07-18-2018, 03:19 PM
Scents blasted. A pleasant level of music strummed. A fire raged. The crowds weren't overflowing nor was the place exploding with business. It suited Jai just fine.
A man with silver hair worked casks of ale; he looked bored, disinterested. No inside joke punched the wind out of everyone like last time he strolled into a Tar Valoni tavern. Light, that had been hilarious. Once the spike of doubt that Jon was serious faded away. Your kind.
Between stomps pounding the snow from his boots and swipes shaking out his hair, he studied the room. Where people sat, who looked like they could handle themselves, the exits. That sort of thing. It was a normal place, he told himself. Nothing was going on. Somewhere to lay low. He glanced at Araya, wondering if his fellow asha'man approved.
Finger-like flames curled them closer, but sticky tables of warm ale were an easy temptation to ignore. He had no interest in drinking a drop again anytime soon. Not so much the hunger flooding his mouth. When chewing with an absent molar, every bite was a disturbing reminder. Most were pooled around the tables nearest the fire as though the room had been tipped that direction.
Unsurprising, Araya won a few quizzical looks. Green and violet weren't the common combinations after all. In Tar Valon, though, nobody seemed to care. The city was a melting pot of strange customs, and foreigners were welcome. Refugees included.
He expected defensive stares following him along like fearful dogs. He expected men to pat their coats or check their weapons. He expected the serving girls to retreat. Instead, one cute, plump girl with curled yellow hair that bounced when she laughed looked amused by Araya and smiled warmly for Jai; he caught himself smiling in return. A man seated alone stood and offered his table to them; Jai almost thought he'd heard wrong at first. When it was explained they were interested in cards, the man bowed his head and wished them luck. On and on the respect continued, small gestures that felt enormous in the darkness. A confused Jai scratched his scalp and looked to Araya for an explanation. Was this normal?
Three guys played cards. The first had the look of a dockworker. His rough trousers, gray shirt and threadbare coat were more dirty than clean. There were streaks on his clothes that looked like they'd doubled for a hand-towel. Though his interest in cleaning his hands didn't extend to the grime under his nails. Nor did he seem to care about his cards. Either he didn't know to keep them close to his chest or the hand wasn't worth protecting. Coin clinked, and Jai was surprised that he tossed more pennies to the center of the table. He glanced up about the time Jai arrived, but there was only fog in his eyes: too far gone to care who joined the table. A functional, but quiet drunk: Jai only understood all too well. At least he was lucid enough to shove his chair over to make more room.
"Raise five silvers. Valoni mind you."
The second guy shoved his promised wager forward, largely ignoring the Asha'man joining them. By this one's bald head he was older than the dockworker, but the rim of hair that remained was streaked with thin gray. Spots of ink dotted this man's fingertips like a scribe, but by his snug, simple coat and faded scarf he wasn't paid well enough to be a scribe. Secretary maybe. Or a clerk?
Which left the remaining player. By far the most professional of the group. He rechecked the hand held flush against the table by lifting the merest corner of his cards like it was only natural. He thought for a long moment, brow drawn in concentration until he decided whatever he held was worth the risk,
"Fine. Five silver pennies. Raise a mark."
He pushed the stack forward then leaned back confidently. Arms crossed, waiting. Patient. His wager was met immediately. Both men thought they had winning hands, apparently. The third shrugged and paid up.
The dealer, whom everyone at their table was slightly oriented to face, revealed the three cards at his favor. The poorer dockworker's shoulders sagged, but the two betting men had completely opposite reactions. The ink-stained scribe of sorts grinned triumphantly. He immediately revealed a decent combination of cards that when combined with the dealer's choices gave him something rarely to be beat.
"Ha'ah!"
He boasted, "finally got you this time..."
He grinned and started collecting his winnings.
The third man lifted his brows from the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. He had yet to show his cards, but Jai was almost amused at what was playing out. Either the guy was too shamed to be caught bluffing or he was being dramatic. Turned out. He was being dramatic.
He seemed a quiet sort of man, but in a cool, collected way rather than with the bearing of an introvert. Then again, the choice of a hat and a thick beard added to the illusion. He was the sort who seemed to like his privacy, and didn't care if his customs or hygiene offended the manners of higher classed men. Not that he seemed the sort to gravitate toward fluffier circles; lucky bastard. He kept the collar of his coat turned up, but as it was unbuttoned, they could tell the clothes beneath were modest and had once been pressed. They certainly weren't plush or trimmed, but a vest fit him well and the white shirt beneath was clean if wrinkled somewhat from a day's wear. Jai couldn't quite tell how old he was, but there was no gray streaking his beard or woven through his hair. He kept it longer than Jai would prefer, curling all the way down to his shoulders. His eyes were sharp; darker brown than one would expect with his coloring. And alert, and the whole time he drank tea rather than the ales set before his companions.
He cleared his throat, and the scribe stopped, looking suddenly worried. The beard parted and teeth shone off a cavalier grin. He flipped the cards one at a time. The dockworker's jaw dropped, and Jai nodded to himself. Impressive. He didn't need the dealer's options to win out. He was laughing, the lighthearted winner, with the sounds of true merriment at the cost of another. As the scribe scowled at the dealer, he angrily swiped away the short stacks of coin he'd drawn toward himself and left the table. Accusations hurled, the winner didn't seem to mind, but his laugh died out. He wanted to make sure things didn't escalate beyond heated words. Apparently he'd been winning for a while.
The cards were recollected. The deck shuffled. And the dealer incorporated the two new players without a second glance.
"That was quite the hand."
Jai complimented the fellow he figured was going to give him a decent run tonight. Judging by the coins on his side. There were a fair amount of copper, but the rims of silver was nothing to sneer at either.
"Thanks."
He was reorganizing his winnings into precise stacks, but he paid too much attention to them. And Jai caught the man flicking eyes his way more than once. Narrowed, suspicious eyes. He could feel being studied. Weighed and measured; fascinated, like counterfeit gold.
Jai didn't bet on the first round of cards. He folded early. It was too soon to put out those feelers. When the round ended, he barely blinked before a sum filled his head. Face cards he added to an arbitrary count. Others he detracted from it. But counting cards was never about keeping track of what was played. It was a measurement of what cards remained to be played. Which gave a calculation of risk. When the risk was high, he would fold. When the risk was low, he would bet. When the risk was very low, he'd bet big. At least, that was the gist of it. It didn't take a stellar mind to keep track of a count like that, but a player's efficiency dramatically increased with the more side counts he could juggle. Tracking over all deck risk was one thing. Tracking deck risk and the appearance of a few power cards was a difficulty. Keeping track of deck risk and every card in the deck? There was a reason Jai wasn't worried about collateral when he wagered up.
Obviously, the longer a deck was played the greater accuracy afforded a counter. Jai was unsurprised when the man in the hat passed on betting more than a couple coppers for the next few rounds. He lost them to the dockworker, who seemed far more pleased with the moment than his opponent was disappointed.
It took several hands, but when Jai and the man both placed modest bets at the same time, he began to suspect he'd found another counter. When they both countered with the same increase in stake percentage, he knew he had.
Jai looked him over again. His coins were still neatly stacked. He pushed his bets carefully across the table rather than tossing them carelessly as other men tended to do. His coat fit him well, but in a looser sort of style. It almost seemed to hide the outline of a lean, strong man beneath.
Throughout the game so far Jai continued to catch him looking at him. Like he was studying something he found fascinating. He wasn't shifty or overly nervous. When he wanted a refill of his tea, he turned down a clean cup and made the girl bring him the boiling kettle to inspect tableside. Only after a studious peer inside and questioning sniff of the vapors did he allow the water poured. Of all things, the guy produced his own tea leaves as well, crushing and stirring them into the water unconcerned that everyone was staring. It was paranoia bordering on bizarre; Zakar could learn a thing or two from this guy.
On the next potentially profitable hand, Jai folded when he otherwise should have won. In doing so he lost almost everything he'd won so far, but what he bought was worth it: the brief moment of confusion to cross the card counter's face answered his questions. He was shocked by Jai's play: which meant both men knew the other was counting, but neither was willing to call the other on it. This was more than mutual respect; something was going on.
Jai tipped his head, acknowledging defeat with half a grin, and glanced at Araya. Did the Tinker have any idea what they were doing? Or did he only see a guy being taken to the cleaners?
"I thought you had me there, Asha'man."
The counter interrupted, neatly stacking his winnings. Beneath the beard he was grinning. Then he glanced toward Araya as though wondering if the oddly dressed fellow was a mere boy or another mindless weapon. Whatever he decided, he nodded a fearless greeting and went back to studying Jai, who in turn, shrugged despite his confusion.
"Me too. Perhaps we should up the stakes? Play for gold?"
The card counter laughed then suddenly cut himself off. The door opened and two men entered. Both were thick with muscle hiding under long coats. Both wore a sword at one hip and a dagger on the other. They studied the room from the door for a moment, unconcerned about bothering anyone. Then, apparently, they found who they were looking for.
Jai only watched as the card counter shoved his money into a coin bag with one good swipe of his arm. He tossed the bag in a pocket and shoved from the chair in a hurry. But not before tipping his hat to those he was leaving behind, "Pleasure playing with you gentlemen,"
his grin was fixed on Jai for a second, who only stared confusion in return, and he made for the back.
The two newcomers exchanged smirks like they expected as much to happen. Then they left the way they came.
"What the blazes was that about?"
The dockworker mumbled what the rest of them were wondering, then shrugged it off and went back to his ale without an answer. Araya frowned and Jai tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table edge. Whatever trouble the card counter was in, it looked like he was being called to pay for it. Still, it ate at Jai. He'd never come across someone so skilled, but he'd seen men scamper out like that before.
He twisted around in his chair. The window was too frosted over to tell if anything was happening outside. Then it hit him. The counter ran out the back but the two left the way they came in. They seemed in no rush because they knew he was in here all along. They had the alley guarded.
"Blood and ashes,"
Jai muttered to himself, already knowing what he was going to do. Nythadri's brother died much the same way. Jumped, out-numbered, and beaten to death in darkness. And there was the body he'd nearly hurled into the abyss. There were plenty of corpses clawing at his feet, but none had been pounded back by his own fury; none but that guy. Not that he deserved anything better.
Then there was the way the stranger stared at Jai, who still couldn't shake off a bad feeling. Paranoid or not; his curiosity was stirred. He couldn't channel yet, and in the best of health he wasn't sure he could handle more than a couple of guys at the same time. As this was hardly the best of times, he pulled himself up, squeezed tired eyes and contemplated how to handle this. Araya was watching closely.
His meager winnings he distributed back to the dealer for a tip. The dockworker was oblivious to their leaving. Araya met him half way to the back exit. "I have a bad feeling about this,"
Jai told him despite a shot of doubt chilling his spine: something in him wanted to make sure Araya would go along with it. "I just want to make sure everything's okay?"
There was no law to break in that. Then again, he'd said as much before.
It was a straight shot to the back alley. So easy to slip out, Jai wondered if the card counter chose this place on that attribute alone. He was clever then. More if he knew he was being hunted.
The two asha'man slipped carefully into the night. Two shapes floating through the shadows. The snow had piled up back here. It was dead quiet. The whiteness reflected a diffuse sort of glow, but the shadows crept where it could. And markedly, no circle of men battered anyone.
Jai tensed with warning. This was all wrong.
Araya looked about as uncomfortable as Jai felt but they carefully explored a bit further anyway: moving into the open center of the alley. It was then Jai realized what was left behind in the snow. Steel. A bare short-sword; dropped, right in the middle of the alley. He knelt down. The blade was clean. His frown deepened; what happened here? Who dropped..? Then he saw them.
Three bodies. Dragged to the shadows he hadn't noticed before. The two swordsmen from inside and the partner waiting in the back.
"What the-"
he didn't finish the question.
A thud landed softly behind them. The card counter dropped right behind Araya from wherever he'd been hiding. Not only was the man unhurt, but he still wore his hat and was holding a weapon. He quickly exploded into attack.
Araya must have caught a glimpse of it because he managed to throw his arm up just in time to block the charge. The weapon was more a piece of wood than an actual club, but it made just as nasty a sound when it connected with Araya's arm. Only inches from his head. It was a solid strike, but Jai thought the guy held back a little. Which made no sense. There wasn't time to wonder what it meant though. If anything. The Tinker grunted painfully, then grabbed his arm like it were split in two. He stumbled to the side, having caught the surprise off-balance and in mid-spin, lost his footing and fell.
The card counter slipped Araya an apology, "Sorry about that!"
Jai would have believed the sincerity, if they hadn't just been ambushed.
The guy gratefully pat the plank he turned into an impromptu club, but he didn't lower his defenses. "You know. I thought that'd be harder."
He grinned at the felled Asha'man like he was pleased with himself. Then, with Araya momentarily dealt with, he turned toward Jai.
Who was waiting. Discarded shortsword in hand.
Saidin would have been the more efficient weapon. But a fear deeper than instinct urged him to use steel. He knew in the way every asha'man knew, he was close to his limit. Channeling a lash would send their attacker to his knees, if Jai finessed the storm before it raged out of his control. If not, the man would not get up and the final silence would not relieve the questions burning through his head, and Jai was definitely not willing to crush himself for one alley lowlife.
Araya should only need a few moments to recover. And Jai was more than capable to give it to him. Armed, and emotions steadied with the simplicity of another man's sword, the level of calm he found was surprising. Almost as if he doubted they were in true danger.
The card counter hesitated like he expected a different reaction. Jai felt studied while the attacker's brief ferocity swung curious; but he attacked nonetheless, plank swinging. The Asha'man's sleek shadow charged; he'd been ready. It felt awkward, wielding an effective form hacked from rough timber rather than chiseled into something smooth. Twenty-five years of practicing, and his body rebelled.
The stranger swung the club confident the shorts-word wouldn't cleave it in two, but Jai had no other choice. There was no time to form an alternative plan. He doubled down on the hilt and sliced the way his own sword should have razored the air. The only way he knew how. The steel bit into the club, but neither man could withstand the force. It stuck like an axe in a tree, and both sword and club were wrenched from their grips. Relief was momentary.
Weaponless, snow kicked up when both recovered easily enough and quickly turned on one other. They were close in height. Jai hadn't noticed it inside when they'd both been seated. His opponent was broader shouldered than he'd anticipated as well, and keeping up where Jai was already beginning to tire. But he didn't much like the idea of being pommeled again: he refused to let himself feel it. Wear and fatigue scattered, fled before banishment.
He had no problem using the man's baggy clothes to work against him. He snatched the guy's wide collar and loose sleeve, and yanked him forward. It wasn't the most honorable move, but it did take the man by surprise. He grunted loud when Jai's knee slammed into his gut. Jai was too focused to grimace, though he knew how badly that hurt.
He stumbled back, but managed to throw an elbow toward Jai, who blocked the strike with his free forearm. Their back and forth was well matched. The man recovered and Jai was tiring, and for a moment wasn't sure if he was going to win. The guy took out three armed men already, and Jai didn't often find himself in these sorts of things where it seemed his opponent did.
But Jai held to that calm while his opponent quickly became frantic. His punches were hastier, and he was slipping more often in the snow. Then the opening Jai needed presented itself. Pain flared Jai's knuckles, but he shook off the flare while the card counter fell, clutching his face. Jai was panting, and his arms felt like water, but in the moment he wrenched the sword free of its post and pressed the point into the man's chest. A dark cavern crawled around the edges of his expression: a fury contained, for now. It was the mercy of circumstance that stayed his hand; he would have loved to channel about then. Or pound the sword into the man's heart. But not yet. This one had a lot to explain.
Breathless and beaten, he ripped the hat from his head and tossed it aside. It freed his hair and some light caught his face. Despite the grimace, his eyes were as sharp as they'd been before, but surprised. Whatever he expected to happen, it hadn't been that. When he burst into an insane grin, Jai's tension solidified. Questions swirled. Why the shock? That they'd followed him? That the Asha'man didn't channel? What was with that grin? This guy was out of his mind.
"Blood and ashes Jai,"
he started, glancing nervously at the sword digging into his flesh. "Finally learn how to handle yourself in a fight, huh? Nice beard."
Jai's heart stopped. This guy knew him, knew him well. Paranoia fluttered like quiet bats in the rafters. The Oneness chilled, and everything corroded. A hollow grave veiled his eyes while his mind raced, perched on the edge of night. Nothing remained but a hilt, a sword, and the pressure inching from his hands with the promise of an easy, swift kill. But armored in the Black Tower's retribution, he blinked and did not move.
"How do you know me?"
A man with silver hair worked casks of ale; he looked bored, disinterested. No inside joke punched the wind out of everyone like last time he strolled into a Tar Valoni tavern. Light, that had been hilarious. Once the spike of doubt that Jon was serious faded away. Your kind.
Between stomps pounding the snow from his boots and swipes shaking out his hair, he studied the room. Where people sat, who looked like they could handle themselves, the exits. That sort of thing. It was a normal place, he told himself. Nothing was going on. Somewhere to lay low. He glanced at Araya, wondering if his fellow asha'man approved.
Finger-like flames curled them closer, but sticky tables of warm ale were an easy temptation to ignore. He had no interest in drinking a drop again anytime soon. Not so much the hunger flooding his mouth. When chewing with an absent molar, every bite was a disturbing reminder. Most were pooled around the tables nearest the fire as though the room had been tipped that direction.
Unsurprising, Araya won a few quizzical looks. Green and violet weren't the common combinations after all. In Tar Valon, though, nobody seemed to care. The city was a melting pot of strange customs, and foreigners were welcome. Refugees included.
He expected defensive stares following him along like fearful dogs. He expected men to pat their coats or check their weapons. He expected the serving girls to retreat. Instead, one cute, plump girl with curled yellow hair that bounced when she laughed looked amused by Araya and smiled warmly for Jai; he caught himself smiling in return. A man seated alone stood and offered his table to them; Jai almost thought he'd heard wrong at first. When it was explained they were interested in cards, the man bowed his head and wished them luck. On and on the respect continued, small gestures that felt enormous in the darkness. A confused Jai scratched his scalp and looked to Araya for an explanation. Was this normal?
Three guys played cards. The first had the look of a dockworker. His rough trousers, gray shirt and threadbare coat were more dirty than clean. There were streaks on his clothes that looked like they'd doubled for a hand-towel. Though his interest in cleaning his hands didn't extend to the grime under his nails. Nor did he seem to care about his cards. Either he didn't know to keep them close to his chest or the hand wasn't worth protecting. Coin clinked, and Jai was surprised that he tossed more pennies to the center of the table. He glanced up about the time Jai arrived, but there was only fog in his eyes: too far gone to care who joined the table. A functional, but quiet drunk: Jai only understood all too well. At least he was lucid enough to shove his chair over to make more room.
"Raise five silvers. Valoni mind you."
The second guy shoved his promised wager forward, largely ignoring the Asha'man joining them. By this one's bald head he was older than the dockworker, but the rim of hair that remained was streaked with thin gray. Spots of ink dotted this man's fingertips like a scribe, but by his snug, simple coat and faded scarf he wasn't paid well enough to be a scribe. Secretary maybe. Or a clerk?
Which left the remaining player. By far the most professional of the group. He rechecked the hand held flush against the table by lifting the merest corner of his cards like it was only natural. He thought for a long moment, brow drawn in concentration until he decided whatever he held was worth the risk,
"Fine. Five silver pennies. Raise a mark."
He pushed the stack forward then leaned back confidently. Arms crossed, waiting. Patient. His wager was met immediately. Both men thought they had winning hands, apparently. The third shrugged and paid up.
The dealer, whom everyone at their table was slightly oriented to face, revealed the three cards at his favor. The poorer dockworker's shoulders sagged, but the two betting men had completely opposite reactions. The ink-stained scribe of sorts grinned triumphantly. He immediately revealed a decent combination of cards that when combined with the dealer's choices gave him something rarely to be beat.
"Ha'ah!"
He boasted, "finally got you this time..."
He grinned and started collecting his winnings.
The third man lifted his brows from the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. He had yet to show his cards, but Jai was almost amused at what was playing out. Either the guy was too shamed to be caught bluffing or he was being dramatic. Turned out. He was being dramatic.
He seemed a quiet sort of man, but in a cool, collected way rather than with the bearing of an introvert. Then again, the choice of a hat and a thick beard added to the illusion. He was the sort who seemed to like his privacy, and didn't care if his customs or hygiene offended the manners of higher classed men. Not that he seemed the sort to gravitate toward fluffier circles; lucky bastard. He kept the collar of his coat turned up, but as it was unbuttoned, they could tell the clothes beneath were modest and had once been pressed. They certainly weren't plush or trimmed, but a vest fit him well and the white shirt beneath was clean if wrinkled somewhat from a day's wear. Jai couldn't quite tell how old he was, but there was no gray streaking his beard or woven through his hair. He kept it longer than Jai would prefer, curling all the way down to his shoulders. His eyes were sharp; darker brown than one would expect with his coloring. And alert, and the whole time he drank tea rather than the ales set before his companions.
He cleared his throat, and the scribe stopped, looking suddenly worried. The beard parted and teeth shone off a cavalier grin. He flipped the cards one at a time. The dockworker's jaw dropped, and Jai nodded to himself. Impressive. He didn't need the dealer's options to win out. He was laughing, the lighthearted winner, with the sounds of true merriment at the cost of another. As the scribe scowled at the dealer, he angrily swiped away the short stacks of coin he'd drawn toward himself and left the table. Accusations hurled, the winner didn't seem to mind, but his laugh died out. He wanted to make sure things didn't escalate beyond heated words. Apparently he'd been winning for a while.
The cards were recollected. The deck shuffled. And the dealer incorporated the two new players without a second glance.
"That was quite the hand."
Jai complimented the fellow he figured was going to give him a decent run tonight. Judging by the coins on his side. There were a fair amount of copper, but the rims of silver was nothing to sneer at either.
"Thanks."
He was reorganizing his winnings into precise stacks, but he paid too much attention to them. And Jai caught the man flicking eyes his way more than once. Narrowed, suspicious eyes. He could feel being studied. Weighed and measured; fascinated, like counterfeit gold.
Jai didn't bet on the first round of cards. He folded early. It was too soon to put out those feelers. When the round ended, he barely blinked before a sum filled his head. Face cards he added to an arbitrary count. Others he detracted from it. But counting cards was never about keeping track of what was played. It was a measurement of what cards remained to be played. Which gave a calculation of risk. When the risk was high, he would fold. When the risk was low, he would bet. When the risk was very low, he'd bet big. At least, that was the gist of it. It didn't take a stellar mind to keep track of a count like that, but a player's efficiency dramatically increased with the more side counts he could juggle. Tracking over all deck risk was one thing. Tracking deck risk and the appearance of a few power cards was a difficulty. Keeping track of deck risk and every card in the deck? There was a reason Jai wasn't worried about collateral when he wagered up.
Obviously, the longer a deck was played the greater accuracy afforded a counter. Jai was unsurprised when the man in the hat passed on betting more than a couple coppers for the next few rounds. He lost them to the dockworker, who seemed far more pleased with the moment than his opponent was disappointed.
It took several hands, but when Jai and the man both placed modest bets at the same time, he began to suspect he'd found another counter. When they both countered with the same increase in stake percentage, he knew he had.
Jai looked him over again. His coins were still neatly stacked. He pushed his bets carefully across the table rather than tossing them carelessly as other men tended to do. His coat fit him well, but in a looser sort of style. It almost seemed to hide the outline of a lean, strong man beneath.
Throughout the game so far Jai continued to catch him looking at him. Like he was studying something he found fascinating. He wasn't shifty or overly nervous. When he wanted a refill of his tea, he turned down a clean cup and made the girl bring him the boiling kettle to inspect tableside. Only after a studious peer inside and questioning sniff of the vapors did he allow the water poured. Of all things, the guy produced his own tea leaves as well, crushing and stirring them into the water unconcerned that everyone was staring. It was paranoia bordering on bizarre; Zakar could learn a thing or two from this guy.
On the next potentially profitable hand, Jai folded when he otherwise should have won. In doing so he lost almost everything he'd won so far, but what he bought was worth it: the brief moment of confusion to cross the card counter's face answered his questions. He was shocked by Jai's play: which meant both men knew the other was counting, but neither was willing to call the other on it. This was more than mutual respect; something was going on.
Jai tipped his head, acknowledging defeat with half a grin, and glanced at Araya. Did the Tinker have any idea what they were doing? Or did he only see a guy being taken to the cleaners?
"I thought you had me there, Asha'man."
The counter interrupted, neatly stacking his winnings. Beneath the beard he was grinning. Then he glanced toward Araya as though wondering if the oddly dressed fellow was a mere boy or another mindless weapon. Whatever he decided, he nodded a fearless greeting and went back to studying Jai, who in turn, shrugged despite his confusion.
"Me too. Perhaps we should up the stakes? Play for gold?"
The card counter laughed then suddenly cut himself off. The door opened and two men entered. Both were thick with muscle hiding under long coats. Both wore a sword at one hip and a dagger on the other. They studied the room from the door for a moment, unconcerned about bothering anyone. Then, apparently, they found who they were looking for.
Jai only watched as the card counter shoved his money into a coin bag with one good swipe of his arm. He tossed the bag in a pocket and shoved from the chair in a hurry. But not before tipping his hat to those he was leaving behind, "Pleasure playing with you gentlemen,"
his grin was fixed on Jai for a second, who only stared confusion in return, and he made for the back.
The two newcomers exchanged smirks like they expected as much to happen. Then they left the way they came.
"What the blazes was that about?"
The dockworker mumbled what the rest of them were wondering, then shrugged it off and went back to his ale without an answer. Araya frowned and Jai tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table edge. Whatever trouble the card counter was in, it looked like he was being called to pay for it. Still, it ate at Jai. He'd never come across someone so skilled, but he'd seen men scamper out like that before.
He twisted around in his chair. The window was too frosted over to tell if anything was happening outside. Then it hit him. The counter ran out the back but the two left the way they came in. They seemed in no rush because they knew he was in here all along. They had the alley guarded.
"Blood and ashes,"
Jai muttered to himself, already knowing what he was going to do. Nythadri's brother died much the same way. Jumped, out-numbered, and beaten to death in darkness. And there was the body he'd nearly hurled into the abyss. There were plenty of corpses clawing at his feet, but none had been pounded back by his own fury; none but that guy. Not that he deserved anything better.
Then there was the way the stranger stared at Jai, who still couldn't shake off a bad feeling. Paranoid or not; his curiosity was stirred. He couldn't channel yet, and in the best of health he wasn't sure he could handle more than a couple of guys at the same time. As this was hardly the best of times, he pulled himself up, squeezed tired eyes and contemplated how to handle this. Araya was watching closely.
His meager winnings he distributed back to the dealer for a tip. The dockworker was oblivious to their leaving. Araya met him half way to the back exit. "I have a bad feeling about this,"
Jai told him despite a shot of doubt chilling his spine: something in him wanted to make sure Araya would go along with it. "I just want to make sure everything's okay?"
There was no law to break in that. Then again, he'd said as much before.
It was a straight shot to the back alley. So easy to slip out, Jai wondered if the card counter chose this place on that attribute alone. He was clever then. More if he knew he was being hunted.
The two asha'man slipped carefully into the night. Two shapes floating through the shadows. The snow had piled up back here. It was dead quiet. The whiteness reflected a diffuse sort of glow, but the shadows crept where it could. And markedly, no circle of men battered anyone.
Jai tensed with warning. This was all wrong.
Araya looked about as uncomfortable as Jai felt but they carefully explored a bit further anyway: moving into the open center of the alley. It was then Jai realized what was left behind in the snow. Steel. A bare short-sword; dropped, right in the middle of the alley. He knelt down. The blade was clean. His frown deepened; what happened here? Who dropped..? Then he saw them.
Three bodies. Dragged to the shadows he hadn't noticed before. The two swordsmen from inside and the partner waiting in the back.
"What the-"
he didn't finish the question.
A thud landed softly behind them. The card counter dropped right behind Araya from wherever he'd been hiding. Not only was the man unhurt, but he still wore his hat and was holding a weapon. He quickly exploded into attack.
Araya must have caught a glimpse of it because he managed to throw his arm up just in time to block the charge. The weapon was more a piece of wood than an actual club, but it made just as nasty a sound when it connected with Araya's arm. Only inches from his head. It was a solid strike, but Jai thought the guy held back a little. Which made no sense. There wasn't time to wonder what it meant though. If anything. The Tinker grunted painfully, then grabbed his arm like it were split in two. He stumbled to the side, having caught the surprise off-balance and in mid-spin, lost his footing and fell.
The card counter slipped Araya an apology, "Sorry about that!"
Jai would have believed the sincerity, if they hadn't just been ambushed.
The guy gratefully pat the plank he turned into an impromptu club, but he didn't lower his defenses. "You know. I thought that'd be harder."
He grinned at the felled Asha'man like he was pleased with himself. Then, with Araya momentarily dealt with, he turned toward Jai.
Who was waiting. Discarded shortsword in hand.
Saidin would have been the more efficient weapon. But a fear deeper than instinct urged him to use steel. He knew in the way every asha'man knew, he was close to his limit. Channeling a lash would send their attacker to his knees, if Jai finessed the storm before it raged out of his control. If not, the man would not get up and the final silence would not relieve the questions burning through his head, and Jai was definitely not willing to crush himself for one alley lowlife.
Araya should only need a few moments to recover. And Jai was more than capable to give it to him. Armed, and emotions steadied with the simplicity of another man's sword, the level of calm he found was surprising. Almost as if he doubted they were in true danger.
The card counter hesitated like he expected a different reaction. Jai felt studied while the attacker's brief ferocity swung curious; but he attacked nonetheless, plank swinging. The Asha'man's sleek shadow charged; he'd been ready. It felt awkward, wielding an effective form hacked from rough timber rather than chiseled into something smooth. Twenty-five years of practicing, and his body rebelled.
The stranger swung the club confident the shorts-word wouldn't cleave it in two, but Jai had no other choice. There was no time to form an alternative plan. He doubled down on the hilt and sliced the way his own sword should have razored the air. The only way he knew how. The steel bit into the club, but neither man could withstand the force. It stuck like an axe in a tree, and both sword and club were wrenched from their grips. Relief was momentary.
Weaponless, snow kicked up when both recovered easily enough and quickly turned on one other. They were close in height. Jai hadn't noticed it inside when they'd both been seated. His opponent was broader shouldered than he'd anticipated as well, and keeping up where Jai was already beginning to tire. But he didn't much like the idea of being pommeled again: he refused to let himself feel it. Wear and fatigue scattered, fled before banishment.
He had no problem using the man's baggy clothes to work against him. He snatched the guy's wide collar and loose sleeve, and yanked him forward. It wasn't the most honorable move, but it did take the man by surprise. He grunted loud when Jai's knee slammed into his gut. Jai was too focused to grimace, though he knew how badly that hurt.
He stumbled back, but managed to throw an elbow toward Jai, who blocked the strike with his free forearm. Their back and forth was well matched. The man recovered and Jai was tiring, and for a moment wasn't sure if he was going to win. The guy took out three armed men already, and Jai didn't often find himself in these sorts of things where it seemed his opponent did.
But Jai held to that calm while his opponent quickly became frantic. His punches were hastier, and he was slipping more often in the snow. Then the opening Jai needed presented itself. Pain flared Jai's knuckles, but he shook off the flare while the card counter fell, clutching his face. Jai was panting, and his arms felt like water, but in the moment he wrenched the sword free of its post and pressed the point into the man's chest. A dark cavern crawled around the edges of his expression: a fury contained, for now. It was the mercy of circumstance that stayed his hand; he would have loved to channel about then. Or pound the sword into the man's heart. But not yet. This one had a lot to explain.
Breathless and beaten, he ripped the hat from his head and tossed it aside. It freed his hair and some light caught his face. Despite the grimace, his eyes were as sharp as they'd been before, but surprised. Whatever he expected to happen, it hadn't been that. When he burst into an insane grin, Jai's tension solidified. Questions swirled. Why the shock? That they'd followed him? That the Asha'man didn't channel? What was with that grin? This guy was out of his mind.
"Blood and ashes Jai,"
he started, glancing nervously at the sword digging into his flesh. "Finally learn how to handle yourself in a fight, huh? Nice beard."
Jai's heart stopped. This guy knew him, knew him well. Paranoia fluttered like quiet bats in the rafters. The Oneness chilled, and everything corroded. A hollow grave veiled his eyes while his mind raced, perched on the edge of night. Nothing remained but a hilt, a sword, and the pressure inching from his hands with the promise of an easy, swift kill. But armored in the Black Tower's retribution, he blinked and did not move.
"How do you know me?"
Only darkness shows you the light.