"Let's play," the devil-woman said, and grinned, showing pointed teeth. She dealt out several cards on the tables—the "foundations" of the towers they would build by arranging their cards as the hand progressed. Then she dealt around to Alaeron, the two sailors, and herself. The others went first, giving Alaeron an opportunity to see how the game was played, and when the time came for his turn, Alaeron laid down three cards with deliberate slowness. If he was correct, he had essentially a perfect hand, but even with the best imaginable draw, it would take a few rounds to win. He tried not to pay attention to the names and lurid illustrations of the cards—The Betrayal, The Tyrant, and so on—as play continued around the table. He made a great show of dithering over the cards, leaning forward to peer at the existing towers, and hmming to himself before each move. He put the cards down carefully, as if afraid they might explode.

  Alaeron put down his final card, paused for a moment, frowned at the others around the table, and said, "Is that ...did I win, then?"

  The hellspawn puffed on her pipe a moment before nodding. "Lucky," she said at last. She pushed over his winnings ...but the pile didn't include the gray disc.

  "Really," he said. "All I want is the disc." He gestured at the coins. "You can have all this if you'll just give me that. It was a gift from my father, and has great sentimental value."

  "Shouldn't have let him get his hands on it, then," she said, nodding at Skiver. "Because it looks like the sort of thing that might be worth more than sentiment to the right collector."

  Alaeron gritted his teeth. He couldn't play an endless number of hands. They'd realize he was cheating, and quickly. The problem was, there was no way to moderate the ring's effects. The glib explanation would be to say the ring gave the wearer "good luck," but "luck" was an inexact term. The ring seemed to like order, though. Throw the fragments of a broken pot onto the floor while wearing the ring, and the shards would spontaneously fall back into their original shape. Jump from a rooftop with the ring on, and your bones wouldn't shatter; instead, you'd land in just exactly the right way to avoid doing harm to yourself, standing up whole. Throw dice, and they would end six pips up, every single time. But if your situation would be improved by chaos, entropy, disaster ...well, as far as his experiments had been able to determine, the ring was no help then. It was ideal for a game of towers, where orderly patterns were the way to win, but it meant he would have exactly the right cards to complete the towers. Every. Single. Time. And the only way that happened was by cheating. He needed to finish this game quickly.

  "Then let me make another suggestion." He drew the porcelain-and-gold top from his pocket. "I will wager you this, against the disc, on this next hand. If you win, you get both. If I win, you get neither. Fair?"

  "Hmm." She puffed thoughtfully, then glanced at the sailors. "Seems fair. You gentlemen mind sitting this out? Letting us play one-on-one?"

  "Could do with another drink anyway," one said, and the other grunted, and they both pushed back. Jaya and Skiver took their seats, the better to watch the action. The sailors returned holding mugs, and stood around the table watching, too.

  The hellspawn put down the six towers, each corresponding to one of the principle virtues admired by the Varisians. This time Alaeron went first. With only two players, the odds of having good cards to fit on each tower were much improved, but Alaeron still had vastly better luck than his adversary. He continued his ruse of being slow and hesitant and in over his head, and even made the careful calculation to let a few moments when he could have seized the advantage go by. Those displays of inexperience would make his inevitable win less rapid, and thus, he hoped, less suspicious.

  When he laid down his last card, the hellspawn looked at him hard, blew a long stream of smoke out of her nostrils, then flicked the gray disc toward him. "Fine," she said. "Enjoy your sentimental value."

  "Thank you for the game," Alaeron said politely. He reached out for the gray disc and the top ...

  But, unfortunately, he reached out with the hand wearing the red ring. He'd never tested these three relics together before, especially not with the red ring in its active state. To his dismay, the disc glowed blue and levitated an inch off the table, and the ring around his finger began to pulse a rich, bright red, flashing in a regular if inscrutable pattern. The golden top started to turn, and he had to put a stop to that before it got going fast enough to spin balanced on its tip; if that happened, the whole tavern would be destroyed. He snatched the top and the disc and shoved them into his coat pocket. The red ring was getting hot, so he swore and tried to twist it off his thumb, burning his fingertips in the process

  "Magic ring," the hellspawn said, one eyebrow raised. She looked at the sailors. "See that? He's got a magic ring. What's your magic ring do? Help you win at cards? Is that what it does?" The sailors growled menacingly.

  "You cheated?" Skiver said, eyes wide. Then he grinned. "I didn't know you had it in you!" He shoved his chair back, slamming hard into the gut of the sailor standing behind him, then stood straight up, fast. The top of Skiver's head collided with the bottom of the sailor's chin with a terrific crack, and the man stumbled backward with a bloody mouth. Jaya coolly kicked the table over, smashing it into the hellspawn before standing up and drawing a knife from her belt, waving it casually to encourage the crowd to part.

  The last remaining sailor looked at Alaeron.

  Oh, the alchemist thought. Am I meant to deal with this one?

  Alaeron kicked the man in the shin, snatched up his pack, and ran for the door. He was followed by Jaya, and by Skiver, who hooted, "Ha, great warrior! Mighty fighter!" Jaya darted around Alaeron, calling, "This way!" and leading him toward one of the alleyways twisting through the maze of market stalls. One of the local guards watched them go by, but didn't call out or try to stop them, even though they were obviously fleeing some kind of trouble. The constabulary in the Coins were known as the "Token Guard" and were notoriously lax, unless someone paid them to be zealous, in which case, Alaeron understood, they could be very handy with a truncheon.

  After running long enough and hard enough for Alaeron to develop a painful stitch in his side, Jaya paused in the doorway of a derelict building and looked behind them. "I think we're clear," she said after a moment.

  "Is that what you think?" The hellspawn emerged from the shadows across the street, blowing smoke from her nostrils, her eyes glowing red. She held a wand of black wood in her left hand, and the tip of it sparked with silver light and made a strange low humming sound. "You aren't the first bunch of fools to try and cheat me." She snapped her teeth at them like an animal. "I know a man who's always looking for slaves. The girl will fetch a good price. The other two, maybe you can be chopped into dog food."

  "Sorry for the misunderstanding," Skiver said. "We'll give you back the money, call it evens?"

  "Too late for playing nice," she said.

  "Oh, we can play it any way you like, then." Skiver twisted his wrist, and a knife fell from his sleeve into his hand.

  The hellspawn lifted the wand, and the end glowed more brightly. "Pleasant dreams," she said.

  "Bugger," Skiver said, then closed his eyes and fell, slumping against the wall and sliding down, his knife clattering to the stones.

  A magic wand, Alaeron thought. He hoped it only put its victims to sleep, instead of doing some more permanent damage. Could he reach one of his weapons before she put him to sleep too? Could Jaya do something?

  "Pardon me," a voice boomed from another doorway. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a vast dark beard and merry eyes stepped out, thumbs hooked into his belt. He wore a stained traveler's coat and a disreputable-looking straw hat, and had a rucksack dangling from one shoulder, but he wasn't obviously armed, apart from a crooked walking stick bound onto his pack. "It's not polite to waylay travelers. And did I hear you say you were planning to sell them into slavery?" He clucked his tongue. "Is that the hospitality that's made Absalom famous the world over? These strangers will think ill of us."

  "Away," the hellspawn said. "This is our business, not yours. Or do you want to join them in the slave pits?"

  "No need to be rude," he said. "I can't abide rudeness. What harm in being pleasant? I'll show you how: that's a lovely wand. See? I just paid you a compliment. Now, the truth is, I hate wands. They make magic too easy. Anyone can pick up a wand and cast a spell, but that's not how magic should work—you should have to work for it."

  "I was just saying the same thing about crossbows a few days ago," Jaya said.

  "Exactly!" the stranger boomed. "Try to make a device that any idiot can use, and who's going to use it? Idiots! And do we really want to arm idiots? With wands or crossbows?"

  "Enough," the hellspawn said, and lifted the wand again.

  The stranger twisted his left hand in an odd motion, as if delicately plucking a flower that wasn't there, and said something that sounded like "Air moh eblis" in a ringing, clear voice.

  The wand's light fizzled, and the hellspawn's eyes widened. She shook the wand vigorously, but nothing happened.

  "Won't work for a while, alas. By tomorrow, maybe, for all the good it will do you. That's the sort of thing real wizards can do, hellchild. Render little toys like this useless." The stranger took a step toward her and plucked the wand from her unresisting hands. "Better for me to keep it, so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Run, now?" He used the same tone of voice one might employ to ask if a guest wanted a cup of tea.

  The hellspawn recovered from her momentary shock. She hissed and drew a wickedly curved dagger that was nearly long enough to qualify as a sword. "Wizards bleed like anyone else," she said, and lunged forward, slashing.

  Alaeron reached into his pocket and touched one of his bombs, but the wizard was too close to the hellspawn for him to risk throwing it.

  But the bomb wasn't necessary. The wizard danced backward away from the attack, moving both hands in a series of strangely delicate motions, and spoke a harsh, barking syllable. The devil-woman paused, frowning, and put one hand to her horned head.

  The wizard spoke again, this time in a voice of command. "Go. Now."

  She began to run, racing right past the wizard, along the street, and away, the sound of her pounding feet gradually diminishing.

  The wizard winced. "I hate dominating the minds of hellspawn. You have to make a psychic link, you see, and—well, basically, my mouth is going to taste like sulfur for days." He shuddered, then smiled, and prodded Skiver with his foot. "Wake up!" he shouted.

  Skiver leapt up, looking around in alarm, and another knife appeared in his hand. "What? Who? Where?"

  "There, you're all squared away," the wizard said. "Probably best you move on, though. She won't run forever, and when she's done, she may run back."

  "Wait," Jaya said. "Why did you help us?"

  He shrugged. "Sticking my nose into the troubles of others is a weakness of mine. Glad you're all right."

  "I'm Jaya," she said. "This is Alaeron, and Skiver. Thank you for helping us."

  "What?" Skiver said again, rubbing the back of his head. "This fella helped us?"

  "He helped Jaya," Alaeron said, a bit sourly. "Helping us was just a side effect."

  The wizard winked at Alaeron. "Can you blame me? She's surely worthy of assistance. My name's Ernst."

  Jaya stepped forward and kissed Ernst on his bristly cheek. Alaeron watched with narrowed eyes. It wasn't so long ago that Alaeron had been the one saving her from thugs in an alley, and he hadn't gotten a kiss—he'd gotten kidnapped and press-ganged into an expedition that was very likely to kill him. Some men had all the luck.

  Then again, he'd be traveling with Jaya for a long time to come, so he would have other chances to impress her. Maybe he'd have a chance to save her life again. He could always hope.

  Skiver stepped forward and offered his hand for Ernst to shake. "Much obliged." He looked the man up and down. "I always thought wizards were bookish types. You look like you could wrestle a bear."

  Ernst laughed. "I wouldn't want to try. But I'll take that as a compliment. I'm a ...practical sort of wizard. I've studied at some of the finest magic schools in Absalom, but by the gods, I learned to access all this power, so why should I sit in a library somewhere just thinking about it? Might as well go out and use it, that's what I think."

  "A battle mage," Alaeron said. "Off to find a war, then?"

  "More seeking my fortune," Ernst said. "But if I happen upon a good war, I'll make the best of it."

  "Good luck on your journey," Jaya said formally. "If our paths cross again, I hope we can repay the kindness."

  "If I'm lucky enough to see you again, Jaya, I'll consider that repayment enough." He bowed low, sweeping off his hat in an exaggeratedly courtly gesture. "Enjoy your own travels, friends. And try not to annoy any more devilspawn, all right?" He strode off in the direction of the docks, whistling as he went.

  Jaya watched him go, and sighed a little when he was out of sight.

  Skiver nodded. "I know. I don't usually go for the burly-and-bearded types, but there's something about him. Wouldn't mind taking him for a roll. Wonder if he leans my way or yours?"

  Jaya laughed and shook her head. "We're just lucky he happened by."

  "We could have dealt with the devilborn woman ourselves," Alaeron said. "It's not like we're helpless."

  "No," Jaya said, "but this way there was no bloodshed, and Skiver even got a nap, which I'm sure he found quite refreshing."

  "Magical sleep's not as refreshing as you'd think," Skiver said, and started walking. "A magic wand! Hell of a thing to spring on a man in a fight, too. Hardly fair at all. Don't get me wrong, magic's got its place, but I don't much like it being turned on me." He bumped his shoulder against Alaeron's as they walked. "And you! All this time you had a magic luck-ring! You couldn't have loaned it to me while I played dice on the ship? I should have taken that toy from your bag, but it just looked like a bit of old metal. Shows what I know. Guess there's a reason I'm not an arcanist."

  "You'd roll nothing but double sixes every time with this ring," Alaeron said. "It doesn't help you cheat well. The sailors would have stabbed you."

  "I suppose," Skiver said. "But I would have died a rich man."

  "What toys?" Jaya said. "You have other things, besides the ring? Oh, and the egg you used, the first day we met. There are others?"

  "What do you care? They're just toys, used by idiots, aren't they? As if it doesn't take study and knowledge and care to unlock the secrets of an artifact, as if anyone can just pick them up and—"

  "Oh, don't be that way," Jaya said. "Ernst wasn't trying to insult you. He doesn't even know you. Besides, wands you can buy or steal from some wizard are different from ancient artifacts, everyone knows that."

  "All right," Alaeron said, somewhat mollified. "The ring and the egg are just two of the relics I discovered during my time in Numeria. I'm studying their properties. The ring—well, it's a circle of metal, I doubt it was meant to be worn on a finger, but it serves as a ring—alters likelihoods. Flip a coin while wearing it, and it might come up heads a thousand times in a row. Things like that."

  "I didn't realize you had so many of these artifacts. What do they do?"

  He shrugged. "I have half a dozen." No use lying; Skiver knew that much. "You've seen what the egg does, Jaya, and you've both seen what the ring does, more or less. The others ...I'm still studying their capabilities." He didn't want them to know what the top did, and he honestly had no clue about the disc or the gear wheel or the golden chain. It was possible they didn't do anything useful on their own at all. "I don't like using them, honestly—their powers are too unpredictable. I'm still in the midst of my researches. And I certainly don't go around using them to cheat at cards." He glared at Skiver. "But he didn't give me much choice."

  "You could have traded those artifacts to Vadim," Jaya said. "For your own freedom. Why didn't you?"

  Alaeron shook his head. "I went through ...well. I won't say Hell; I've never been to Hell. But I've been to Numeria, which must be almost as bad. I did terrible things, and had terrible things done to me, to get those relics, and I have no intention of giving them up for any reason until I divine their secrets. So you can imagine I was upset when he gambled one of them away."

  "I already told you ‘sorry,'" Skiver said. "Which is more than I've ever said to, oh, anybody else ever at all. And look at it this way—you got your disc back, and you didn't even have to tell me a secret to earn it." He grinned. "Now how about you hand over that gold you won?"

  Alaeron barked a laugh. "Why should I?"

  Skiver shrugged. "Vadim arranged for us to take passage on a ship heading to Osirion tomorrow, but the captain still needs to be paid. What you won won't even cover that, let alone a place for us to sleep tonight, since I imagine we aren't welcome in the rooms I took for us back at the Dagger and the Coin. Now, we can wander the streets all night, since you say this district never sleeps and has lights blazing all through the dark hours, but paying for passage is a bigger problem. Give me what you've got, though, and I'll use it to make more money."

  "What, by gambling?" Alaeron said. "That worked well last time."

  "Nah, gambling's for fun," Skiver said. "This is business. I know ten thousand ways to empty a mark's pockets, but it works best if you've got a bit of gold to splash around first. Nobody expects you to trick them out of their money if you look like you've got plenty to spread around—they'll take all kinds of bets." He held up his hand before Alaeron could speak. "I don't mean straight bets. I mean the sort of bets you make with new friends in a bar ...or people who think they're your new friends. Sucker bets, trick bets, ones you can't lose."