Chapter Two The Financial State of Two Slumdogs #3
He stared tiredly at his rosary. “But if I were still brawling, we wouldn’t be struggling as much, would we? Look at you resorting to thievery because I couldn’t handle a brawl once a fortnight.”
“No,” she began, but she could not find a way to deny the truth.
Desil was a hard worker—his days were split at both the teahouse and the metalworks—but his meager salaries combined had never matched Lythlet’s as a bookkeeper.
The hive-master had been cruel, but bookkeepers could nonetheless count on a more dependable salary by Southeast standards.
The only time Desil had been able to match her was when he’d joined the brawlers’ square to supplement his earnings.
At length, she said, “You needn’t hold yourself responsible.
You weren’t made for the brawling square.
I never minded providing for the both of us, and I still don’t. ”
“And to provide for us, you’ve become a thief.”
“Enough of that—thievery it was, but if I stole from those who deserved a little pain, from those whose crimes would never be punished by the Court, why must we sit here in guilt for that?”
“What’s done is done, and I won’t press on it further,” he said. “I only fear what happens after this. Are we going to find ourselves here again, turning to crime to make ends meet?”
She stared at him wearily. “We’re slumdogs living deep in debt.
We most certainly will find ourselves here once again.
In a desert, all roads lead to despair. But what’s wrong if I turn to the streets to pinch a few pockets?
I brought justice tonight and lined my pockets in the doing.
A little bit of greed will not hurt the world. ”
His olive-flecked eyes turned sharp. For all he had grown, shedding behind his youth as his flesh became a man’s, she could always find something boyish in his gaze. But not then.
“There’s no such thing as a little bit when it comes to greed.
You drew the line tonight at three, and at those who’ve done wrong—but a compass can be pulled permanently askew when surrounded by enough coins.
You’re brilliant, Lythlet, and you always have been.
And there’s nothing more dangerous than a clever mind set loose to its own designs with no morals to guide it.
” He heaved a deep breath, stroking the bracelet of rosary beads on his wrist. “I’ll return to brawling. ”
She shook her head. “I won’t have you do that to yourself again.”
He brushed her hair fondly. “You worry for me to the point you no longer care about yourself. All these months, you lied to me, telling me Valanti was treating you well. You would’ve kept lying to me if it weren’t for your bleeding brow yesterday.
And all because you wanted to help me pay off my debt.
If it’s for you, I can forsake my prayers to Tazkar once a fortnight.
Better I break my vow of peacekeeping than you get yourself in danger. ”
“I haven’t forgotten what your brawling days were like. You came home miserable every time. If there are other ways for us to make ends meet, we can look for them, but returning to brawling is not one of them.”
“There’s nothing else we can—” He broke off, struck by a thought.
“What?”
He retrieved the discarded conquessor handbill from his side. “ Riches beyond all measure .”
“You can’t be serious. Put that away. Do you think it wise to trust such a shameless promise?”
“The matches are real, and they do pay,” insisted Desil.
“I’ve friends who are acquainted with conquessors from previous seasons.
They dropped out after only a match or two, but they always received their fee fairly and immediately after a match.
Each match requires two conquessors, so you and I could join together.
I’m not imagining we’ll last the whole twelve rounds, of course.
But even a single match’s jackpot would make a dent in my debt to Tucoras. ”
Her brows knitted together. “And now you’re comfortable with fighting?”
He sat still, deep in thought, and she knew he was poring through all the verses he’d memorized.
Eventually, he spoke, “The teachings of Tazkar say we must live in peace with our brethren. But nowhere in the Poetics does it say the wild beasts are to be spared, and there is no bloodguilt in the slaying of a sun-cursed beast. If I’m by your side, I could protect you as well. ”
Lythlet was surprised by the eager determination in his eyes, lit by a wild flame. “I never thought you’d consider this.” She stared at the grotesquely flamboyant words on the handbill: RICHES BEYOND ALL MEASURE!
Rallying her nerves around that promise, she dragged a coin out of the purse, one of the few she’d kept from Tucoras.
She would rely on fate once more tonight to determine where her story would go.
“Heads, we listen to our better senses and stay away from these games. Ship, we go in search of this match-master to find out more.”
Desil nodded, rising on a knee to get a better look at the coin in her hand.
With a sharp flick of her thumb, she sent it soaring skyward, catching it before it dropped onto the wooden floorboards.
Centuries ago, their exiled ancestors must have felt a great, keen, anxious hope as they left behind their sinking island for a new life aboard a Fated Ship.
And now once more, a Fated Ship was glimmering with promise at Ederi souls, the coin face gleaming back at the two of them in the low light of their hive-lantern.
“Thy will be done,” Desil murmured, a quiet smile tilting his lips.
Lythlet took a deep breath. “And thus twice tonight is fate dragging me forth from the margins.”