A Game of Chance

“I quit!”

The door slammed shut behind those still seated at the table. Sharpeye made to follow but Quickdraw stopped her with a grunt. “Give it time.” Reluctantly, Sharpeye sat back down, was dealt a new hand. Snake did not even look up from dealing.

The five of them did not discuss. They had served together for close to three years now. Hard habits had formed. A round of cards was a sacred thing, only to be interrupted for something serious. A new recruit threatening to quit meant nothing in the grand scheme. It was not the first time the reputation of the Shades had failed to live up to the expectation.

“Fold,” Quickdraw said, throwing his hand on to the table. Feline did the same, glanced towards the door. She and Sharpeye liked the girl. A kindred breath of femininity amongst grizzled men. That could weigh in the girl’s favour.

Thunder rumbled overhead. A flash of lightning from outside. Sharpeye shifted uncomfortably in her seat, scratched at her missing eye. Rapped her knuckles on the table. Whip next to her snorted, raised the bet. Snake eyed him, unblinking. He matched, throwing five yanits on to the table to join the pile there, too.

Sharpeye tutted, before folding. Once again, Whip and Snake were the last to survive. Stubborn bastards.

Snake was impossible to read. His eyes barely left Whip’s as they played, the pot climbing higher and higher. Whip was unable to meet his eye. None of them could. There was something unnerving about the tattooed man’s unblinking stare.

Another rumble, closer. Sharpeye and Feline shared a look. Fingers tapped against chair arms. Were they communicating? Quickdraw frowned. It was not a form he had taught them.

Snake lost the round. Whip barked a laugh, gathered the coins in his gangly hand and pocketed them. “Child’s play.”

Snake cocked his head at the words. Continued to stare the victor’s way. “Lucky,” he said, thick accent warping the word, each syllable stressed. It sent a shiver down Quickdraw’s spine, though he hid it well. It would do no good to show he was intimidated by a man he had recruited.

Whip barked another laugh – almost covering his own nerves – before counting the yanits out on the table for all to see. Snake got up and moved to the corner, began to oil his blades with meticulous care.

Thunder boomed right over head. Weaker soldiers would have jumped. None of his did. Quickdraw felt a surge of pride, quenched it. What was thunder to those who had experienced war first-hand? Experienced and overcome.

“Another round?” Whip asked the table at large. Quickdraw shook his head. Sharpeye and Feline muttered excuses, still glancing each other’s way. They were planning something. Quickdraw gripped the arm of his chair tighter.

“What about you, Snake? Ready to lose more?” There was no response. Quickdraw doubted his second had expected one. “All for me, then,” Whip said, sliding the yanits into his pouch. The man valued coin above anything. Strange, given how little need the Shades had for it.

A double-tap of knuckles on wood. Quickdraw watched Sharpeye and Feline’s bodies tense, ready to move.

He whistled. A short, shrill, high-pitched one. Everyone’s gaze snapped to his. He only had eyes for the two females. “No.” He raised himself from the chair, felt a muscle in his leg tighten, then relax. He was getting too old for this. “I’ll go.”

All eyes watched him as he walked towards the door, grabbed a cloak, flung it over his shoulders. “Let them win their money back, Whip,” he said over his shoulder. He opened the door and the sounds of a downpour assailed him. “I won’t be long.”

The cloak did little to stem the rain. It kept water out of his eyes, and for that he was grateful. The chill did not bother him. They had all suffered through worst conditions. It was incredible what the human body could withstand, when it knew there was a warm fire and good food to come back to.

Only fools wandered out in a thunderstorm. The streets were deserted, glowing light visible from under locked doors and bolted shutters. Storms were common in Cue’s Torrent; it was a month known for its volatility. The populace were prepared, could spend days hiding inside.

More thunder sounded, though the worst seemed to have passed them by. Lightning forked several seconds later, lighting the town for the briefest of seconds. A ramshackle collection of buildings, thrown together in haste once the land was discovered to be rich. No doubt in time it would grow into a thriving centre of trade and farming. For now, it looked like a battlefield.

He did not know where he was walking. She would be impossible to track in this.

Why had he chosen to go? He owed the girl nothing. She had objected to his methods; he had told her to conform. Subordination was not the reason the Shades were so successful. His voice was not to be questioned. In the midst of battle, a split second of indecision from one of their members could end in death for all of them. Quickdraw kept his soldiers alive in exchange for obedience. It was the only way to survive in their profession.

No, perhaps he saw something in the girl. She was the youngest he had ever recruited. Little more than a thief in the night that Sharpeye caught trying to break into their headquarters. She had shown spirit, even when confronted by the Shades’ fearsome reputation. They had tied her to a chair whilst deciding what to do. Only to find her gone an hour later.

For some reason, she returned. Came wanting to join the Shades, rather than steal from them. The suggestion had been met by laughter, before she had shown what she could. How difficult she was to pin down. A ghost. Even Snake had been impressed.

Quickdraw followed turns at random. He figured it did not matter where he went. The girl always had a way of creeping up on them, just like her Namesake.

“I thought someone would follow me,” came a voice from the shadows of an alleyway, muffled by the rain. She dropped down from a sheltered alcove, came to join him in the middle of the street. “Didn’t expect it to be you.”

“Dusk.” Taller than him by at least two heads, the girl refused to be cowed by his reputation. There was fire in her eyes, burning through the rain to bore into his.

Rain pounded down around them. Neither of them paid it any attention.

He let her make the first move. “Are you so convinced of your own grandeur that you refuse to even acknowledge another’s views?” Every Shade’s past was kept a secret. You became one of the Named, started a new life. Still, Quickdraw could not help but wonder how a thief learnt to be so eloquent.

“I listened, I deliberated. Then I dismissed it for the foolery that it was.”

She came close to hitting him there. He saw it in the way her hand balled into a fist, the way her body tensed. He would be ready if she did.

It did not come. Sense prevailed. You did not tangle with one of the Shades and expect to come out on top. She unclenched her fist, kicked at the ground instead.

“Ideas are welcome,” Quickdraw said, when it was clear that she was not going to apologise. “But with ideas must come the acceptance that they may not be wanted.”

“You don’t tell the others off.” Her words were barely audible over the rain. Her sulking reminded him of just how young she was.

“The others have earned their place. You, are yet to do so.” Her head shot up at that, the fire back to smouldering in her eyes. “Have you quit?” he added, before she had chance to attack. “Or was that a childish gamble to see whether we cared?”

Moments of deliberation passed. Dusk seemed to be weighing up her options. What was going through her head, Quickdraw wondered? This was the defining moment. Her next actions would determine whether he accepted her back or not.

“You push us hard, ‘draw. Too hard. You think I’m the only one to complain?”

“No, but I think you’re the only one to let your emotions rule you.” He softened, pulled his hood down. Let her see the scars on his face as he gestured to them. “You think I don’t consider retiring? Consider quitting myself, take up the plow in some far-flung corner of the world, leaving all this war and hardship behind?” He gestured to the clouds above, to where the torso of their God would inexorably be pulling the moon across the sky. “Sy Raa knows it would be the smart option.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because someone else would try take on the mantle, and I know with certainty that they’d fuck it up. We survive because I exist. A’hione survives because we do the dirty work that no one else in the country will. Some of us don’t get to choose when it’s time to quit. You are a Shade, Dusk. Despite your flaws, despite your brash nature, you are one of us. We do what we do because no one else can do it as well as us.

“So, I’ll ask again: have you quit?”

The thunder boomed somewhere in the distant. Lightning flashed, revealing feminine features. A set jaw. Hard eyes. “No,” she said softly. “No.” Louder, this time, strength behind the words. She pulled herself up to her full height. “I am Shade Dusk. It is my duty to defend A’hione, by whatever means necessary.”

“Even if it means blindly following my instructions, to the death?”

“Aye, even then.” No hesitation, no indecision. A true Shade.

Quickdraw nodded, pulled his hood back up. “Good. Let’s get back. I think it’s time someone taught Whip how to really play cards.”