11. Liora
Liora
After dinner, they made their way through Glenmorgrund’s narrow stone streets, following the directions the waiter had given them. Liora still hadn’t quite shaken the nagging thought about how easily Maldenis had gotten that information.
Almost too easy, she’d said.
And she’d meant it.
Dunhaven Street was a crooked little lane lit by iron lanterns that swayed in the wind.
They walked further down until they stopped by a squat, dark-windowed structure with the words Krusty Krag Bakery in faded gold paint on the glass.
During the day, Liora could imagine it bustling with customers, but at this hour, it was closed, the display cases inside empty.
“This is it,” Maldenis said. “Let’s go to the back.”
They went around back and found a heavy iron door was set into the stone wall. Maldenis knocked five times, just as the waiter told them.
A slot slid open and two dark eyes stared out at them.
“Password.”
“Minotaur,” Maldenis answered.
No reply came, but three seconds later, they heard the sounds of bolts unclicking and the door swung inward.
“Where’s the guard?” Elian asked.
Liora shrugged. “Who knows? Let’s just go and not waste anymore time.”
“We’re headed in, Hektor,” Zara said, touching her ear, or rather, the earpiece tucked in there. Since Hektor could not join them, he patched in remotely via Zara’s phone, able to listen in on what was happening.
They went down the long, steep stairs carved directly into the mountain rock, and the smell hit Liora before they’d even reached the bottom—yeast, but also, something older underneath, like damp stone and spilled beer.
“It’s warm in here,” Maldenis remarked, then sniffed the air. “Smells like thermal heat.”
By the time they stepped off the last stair, they realized he was correct; there was a massive hearth on the far wall, filling the space with a damp heat. A large firebox was fixed on the wall, and the glow from it filled the room with an amber light.
Elian whistled. “It’s bigger than it looks.”
“That’s what she said,” Liora snickered.
Zara shook her head. “No, Hektor, no one said anything, it’s a joke from—I’ll explain later, okay?”
The den itself sprawled out before them in a low, labyrinthian layout. The walls were lined with dark mahogany paneling and polished brass fixtures, and booths and game tables branched off in every direction.
The patrons were mostly minotaurs, which Liora had expected. But scattered throughout were others—a group of harpies clustered around a roulette wheel in a side alcove, feathers ruffled with excitement, and here and there a few creatures that she didn’t recognize or perhaps a hybrid of others.
“Okay,” Elian murmured, looking around. “How do we even find this guy?”
“Why don’t you try asking?” Liora said, glancing at Maldenis. “You seem to be very lucky tonight.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
They moved deeper into the den. Maldenis approached the nearest group—a pair of minotaurs hunched over a low table—and opened his mouth. The larger of the two turned his head, looked Maldenis up and down with dismissive sweep, and turned back to his game without a word.
Maldenis tried another with a group playing some kind of electronic poker machine. Same result.
A third simply walked away mid-question.
And then one of them—a stocky bull with close-cropped horns—knocked his shoulder hard into Elian’s as he passed, not even breaking stride.
Liora pressed her lips together. Elian straightened up, said nothing.
“Well,” Maldenis said. “That’s not great.”
“You probably got lucky with that waiter,” Liora muttered.
Except, had he?
She turned it over in her mind, recalling the memory. The waiter’s face before he’d answered. That strange beat of hesitation. Maldenis, leaning forward to meet his eyes.
She’d thought it was just his usual shamelessness. But she’d seen something. A flicker. The faintest flash in Maldenis’s eyes, there and gone so fast she’d almost convinced herself it was the candlelight. Almost. She filed it away.
“Guys.” Zara squeaked. “Hektor’s saying something.”
“What?” Elian asked.
Zara relayed it quietly. “He says we have to earn their respect first. Speak their language, is how he put it.”
Maldenis exhaled through his nose. “He’s right. We walk in here asking questions and we’re already outsiders. We need to look like we belong.” He scanned the room. “We should get into a game. Show them we’re serious.”
“A game,” Liora repeated.
“Yes.”
“We don’t gamble,” Zara said.
“We’re barely old enough to drink,” Elian added.
“I guess it’s up to me then.” Maldenis straightened his shoulders, scanning the room. “Let’s find something I can actually play.”
They shuffled toward the center of the den, where the crowd was densest. Tables of every shape and size were there—dice games, card games, things with boards and pieces that moved independently.
Liora doubted any of them would explain the rules to a basilisk wearing two sweaters, let alone three humans.
“Excuse me.”
Liora stopped a waitress weaving through the crowd. Human, she guessed, or at least human-looking, until the woman glanced up and Liora caught her irises. Solid black, like the small lake just outside town
“What game is that?” Liora nodded toward the center table, where the biggest crowd had gathered. The noise around it was different from the others and there was excitement in the air that was palpable, even from a distance.
The waitress followed her gaze. “That’s the Reaping of the Glen.” She said it in a reverent tone. “The most intense game we have. Takes real skill to play, and one game can climb into the hundreds of thousands.” She tsked softly. “I’ve seen it ruin lives.”
“That’s the one,” Maldenis said.
Elian stared at him. “Did you just hear what she said?”
“Yes, but what better way to catch Brontaios’s attention?” He motioned for them to follow. “Come on.”
They waded in, pressing toward the front until they broke through to the front of the crowd. In the middle was a round table with five players seated. The air around it felt different, still, but the tension in the air was thicker than molasses in January.
The five players consisted of minotaurs of various sizes, their expressions ranging from neutral to aggressive. A hulking minotaur with thick braided blond hair plaited over one massive shoulder slowly turned his head toward the opponent on his left.
“Yield the Eyrie to me.”
The opponent snorted, but said nothing.
“I said, yield the Eyrie, Cullenian,” the blond minotaur repeated, this time his voice was more forceful. “And if you lie, there will be a blood forfeit.”
Cullenian grunted, grabbed one of his cards, and threw it on the table.
A slow, sinister smile spread across the blond minotaur’s face as he laid down three of his own cards—all bearing the same symbol in the upper left corner. A hush swept through the crowd.
Cullenian turned to the third player from his left. “Yield the Tundra.”
“Why does this game seem familiar?” Zara murmured.
“Oh my gods.” Elian whispered. “Are they playing Go Fish?”
“Go Fish?” Maldenis turned to look at him. “What’s that?”
“A card game from the Upperworld,” Zara said. “For children.”
Liora’s mouth curved. “This is their intense card game? I could play this in my sleep.”
“You beat us every single time,” Elian said. “I still don’t understand how.”
“Because the two of you had tells.”
“How do you even have tells in Go Fish—”
“Guys.” Maldenis cut them off. “I think the game’s almost over.”
Sure enough, the round had finished. The blond minotaur turned to Cullenian one last time. “Yield the Lochs.”
Cullenian held his gaze for a beat, jaw tight, then tossed the card down. The crowd erupted and the blond minotaur shoved back from his chair and shot to his feet, both fists raised in victory.
A female minotaur in a sparkly red dress stepped forward from the exuberant crowd. “The next game will begin shortly. Current players, please vacate your seats. Anyone who wishes to risk the Reaping may occupy any empty spot.”
They watched a few more games to be sure, but it was definitely Go Fish.
The suits on the card were different though.
Instead of hearts, clubs, diamonds and spades, the cards featured pictures of eagles, stags, wolves, and hares, symbolizing the Eyrie, the Fields, the Forest, and the Tundra.
But it was the same game as on the Upperworld—ask any opponent for a card, collect a complete set, and the one with the most sets wins.
After two more games, Elian nudged Liora. “You should play.”
“Me?”
“You’re the best at it. And it might be our only shot at getting anyone here to actually talk to us.”
She hesitated, eyeing the table.
“Go now,” Zara urged. “Before someone else takes the spot.”
“But—”
“I’ll go with you,” Maldenis offered.
She looked at him. “You don’t even know how to play.”
“I think I understand some of it, but give me a quick explanation before we start so I’m sure.” He was already slithering toward a vacated spot. “Besides, two players are better than one.”
She couldn’t argue with that. They pushed to the front and dropped into the last two empty chairs just as the female minotaur in red began to shuffle the deck and distribute the cards.
Liora quickly ran through the game mechanics with Maldenis.
Thankfully, no one said anything to Liora or Maldenis, though they did attract a few stares.
The first round began at the top of the table, next to the female minotaur, and went counterclockwise, meaning Liora and Maldenis would be last. When it was Liora’s turn, she studied her hand, then looked across the table at the stocky minotaur directly opposite her. “Yield the Forest.”
Silence. He stared at her, then at his cards and shook his head.
She drew from the pile without comment and glanced at Maldenis.
He was studying the table with the loose, easy confidence of someone who had decided not to be intimidated. She gave him a small nod.