A Scoundrel's Song

11

Gambling was not unheard of in Driadin circles, but it mainly consisted of winning the opportunity to compete against the winner of any contest they bet upon. And goats. They liked to bet with goats, which was another reason Goruktyun had held on to his anger at Niico's honest mistake. Betting using shiny stones was a fun aside that meant little to them. After all, walk deep enough through the tunnels of the mountain and those stones would catch under feet.

Niico had thought of going down into those places before, but the tales of Nightcrawler nests, and worse, put those thoughts aside. Money was one thing, but if he didn't have a life to enable him to spend that money, then it meant nothing. Today, however, he would walk away with bags of the things. Sacks of them. All by doing something he did on only the most rare occasions. He was going to play fair.

Well, as fair as having an enormous man, well studied in the arts of combat, Niico assumed, against someone half his size. The Driadin, thinking themselves superior in every way to surface dwellers, expected their man to win. They even thought Akafa's greater height and muscles were a disadvantage. Their tiny stature, to the Driadin, made them superior. They thought everything made them superior.

The only nod to Niico's usual method of winning was in that he used the upcoming purse as collateral for his own bets and, as they were betting for 'worthless baubles', the Driadin bookmakers accepted his bets. Niico was about to become so rich, he would make the very definition of 'rich' redundant. Wealthy wouldn't even describe it. He could probably buy a country after this. King Niico had a pleasing ring to it.

"This is probably one of your worst ideas, you know?" Stood at Niico's shoulder, Pelenia shook her head. "What happens when you flood the market with precious stones? The prices will drop, each stone will be worth less and less. That's if Akafa wins. You don't give Driadin enough credit."

"Of course Akafa will win! Look at him!" Niico looked at Akafa, warming up within the makeshift arena. He stopped himself groaning in lust. "Besides, I have a plan. Sell some in Vicerini, buy a ship, travel around the Inland Sea, avoiding the Maelstrom, reach Tarkar's Bridge and then on to those nations to the west that I'm still not altogether certain exist. We sell just enough in each town and city along the way to keep things interesting and, by the time we return, we will be so rich I'll have to buy another ship to carry all my beautiful money."

"Our money." Pel glared at him. She had noticed that little slip of the tongue. Of course Niico meant his money. Theirs! Their money! But his, really. "If we win."

They were going to win. Of course they were. Akafa, an 'Arenesti', or something. A fighter in arenas his entire life, scarred from so many battles that he had survived against people who had also fought their entire lives. Big, muscular people, mostly men, probably, sweating and grappling, wrestling each other to the ground and ... Niico's mind had wandered and he coughed, hoping Pel hadn't seen the glazed look in his eyes.

Off to the side, he saw Goruktyun placing his own bets, healthy goats corralled at home his stake. The old Driadin looked weary as five of his eight children dripped from him, screaming and performing their boisterous little competitions, such as seeing who could clamber up to their father's shoulders first. Niico felt glad he had never had children, the beauty of loving men. One of the beauties of loving men. If love was the word.

Speaking of such alien things, he caught sight of Antioni, stood near Akafa and holding his water bucket and three-legged stool, ready to care for Akafa as the contest wore on. Not that the contest would last long at all. Niico only hoped that Akafa made the contest look at least a little balanced, but he trusted a former arena fighter to know how to work a crowd.

High above, the cords of fungi blazed a golden light, enough that if Niico didn't think about it too much, he could imagine standing up on the surface, beneath the Sun as it blanketed the makeshift arena, blessing the events to come with good fortune. He doubted he could ever become used to living underground, and also doubted the Driadin would let him, they held grudges far too long, but on a day like this, he didn't think it would be the worst life to live.