Few things would have pleased Nightfall more than calling the prince "Ned" in the presence of King Rikard and his court. The oath-bond churned in warning, growing stronger in the moments it took him to formulate a reply that would rescue him from physical distress without hurting the prince’s feelings. The king had made it a part of the magical vow to always address Edward in this fashion. “Master, I could not."
Edward’s grin wilted.
As the oath-bond receded to its familiar baseline, Nightfall found his explanation. "I promised your father to help you get landed. Until that time, my job is not finished; and it would feel wrong to call you anything but Master."
The light returned to Prince Edward’s eyes, and a half-smile again bowed his lips. He shook his head wordlessly, clearly impressed by his faithful and, apparently, unpretentious squire. He rose and headed for the door. "Come, Sudian. We have an enemy to assess and plans to formulate.” One hand on the door latch, he turned. "You’ve come to this city before?"
"A few times, Master." A few meaning about nine thousand. Nightfall trailed Prince Edward, cursing himself for not finding an opening to mention the previous night of gambling before someone beat him to it. One way or another, it would come out over breakfast. "I can find areas more likely to have slavers." Though I won’t take you to any of them. An unpressured tour of the city might do them both good, and Nightfall had no intention of allowing Edward to get within city blocks of the slavers’ markets.
Prince and squire headed for the common room.
The day went well for Nightfall. He managed to keep Prince Edward from the seedier parts of Trillium and distract him with the glitter and bustle of the myriad markets. Edward delighted in educating Nightfall about Grifnalian goats, Tylantian hump-backed horses, Hartrinian courier doves, and southern plains’ lizards. The knowledge that came from books caught the bulk of the descriptions, but missed the odors, temperament, and general feel that reality had brought to Nightfall long ago. Though odd-looking and relatively slow, the hump-backed horses had endurance and an ability to travel far without sustenance. An ancient tale with obscure origins described a hump-back returning to Tylantis with a rider that had long before succumbed to thirst. Nightfall had seen Hartrinian sea doves, rare long-winged birds with a penchant for locating ships and returning to established roosts. Unlike pigeons, these birds would fly out with a message before returning with a reply. King Idinbal regularly used them to identify approaching vessels; and, given the circumstances of Marak’s arrest, King Rikard apparently had some of his own.
Every foreign fruit or vegetable caught Edward’s eye. Nightfall used the prince’s curiosity as an opening to explain his winnings. He admitted to only a fraction of his true profit, using most of what he mentioned to purchase samples of foods Edward had never before tasted. Apparently certain of his squire’s honesty, a concept Nightfall found amusing to the point of absurdity, Edward accepted gambling as innocent enough. Nightfall felt sure it would prove beneath the prince’s dignity to engage in such activity himself, but he would not begrudge Nightfall his simple pleasures so long as they did not interfere with his work or cost from Edward’s pocket. He made it ominously clear that Nightfall would pay, and pay well, if his debts fell beyond his means or harmed his master’s reputation. Nevertheless, Edward could not help but appreciate the time, food, and security having money regained them. He seemed disappointed when a sudden thunderstorm brought their sightseeing to a premature end at midday.
The morning’s camaraderie stretched well into the afternoon. Edward chose to study the book he had lugged with them since the start of their journey, leaving Nightfall the opportunity to catch up on sleep without having to worry about the safety of his master. He awakened in time for a late dinner. Then Edward slept, aware that Nightfall would spend the earliest morning hours with wagers, contests, and speculations. The rain pounded the roof and shuttered windows of the Thirsty Dolphin until nearly midnight, when Nightfall made his appearance in the common room. A few of the native Trillians had returned, accompanied by several newcomers, including two Nightfall knew too well. They sat on opposite sides of the tavern and never gave one another more than a casual glance. Fat Johastus had chosen a corner table where he sipped beer and soaked up the last bit of gravy from his dinner with a chunk of bread. His round, dimpled cheeks tinged red gave him a false aura of jolliness. The other man, Rivehn, could not have looked more different. His wan features seemed scrawny to the edge of illness, and his straw blond hair only added to the image of unhealthy pallor. Nightfall saw through their stranger act. As Balshaz, he had quietly watched them pull enough scams to know they were a team. As Nightfall, he had followed them to the alley behind the jeweler’s shop where they divided their spoils.
Nightfall recognized no other schemers, pleased that his winnings the previous night had seemed innocent enough not to draw too much attention. He would need to perform well tonight before his luck became too suspect or his nightly outings interfered with his charge. He knew he could never win the two hundred sixty silver he needed in a single night, but he would make a few strides in that direction. Hopefully, another money-making strategy would come to him, one that did not place himself or Edward at significant risk.
In addition to the Trillians, Nightfall discovered a few travelers. Most of these he recognized, at least in a general way, from his time in their countries or as merchants in this or other markets. He intentionally geared his wagers toward the ones he knew carried money, choosing trivia or actions at which they felt confident of their expertise. Where he could, he "divined" information about others whom he knew when in other personae, details of which a stranger from Alyndar could not possibly have knowledge. He explained this talent with a trail of deductions based on mannerisms, characteristics, or movement that fascinated his victims. He tossed darts or target daggers against a few who fancied themselves competent, careful to keep his maneuvers simple and to lose occasionally enough not to scare away his marks. Side wagers sprang up, for and against him, keeping the money flowing from hand to hand and the excitement for the games high. Nightfall took careful note of the partners, noting that Johastus bet contrary to him rarely, but always made a production of it when he did. Consistently, Rivehn wagered with him, winning well along the way.
Nightfall found it difficult not to approve of the strategy. He would not condemn a man for recognizing and riding with a winner, but he knew them both too well to relax. They had something more in the works, he felt certain. Greed would not allow them to remain satisfied with gradual wealth. Eventually, they would try something massive and ugly, and Nightfall hoped he would not get caught off-guard by the attempt.
At length, Nightfall took his first break from the game, flopping into a seat around an empty table and waving the bartender to supply a round of beers to the participants. Johastus squeezed his bulk into a nearby chair that could scarcely contain him, scooting it up to the table. "Toss you for the tab."
The comment seemed nonsensical. Nightfall pulled himself up to a position more befitting conversation. "Excuse me, sir?"
Johastus opened a meaty hand, and a standard copper coin of the Xaxonese Peninsula rolled from his fist. Moist from his grip, it reflected the torchlight in patches. It rocked along its edges, then fell flat, revealing the side with the country name, Hartrin, and the origin of the engraving, baron’s mint. “I pitch my coin. You pitch yours. The first one who gets Idinbal’s face up buys the round." He levered a fingernail under one side of the coin, flipping it to the image of the Hartrinian king.