting in spite of Gerhard’s seal, but she seemed unconscious, slumped in von Eckstein’s arms. Her face was pale and her nose was bleeding again and Rudi’s jaw tightened with anger. Somehow, he swore, he’d see to it that the witch hunter’s curse was lifted and vengeance taken for the atrocity.
“Coming?” Mathilde asked, glancing back as she fled. Galvanised into motion, Rudi followed her, Fritz and Artemus a mere pace or two ahead of him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Come on, boss.” Mathilde glanced up and down the street outside the cobbler’s shop. “Not a good idea to be found here.” She’d re-sheathed her sword, after wiping it clean, but her eyes remained watchful. They were an unusual colour, with a faint greenish tinge where the daylight caught them, and the hair under her floppy hat was a rich, dark red. Behind them, more dazed gamblers
were escaping into the street and disappearing into the ever-present crowd. Passers-by were beginning to slow down and look. There had been no sign of Tilman in the narrow workshop as they’d rushed through it. Whether he’d run off to fetch help or simply waded into the brawl in the back room, Rudi had no idea.
“I know.” The nobleman hesitated nevertheless, glancing down at Hanna, who was still cradled in his arms. “Will she be all right?”
“I’m sure she will,” Rudi said, reaching out for her. Von Eckstein handed the girl across and she stirred fitfully as Rudi took her weight, on the verge of regaining consciousness. “We’re staying right down that alley over there.”
“At the Dancing Pirate,” Fritz put in helpfully, ignoring the hard look Rudi gave him.
Von Eckstein nodded. “Good,” he said, turning abruptly and vanishing into the throng, his bodyguard at his shoulder. “Look after her.”
Mathilde turned to smile at Fritz as they went. “Nice right hook,” she said.
“Are you still here?” Fritz turned menacingly towards Artemus, his fists clenching. “You’re stupider than you look.”
“This isn’t the time,” Rudi said. As if to underline the point, the girl in his arms moaned gently. “We have to take care of Hanna.”
“Of course we do,” Artemus said.
“I think you’ve done enough,” Rudi replied flatly.
The scribe looked crestfallen. “I hope this unfortunate incident isn’t going to cast a shadow on our admittedly fresh, but until now undeniably pleasant, association,” he said. “If I’d had the remotest idea that the game was rigged I’d never have gone within a league of the place, you can be sure of that.” He shrugged, looking disappointed. “Tilman’s was always known for its honesty too. How times change.”
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