Cheating the Cheaters and Kali's Grim Find
Ukun beat me to the punch, firing the crossbow first. The dwarf stood stock-still on the line chalked on the ground, sighting down the weapon with deliberate care. His first bolt sailed wildly off course, and he grumbled curses under his breath as he loaded and fired the second quarrel. Another miss.
"Aw, shit. Why the fuck won't it hit?"
"Dwarf poop-sack uncle. Shoot it right."
"Shut your trap, mutt. Gotta concentrate."
But Ukun's bolts kept flying wide, barely clipping the lowest-scoring wooden block at best.
"That's damn strange..."
Ukun cocked his head and stepped aside. I took his place on the line.
"Master! Hit it good!"
Della cheered me on from behind. I lined up dead on the highest-scoring red block and squeezed the trigger. The quarrel veered off to the upper right. Idi's disappointed sigh drifted over.
Hmm... weird... Me, missing a crossbow shot...?
The second quarrel did the exact same thing.
"Ah, what the—! Master! They're all missing!"
I loaded the third while scrutinizing the crossbow's sight. The nail-sized metal prong meant to cradle the target for perfect alignment was bent—just a hair off.
Aha. Clever bastards... Rigged it like this. No wonder even dogs won't touch a merchant's shit.
Mid-reload, I flicked the sight straight with a finger. Aiming again, I confirmed it was true and nudged my point of aim aside. The third quarrel nailed the upper-left shelf corner dead-on.
The shelf wobbled.
"Where're you shooting, Bertrand...? Gotta hit the blocks..."
I ignored Idi's slow drawl and slammed home the fourth quarrel fast. Before the shake settled, it smacked the same spot. The shelf rocked harder.
Out of the corner of my eye, the owner's pupils jittered right along with it.
"Oh come on...! Master, just one left..."
"Hold tight, Della. I'll snag that doll for you."
The fifth quarrel hammered the corner. Three direct hits in a row—the shelf tipped, dumping its rainbow of blocks in a clattering heap.
The owner gawked at the rolling mess, slack-jawed.
"Uncle, you said just knock 'em down, right? Didn't say how."
"No, wait! What the hell are you doing?! You paid for bolts—hit 'em with bolts! If everyone's like you, nobody wins prizes!"
"You never said that. Should've spelled it out upfront."
He started to rage but switched gears, snatching a doll from the pile.
"Fine... call it hits. Take it and go..."
I grinned and accepted it. Sure, I knew the rules meant bolts on blocks—who shells out for five otherwise? But screwing with the sight? Nah, not playing that game. Pull a prank, get pranked back. That's how you pick pockets clean.
Della snatched the doll and hugged it like it was me, beaming ear to ear.
"What a con artist."
Pelle delivered her curt verdict from behind.
Glancing back as we left, the owner was muttering curses, tongs in hand, twisting the sight crooked again.
Idi got skinned alive at the shell game, losing every last coin. She had three cups—one hiding a die—shuffled wildly for you to guess. Slick handwork somewhere, but so damn clever even I couldn't spot it.
Ukun cleared his throat and stepped up.
"Oi, girls. Hand over your cash. I'll win back what you lost."
He flashed a cocky grin at the staff.
Francois laid her money down first. Marim tossed hers in with a "gotta play to win" shrug. Pelle flicked a coin like it was pocket lint. Della happily emptied her pouch just for the thrill.
"You crazy dwarf fuck. What for?"
"Watch and learn, Balder."
He bet the whole pile. Then watched the shuffle with lazy calm.
"Here."
Cups mixed, Ukun jabbed a thick finger at the right one.
The shell man smirked triumphantly, lifting it—
"Nah, here."
Ukun switched to the middle, stabbing it firm.
"Ah, no hands under the table. Open the damn cup."
He patted his hammerhead ominously. Despair shadowed the scammer's face.
"Dwarf gentleman..."
"Hey now. Off the left cup. Open the middle like I said."
Trembling, he lifted the middle: die right there.
The staff shrieked and piled into group hugs. Onlookers gasped in awe.
Ukun bellowed laughter, raking in the pot.
The shell man, crushed by one round's losses, just watched helplessly.
"Here, milk cow. Your cut—plus interest."
He handed Idi her losses back with extra. Same for the rest.
"Yo, Ukun. How?"
"Little gadget under the table. You tall humans miss it. Me? Short guy's perk."
Damn... festival's crawling with big-score hustlers everywhere. Gotta stay sharp.
We blew the swelled winnings on snacks, jugglers, clowns, street shows—pure fun. Marim pickpocketed a pickpocket who'd nicked Francois's coinpurse and returned it. Minor stuff.
"Looks empty here."
Francois eyed a red velvet-draped table.
Fortunes Told
A quick peek at the placard. No one around—probably bailed last-minute.
"Shame. Could've been fun for laughs."
"Francois, you ever done this?"
"Once, when a wandering fortune-teller hit our estate."
"What'd they say?"
Francois smiled gracefully.
"Dark times ahead, but a noble from the east brings aid."
"Noble from the east..."
"You're from the east, Bertrand."
True. Rosens sits east of Audrion lands. Figures it'd line up like that.
Evening fell, lamps blazing across streets and square in dazzling night glow. Music swelled, crowds roared with laughter—the festival hit fever pitch.
The sealed circus tent unzipped. Clowns burst out, tumbling and juggling to herald the show.
"Master! Hurry!"
We queued for the big top. Calling it the highlight was no exaggeration; entry took ages.
Inside: round stage ringed by tiered seats climbing the walls. Towering ladders flanked the ends, linked by a knife-edge tightrope.
"Whoa... a real circus... Never dreamed I'd see one live..."
Idi buzzed, words tumbling faster than usual. The staff and Ukun vibrated with hype. Pelle alone: arms crossed, legs folded, bored as hell.
A garish ringmaster strutted out, warming the crowd. Pure hype man—his patter had everyone in stitches. Hell, I hadn't belly-laughed tears like that in ages.
Side-glance: Pelle rolled her eyes like "lame jokes," rubbing her neck. But nah—lips twitching, fighting a grin.
The real show kicked off. Clowns zipped onstage flipping tricks, blindfolded knife-throwers spearing apples off heads, fire-hoop leaps, lion and tiger commands, high-wire walks...
"Eeeeeek!!"
"Woooah!!"
"Kyaaah!!"
Hearts lurched at near-misses; cheers exploded on landings.
"Gaaah! Falling...!"
"No! Don't grab the arm!"
"Fuck yeah! Nailed it!"
Staff and Ukun lost their shit at the spectacle. I checked Pelle at the end. Her eyes locked on a trapeze clown swinging into the aerial swing—wide, sparkling, mouth half-open in trance.
Worth dragging her along. No wonder she dragged her feet about staying home.
She caught my look, coughed, snapped her mouth shut, narrowed her eyes. But minutes later: slack-jawed, lost again.
Late post-circus, we buzzed back to the inn, chattering nonstop. Idi, Della, Marim: arms loaded with snacks, toys, the works. Blown every coin—my seed money plus Ukun's winnings.
Grace Bay redux... They spend like tomorrow's a myth.
Francois munched pastries. Ukun geeked over a new monster-horn headband design.
I asked Pelle about the circus.
"Eh, wasn't that boring."
Liar. Saw you glued, face lit up.
Inn yard hit us with a chill vibe.
"Kali's... missing."
No bounding greeting bark.
"Where'd he go?"
"Sleeping inside when we left."
Hunting dog's roam-happy, fine—but Kali? Lazy homebody. Never wandered solo.
We fanned out searching.
"Kali!"
"Sis is back! Where are you?!"
Bark echoed from the north alley. I bolted toward it.
Kali bayed hoarsely at dark roadside brush.
"What're you doing here?"
I approached; he clamped my pant leg, dragging me into the thicket.
Something lumpish inside. Kali circled, sniffing hard.
"Uh...? Master... what is that...?"
Marim blinked in beside me, stammering.
I knelt for a close look. Then ordered her.
"Marim. Blink to the saintess. Now."