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The mantis turned toward me, waved its razored arms, pivoted its head. It knew it was my favorite. The others were in their cages like soldiers. Their spirits were simple and pure, easy to control. The best gamblers knew their animals were the means to greater wealth, a better life. The animal arenas saw the greatest flow of money. Games of Bloodletting, games of Freeze like I played on the street vendor, were simple, quick, but required real nerves. The money from them was thin compared to the arenas where the wi
I stretched my arm toward the mantis. Eyes half-closed I drew myself into the Flow and rose above the falling dirt and darkness. My spirit followed a sense of motion and was carried a great distance, almost forever. Time was lost. Slowly the stream stopped rushing straight away. It bent, first in a curve and then in a circle. I had it. I had control.
The ghost mantis stood in my open hand, spirit drawn from its mortality. I could see through it, a mirage, perfectly still. Its corporeal form was still rigid in its cage and would remain that way until dead or the spirit was returned. My co
I focused my thoughts on the essence standing in my palm. It raised its two arms in praise. I focused again. It lowered them. I was in control.
This was the weapon I would use to defeat Dumoss: a mantis. The mantis arenas were the best favored in the city. The knowledge of my secret weapon felt like a hidden dagger, ready for a final, fatal blow. The Flow I had taken filled places in my thoughts like rainwater gathered in pools. Each pool wrought a feeling, a comfortable pressure. I released one of the pools.
Washed, the mantis-spirit glided away from my palm, up my arm, attacking the air in practice like a toy. I watched as its back legs dragged and its body slumped forward a fraction too far. My face felt weighted down with disappointment. I wriggled my fingers and its head jerked up, and the body turned to attack. I brooded over my control, fine for the salamander and toad, but not enough for this difficult creature.
The mantis approached my fingers with caution. Every animal's spirit had its own challenges to overcome.
But I didn't want to wait, didn't want to continue experiments that led to disappointment. More practice time meant A
The early days, when we first met, were sunken memories. The room had been ours for two years. We found each other in much the same way as everyone else: it was a matter of mutual need. We both needed our luck to change, and we both needed someone to share the cost of the room. I learned she had been beaten by a lover, a string of lovers-one of the reasons she didn't like to be touched. I decided she needed to be part of my life.
My eyes lost focus, and magic continued its spiral from my spirit to the mantis. The time of my vending in the streets was long over. Back then, I knew people. One of those people got A
A
The mantis bit my thumb, drawing blood. My control was solid, but I failed on the details. My thoughts were on A
The wound stung where the spirit's teeth cut my flesh.
I didn't bind the gash, but instead held my hand up to slow the blood, letting some drip onto the floor. Living with my animals, caring for them, made me a good gambler. It made the animals trust, opened them to my control.
The lock, badly in need of oil, clicked under the slowly turning iron key. Carrying a basket, A
She shouldered the door closed again and dropped the covered basket onto a table in the corner. Her foot caught the hem of her long, red skirt, and she nearly tripped. She didn't like to be helped. I continued to wait.
Dressed in the rich crimson of the casino, she finally looked at me, thumb bloody, sitting near my cages. She said nothing, remained motionless. Her magic was small, so she was forced to rely on her hands and her beauty.
"I'll make us something to eat," I said.
She nodded, frowning. A
I nodded toward the lace. "You've been bumped up?"
"Today. Raised my salary." She fell on her bed, slipped off her blouse, showing a colorless shirt underneath made of worn cotton.
I wanted to look at her. I loved to look at her. I hoped she was not angry with me for something. The food was simple, bread and old cheese and water. These fears about her were always more frequent, stronger, when she was near.
"I'm going out. There's a traveling game near the town hall."
She let out a breath. "Please stay with me tonight."
"Do you want to come? You can watch."
No answer. She never watched me game. I asked many times. She never liked to share her most personal effects, and by that token, never wished to share mine.
I said, "I need to work."
"I'm earning a little more money. Can't you give up tonight. Just tonight?"
I piled the food onto a plate and brought it to her, my smile pained. "You had a hard day?" I didn't mention that I watched from the alley.
She nodded. I wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't like to be touched, particularly after work.
"I have to make this game. The money will buy back some of the things we lost."
Her eyes slowly swept the room. Once we had a chair, a real book too thick to finish in a year, and a mirror. That had been the last to go. Her eyes settled on the cages. Of course, these would never be sold. They were the means to my living.
Her eyes finally fixed on me, and she smiled, nodded understanding. "If I had your magic, I would have better luck. There'd be more money." She waved, despairing, absent. "More magic, more luck. More luck, more money."
I leaned forward to stroke her hair, but stopped myself. Instead I stood to get some water. She threaded the needle to sew the gold lace onto the cuffs of her red blouse, the symbol of rank at the casino. Water from the jug filled my cup. My thumb caught the rim of the jug's handle. It started bleeding again and dripped into the filled cup.
"Let me try the game on you," she said.
"What?"
"That old gambler's game," she repeated with a coy smile. "Let me try it on you."
I turned to face her, smiling. "All right, try it."
Her magic was weak. Her hands fell into her lap, eyes slowly closed. A
She lifted her arm with great deliberation, elegant hand palm up, open fingers spread as if they held a melon. She opened her eyes, concentrating her gaze on mine. No longer coy, she held an expression of honest enjoyment. She must have seen little joy in a day.