Tremontaine: The Complete Season 1. Ellen Kushner
“We can go elsewhere. You’re not tired, are you, Micah?”
“No,” Micah said. This was fun. She’d already made four-sevenths of what she and Reuben had made all day selling turnips at the market.
“There’s usually a good game going at the Gilded Cockatrice. Rich boys, too. Do you play Constellations?”
“No. What’s that?”
“I’ll teach you later. It’s a fancy game, you’re right; not as much fun as Seven-Card Slap-up. We’ll go to the Blackbird’s Nest instead. Full of historians who don’t know a Celestial from a hole in their bum, and fancy themselves card sharps. Easy pickings. And if there isn’t a game going, we’ll get one up.”
They walked together through the twilight of the streets. Micah liked the way Rafe knew where he was going all the time. People just got out of his way.
In the Blackbird’s Nest, she bought them both drinks, because that was what you did when people guided you somewhere, and she had plenty of money, now. Rafe got a rum punch, and she got more hot cider, because it was the only thing she knew the name of that she liked.
Three men were playing Hole in the Corner. Rafe asked one of them, a man called Lawrence or possibly Larry, if he and his friend Micah could get in on the game. The other two were named Thaddeus and Tim. They moved aside on their benches for her and Rafe.
At first she hated betting her money, because once she had silver she wanted to keep it. But then she started getting some of theirs, and when they switched to Slap-up she got even more.
“I’m out,” said Tim. She didn’t like Tim. He bluffed a lot, and she could never tell when people were bluffing. It didn’t make sense. It was a crazy thing to do.
“What about you, Micah?” asked Rafe. “You getting tired?”
“No,” she said. It was just getting good, really; she’d figured out that Rafe always thought that three of a kind would beat anything, even when it wouldn’t. She felt bad about taking his money, but rules were rules.
Larry leaned forward. “Hey!” he said, but in a friendly way. “I remember you now. We went into Introduction to Geometry together this afternoon.” He didn’t look familiar to her; but all these men with long hair and black robes tended to look the same. “You’re the one who knew about squaring triangles. Doctor Padstow wanted to meet you, but you ran away like the Hundred-Skin Maiden. Guess you realized you were in the wrong lecture, eh? You want a more advanced class.”
“I like numbers,” Micah muttered.
“Whose classes are you taking? Or don’t you know yet?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Well, we can help you. Thaddeus here did a lot of math before he realized he was a history man.” Thaddeus had bought everyone another round. She’d had something that was like hot cider but with a special taste in it. It was good.
“And Tim can tell you where to get your robe for cheap, if you don’t mind used.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Your warmth is heart-melting,” Rafe told his friend. “But we’re here to play cards, Larry. You in?”
“Nope,” Larry said cheerfully. “I’m the King of Losers in Loser City. If I lose any more, I’ll lose my next term’s fees, and then I’ll be back to digging ditches for Lord Trevelyan like my dad.”
“Me, too.” Thaddeus rose. “But another time, maybe. Your luck can’t last, Micah. I’ll win it all back from you, see if I don’t.”
“Do you want to bet?” Micah asked him. Back on the farm, she wasn’t allowed to bet, but here at University nobody knew that.
Thaddeus leaned across the table. “Bet what?”
“Bet I can beat you eight games out of ten or better?”
“Eight hands, or eight full games? And why eight? Why not seven, or nine?”
“Because eight is—is the right number,” Micah said.
Thaddeus rolled his eyes. “Mathematicians.” He gathered up his books and wrapped a scarf around his neck. “I’ll see you at home, then, Rafe. Don’t stay out too late.” He rapped his friend on the head in passing. “Or if you do, don’t kick over the slop bucket and wake everyone—”
“I only did that once, you loser. And only because you and Joshua got drunk and left it in the middle of the floor.”
“Because you were stone sober, of course . . . Where is Joshua, by the way? I thought he was supposed to keep you out of trouble.”
“Off getting into trouble of his own, I hope.”
“You need to find him some.”
They were a lot like her big boy cousins.
After Larry went away, Thaddeus left, too, and Rafe and Timothy started talking about stuff Micah wasn’t interested in.
She counted the money in front of her again, and gasped. Now it was more than twice what she and Cousin Reuben had made all day in the market, even including the turnip cook—
Then Micah gasped again. She’d forgotten all about Cousin Reuben.
She tugged on Rafe’s black sleeve. “What is it?” he asked lazily. His breath smelled a little funny, like her cousins’ at Year’s End. She wondered if he’d had too much to drink. Drunk people didn’t talk right, and did bad things. Jackson on the farm down the road got drunk and beat his wife, and his children never had shoes. But Rafe was still perfectly clear and understandable, and still nice.
“I have to go back to the market,” she said.
“The market’s all closed up, kiddo,” Timothy said. “Shops, too, by now. What do you need?”
“I’ll take care of him.” Rafe swept a sleeve around her shoulders, and she let him because he didn’t know any better about how she didn’t like being touched and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Micah’s new in town. Come on, son; got all your winnings?”
Micah carefully put them in her pouch, tucked that inside her boys’ breeches where Cousin Reuben told her nobody could lift it, and followed Rafe out of the tavern.
It was dark out. Really dark, except for the light from the torches stuck in brackets on the walls in front of all the taverns and cookshops that were still open, even this late.
Rafe leaned down to look into her face. “So what’s this about the market?”
“My cousin is there. His name is Reuben. I came with him today. He’ll be worried, and then he gets mad.”
He peered at her in the flickering light. “What was he doing there?”
“Selling turnips. Only by now he might be asleep.”
“You’re a farmer?” Rafe kept looking, and then he slowly smiled. “But you found your way to Padstow’s class. You want to study here, is that right?”
“I need to go find Reuben. He’ll be mad, and I’ll get yelled at.”
Above their heads, the bell tolled. But the streets remained quiet and still, except for the noise from the tavern, spilling out the windows along with the bars of light.
“Look,” Rafe said. “Micah. It’s really, really late. You can’t go running around the city at this hour. It’s dangerous, see? There’re bad people out.”
“Oh,” said Micah. “Well, all right. But where can I sleep, then?”
“In my rooms. You’d be welcome. There’s three of us there already; one more won’t matter, as long as you don’t mind sleeping under the table.”
“Well, all right. As long