I need to do this another way.I let fear show on my face, and it’s not all feigned, because I’m afraid of what could happen if I don’t handle this properly.
“My lady would not be happy if I stayed here too long,” I say.“She’s commanded me to come here and place bets with Barthus.With a noble like her, I can’t afford to waste time.”
There’s a threat couched in my words, the threat of some noble employer who it’s better not to cross.The man looks me over one more time, as if trying to decide whether I’m worth the risk of crossing an unknown noble, then shrugs.
“Barthus is in theThree Coins,” he says.“Up that way.”
I go in the direction he indicates, up a street where performers throng.A man is juggling with fire, not with flaming torches, just with fire.A woman contorts herself into seemingly impossible shapes, her flesh shifting and stretching as she does it beyond any human limits.Magic is as much a part of the entertainments here as it is a part of every other aspect of the city.
“I can get you whatever you want,” a man calls from the shadows.“Drugs and poisons, whatever you need.”
I keep moving, making sure my cloak is still pulled tightly around me.
“Why not come inside?”a woman calls down from the balcony of one of the buildings.“Experience the pleasures of your house.Men, women, whatever you prefer.”
The street is filled with offers for all the least salubrious of the entertainment district’s diversions.I can see dangers too, with a couple of gang members here, watching me as if wondering if I might be prey for them.The gangs are a rarer sight within the walls of the city, rather than out in the slums, but it’s obvious the surrounding establishments are connected to them.
I watch for danger through the eyes of surrounding animals, but they show me more of the problems of this area within the entertainment district.I see two men fighting in a back alley over a bottle of wine.I see a couple of rigged gambling games.I see a pickpocket sneaking up on me, moving almost in silence.
I spin, my hand clamping onto his wrist.He’s just a boy of about ten, dirty in a way that suggests he lives on the streets.He looks up at me with shock.
“You should be more careful,” I say.“If the guards catch you, it won’t go well for you.”
“What else am I meant to do?”the urchin asks.
I don’t have a good answer to him.I give him a few coins, probably more than he would have managed to steal by himself.He runs off, giving me a look that makes it clear he thinks I’m a fool for doing it.
I keep going, and now I can see the sign of theThree Coinsahead.The door is protected by a burly guard, who stares at me before stepping back to let me enter.The moment I step inside, the stink of cheap incense and wine hit me.
The place appears to have started life as an inn, and servants still rush here and there with wine or food, but mostly, it seems to have become a gambling establishment.There are people throwing dice and playing cards, cursing their luck.There are a couple of oiled young men wrestling, while spectators jeer and call out, betting on which will pin the other first.There’s a spot where two men are throwing knives, and people are betting on which will get closer to the center of a target.
I'm grateful I opted for my disguise as a servant rather than something wealthier.The majority of the clientele in this place seem to be lower class: workers from the docks or the merchant district, people from the slums who've made it into the city for the entertainments offered here.If I'd dressed as a noble, it would have attracted far too much attention.
There’s a space towards the back of the room where an older man sits behind a desk, taking bets on the activities in the room, while a board behind him shows carefully chalked odds on other events.There are chariot races up there, a foot race around the perimeter of the city, but also odds on which of three gang members will take over the Red and Greens in some internal conflict, and which way a vote in the senate will go.
The man is simply but expensively dressed, in a dark tunic and golden wrist bands.He has a bronze torc around his neck, while his white hair is receding rapidly.This must be Barthus.He’s flanked by guards, who don’t look like enforcers recruited from the gangs, but instead are more like the personal guards the nobles sometimes employ.
In fact, something seems off about this whole place.It has the look of one of the seedy dens that I might find in the slums, but no one here seems to be wearing gang colors, even if I spotted a couple of gang members in the district beyond.The servants seem surprisingly upmarket for a place like this, too.Is there more than just a gang's money behind all this?There's a strange symbol on the guards' armor, and on brooches, the servants wear: a single droplet of blood set against the curving sail of a ship.I haven't seen it before, but it looks less like a gang sign than some noble or merchant house's symbol.
I move to Barthus, taking out a small pouch of coins as he looks up at me.
“Yes?”he says.“What do you want to bet on, and how much?”
I lower my voice carefully, as if afraid of being overheard.I glance around nervously, trying my best to look like the servant I’m pretending to be, afraid to be in this place but equally afraid of disappointing her employer.
“My mistress has bid me to bet on the next death bouts,” I say.“She told me you were the man to go to.”
“Who do you want to bet on?”Barthus asks.
That's a problem because I don't know who's fighting.I don't know anything about the fights, even if his response confirms that they're happening.Just learning that much makes my heart beat faster in my chest, tension running through me.I try to think of a way around the question, preferably something that will let me get closer to my goal of finding a location for the fights.
“Honestly, I’m not sure it matters much to her,” I say.“What are the options?”
Barthus looks at me with surprise.“You were sent here without knowing the name of the person you’re meant to wager on?”
His tone is filled with disbelief, and I know I'm drawing far too much suspicion, but I press ahead anyway.
“As I say, the exact details don't matter to her very much.It's more that she would like to attend the fights, and sees this bet as an investment.”
