by Jaxon Reed
Children followed the last cart out of town, laughing and running behind it. Dudge and Fret smiled and waved until they finally stopped chasing.
Soon they were surrounded by fields and the low stone fences marking the countryside. Dudge sighed and stretched out on top of the barrels, making himself as comfortable as he could.
“Be a long ways t’ Osmo, Fret. Wake me up when we gets t’ th’ first inn.”
-+-
“Thank you, Prince Trant, for joining us today.”
Trant nodded politely to King Keel, and took a seat at the table. He noted several of the nobles from the meeting at Donamar were there, including Bently sitting to the King’s right. Keel’s heavyset brother-in-law smiled at Trant from behind his snow-white beard, and the prince was reminded of Father Winter once more.
Trant caught Baylock’s eye. Unlike Bently, Baylock was clean-shaven and did not smile back. But, neither did he cast more aspersion than usual from his stern countenance, so Trant took it as a sign of acceptance.
Indeed, Trant’s presence at this meeting was evidence enough of acceptance. He was being offered equal treatment and consideration. They would likely listen to his views on the matter at hand.
Keel turned to Bently and said, “Give us the news.”
Bently cleared his throat and leaned forward, while taking a small scroll out from a pocket on his coat.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid one of my ships has fallen prey to pirates again. Captain Belsett of the Lightfish has sent me a personal letter from Corsairs Cove along with ransom demands for the crew and vessel.”
Bently held up the parchment to the others before placing it on the table.
“All my captains hold sufficient magic to learn a trick or two for times like this.”
He waved his hand over the letter, and new writing appeared. Trant raised an eyebrow, impressed. The others expected it, though, and showed no reaction.
“In his secret message, Belsett tells me they found our gold this time. I shan’t bother you all with the details, but for some while we have managed to hide our wealth onboard, so that if a ship is captured we could recover most of it.
“However, this time it seems a particularly adept pirate by the name of Steck quickly deduced our hiding place. Belsett informs me they tore the ship apart looking for more. I’m afraid it will be very costly what with ransoming the crew, the lost cargo, and then repairing the ship once I get it back. If I get it back.”
Bently slumped in his chair and sighed. Keel patted him on the shoulder and turned to the table. He said, “Once again we are faced with the difficulties posed by pirates and Corsairs Cove. I’m open to suggestions, gentlemen.”
Nobody said anything for several moments. Finally Baylock said, “Nothing we’ve tried has worked. Nothing has worked for centuries. The pirates have always been with us. It’s part of doing trade on the high seas.”
A murmer of agreement went up around the table.
Keel said, “What say you, Trant? Mayhap you can bring a new perspective to our old dilemma.”
Trant frowned in thought as he considered the problem. He said, “How about a trap?”
Baylock snorted and said, “We’ve tried that. Several times. By some magic of their captains or luck they always seem to suss out the details.”
Keel nodded. He said, “It’s true. Last time we hid a hundred marines on a merchant ship and let it float in circles for weeks. We were approached by two vessels we think were pirates, and they both retreated after drawing near. We suspect they could tell our ill intentions somehow.”
Trant said, “Have you considered sending an armed escort with your ships?”
Keel said, “Oh, yes. And for some shipments, important ones, we do that. But my navy has only so many ships, and they have other things to do, as well. Bear in mind only one ship among a hundred might get attacked by pirates. It’s just too costly to escort every one for every voyage on the slim chance it might get waylaid.”
“Could you maintain patrols by your navy? They wouldn’t have to escort every ship. They could just keep the lanes secure.”
“Yes, and we do that. Even so, there are miles and miles of ocean. A ship can be attacked and disappear to Corsairs Cove, which is a magically hidden island somewhere out there, before my navy can reach it to help.”
Trant sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Keel smiled and said, “You begin to see our dilemma, don’t you? It has vexed us for ages.”
“Has every trap involved hidden marines?”
Keel and Bently exchanged glances. Keel said, “Yes. I don’t recall any that did not involve hidden soldiers of some kind. Why, is there another way to lay a trap for them? They usually have superior numbers. Marines help even the odds considerably.”
“I was thinking, if they can tell a ship has a threat aboard, why not send out a regular merchant and have a naval vessel or two nearby that can swoop in and take them out?”
Baylock spoke up, a frown shaping his words. He said, “How are you going to hide another ship out on the water? Have you been on the ocean, young man? You can see everything all around for miles. One cannot simply ‘swoop in’ from sufficient distance to stay out of sight from other ships.”
“Let’s give Prince Trant a chance to explain,” Keel said, casting a soft look of disapproval at Baylock. “He was raised by a wizard, and wizards are known for their problem solving abilities.”
Trant cleared his throat and thought for a moment before speaking. Finally he said, “Well, you could make the attack vessel invisible. Certainly it would take a wizard for such a feat. But even then, you’re presented with additional issues, like how do you disguise the water it displaces? You can have an invisible boat nearby, but it would still be making waves, so to speak. That would require some serious magic that goes far beyond just making a boat disappear.”
“A wizard made an entire island disappear,” Baylock pointed out. Trant noted, though, his tone was no longer completely negative.
Trant nodded, acknowledging the point. He said, “If that was set up by one of the first wizards, they evidently had better magic in those days. But even if we could solve the problem of hiding displaced water from an invisible boat, if the pirates have some way of detecting threats, some magic strong enough to sense an armed battalion hiding onboard, I imagine they might be able to sense an entire navy ship nearby, too.”
“So we’re back where we started,” Baylock said. “There’s no way to set an effective trap.”
“Well . . . what if we could summon a navy ship right when it’s needed? Just as the pirates attack a bait vessel, the navy shows up with a hold full of marines.”
Baylock snorted and leaned back in his chair. He said, “I’d like to meet the wizard who could pull that off.”
Trant grinned and said, “You already have.”
11
“My name is Ocularus.”
“I’m Steck.”
The old man held Stin’s eyes for a long moment, and Stin felt as if somehow Ocularus could see through the pseudonym. For a moment, staring into those sparkling bright eyes, Stin thought the old man might be able to suss out his real name.
He quickly pushed the thought down, though. The loss of privacy felt too uncomfortable to consider.
Ocularus seemed to brush it aside, too. He turned toward Quent and said, “Thank you for bringing me a new customer! Now, let’s discover what I have that you need.”
He reached under the counter and pulled out a small glowing orb. Stin thought it looked to be made of some kind of translucent material. Not quite glass and not quite porcelain, but similar to both. It also seemed very old. Somebody, perhaps many years ago, had fashioned a stone base for it. The base looked smooth, as if time had rubbed away an earlier veneer, leaving an ancient patina revealing the true nature of the stone.
The orb itself offered an ever-changing pattern of light, swirling and dancing across the surface. It grabbed the eyes o
f the three men when Ocularus placed it on the counter. The giant black frog stared at it, too, its throat bubble paused, half inflated, as if it too were holding its breath.
“The All Seeing Orb sees all and knows all. Stare into it, Quent, and let it tell me what you seek, what you need, what you desire the most.”
Quent nodded dumbly, eyes never leaving the globe. He stared at it from his position in front of the counter. Ocularus stared at it too, from behind the counter. A moment later, they both looked up and locked eyes with one another.
Ocularus held a finger up, as if counseling patience. He said, “Let me find it.”
He disappeared through a dark doorway behind the counter, leading to the back of the shop. Quent glanced at Stin, who raised a querying eyebrow.
Quent half smiled, and shrugged. He said, “Probably going to bring me another book.”
Ocularus indeed returned with an old book. He set it down on the counter, and gently opened it for Quent. He said, “Behold, Fulton’s personal journal! Containing many years of his sketches, first drafts of his great portraits, ideas for paintings (some of which he never got around to), and drawings he made just before dying at the Battle of Hest.”
Quent gently turned the pages, his hands trembling in excitement.
Stin’s eyes bulged. The book, he knew, must be worth a small fortune. Any king on the mainland would have paid dearly for it. Certain wealthy members of the nobility even more, perhaps. The mystery of how such a treasure came to this strange back-alley shop in Corsairs Cove flitted briefly through his thoughts.
Quent continued paging through the book. He pulled out his purse and handed the entire bag of coins to Ocularus. The old man smiled, took the money and tucked it away somewhere under the counter.
Stin’s brows furrowed. He said to Quent, “How did you know how much it costs?”
Quent didn’t look up, but kept turning pages in the book. He said, “It always costs the same: however much you have.”
Ocularus looked at Stin now, smiling. He waved his hand toward the orb and said, “Care to take a look?”
“Alright.”
Stin moved closer. He cast a glance around the shop. The black frog stared at him, its neck bubble inflating again. He said, “But I doubt you have anything I really need. Certainly nothing that’s worth all I own.”
The old man kept smiling and gestured invitingly toward the orb again.
Stin stared down at the glowing sphere. Shapes seemed to flow on the surface, forming intricate patterns, capturing his full attention. He watched closely now, and the light danced faster. It seemed to reach up off the surface, and approach his eyes with small gossamer hands made of bright white luminosity.
He didn’t blink or turn away as the light entered both of his eyes and filled his head with a warm presence. He felt his thoughts sifted and sorted, then he felt the light go deeper, deeper, as if probing his most private thoughts and dreams, memories and aspirations.
He blinked and the light was gone, back swirling on the surface of the orb once more.
Ocularus smiled at him and said, “I have several things you will be interested in. Let me get one that fulfills your immediate desire.”
He disappeared into the back of the store again. Stin looked to Quent, but Quent gave Fulton’s journal his undivided attention. He did not look back.
Ocularus returned with another book. Stin felt a pang of disappointment. He said, “Unless that’s something I can sell for a lot of gold, like Fulton’s journal there, I don’t think I’m interested in buying a book today.”
Ocularus’s eyes twinkled. He said, “I don’t think you’ll ever want to sell this book.”
He held it out and Stin took it. Opening it, Stin realized it was a journal like Fulton’s, and handwritten. The first page had a simple title scrawled in ink, the letters large and flowing.
The title read, “EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT PLAYING CARDS.”
And below it, the author’s name: Montaveous.
“Montaveous? Where have I heard that name before?”
Quent said, “Montaveous of Emerald. Died about a hundred years ago. One of the richest men to have ever lived, they say. At least, the richest one not of royal blood.”
“What did he know about playing cards?”
Quent shrugged and said, “He was an astute gambler. Made his early money at the card tables. They say he was hard to beat, but was never caught cheating. He was so good, in fact, that people stopped playing with him. I think that’s when he took his fortune and put it to use elsewhere.”
Intrigued, Stin looked at the book with renewed interest. He opened it to the first page and began reading silently.
I have no one to share this with, so I’m recording all that I know here in this journal. It is my hope that someday somebody will find this and can use my knowledge after I’m gone.
The first thing you have to understand, and the secret to most of my youthful success at the gaming tables, is that you can see through the backs of cards. You can train your eyes to do this trick without magic. Then you can know what other players are holding and place your bets accordingly, while also not running afoul of the rules prohibiting magical cheats.
I will explain how to stare into a candle for long hours and train your eyes to see through cards on the following pages. . .
Stin’s jaw dropped. He slowly looked up from the book. Ocularus smiled at him.
Without another word, Stin handed over all his gold to the old man, then left the shop with Quent. Both of them slowly walked down the alley back toward the street, each reading their respective book along the way.
-+-
The next few days Stin spent stealing silver in the crowded streets. At night he reread the journal several times over, learning all of Montaveous’s considerable knowledge about playing cards. The old gambler devoted entire chapters to all the major games, including Primero. He included strategies for betting, focusing on the idea of percentages. He explained the odds of drawing cards for different hands, and why certain cards were more likely to succeed in completing a good hand. If hoping for a fourth card to make fluxus, the player had a one in four chance his desired suit would turn up. If drawing for three-of-a-kind, the player had a one in twenty chance. Four-of-a-kind meant a one in forty chance.
And chance was simply a matter of numbers, Montaveous wrote. There are four cards of each suit. The more valuable hands were combinations of cards much more difficult to draw for, since they went against the odds.
Knowing the odds made a player more competitive. He could assess the table, and make an accurate guess at the likelihood one of the remaining cards would turn up to complete his hand. He could then bet accordingly.
But the big advantage, the one that Montaveous shared first, was the secret to seeing through the backs of cards. To train his eyes for it, Stin spent hours staring into the flame of a candle each night. Then in the wee hours of the morning, before going to sleep, he stared diligently at the back of a card from a deck he’d bought off a street vendor.
After the fifth evening, he could make out faint outlines of the patterns printed on the opposite sides. It made him so excited he spent another two hours staring into the candle until slumping over on the table, exhausted as the sun’s first rays hit his window.
By the sixth evening, he could deduce numbers, and correctly call out the suit.
On the seventh evening, he headed out of Widow Raynora’s house after an hour of staring into the candle’s flame. He felt ready to take on a game.
He made his way to Berti’s. Walking through the door he was recognized immediately and faced a gauntlet of well-wishers. The bonhomie from his exploits on Lightfish had not yet worn off, and he found himself forced to engage in conversation with several people. Some he had met in Berti’s before while others were new to him.
Finally, after politely extricating himself from all the discussions up front, he made his way to the gaming tables in back. He waited patiently for a
n opening at one of the silver tables. After half an hour someone left, and at last he sat down for his first round of Primero with his new ability.
Four hours later, he had completely cleaned out the other players’ money.
He made his way to the gold table, which now had some vacancies at this late hour. Half the players on the six table left, but Stin’s arrival made four so their game continued.
Mindful of Montaveous’s directions to not win too much, and to lose on occasion, Stin gave up gold his first three rounds. The other players chuckled, thinking perhaps his luck from the silver table didn’t hold.
Then he started exercising his powers of card reading and odds-estimation, and he began winning, hand after hand. On occasion, his cards were worthless, and he’d play through a hand to let someone else win. But, for the majority of rounds he pulled in the gold.
When Stin’s stiff legs finally led him out of Berti’s, a rooster crowed while the dawn spread faintly across the night sky. His purse bulged. Far too large and heavy to hide on his body, Stin felt vulnerable. He carried it with both hands. Looking around, he imagined eyes staring back at him from every shadow.
“And a good morrow to ye.”
Stin jumped in surprise, nearly dropping the heavy bag of gold. Gant chuckled at him.
“Did nay mean to surprise ye, Master Steck. Ho there! Were ye as successful at the Primero tables as ye were on the Lightfish?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I feel rather foolish carrying this much gold in the dark.”
“Afraid some blighter might nick it from ye, ay?”
Stin nodded.
“Well, we can’t have that. Not on my watch! I’ll escort ye home. Where might ye be staying?”
“At the Widow Raynora’s.”
“Ah, yes. Lovely lady! Shame the Coralians stretched her man’s neck. Let us be off, then. Have ye there by first light.”
Stin continued home, reflecting on the odd fact he was led there by an armed escort rather than being escorted to jail.