Chapter One of Gathering Lead

A young gambler is playing a high stakes game of Guerre (a game similar to poker) with the kingpin of the city. When he discovers the kingpin is cheating he decides to do likewise.

Chapter One

Sweat beaded on Ferrens forehead as he was dealt a new hand by the croupier. A hush had fallen over the Hammer as Ferren and Martin had slowly gambled a small fortune onto the table. Le Marteau had been milking every penny out of the purse Ferren had borrowed from Adalard Alarik; The Startford Alchemist Guild Master, and he had just watched the Righello slip a card into his sleeve. 

The knight of crowns? Was that the fifth card or only the fourth? If he had misread the play then he would owe a lot to the kind of people it's best not to owe.  Ferren had expected a fair game when the Martin the Hammer Charbonneau had agreed to play Guerre with him in the Hammer. A Chaullesi variant of the Morlish game War, Guerre was the most popular gambling game in the city and a game like this would be watched by all the right people of Startford. Ferren had mistakenly assumed that the games notoriety would force the Righello into playing a clean game with a clean deck. He had needed to improvise. 

Ferren licked his lips and a miniscule dragon the size of a honey bee dropped down from the ceiling and began to fly around his head firing off tiny spurts of fire and smoke. Ferren attempted to shoo the diminutive beast away with a wave of his hand. The dragon nimbly dodged his flailing fingers and swooped in towards ferrens left ear letting out a squeak the creature clearly intended as a roar. The quiet that had overcome the crowd was now broken by a chorus of guffaws. Ferren dropped his cards on the table and began battering at the tiny nuisance. The creature deftly avoided Ferrens hand yet again and dived into the large mug of mead Ferren had been slowly nursing through the night. 

“Argh!” shouted Ferren in disgust as several bubbles floated up from his desecrated brew. 

The little dragon climbed out of the tankard and flopped lazily to the table letting out surprisingly loud belch. 

“B*****d!” The gambler said as he brought his hand up to crush the tiny monster. 

The dragon was far too gone to fly away this time and let out a squeal as it watched as a monstrous hand came down upon it.

There was a flash of brilliant green light and a burst of acrid smelling smoke that exploded out from under Ferren’s hand. Were it not for the flash and the smoke obscuring the views, keen observers may have noticed that ferrens cards were in a slightly different place on the table, and very keen observers may have seen the tail of something soft and furry discretely scurry up inside of Ferren’s coat sleeve. 

Ferren coughed and waved away the smoke as he looked up at his opponent. Martin slowly sipped a beer of his own and arched an eyebrow at the gambler. Ferren slid his last coin into the center of the table.

“For all” Farren said quietly.

Martin face split into a cruel smile as he threw another coin into the pot. 

“Matched” said Le Marteau as he set his beer on the table. 

Ferren gulped as he discarded two bishops from his hand and lay his remaining three cards down on the table. The crowd again burst into uproarious guffaws of laughter. 

The hand he had lain down was known as the Beggar's Prayer. The lowest hand that could legally be played as a set. A pair of peasants and a bishop of any suit. Its main purpose is to trump a high-card game, and it lost to every other possible hand but one, and Ferren had thrown away a House of God, to play it, one of the best hands in the game. The only hand a Beggar’s Prayer could beat was known as the Royal Council and it was made up of a king, queen, prince, bishop, and knight all of the same suit. The Royal Council set trumped every other hand in the deck and had only one vulnerability. 

Martins cruel smile turned sour, and some of the smarter patrons of the bar immediately ceased their laughter. Le Marteau laid his hand on the table: a Royal Council of crowns. 

There was a shocked silence from the crowd, broken by Ferren as he let out a whoop that devolved into a somewhat hysterical giggle as he began to slide the substantial pile of gold, copper, and silver over to his side of the table. 

“Stop.” said the Righello, and the world stopped. 

The boisterous arguments over bets and debts simply ceased. The crowd which had been milling around the tavern suddenly changed from a cheerful congregation to an impenetrable barricade. The silence was pregnant with subtle noises which while innocuous enough to the untrained ear filled others with trepidation. A subtle clicking accompanied by a gentle creak. The whispering rasp of steel against leather. The flapping of leather jerkins. Noises that could easily be misinterpreted as loose floorboards, or the careless movements of the many bar patrons. But these sounds were sinister. 

Le Marteau stood and allowed Ferren to take in his full size for the first time. Martin stood every bit of two meters tall a full beard hung down to his chest and the expensive coat he wore in no way concealed the two weapons of his namesake that hung at his waist. The large man stepped around the table and placed massive hand on Ferrens shoulder gently. 

“Have you ever heard the Chalussi adage ‘Les tricheurs fleurissent fleurit une seule fois.’?” Martin inquired in a voice like distant thunder. 

Ferren gulped and discovered that his voice had retreated to some unknown local along with his jocularity. He slowly and slightly shook his head. 

“Care to guess at what it means boy?”

“I. . .  um. . . I have no idea.” 

“Guess” beseeched the large man in an encouraging voice. Like a father helping a son with his letters.

“Um. . .something about flowers?” hazarded Ferren.

“HA!” Laughed the Righello. “I knew I liked you boy! Something about flowers indeed.”

As the gangster laughed the crowd around the pair sniggered and then were silenced by the booming crash as one of martin's hammers slammed down between Ferrens still outstretched hands. Ferren let out a startled yelp and retracted his hands from the pile of riches so fast several coins of various denominations were hurtled behind him to the floor. 

“‘Les tricheurs fleurissent fleurit une seule fois.’ means the cheaters flower blossoms only once.” La Marteau said as he leaned over to whisper in Ferrens ear. 

This time when Ferren tried to gulp down the hard lump in his throat he found it was impossible. 

“Now if I had actually caught you cheatin my amis would be taking you into the back room to do something unpleasant with your fingers, savvy?” 

Ferren managed a barely perceptible nod.

“Luckily for you I only have a feeling that I was cheated, and while that feeling makes my balls itch and my a*****e tighten up like a couteau asp is trying to crawl up it, I was cheating all night and without proof I would feel . . . discourteous to be dishing out punishments. So collect your money and go, and if I ever hear that you were found cheating in one of my casinos we will have a very different conversation.” 

Ferren felt the massive hand lift from his shoulder and nearly sank into a state of unconsciousness at his luck. 

“Thank you Righello” 

He said as he slid the remainder of the coins from the table into his purse. He looked around the floor but the coins that had fallen had somehow disappeared. Several of the bar patrons smiled as he searched and slowly shook their heads. 

Lady luck must have fallen for me hard tonight. Ferren thought as he resigned himself to the large haul he had already stuffed in his purse. He turned to leave the table and then stopped, reaching back in his bag to retrieve a single bent copper penny. He tossed it to the croupier. 

“It would have been gold but I saw you slipping him a cards, shithead”

The impeccably dressed dealer had the decency to look abashed as he snagged the coin out of the air and slipped it into a pocket.

“Thank you Monsieur” He said as Ferren turned and began making his way through the crowd.

As he walked towards the confessional he snagged a small piece of bread that had yet to be swept up by one of the many buxom barmaids. 

“Thanks” he whispered into his collar as he pretended to scratch his neck. He felt tiny paws scurry up his chest and snag the tiny offering of bread. An appreciative squeak reached Ferrens ears before the furry creature dove back down into the privacy of his jacket. As he passed the casino exit on his way to confessional the door was pushed open, and a beautiful woman stepped through. A nobel woman by the look of her garb. Clad in red and blue. The soft features of her face were strangely inviting, even though at the moment she had a disgusted grimace plastered across her visage. He took in the gentle arch of her neck and lowered his gaze to take in the woman's subtle cleavage.

Was that a baby's head? Ugh gross! Thought Ferren as he disentangled himself from the mental picture of the naked woman wrapped around him on a cold night. Although on second glance  it did look as though the woman was wearing some sort of alchemical jewelry that was obscured by the child's head a glowing azure radiance shining out from beneath the subtle folds of silken fabric. Ferren was always in the market to expand his clientele based to anyone in alchemical circles. 

It might be one of Kvothe's pieces, hadn't he been working on some blue emitters? Or maybe there was a new alchemical jeweler in town. It would definitely be worth his while to get a better look at it.

These thoughts raced through Farrens head as he stared at the blue light reflected in the gentle slopes of breasts and baby head. Making the decision he let his eyes wander back up the the stunning face and into her beautiful bottle green eyes. By this point the woman had clearly seen him glaring lecherously at her cleavage and yet she smiled catching Ferren completely by surprise. He smiled back and the woman snapped a lightning quick kick between his legs. As Ferren doubled over with a groan the young woman leaned in and whispered in a manner which mirrored his encounter with the Righello so closely he felt a sharp twinge of fear shoot up his spine.  

“Si vous voulez voir une femme nue, regardez-la dans les yeux.” 

“Apparently I need to learn Chalussi.” wheezed Ferren.

“It really is a beautiful language.” said the woman as she walked passed, patting the young child on the back.

“Yeah. . .”