Night of the Rabbit

Finn strode through the doors of the Snoring Dog and ordered a drink, navigating through the throng of sweaty, irritable laborers that were just finishing a day of work. A thick cloud of smoke hung in the air. The energy of the tavern was different today. Conversations hummed excitedly as the crowd rumbled about what they’d do at the Midyear Fair. The sun had not yet set outside, but once night fell the whole city of Veritas would explode out into the streets. Finn might have been the most excited of anyone. He’d traded his stained cobbler’s uniform for a fine black coat, except for the clumsy mend under one arm. Tonight, he had big plans. 

The door opened, and a short, sturdily built young man entered. His face and clothes were stained with soot, but he grinned when he saw Finn beckon him over from the bar. 

“What are the plans for tonight, Finn? Want to go by our normal haunts? I bet I’ve got enough to play a few rounds of Money Hole.”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t plan on doing anything normal tonight, Alfonse. In fact, we’re going to take normal and shove it on its ass.” He pulled a book from his canvas bag and thumped it on the table. There was no title, only the remnants of gold lettering where it had worn away. “This book has told me exactly what to do. The perfect plan for tonight is all laid out here.”

Alfonse furrowed his brow. “How’s a book going to tell you what to do at Midyear Festival? Anyway, where’d you get that? Master Poston is going to be ticked if you took that from his study.”

“Never mind all that.” Finn waved his hand impatiently. He had made up his mind. The rest was inconsequential. “This plan is going to cure our bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Since when do we have bad luck?”

“Look around you, Alfonse. We’re in a dive bar with hardly a silver crown to our name. A few rounds of Money Hole? In the Upper City they live in bejeweled palaces, and answer to no one! I can’t count on two hands the number of times I’ve been socked over the head by Master Poston. The man repairs shoes for a living, and somehow I have to call him master?”

“Well, you’re apprenticed to repair shoes for a living. If he’s not your master I don’t know who is.” Alfonse replied. 

“Bah!” Finn yelled, and downed the rest of his ale. “That’s not the point. I’m not content with our lot in life, and you shouldn’t be either. When I read this book, I knew I’d found the answer.” His eyes had taken on a hungry gleam. “There’s a saying they have in the far east, across the mountains. A man carries the luck he is born with. That means from the time we are born, we have a certain amount of luck. A king is very lucky. A humble apprentice is not. That’s the way of the world.”

“Then what’s the point of worrying about it?” Alfonse said. He was tiring quickly of all this talk. In the corner of the tavern a throwing knife thudded into a target on the wall, drawing his attention. A beautiful dark-skinned woman around his age held her arm outstretched. 

“I haven’t told you the best part yet, my friend.” Finn continued. “The monks who coined this saying have a technique for the reversal of luck. It’s called the Rabbit Sacrament. To change your luck, you must change your behavior. Abandon your reliance on luck, or skill, or intelligence. Just live without fear. Risk it all.”

“I don’t really understand. Sounds like these monks smoked a bit too much of something.” Alfonse chuckled to himself. Another knife struck the wall, right next to the first. Perfect bullseye. The dark-skinned woman outstretched her hand to a scarred bald man next to her, who scowled. 

He said something, and then slapped her hand away. Finn noticed Alfonse watching the scene.

“Okay, then. I’ll show you what I mean.” Finn stood and walked across the room. “I noticed you didn’t pay the lady for your bet.” He said loudly. The bald man turned slowly, his lip curling as he realized Finn was talking to him. Alfonse groaned. Finn was outweighed by at least fifty pounds. What the hell was he doing?

The bald man stood up and shoved Finn, almost sending him flying over a table. Finn caught himself, and then brushed his coat off. 

“Look what you’ve done now. I cleaned this special for tonight, and you’ve gotten your filthy hands all over it.” Alfonse would never have believed what happened next if he hadn’t seen it. Finn cocked his arm and slammed a right hook into the man’s jaw. The whole bar exploded into noise as the bald man careened backward, and then flung himself at Finn. 

“Damn it.” Alfonse said, and rushed to help his friend. By then, the men baldy had been sitting with were standing. Alfonse slammed a kick into baldy’s side, and then someone punched him in the gut. Alfonse was well-muscled from working a blacksmith’s forge, and the blow only glanced off. He whipped around and planted a punch on the nose of his attacker. Alfonse glanced towards Finn and saw him pinned under the larger man, trying to deflect the hammer blows raining down on him. Alfonse took a step towards him and then something struck him in the back like a wagon. He went down in a tumble and his face thudded against the wooden floorboards. Clumsily, he rolled to the side, and saw a man with a barstool raise it for another blow. 

“That’s enough fighting.” Her calm, authoritative voice cut through the fray. Alfonse turned his head and saw her holding a knife at the bald man’s throat. “Consider us even. And if you still want some action, you can take your chances against these.” She fingered the bandolier of throwing daggers strapped to her chest.

The bald man stood slowly, the knife pressed against his throat tight enough to draw blood. “Maybe I’ll come find you, when the time’s right. Give you something to remember me by. Watch out for Ruger Gray.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” she said and kicked him in the groin. He collapsed, and she turned and walked out. Finn was already up and trotting after her, so Alfonse rolled to his feet and followed. 

As she was walking out into the bustling street Finn called to her. 

“Hey! Who are you? What’s your name?” Alfonse could hardly believe it, but his friend was grinning. His coat was ripped, and blood leaked from his nose, but he seemed better than ever.

“Asja.” She said, still walking away. “I don’t know why you had to go barging into business that isn’t yours. I try not to make enemies unless I have to.”

“Sorry. I was just trying to prove a point to my friend here. But you were fantastic! Where did you learn to use knives like that?”

“Took a lot of time and a lot of persistence.” She said evasively. 

As they walked down the cobbled streets, a lamplighter rode by on horseback. He held out a burning torch to the lanterns along the street, and each one flared up brightly. 

“The Midyear Festival begins now!” He called out. “Come one and all to the market! Taste the exotic cuisine, compete in exciting games, and see what wondrous trinkets are for sale!” The people in the street cheered as he trotted off, lighting the city, and echoing his message to all.  

“Are you going to come to the festival?” Finn asked Asja. “It’s the pride of Veritas.”

“If I’m here, I may as well get to know the city. Anyway, if you get into any more street fights, you’ll need someone to save your asses.” She grinned wryly. It was the first time Finn had seen her smile, and he thought he liked it. 

*

Market Square was completely packed with people, jostling each other out of the way in an attempt to see everything. The stalls were flooded with magic trinkets, inexpensive baubles, and even rare, exotic animals. Finn saw things he had no name for and could hardly describe. Commoners clutched their purses to them tightly, hoping they’d have enough to afford an elixir of good health or a pair of self-mending boots. Even wealthy bankers and politicians from the Upper City came to enjoy the festivities. Their elegant satin robes gave them away immediately, and if that wasn’t enough each one was flanked by armored soldiers. 

Seeing them reminded Finn of the conversation with Alfonse earlier, and he leaned close to Asja so she could hear him over the music and babble of the crowd. 

“Do you think you’re a lucky person?”

“That’s a strange question. Why?” She said, turning toward him. 

“There’s something I’ve read I’ve been thinking about. It says that people are born lucky or unlucky, and short of drastic measures, it doesn’t change.”

“I’ll give you my honest answer. Sometimes in my life, I’ve been so lucky I can hardly believe it.  But it comes at a price. Life always catches up to you, no matter where you come from or who you are.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a horde of children running past, yelling excitedly. “Look! It’s a Janabar!”

Finn followed their pointing fingers and saw a flicker of orange weave through the market stalls. The unruly horde chased it, knocking over shelves of merchandise and sending shoppers ducking for cover. It wasn’t hard to see what they were so excited about. The Janabar were clay familiars, sent out as a scavenger hunt by the city magicians. Anyone who managed to catch one would earn a magic prize from the Vault of Secrets. 

Without pausing to think, Finn rushed after the crowd. Alfonse and Asja followed, apologizing to the shoppers as they pushed past them. 

The orange flicker disappeared for a second and then emerged, zipping up scaffolding connected to a building and coming to rest on a ledge. As Finn reached the bottom of the scaffolding it moved again.

“No!” One of the children cried. “It’s going up the belltower, we’ll never get it.” 

Sure enough, the flicker scaled up the side of the ornate stone belltower, stopping finally on a ledge four stories above where they currently stood. 

“That’s a shame.” Alfonse said, panting as he ran up. “The magicians ought to stop them from going anywhere dangerous like that.”

“Then where would the challenge be?” Finn grinned. “Hold my bag, would you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going up there.” Asja said. 

Finn was already making his way onto the scaffolding. “This is my chance. Think of the riches you could have if you caught it.”

The scaffolding was easy. Just one rung after another. He scaled his way up the wooden ladder, listening to the excited cheers of the children as he ascended. He looked up at the bell tower, and for the first time he could make out the details of the orange blur. It was a cat, loafing with its paws under its stomach. Two feathery wings extended out of its back, orange and red like the rest of it. It didn’t look exactly real, even from this distance. There was something off about its features, too geometric and symmetrical. It was a magician’s idea of a cat, sculpted from clay and brought to life for one night. 

Finn finally stretched a hand up and pulled himself onto the tiled roof. He lay there for a moment panting, looking up at the stars. When he was ready, he sat up and looked down at his friends. It was a mistake. They looked as small as thimbles from up here, and the height made his head spin. He reeled backward and began to make his way across the center beam of the pitched roof. One foot slipped, sending a loose tile skittering down to the street far below. Someone screamed, but Finn refused to look down. He edged across the roof toward the tower, feeling a dense ball of tension in his stomach. For the first time that night, he doubted himself. One wrong step and he’d break a leg, or worse. 

After what seemed like an eternity he made it to the belltower, and began to climb it. There were carvings etched into the stone, and his fingers found purchase in the hollows of the design. The wind whipped at him, but he gripped the wall as hard as he could. He reached to the side to look for another handhold, and saw the city far below him, like a tapestry of lights spread out as far as he could see. There was a whistling noise that made him duck down, and then a firework exploded a few blocks away. More followed, lighting the city streets with a dazzling display of every different color imaginable. Finn glanced down to look for Alfonse and Asja, and spotted movement in the street. Another firework went off, and he could make out a bald head, with two other cloaked companions. His friends were hidden from his sight, but he’d bet every crown he had that Ruger Gray was back for more. And this time, they wouldn’t ever see him coming. There was a chirp from above, and Finn saw the Janabar sitting just out of reach looking down, its vibrant green eyes seeming to mock him. 

His arms were starting to quake from exertion. 

“Damn you then.” He said to the Janabar. “I’ll make my own luck.” There was a cable tied to the tower next to him, stretching downward toward the street. He reached out to test it, and it held. Quickly, he slid his belt out of his trousers, and wrapped it around the cable. The fireworks stopped for a moment, and applause and cheering broke out in the streets. Acrid green smoke hung in the air, making Finn’s eyes sting. 

 He rubbed at them and took a deep breath. The street lights stretched out straight ahead, showing him the way forward. All he had to do was let go of the wall. He stepped out into space, and skidded down the cable with the wind in his hair. Another barrage of fireworks went off, painting him in an orange glow, and somehow he knew his luck had changed.