Chapter Eight Sock Puppets #2
She nodded. “I only cared for the coin to begin with. It gave me hope we could repay your debt to Tucoras sooner. But now I’ve come to count the cost, and I’m not willing to pay it with your life.
” She paused, noticing a spectator veering toward them.
She jabbed her elbow into Desil. “It’s him—the one who helped me. ”
The black-haired man was tall in stature, clad in neat clothing befitting those of considerable status. Nothing ostentatious, but the tailored cut of his cloak gave away his wealth, as did the slick pomaded parting of his thick hair.
They stood at attention and bowed as he drew near.
“I owe you my life, sir,” Desil said.
“And my gratitude for saving my friend’s life,” Lythlet added, head tilted to the ground, hand pressed to her heart.
The spectator waved at them to rise. “Please, not at all. I’m glad to see you’re both well.”
“To whom do we owe our gratitude?” Desil asked.
“I am Saevem Arthil.” The spectator bowed slightly, tapping his heart in return. “The anzura was a seasonal menace to my hometown Trinevalta. They’re tricky beasts, and I knew you wouldn’t figure out what to do in time, so I felt compelled to help.”
Lythlet now noticed Saevem had the slightest accent that reared its head at certain words, curling them into something more genteel than the usual Setgadian-flavored Vasté. “I hope we helped you win your bet, Master Arthil.”
Master Arthil blinked. “Pardon?”
“You bet on us, didn’t you? That’s why you helped us win.”
“Oh, I placed no bets today,” he said, looking as if the idea had never crossed his mind.
A non-gambling spectator? She hadn’t expected this, but then again, it wasn’t as if he were the first. Ilden, and likely Shunvi, was purely spectating with no coin on the line.
“Well, Master Arthil, if you ever have need of us, let us know and we’ll repay our debt to you,” she said.
“Come to The Steam Dragon down in Southeast, and I’ll treat you to a fine meal,” said Desil.
Master Arthil raised a brow, a glint coming into his eyes. “I may take you up on that. Will you two be continuing in the arena?”
She shook her head immediately.
“We’ve decided to decline our next invitation when it arrives,” Desil said, an apologetic look on his face.
Master Arthil’s smile faded into disappointment. “So soon?”
Was he hoping to start bidding on us from the next round onwards?
“It’s much too risky for us to continue,” she explained. “If we get another wild beast with a trick I cannot solve, I cannot hope for another spectator to pity us enough to help.”
“I understand,” Master Arthil said, sympathy and disappointment mingling in his gaze. “I’d sincerely love to see you two continue as conquessors, but I wish you the best in your endeavors.” He bowed and took his leave, carving his own path out of the ruins.
As Lythlet and Desil trudged along, her hefting his weight on her shoulder, Desil asked, “Say, what is the beast we fought called? Master Dothilos and Master Arthil have called it both an anzura and a Sentinel.”
“Allow me,” Ilden said, springing toward them from one of the arena’s many exits, cloak half slipping from his shoulders.
His brooch had been too carelessly clasped, he himself too unbothered to fix it.
Beside him, Shunvi walked tall, cloak impeccably billowing from his slender build.
“The beast is named anzura as a whole. But the frost-burning head is the Sentinel—”
Ah, of course, since it sees.
“—while the one that spits fire is called the Reaver. I heard some spectators say as much. Good match, by the way. Having trouble walking there, Demothi?”
“Just a little weary from the match. The physic advised I rest before eating.”
“Let’s give Lythlet a break. Lean on Ilden and me,” said Shunvi, offering his shoulder. As he neared her to guide Desil’s arm over his neck, he gave her a strange, nervous look, though she couldn’t fathom why.
Ilden went to Desil’s other side, supporting his weight.
“Oof, you’re a heavy one. Awful sorry for not being much help just now, Lythlet.
Shunvi and I had never faced an anzura, so we knew nothing of the heart.
You seemed like you were on the brink of tears when you looked at me, and Twelve Divine, I am not good at handling crying girls. ”
Lythlet gave a muffled grunt to dismiss his apology, deeply embarrassed.
“Come,” Shunvi gently suggested, taking notice of her discomfort, “let’s celebrate at the Homely Home.”
· · ·
I LDEN AND S HUNVI bickered the whole way to the Homely Home, pausing only for Desil to greet Naya in the hall, then hoisting him up the stairs to rest in one of the spare rooms. Flimsy old sleeping cots waited to be used, and children chattered loudly in the corner, playing with dolls desperately in need of stuffing.
Desil exhaled as he curled on a cot, closing his eyes.
Ilden smacked his bottom. “Piece yourself together, Demothi. We’ve a proper feast waiting downstairs. You’ll be sorry to miss out on it.”
“Come only when you’re rested,” said Shunvi, shaking his head. “Don’t let Ilden nag you into worse health.”
“Nag!” Ilden huffed.
Desil glanced tiredly around. “It seems so empty here today. Last time we came here, we couldn’t find a single spare cot to rest on. Even the hall downstairs seems emptier today.”
“Haven’t heard the news, have you?” said Ilden. “Remember that hill where highborn peers were gathered?”
Lythlet knew what he spoke of, but Desil stared with a vacant expression—a month was long enough for a trivial moment to evaporate from his memory.
“On a hill not too far from the river,” went on Ilden in vain, Desil’s face not registering the slightest recognition. “Oh, never you mind, I’d probably forget if I were you, too. Anyway, it turns out they’re folk from Central who’d come down prospecting for land to develop.”
“I’d always wondered why they never bothered doing so earlier,” said Shunvi as he puffed up a pillow for Desil.
“There’s so much land wasted here in Inejio that could be turned into something worthwhile, you’d reckon efforts to reclaim the space would’ve happened ages ago.
But times are a-changing, at long last.”
“Now there’s a plan to revive the area, section by section, turning it into a sector fit for even the highborn,” said Ilden. “Their first stage is a cluster of grand residential flats along the river.”
“But what about the unregistered?” Desil said. “Surely that means they can’t seek refuge here anymore?”
“That was our fear, too,” Shunvi said, “but there was an announcement.”
“The highborn need labor for their building efforts, don’t they?
” Ilden said. “So the master-builder’s put out the call for workers, and they’ve allowed the unregistered to join.
A very rare opportunity that doesn’t bar them.
They even offer a salary of—brace yourselves—a whole black valir for a fortnight of labor!
I know this seems meager now that you’ve been exposed to the riches of your jackpots, but—”
“It’s still a fortune to us,” cut in Lythlet quietly. “That is indeed very generous pay.”
“But that’s not all. Westiro Asa, the master-builder, has issued a bold promise: whoever joins now and continues until the end of the building efforts will be granted an additional bonus.”
“What?”
“It’s no secret most of the unregistered fell off the census because of petty debts they had to run from.
But should you be one of the lucky early birds committing themselves to the master-builder’s cause, they promise to entirely erase your debt on your behalf upon completion of the flats, which they’ve projected to be two years out. ”
“That’s incredible,” said Desil, eyes widening. “The unregistered could reenter the city overground and live a free life again.”
Shunvi nodded. “Nearly every unregistered we know from every safehouse in Inejio has joined the building crew. They’re glad for the opportunity, as you can imagine.”
Lythlet listened skeptically. It seems too good to be true. “Can these Central folk keep their promises, though?”
“I would imagine easily so. The profit they’d make from the sale of a single flat will be more than enough to cover the debt of dozens.”
“These life-ruining debts of the unregistered are minuscule in the eyes of the wealthy,” said Ilden, obliviously preaching to two debt- ridden slumdogs.
“I myself was running from a debt of no more than six white valirs, a sum those fat coin purses up in Central could pay without blinking. And word travels of the master-builder having members of the United Setgad Party as the primary investment sources of the project. Certainly, such well-acquainted persons would have the funds to pay out their promises.”
“What about you, Naya?” said Desil as she appeared in the doorway, blanket in hand. “Are you holding up well, looking after all these children on your own while their guardians are off at the construction?”
“As well as I can,” she said. “At the very least, all’s bright on the financial front.
Between the folks here finally having some dependable income to spare and Shunvi and Ilden paying for the Homely Home’s necessities, we’re well taken care of nowadays.
But if you ever find time on your hands, I’d be glad to have you help watch over the little ones. ”
“Absolutely!” he said sunnily. He’d always been a gem at handling children, Lythlet had seen time and time again.
She beamed, utterly unaware of the man observing this interaction with growing dismay.
The moment she left for the dining hall, Ilden slugged Desil in the face with a pillow. “Bastard!”
“Calm down, I’m not after her,” Desil insisted.
“I know, I know.” Ilden sighed, smoothing the pillow out. “And even if you were, if Naya chooses you, then it’s only fair I respect her choice.”
“That’s very mature of you,” Desil admired.
“I didn’t mean a word of it!” Ilden snapped, flicking Desil’s nose. “That’s the sort of horseshit Shunvi says to be a gentleman. I will eat your face if Naya ever chooses you, and I’ll eat it with relish!”
Lythlet slapped Ilden’s hands away. “You feral little man,” she said crossly. She brushed Desil’s forehead, sorry to see him in such a ragged state. “He was seconds from death! What’s wrong with you?”
“That’ll take a whole day to answer,” Shunvi replied, guiding Ilden away from Desil. He gestured at the children playing in the corner of the room. “We’ll get them out of here so you can rest.”
But Desil shook his head.
“Are you sure? They’re making a ruckus.”
“Leave them be,” he said. “I could use some company, anyway.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Lythlet said.
“Nonsense. You must be starving. I’ll be fine. Shunvi, can I leave my friend in your care? I’d ask Ilden, but he won’t stop glaring at me with what quite frankly looks like a cannibalistic gleam in his eye.”
“Most certainly,” Shunvi said, flashing Lythlet a winsome smile.
“I’ve brought another bottle of wine today, if that entices you.
This one’s a foreign treat—brewed from sugary glutinous rice and fermented by the fine folk in the longhouses down in Anatera.
The merchant assured me the pedigree would astound us all.
” He suddenly flushed red at the ears, and asked, with unexpected shyness, “I’ve also brought along my journal today.
If you’re not too weary from the fight, I would love to get your thoughts on the case I’ve built around the Phantom. ”
Lythlet gave a hesitant glance at Desil.
“Go on now, you lush!” He shooed her with a laugh.
She sheepishly followed Shunvi out. But right as he made to close the door behind her, she turned to see Desil sitting up in the cot, calling the children over as he bafflingly pulled a spare pair of socks from his satchel over his fists.
One of them was Alemandro, the scruffy little blond boy, and Desil playfully bopped him on the nose with his socked hand, making him giggle.
Looking at all those unregistered children, she was reminded of what she was forfeiting.
All the riches of conquessorship, the only chance for her to lift herself out of poverty and escape debt so quickly, bypassing the indignity of becoming unregistered, stateless in the eyes of the white law.
Outside the arena, she’d never get another opportunity like this again.
But , she thought as she watched Desil through the shrinking gap of the closing door, realizing he was sacrificing his chance to rest to put on a puppet show for the children with his socks, I will give it up for him .