The Rogue Knight
Page 13
Peddlers and their blankets continued to border the bridge, but the merchandise was now incredible. One man had bowls of beautifully cut gems, ranging from the size of marbles to the size of eggs. Sparkling in the sunlight, they looked very authentic. Another man displayed an assortment of parrots with the brightest plumage Cole could have imagined. A third merchant hawked objects made of pure gold. But since nobody else gave the exotic goods a second look, Cole figured they must be illusions.
Near the far side of the bridge Cole saw an act that made him slow down. A young man sat on a woven mat with his legs crossed. Holding one arm straight out, he clutched a long bamboo pole vertically without letting it touch the ground. An older man started to climb the pole while the young man continued to serenely hold it upright. The older man flipped himself upside down and balanced atop the pole on one hand. In front of the mat was a bowl with ringers in it. A couple of insistent kids bothered their parents until they each got a copper bit to donate.
Illusion or not, Cole had never seen a street performance to rival it, and he would have paused to add a ringer of his own if he’d had one handy. Instead, he picked up his pace again, head down to partly conceal his face, eyes furtively studying the crowd.
Cole tried not to show his relief as he walked off the far side of the bridge. Nobody had stopped him, and he had seen none of the slavers from the caravan.
The road from the bridge emptied into a large square. In the center of the square, fenced off by a low, crystal wall, eight marble statues of young women frolicked together with loose choreography, their movements graceful and carefree. As Cole watched the prancing statues, he realized that their motions repeated about every minute and figured they were on an automatic loop.
The lofty buildings around the square competed for attention. One appeared to be constructed entirely of gold and silver. Another featured moving murals—monstrous figures engaged in fierce combat. A third rippled with ever-changing swirls of color, a prismatic display that made Cole think of molten rainbows.
Amazed by the sights, but anxious to get away from the busy area, Cole went down one of the lesser streets that branched out from the square. He needed to find the fountain with seven spouts, but had no idea where to start looking. The east side of Carthage seemed just as sprawling as the west.
Strange figures moved among the crowd, drawing less attention than Cole would have expected: a tall, graceful woman with the slit pupils and furry ears of a cat; a heavyset man with blue spikes protruding all over his body; a woman with feathery wings like an angel; a man whose head was way too large for his body. Cole tried not to stare. Their appearances could be illusions. Or maybe, like Twitch, they were truly different from regular humans.
“Hey, kid, try your luck,” said a man seated behind a crate with a blanket on it. Short and trim with a neat little mustache, he spoke in a raspy tenor. Three upside-down cups rested on the blanket.
“Sorry, not today,” Cole replied.
“Come on,” the man said. “You’re loaded. It’s easy.”
“I’m not loaded,” Cole said.
The man gave him a skeptical look and motioned him closer. Cole leaned in and the guy lowered his voice a little. “You’ve got ringers tied around your legs, kiddo.”
Feeling startled and foolish, Cole checked for obvious bulges in his pants legs. They looked all right.
“You didn’t do a bad job,” the man said. “Most people wouldn’t notice. I’ve got an eye for details. What do you say? Give it a shot. Easy as picking up money off the street.”
“None of my money is handy,” Cole said.
“All that on your legs and nothing in your pocket?” the man asked incredulously.
“Sorry,” Cole said, turning his pants pockets inside out.
“Hm,” the man said. “That makes you interesting. I bet you’ve got a story. On the run or something? You look a little young to be a criminal.”
“But not too young to take my money?”
“A guy’s gotta eat! What’s your story?”
Cole shrugged. “I’m just meeting up with some friends.”
The man grinned, tapping his temple. “I get it. The friends wanted you to take some ringers from one place to another. No questions asked. You deliver the ringers, make a little for yourself. Am I right?”
“Something like that,” Cole said.
“So you can’t risk the ringers you’re carrying,” the man said. “In a way, you were telling me the truth. You’re broke until you make your delivery.”
“Pretty much,” Cole said.
“I don’t suppose you’ll come back this way after you get paid,” the man mused.
“I can’t afford to risk my money,” Cole said.
“How about a freebie?” the man suggested. “It’s been slow today.”
Cole glanced down the street in the direction he had been headed. He didn’t want to get roped into some sort of con.
“No strings attached,” the man assured him. “Pick a cup.”
“Okay.” Lifting the middle one, Cole uncovered a translucent blue marble. “Now what?”
“Replace it.”
Cole covered the marble.
The man smiled. “I haven’t touched anything yet. Only you did. Agreed?”
Cole gave a nod.
“You watching?” the man asked. Sliding the cups with no great haste, he switched the middle cup with the left one. “All right. Guess where the ball is.”
Cole pointed at the left cup, which had been in the middle.
“Want to bet that money you’re carrying?” the man asked. “If you’re right, I’ll double it. You can deliver their share and keep yours.”
“No thanks,” Cole said.
“You sure? I’m good for it. Final offer.”
“It’s not mine to bet,” Cole said.
“Fair enough,” the man said. He lifted the cup on the right. There was nothing beneath it. The cup in the middle had nothing as well. “Try the one you chose.”
Picking it up, Cole revealed a small bird with brown feathers and a yellow breast. The little bird hopped twice and then flew away, tiny wings flapping.
“I had a feeling I would have lost,” Cole said.
Grinning, the man quickly turned over the cup on the right and handed it to Cole. The cup was full of blue marbles. “Trust those feelings, kid. When something looks too good to be true, it is. All the locals know better than to get involved in a shell game. I set up near Gateway Square to welcome the visitors, teach them a practical lesson or two. I haven’t seen you around. New to town?”
Near the far side of the bridge Cole saw an act that made him slow down. A young man sat on a woven mat with his legs crossed. Holding one arm straight out, he clutched a long bamboo pole vertically without letting it touch the ground. An older man started to climb the pole while the young man continued to serenely hold it upright. The older man flipped himself upside down and balanced atop the pole on one hand. In front of the mat was a bowl with ringers in it. A couple of insistent kids bothered their parents until they each got a copper bit to donate.
Illusion or not, Cole had never seen a street performance to rival it, and he would have paused to add a ringer of his own if he’d had one handy. Instead, he picked up his pace again, head down to partly conceal his face, eyes furtively studying the crowd.
Cole tried not to show his relief as he walked off the far side of the bridge. Nobody had stopped him, and he had seen none of the slavers from the caravan.
The road from the bridge emptied into a large square. In the center of the square, fenced off by a low, crystal wall, eight marble statues of young women frolicked together with loose choreography, their movements graceful and carefree. As Cole watched the prancing statues, he realized that their motions repeated about every minute and figured they were on an automatic loop.
The lofty buildings around the square competed for attention. One appeared to be constructed entirely of gold and silver. Another featured moving murals—monstrous figures engaged in fierce combat. A third rippled with ever-changing swirls of color, a prismatic display that made Cole think of molten rainbows.
Amazed by the sights, but anxious to get away from the busy area, Cole went down one of the lesser streets that branched out from the square. He needed to find the fountain with seven spouts, but had no idea where to start looking. The east side of Carthage seemed just as sprawling as the west.
Strange figures moved among the crowd, drawing less attention than Cole would have expected: a tall, graceful woman with the slit pupils and furry ears of a cat; a heavyset man with blue spikes protruding all over his body; a woman with feathery wings like an angel; a man whose head was way too large for his body. Cole tried not to stare. Their appearances could be illusions. Or maybe, like Twitch, they were truly different from regular humans.
“Hey, kid, try your luck,” said a man seated behind a crate with a blanket on it. Short and trim with a neat little mustache, he spoke in a raspy tenor. Three upside-down cups rested on the blanket.
“Sorry, not today,” Cole replied.
“Come on,” the man said. “You’re loaded. It’s easy.”
“I’m not loaded,” Cole said.
The man gave him a skeptical look and motioned him closer. Cole leaned in and the guy lowered his voice a little. “You’ve got ringers tied around your legs, kiddo.”
Feeling startled and foolish, Cole checked for obvious bulges in his pants legs. They looked all right.
“You didn’t do a bad job,” the man said. “Most people wouldn’t notice. I’ve got an eye for details. What do you say? Give it a shot. Easy as picking up money off the street.”
“None of my money is handy,” Cole said.
“All that on your legs and nothing in your pocket?” the man asked incredulously.
“Sorry,” Cole said, turning his pants pockets inside out.
“Hm,” the man said. “That makes you interesting. I bet you’ve got a story. On the run or something? You look a little young to be a criminal.”
“But not too young to take my money?”
“A guy’s gotta eat! What’s your story?”
Cole shrugged. “I’m just meeting up with some friends.”
The man grinned, tapping his temple. “I get it. The friends wanted you to take some ringers from one place to another. No questions asked. You deliver the ringers, make a little for yourself. Am I right?”
“Something like that,” Cole said.
“So you can’t risk the ringers you’re carrying,” the man said. “In a way, you were telling me the truth. You’re broke until you make your delivery.”
“Pretty much,” Cole said.
“I don’t suppose you’ll come back this way after you get paid,” the man mused.
“I can’t afford to risk my money,” Cole said.
“How about a freebie?” the man suggested. “It’s been slow today.”
Cole glanced down the street in the direction he had been headed. He didn’t want to get roped into some sort of con.
“No strings attached,” the man assured him. “Pick a cup.”
“Okay.” Lifting the middle one, Cole uncovered a translucent blue marble. “Now what?”
“Replace it.”
Cole covered the marble.
The man smiled. “I haven’t touched anything yet. Only you did. Agreed?”
Cole gave a nod.
“You watching?” the man asked. Sliding the cups with no great haste, he switched the middle cup with the left one. “All right. Guess where the ball is.”
Cole pointed at the left cup, which had been in the middle.
“Want to bet that money you’re carrying?” the man asked. “If you’re right, I’ll double it. You can deliver their share and keep yours.”
“No thanks,” Cole said.
“You sure? I’m good for it. Final offer.”
“It’s not mine to bet,” Cole said.
“Fair enough,” the man said. He lifted the cup on the right. There was nothing beneath it. The cup in the middle had nothing as well. “Try the one you chose.”
Picking it up, Cole revealed a small bird with brown feathers and a yellow breast. The little bird hopped twice and then flew away, tiny wings flapping.
“I had a feeling I would have lost,” Cole said.
Grinning, the man quickly turned over the cup on the right and handed it to Cole. The cup was full of blue marbles. “Trust those feelings, kid. When something looks too good to be true, it is. All the locals know better than to get involved in a shell game. I set up near Gateway Square to welcome the visitors, teach them a practical lesson or two. I haven’t seen you around. New to town?”
