Chapter Twenty-Two Forfeit-Keeners
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FORFEIT-KEENERS
L YTHLET COLLAPSED AGAINST the bench in a barrage of coughs, ending with a spit of watery yellow phlegm on the ground.
Desil stroked her back.
“I’m fine,” she rasped.
“You’re not. Your face is green, your hand’s bloody, and your leg’s injured, too. I think you may have worsened your wounds when you insisted on fighting.”
You should’ve forfeited with me then , was the unfinished message she read in his eyes, and her lips tightened into a thin line.
Master Dothilos came then with a physic, who sprang to Lythlet’s side. There was little water left for her to expel she hadn’t already, and the physic gave her a bitter root that would settle both mind and body.
“Will she be all right?” asked Desil.
The physic nodded. “She did not take in a fatal amount of water. The westeaves root will protect her lungs from swelling. I’ll give her a pouch of it to chew on for the rest of the week.
She needs rest, and a lot of it, but I imagine she’ll be fine once the shock has faded.
” He crouched down, examining her bleeding hand.
“Congratulations,” said Master Dothilos once the physic silenced.
“As announced, seventy-eight white valirs. Here are the ledgers for the day—though I suppose it can wait until he’s done binding your hand.
One of the more thrilling matches of the year, while being one of your more disappointing performances. ”
Lythlet refused to entertain him with a reaction.
“It was quite the spectacle, of course. River matches always are. The spectators were gasping in their seats as you went underwater. Blood started to stain the waters, and everyone was certain you were shark feed until Desil came to your rescue. But I daresay your bullish supporters are disappointed in how much you struggled today—especially with Desil forfeiting. No one enjoys witnessing weakness, not when their coin’s on the line. ”
She didn’t need to look to know he was smiling. “But we won. They saw us kill the thing.”
“Oh, yes, they did. Very clever, Lythlet, targeting the fins alone. But the masses do not always appreciate brilliance, not if you’ve weakened their confidence in you beforehand.
You see, I’ve sold you as a golden bet to make—unbeatable, invincible, infallible.
Thus, the spectators have begun to have ridiculous expectations of you.
Seeing you struggle for even a single moment dashes their confidence.
And bullish spectators won’t forgive Desil for keening on a forfeit.
It’s very hard to convince people to continue investing in your partnership when your partner has announced to the world he doesn’t have faith you’ll succeed.
It was a mistake, my dear boy,” he said to Desil, “one I fear the Rose and the Golden Thorn will struggle to recover from. Forfeit-keeners are confidence-shakers.”
Desil said nothing.
Lythlet shut her eyes, wincing as the physic tended to her leg, binding it up in white linen.
But on the match-master went, “As it has been with previous forfeit-keeners, I predict many spectators will switch from bullish to bearish—from supporting you to betting against you. I’m sorry to share this, but you need to brace yourselves for a meager jackpot the next round, and possibly onwards, depending on your future performance. ”
He was not sorry at all. Spectators would still come to their matches, and the match-master’s cut would increase instead of hers.
Against her better judgment, Lythlet asked, “How much can we expect our jackpot to drop?”
“If you’re lucky, you may suffer your jackpots only halving in value.”
“Half if we’re lucky!” she cried. It was as if all her efforts in the last few matches had been for naught.
Desil grabbled uselessly at his wet breeches, avoiding her irate gaze, then went to the basins at the far end to wash up.
Master Dothilos knelt by her side, leaning toward her ear.
“It’s a pity your friend failed you today.
It seems he didn’t trust you when you begged him not to forfeit.
Honestly, after I’ve spent the whole year nullifying rumors of his cowardly escape from brawling, he repays the favor by forfeiting!
Did he forget how damning being held in contempt of the arena would be? How daft can a man be?”
She gritted her teeth. “I can unmake his mistake.”
“You can try.”
She shrank under his patronizing tone.
A moment of silence. A small smile crept on his face.
“I just threw at you the hardest challenge any Ederi conquessor could face, and you survived. You truly are a miracle.” He faltered.
What he said next, he said with an unfamiliar softness, “I know you don’t like me.
You don’t have to—I wouldn’t care for it.
I know you fought today not only for the jackpot, but to show your defiance of me.
You refuse to succumb to my petty ploys to put you in your place.
And truth be told, I find my respect for you only growing as a result.
I see your desperation, and I recognize it from my youth.
I struggled, and because of the pain I endured, I grew strong in my convictions and became who I am today.
You are so much like me—your anger, your pride, your ambition, your sheer potential. ”
This blatant brush with the match-master’s soul startled her.
She thought of his scars, of the little whispers of his past he allowed her a peek at.
She did not trust him anymore, not a single bit—but she was certain he truly held a genuine, twisted affection for her, as a father looks upon his prodigal child, wanting only to see them reroute themselves from youthful folly to the golden path they’d laid.
“Keep following in my footsteps, Lythlet. I will guide you through the worst of the world and ensure you emerge wiser and richer.” He patted her cheek once more and left her alone with Desil, an uncomfortable silence shrouding them.
· · ·
O UT INTO THE ruins of Inejio went Lythlet and Desil, not a word uttered between them.
She crushed mossy debris beneath her polished leather boots, the bitter aftertaste of the westeaves root lingering in her mouth. It helped tremendously, eating away almost all pain. But it did not dissolve her fatigue, and she stumbled, collapsing by the side of an unpaved road.
“A moment,” she muttered, “just a moment.”
“You’re still hurt,” he said, a hand on her shoulder.
“Just tired.” She looked at his hand, resisting the urge to shrug it off.
His fingers tensed—he’d picked up on her anger. “I did what I thought was right, Lytha,” he said, retracting his hand. “I forfeited for you.”
Frustration had been simmering inside her like a bubbling black cauldron, and his words tipped it over on its side, spilling the contents. She looked up sharply. “But you forfeited after I assured you I knew what to do. Why would you do that?”
“When I pulled you out of the water, you were struggling just to breathe. How could I in good conscience let you continue?”
“Of all times to doubt me, you had to choose the worst.” The memory of Master Dothilos smugly grinning at her the moment Desil had forfeited made her anger boil over.
“I’ve done all I could for us to succeed this far, for us to survive eight brutal matches, and for you to unmake my efforts with a single breath is infuriating. ”
His voice raised a notch, Desil said, “Neither of us knew what to do. You haven’t studied even a single page of the bestiary on sea beasts—”
“I was able to handle these matches long before we were handed the bestiary. You should have given me the chance to try. We were building a jackpot worth a fortune, and now you’ve cut us down to half at best.”
“All we’ve lost is a bit of coin in our future jackpots. Has the water addled you so badly that you weigh that heavier than your own life?” he snapped.
She looked at him in disbelief. “A bit of coin? Desil, a bit of coin was what kept us in debt to Tucoras for years. A bit of coin was what destroyed us, until we earned enough to buy our freedom back. It’s what separates us slumdogs from the rest of the city.
Do you really think we’re privileged enough to think a bit of coin is nothing? ”
“I’m not arguing with that,” he said exasperatedly. “Fine, you were right, and you knew what to do. But I was not wrong in wanting to protect your life. You’ve lost your head if you think any jackpot is worth dying for.”
“It’s not just the jackpot, Desil,” she said, his short-sightedness frustrating her.
“We’ve lost the confidence of the spectators.
All the momentum we’ve built by winning, you’ve dashed it into pieces, and now whatever jackpots are up for the taking might not even be worth the effort!
You’ve cost us our reputation, our pride, our ego—”
“Your reputation, your pride, your ego.”
His words struck her dumb.
He glared at her. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?
The coin is one thing, but you’ve invested yourself in the name of the Golden Thorn so deeply that you cannot bear the thought of the spectators doubting you again, and for that you would risk your life, throwing away all sense for your pride.
Why put yourself in so much danger for an audience’s accolades?
You seek pride from beyond when you should be looking for it from within. ”
She shook her head, clenching her teeth.
“Desil, you with your blessed childhood are the last I will listen to on this. You were told from young that you were loved, wanted, and needed. Can’t you realize that all that pride of yours you think comes from within comes from that instead?
You’re a fool if you think anyone can emerge from a childhood of neglect and belittlement with pride.
I was a miserable, mute child whose mother was possessed by a death spirit, whose father was too depressed to ever speak to her.
Yet now, when I’m finally being recognized for my effort, for my abilities, you judge me.
You lean on me in these matches, depend upon my study of the bestiary, yet when I say I’ve figured out how to win, you ignore my plea and forfeit. ”
All anger left him, and he stood there, stunned. At length, he said, quietly, guilt-ridden, “You’re right. How foolish I’ve been to hope you wouldn’t notice how much I’ve been lacking. You are the Golden Thorn, and I am no more than the Rose beside you, ornamental, disposable.”
Her rage slowed. It had been a while since she’d seen him look so ashamed, not since his brawling days when he’d come home, jackpot in hand, misery scrawled over his face at what he had done to earn it.
Brawling had broken his spirit, and now she had done the same.
She reached for him. “Desil, I’m sorry. Let’s not fight. I didn’t mean a word I said—”
But he edged out of her reach. “You did, even if you won’t admit it to yourself. And you would be right to. I have fallen short in many ways, try as I might to hide it.”
“That isn’t—”
“I am not a fool, Lythlet,” he interrupted, “I know you have little need for me nowadays. I can fight by your side, but any other muscled lad would serve the same purpose. I want you to know that I’m sorry.
I’ve failed you in many ways, and I haven’t been one you could rely on for a long time.
Perhaps in our youth I sufficed, but you’ve grown beyond that while I haven’t, and I have no one to blame but myself. ”
She was inexplicably saddened by his thoughts. “I never thought that. You’ve never failed me.”
He gave a pained laugh. “Only because you’ve never put much expectation upon me to begin with.
You didn’t count on me in the days of Valanti, hiding your bruises without a word to me.
You don’t count on me now in the arena, for we both know I can’t think as quick as you or memorize the bestiary with your ease.
Nor do you count on me outside the arena for anything more serious than mindless companionship.
And why would you? As you said, our lives were destroyed by my debt to Tucoras, and here I am, once again destroying our future because I haven’t the good sense you do.
I was good to you when we were children, but I’ve been nothing but a burden since. ”
He abruptly took a step back, wiping his tearing eyes. She reached for him, but he turned away violently.
“Desil,” she called as he left. She rose but tumbled to the ground, legs yet to recover their strength.
He vanished from sight, turning a corner behind a ramshackle stone building.
Using all her might to heave herself from the ground, she pushed herself to her feet and staggered after him. But he was nowhere to be found.
She stood alone, lost in the ancestral ruins in mind, spirit, and soul.