Into Chaos Page 8

  Zollin ordered more ale and went over to the table. He circled around to the far side and moved over beside the soldier.

  “You mind if I sit here?” Zollin said, setting down the pitcher of ale the tavern keeper had given him.

  The soldier shrugged his shoulders.

  “I hate to drink alone,” Zollin said. “More ale?”

  He lifted the pitcher, refilling his own mug; then once the soldier nodded, he filled the nearly empty mug in front of the gloomy man as well.

  “Fine evening,” Zollin said. “Snow’s coming, though.”

  “That’s just great. Nothing like a long patrol in freezing cold weather,” he grumbled.

  “You’re a soldier?”

  The man nodded.

  “You don’t say,” Zollin said, pretending he hadn’t noticed the uniform. “I’m passing through on the king’s business. Can’t talk about that, though.”

  Zollin chuckled, but the soldier didn’t join in.

  “Lovely young wench,” Zollin said. “I’ve a wife at home, but in different circumstances I’d be a customer. Why aren’t you over there charming her instead of drinking with me?”

  “I was cheated,” the soldier grumbled. “Lost my coins.”

  “Ah, that is unfortunate,” Zollin said. “But perhaps we can help each other.”

  Zollin poured the soldier more ale.

  “I don’t need your charity,” the soldier said angrily.

  “I’m not looking for charity, I’m looking for information. And perhaps a little financial gain as well. I tell you what. I know a way to turn our luck around and get you a little revenge in the process. Did you lose your money at cards or dice?”

  “Dice,” the soldier said.

  “Excellent. Now, I’m looking for information about the woman with the dragon and the incident with your unit.”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about that,” the man said.

  “Of course not. What commander wants his troops talking about their missions? None, but the men do, and I can guarantee it will be worth your while.”

  “Why me?” the soldier asked.

  “Because what I need is the honest truth,” Zollin said, his voice firm. “I want to know exactly what happened and I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  The man looked at him skeptically, and Zollin knew he would have to prove himself to the soldier. He didn’t mind displaying his power, but the last time he was in Felson, he had been put on trial by the local garrisonfor breaking Mansel out of their holding cell, which happened to be inside the nearby fort. The last thing Zollin wanted to do was draw attention to the fact that he was back in Felson, alone. He didn’t need trouble if any of the soldiers remembered him and might be looking for payback.

  “Take a look at your ale,” Zollin said, letting his magic flow into the mug.

  It didn’t take much magical effort to swirl the frothy liquid. The man looked at his drink, then at Zollin, who was staring straight ahead with his hands on the table.

  “How are you doing that?” the soldier asked.

  “It’s just one of my skills, along with knowing when people tell the truth. Are you ready to help me and get a little revenge? I guarantee you’ll have enough coin to keep that wench entertained all night.”

  “All right, what do I do?”

  “Just take these silver marks and join the game.” Zollin slid two coins toward the soldier. “When it’s your turn to cast the dice, bet one coin. You’ll win three times, lose once, then three more times.”

  “How do you know that?” the soldier asked.

  “I just do. What do you have to lose?”

  The soldier shrugged, got up from the table, and went over to the dice game. It was obvious that the man in charge of the game was happy to see the soldier returning. Zollin got the distinct impression that the leader of the game was a cheat. He probably had one or two accomplices in the game that he pretended not to know. His allies would win; the soldiers who played the game would lose. Not that cheating was necessary—the odds were always against the player, but that never seemed to stop some people from breaking the rules.

  Zollin had played dice before, mostly with Todrick when they were growing up in Tranaugh Shire, but he’d never actually bet money on the game. He never understood why some people believed so strongly in luck. Quinn had always taught Zollin that there were no shortcuts in life and that the harder he worked, the luckier he was apt to be.

  Zollin let his magical senses flow into the game. He could feel each person crowded around the soldier who had the dice. He could even sense that something about the dice didn’t seem right. They were hollow with a weighted peg inside. That was how the leader of the game cheated. Depending on how the dice were held and the way they were thrown, the caster could make the dice come up on any side he wanted. But of course, the soldier didn’t know that. His first throw landed as nine, which meant his next throw needed to be a nine as well. It could be any combination of the two dice that equaled nine: six and three, or five and four.

  The soldier shook the dice. Zollin could feel the man’s heart pounding away inside his chest. When he threw the dice, Zollin used his magic to make sure the right numbers came up. The crowd cheered, including the man in charge, who paid the soldier two silver marks.

  “Let it ride,” the soldier said.

  He cast the dice, and this time it came up four. He shook the dice and made his second throw. Once again Zollin used magic to get the right outcome. More cheering, only this time the man in charge wasn’t very enthusiastic. He paid out the four silver marks, and the soldier bet it all again.

  “I can feel the luck,” he shouted. “I can feel it in my bones!”

  He threw the dice. It landed on seven. Bets were placed, and Zollin once again ensured that the soldier won. The man in charge of the game was looking nervous, and Zollin guessed he suspected the soldier of cheating, but he had no proof. The soldier didn’t even look at the dice before rolling them and always shook the small, ivory cubes vigorously before casting them.

  “Pay up!” the soldier said, holding his hand out eagerly.

  “You’re a lucky guy,” the man said.

  “Sixteen marks!” the soldier crowed. “That’s a week’s wages! Thank you, boys, I’m through.”

  “No you’re not,” the man in charge of the game said, taking hold of the soldier’s elbow. “Give us a chance to win our money back.”

  “You don’t want none of this lucky streak,” the soldier said. “I don’t plan to lose.”

  “That’s what you said earlier. Place a bet—let’s see how long your luck holds.”

  “All right, but I’m putting this nest egg away.”

  The soldier dropped most of the coins into the little pouch on his belt. Then he placed two silver marks on the ground.”

  “Two marks? You aren’t very confident,” the game leader said.

  “I don’t want to take everything you’ve got. This was your idea, remember.”

  “I remember. Roll the dice.”

  The man in charge of the game was getting angry. The soldier rolled a five, and this time Zollin didn’t help him. When he cast the dice again, it came up eleven.

  “Luck’s over,” the game master said merrily.

  “I can get it back,” said the soldier.

  “Sure you can. Place your bet.”

  The soldier fished two more marks out of his pouch. He set the money on the floor in front of the man who ran the game and picked up the dice. When the soldier won, the man in charge began looking around. He knew something was amiss but he couldn’t spot it. Zollin wasn’t even watching the game; instead he stared into his mug of ale, but his magical senses took in everything that was happening.

  The soldier bet four marks on the next game and won again, but this time he made the mistake of glancing back at Zollin. The young wizard pretended not to notice, but the master of the game noticed. And while Zollin knew that the man had no idea how the soldier was winning, h
e knew it had something to do with Zollin.

  “Last game,” the soldier said. “Last game.”

  “You are very lucky,” the leader of the game said.

  “It’s a perfect night,” the soldier said.

  “Everyone place your bets,” the man announced.

  No one noticed when the master of the game switched the dice, except for Zollin. It was the man’s failsafe. The new dice were loaded on one side. When the soldier cast them, they came up snake eyes.

  “The deadly cast!” the game leader said. “Would you care to increase your bet!?”

  Normally, rolling a two was a terrible cast; since there was only one way to roll the same number again, it doubled the odds against the caster. But the soldier had confidence in Zollin and he emptied his coin pouch, adding fourteen marks to the eight he was already betting.

  “Twenty-two marks!” one of the other players crowed.

  “A rich man’s bet,” the game master said.

  “I can feel the luck,” the soldier said.

  The dice were once again exchanged without being noticed. Zollin could tell that one of the new dice didn’t have a single dot on one side as it should have. It was impossible to cast a two, and there was nothing Zollin could do to help without revealing himself to the men running the game. Zollin could feel the game master’s stare as the soldier rolled the dice. Zollin didn’t bother helping; he knew there was nothing he could do.

  The dice came up eight, and the men watching all booed. The soldier looked shocked, but the game master quickly snatched up the dice, along with the silver marks he’d cheated the soldier out of.

  “That’s not right,” the soldier said, his voice too loud.

  “Sorry, kid. You can’t win them all,” the man running the game said.

  “Especially not with loaded dice,” Zollin said from across the room.

  The fight broke out quickly, with the two men helping the man running the game each punching one of the other players. A tavern brawl was nothing new, and the soldiers who had lost money were more than happy to take out their frustrations on one another. Zollin didn’t even look up as the man running the game hurried out of the tavern, but Zollin knew he couldn’t let the man get away with his crooked game.

  The soldier who had lost everything hurried back to Zollin, who was getting up from behind the long table.

  “What happened?” he cried.

  “We were cheated,” Zollin said.

  “I thought you said I would win!”

  “You would have, but the dice he used couldn’t roll a two, since one of the dice didn’t have the standard one.”

  “Bastard!” the soldier called, turning for the door.

  “No,” Zollin said. “Let me handle this. We had a deal. I’ll get your money.”

  “You better be right,” the soldier warned him.

  Zollin had to resist the smile that wanted to cross his face. “Don’t worry, I am.”

  Chapter 9

  The night was growing bitterly cold. As soon as Zollin stepped outside the tavern, he could see his breath forming steamy clouds every time he exhaled. He hurried down the street after the man who had been running the game. The man didn’t go far before slipping into a rowdy brothel. Zollin followed him inside.

  The brothel was a large structure, with a wide room where drinks were being served by women in revealing clothing. There were men all around the room, some entertaining the wenches, others huddled together for private conversations. Zollin could tell almost immediately the brothel was a gathering place for people with shady business dealings. The man who had run the dice game in the tavern was now talking urgently to a man at a small table. Two hulking figures stood like statues behind them.

  Zollin approached the group slowly. His heart was beginning to speed up as he wondered just what he was getting himself into. He had only lost two silver marks, and there were probably other ways to get the information he needed about Brianna, but he didn’t have a lot of coin left, and he didn’t like the idea of walking away from a cheat when it was in his power to do something about it.

  When the cheater noticed Zollin approaching, his eyes grew wide. Zollin wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said, but he could read the man’s lips.

  That’s the man I was telling you about.

  Zollin felt a lump forming in his throat but he refused to back down. His hands felt shaky, and his knees threatened to buckle. He wasn’t sure why he felt so afraid, but the confrontation was trigging some deep memories. He had been bullied as a child, even beaten up a time or two, although he’d managed to keep his father from knowing. Now he was facing the ultimate bullies, but something inside told him that these men wouldn’t simply hurt him. They were killers. Even with his magical power, Zollin felt fear creeping over him.

  “Hello,” said the man at the table. “It seems you are a man of talent.”

  “Your friend owes me money,” Zollin said.

  “Gambling is a risky affair,” the seated man said. “Please, have a seat. My name is Murtah, and this is Gribbs.”

  “I think I’ll just take the 22 silver marks you owe me and be on my way,” Zollin said to the man named Gribbs.

  “I’ll give you the coin after we talk,” Murtah said. “Otherwise, my valets will have to show you out.”

  Zollin knew he could overcome the group as long as he didn’t give away too much information about his powers. Once the fighting started, he would have to end things quickly, but starting a brawl might land him in hot water with the soldiers who patrolled through the town as peacekeepers. Zollin still didn’t want to attract undue attention, so he sat down.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No,” Zollin said. “Look, I’m just passing through Felson. I need some information from one of the soldiers, then I’ll move on. I need the coin your friend stole.”

  “According to him, you were rigging the game,” Murtah said.

  “That’s rich, since he was playing with loaded dice and switched them between casts as well.”

  “You were right,” Murtah said to Gribbs. “He has skills.”

  “I don’t want trouble, just the coin. I’ll settle for half.”

  “Why settle at all?” Murtah said. “I’m always looking for men with talents. We could make a lot of money, you and I.”

  “I’m not interested in making a lot of money,” Zollin said. “Just the silver that’s due me. Then I’ll move on.”

  “Well, that’s rather disappointing,” said Murtah. “You seem like a reasonable man.”

  “And you seem like someone who knows how to survive. I’m telling you I want the coins and I’m not leaving without them.”

  “I don’t like to be threatened,” Murtah said, his eyes narrowing and his voice losing the jovial quality it had before.

  Zollin knew he was dealing with a hard man, and he let his magical senses spread out until he could feel everything in the room. He knew what was about to happen and he needed a distraction so that, when the story was told, no one would think that magic was involved.

  It only took a little effort to knock over a mug full of ale onto the back of a large man across the room. The person holding the mug looked surprised when his drink suddenly turned and sloshed across the big man’s coat. The big man jumped up, turning suddenly and then punching the man whose drink Zollin had spilled hard. In an instant the far side of the room was embroiled in a wild, drunken brawl.

  Zollin saw Murtah take in the situation with a single glance, then with a small movement of his hand, he signaled the two large men behind him to move in. Zollin had to admit he was impressed with how quickly Murtah’s mind worked. In an instant he recognized that the brawl would work to his advantage and sent his henchmen in to deal with Zollin.

  The young wizard levitated two lamps from the far end of the room and sent them flying toward the two men. No one had thrown the lamps, but with half of the room fighting, it would be impossible to prove that they
hadn’t been thrown. In all the commotion, the two hulking figures saw the lamps too late. Both hit their targets directly in the chest, engulfing both men in fire. Gribbs started to flee, but Zollin hooked his foot in front of the gambler, sending him sprawling.

  Murtah had been shocked when his men staggered back, but then he turned back to face Zollin, a look of murderous hatred in his eyes.

  “You’ll regret this,” he snarled.

  Zollin was tempted to use his magic to stop Murtah’s heart from beating. In all the commotion, he would appear as if he had been frightened to death or that the strain had caused his heart to give out. But Zollin didn’t want to use his powers to murder people. Burning the hulking thugs had been self-defense, but Murtah wasn’t a threat at that moment.

  Zollin bent down and snatched the coin pouch from Gribbs’ belt. He straightened, poured the coins on the table, and scooped up a handful, leaving the rest.

  “Why don’t we just call things even?” Zollin said.

  “You’re a dead man!” Murtah screamed, but Zollin was already on his feet and turning away.

  He kept his magical senses attuned to what was happening all around him. The last thing he wanted was to be stabbed in the back, which was exactly the kind of thing a man like Murtah would do, but no attack came. Zollin was careful, weaving past several men who were swinging wild punches at anyone who came in range. Zollin had never understood the appeal of a tavern brawl. He slipped out the door of the brothel without incident.

  The cold air shocked Zollin’s system, and he realized just how badly he was shaking. Luckily, he would just appear to be cold if anyone saw him. He wrapped his cloak tight around his shoulders and hurried back toward the tavern. When he stepped inside, he saw the soldier nursing a mug of ale at the same long table where he’d met Zollin; only this time he wasn’t alone. The young wench was sitting beside him, leaning a little too close and laughing a little too loud at his jokes.