Dragon (S)Layers: The Paladin Gambit

by Tammy Silverwolf

  Leslie looked at her cards. A six of clubs and the king, the sphinx had a nine sitting face up giving her a running count of zero-- Not terrible, not something she couldn't work around. “Hit, please.”

  “Are you so sure? That seems like a dangerous bet given what you think you know, isn't it?” He smiled playfully, crossing one paw over the other. He spared Isira a glance, drawing in a long slow pull of the air as if savoring the moment. Or maybe it was just Leslie's uneasiness. “I won't hold it against you if you want to retract that-- the first one's on the house.”

  His gambit worked. Leslie second guessed herself, she checked her cards and mulled it over for a second. “Y- Yes. Hit me.”

  Their host chuckled playfully and flicked her another card; a six of hearts.

  “Mrrrr, I did try to warn you!” He chuckled.

  Leslie frowned.

  She didn't know it at that moment, but she'd just set the tone for what was to be the rest of the evening. They played another dozen hands in which the sphinx steadily accumulated more of her winnings-- he took great pains, and no small amount of amusement in watching her squirm when he'd arbitrarily shuffle the deck midway through. It made maintaining a count virtually impossible.

  He'd found her trick and easily turned it against her, all in the name of fairness. At least in theory.

  Fuck fairness. Leslie wanted to cheat, to win and get this armor so Isira could have something to be proud of-- she owed the goddess that if nothing else. If she could get it without getting killed, so much the better. Isira had to have heard her thoughts, right? Surely a goddess could do something to skew the odds in their favor. . .

  But Isira didn't. She didn't lift a finger unless it was attached to the hand She used to raise Her tumbler of whiskey to Her lips. Was She insane? Did She care that little about Her new 'paladin'? Or was She expecting some last second miracle would spare them both from whatever the sphinx would do to them given the chance?

  Maybe. . . Just maybe She wanted to see what he'd do to them.

  Isira chuckled, downing another drink. Her glass clunked down in time for Leslie to go bust on another hand. “Shit.” She reluctantly slid the onyx across the table.

  “Now where is the sport in this?” The sphinx chided lightly. “Faced with challenge and you fold, but you've still not left my table! I wonder if it is the sign of someone who has unerring confidence--” he poked the air with a card. “Or some one who has a problem.”

  That stung. Leslie glanced away, uttering the same thing she'd heard her husband say time and again. “I can quit when I want to. . .” Of course that was a complete lie. She was going to die at this table. Metaphorically if not literally. “Another hand--”

  “With what stakes! I've taken most of your baubles, you offer nothing I could not have from a million different--”

  “Then we'll play for my affections.” Isira proclaimed boldly. “I will offer myself as the wager.”

  There was a pregnant pause as the gamblers looked at one another. Neither seemed sure what to make of the offer. Surprise flickered over the sharp feline and human features of the sphinx. A low rumbling purr reverberated in his throat while he drank in Her visage. For a moment, Leslie thought she could imagine all the different things he was imagining for Her. He tapped his claw against the table forming a little crater in the soft wood. “For how long?”

  The goddess didn't bat an eye. “Until we get bored.” Coming from Her, that was probably something akin to an eternity. Leslie's heart clenched tight in her chest as the goddess looked to her, expectant.

  “U- Uh. . .”

  “Mrrrr, and what if I don't content myself with one of you--”

  “I should be insulted! Do you know who I am?”

  His gaze turned on Leslie. “I suppose. . . Mrrrm. Yes, this will do.”

  “Ah, mortality. The most pitiable state, really though, she is quite something to behold in her natural glory,” Isira offered as she tied on another drink.

  Torn between the sudden pressure and the leering attention of the sphinx, Leslie shrunk into herself a little, her confidence already crumbling under the weight of real demand. “Yeah, hi. Still here. Didn't become a piece of furniture.”

  “Hmph. So go on then, paladin, let's see if you can beat me. . .”

  “N- Now hold on! You want--” she looked to Isira helplessly “W- Why?!”

  The goddess smiled and dotted Leslie's nose with a finger. She reeked of alcohol and the confidence it brought with it. “I think that's her accepting!”

  “N- No, no, wait a second. What's your counter bet? I mean, a goddess is a pretty hard thing to top--”

  The sphinx looked at her strangely indeed. After a moment a smile twisted his features into something distinctly human and Leslie almost forgot about the rest of him. “I'll offer you the secrets to magic and how it works. Everything you ever wanted to know about the real function and even where it came from.” He gave Isira a pointed look. “Something even the gods have forgotten.”

  The goddess gave a passive smile and swirled her whiskey. “What a shame that must be.”

  Leslie's heart slammed into her throat-- stuck between the two immortals, she had almost no chance of actually winning, but she couldn't just walk away from the table either. Gods how had this gone so wrong so quickly? She rubbed her knuckles together, frowning and wondering just what would come from her mouth when she opened it.

  It felt as if someone was pushing Leslie's voice from her throat while from the other end an invisible cord pulled the words out one syllable at a time. She imagined it like someone flossing her insides with chain. “All right, I'll take that bet.”

  The sphinx crossed his paws, looking at her smugly with the deck of cards looming between them like an obelisk. His exotic eastern features were comfortably neutral but his eyes held nothing but amusement. “Are you so sure, little mortal?” He rumbled. “Would you be so quick to place this bet over mere scraps of paper?”

  “Ngh--”

  “She has and she'll do so again,” Isira swirled her drink, smiling all the while. “Now, play the hand! The peanut gallery is restless.”

  Leslie stared at her patron in horror. She imagined Her flawlessly beauty set upon by the massive creature and her stomach clenched involuntarily. It wasn't just the fact that Isira was a goddess, but that She'd been so willing to offer Herself up as the sacrifice over a hand of cards?! Was She utterly mad?! The armor wasn't worth it, was it? A bauble, a piece of equipment that surely could've been made again or purchased!

  But for her part in it, Isira didn't offer apology or even seem concerned, She watched Leslie with unwavering confidence, apparently expecting that she knew what she was doing. As the sphinx dealt the cards, Leslie held her breath.

  A ten of clubs; negative one.

  A five of hearts for the sphinx; positive one.

  A running deck count of zero.

  He dealt the other cards face down, all the while watching the mortal with a smug grin. Leslie's hand trembled as she moved to check her card. A four of hearts-- another positive meant a low running count, but four cards out of fifty two didn't give her a good sample or even a reasonable enough guess as to where the deck was.

  “No blackjack. What a pity.” The sphinx said lightly as he dealt himself a card. A two of spades. It pushed the deck count up to plus two. Not quite high, but enough to take a chance. Leslie tapped the table twice.

  “Hit, please.”

  A two of diamonds. She had a deck count of plus three and sixteen in her hand. . .

  The two players looked at one another, the sphinx's expression was impenetrable and Leslie was positive she could feel her forehead beading with sweat. The feline creature casually slid another card from the deck to his hand and smiled as he turned it over to reveal a four of spades. That left eleven on the table, and-- Leslie was sure-- a low card sitting face down, since he hadn't busted.

  Another hit was dangerous, with a deck count that high it was likely the fac
e cards would be coming up soon-- given her small sample size, anyway. Or an ace. But sixteen. . . Sixteen wasn't going to win her anything. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her fingers to tap the table for her card.

  Isira stopped her.

  The goddess's hand was cool and gentle, like a spring breeze. The whisper that crossed her lips was anything but; She touched Her pouted lips to Lesslie's throat. “Let this go.” She purred in a sub-vocal tone that reverberated through Leslie's very being. “You've lost.”

  “W- What?” Leslie said aloud. “No--”

  “Problem?”

  “Ho-- No. No problem.” The older woman checked her cards again, casting a glance at Isira out of the corner of her eye. She had to have seen what Leslie had, there was no way She couldn't have. With the card count running as it was, asking for another card was a calculated risk, sure, but it was a manageable. She wasn't just going to throw in the towel like that, was She?

  Isira's gaze betrayed nothing as she smoothly withdrew Her hand. Her command was clear. Throw the hand.

  This had to have been a test of some kind. Leslie was being tested, yes. There was no other conceivable reason why she'd be ordered to lay down her one chance at keeping them both from becoming slaves and play things.

  Unless She wanted to be one. . .

  “Fuck that.” Leslie tapped the table.

  The sphinx flipped the card over and flicked it her way.

  Even before it landed Leslie felt her body cry out involuntarily. “No!”

  The bold face of the queen of spades stared back at her from its paper backing, the dull eyes boring into her accusatory and unblinking. The sphinx didn't hesitate to slide his card out and flip it over-- salt in the wound; he had a four of diamonds for a total of fifteen. She'd won! She'd won and-- “Oh gods.”

  “Well, that's rather unfortunate. . .” The sphinx cant his head just slightly, eyes watching Leslie with amusement and a faint trace of pity. “Don't concern yourself too deeply; many have come to me only to leave empty handed! Be thankful your short, antiquated life is yet yours to live-- by my magnanimity you can spend your days. . . .farming or whatever it is you silly people do these days.” He shooed her on. “Go on, before I change my mind.”

  “B- B-” Leslie took her head in her hands, grey eyes staring at the table. Gods was this how her husband had felt when he knew he'd lost. She looked to Isira, trying to stammer out something, anything that would stop the events she knew were to come. “B-”

  Isira smiled warmly, “You've no plans to act untoward, I trust?”

  “Naturally! I am no baser monster! I play for sport and enjoyment, and collecting!” he stopped himself when the goddess shot him a look. “Now, now, don't give me that look. The last paladin to cross my path came in here sword drawn, shouting about striking me down. It was scaring my patrons! A fine young man, but he made a poor choice.” He swept his gaze to Leslie with a new appreciation, smiling a little catty grin. “I like you, though. You've a way about you.”

  “She does!” Isira downed the rest of her drink, smiling. “Maybe it's a new perspective, new eyes you might say.” The goddess slid the glass towards Her soon to be captor calmly, with a bright smile She sprung from her stool and leaned over looking the sphinx in the eye, smiling as if nothing in the world could possibly upset Her. She traced a finger from his ear, following his his proud jaw to his chin and chuckled when he leaned in ever so slightly. “Mmm, but maybe she needn't see what-- or who's-- to come.”

  He blinked away the spell Her presence had on him and cast a glance at Leslie. “You may leave whenever you so chose so long as it is within the next few beats of my heart--”

  “N- Hold on! What about another hand? Double or nothing?” The older woman belted out her plea without thinking, she edged towards the table peripherally aware of the tug of the onyx's magic and it's place in the mess of trinkets. A plan was already forming. “W- Please, I'll offer myself in Her place. I can clean and sew, I--”

  “Mrrrrrr.” The sphinx's gaze roamed Leslie unabashedly. He didn't break away from Isira's touch but he fixed her with a firm look from the edge of his vision, smug to the last. “I would enjoy nothing more, but I am not greedy. Nor should you be! Few stand in my presence, drink my alcohol and test my patience quite as you have and see my illustrious smile without a claw between us. . . Now leave.”

  Leslie inched her way up to the table and swallowed. “F- Fine, but can I at least hug her once more?”

  He gave her another strange look. “Ever trying, these mortals.” The massive creature hopped down from his stool with a soft thud. With his attention temporarily divided, Leslie played her last card; she grabbed up the gem and focused her will into releasing whatever was inside. She smashed it on the stone flooring. It exploded with a tremendous roar spraying thick grey clouds in every direction, choking the air with billowing clouds of gas.

  Leslie grabbed Isira's arm, turned. There were twenty steps and they'd be free. She oriented herself towards the door and surged forward towards their freedom-- only to be yanked back and thrown off her feet, slamming into the ground hard enough to rip the air from her lungs. “Unf!” She wheezed in the pit of soot and smoke. Eyes watering with pain and disorientation she painfully rolled over on to all fours only to find the sphinx melding from the smoke so they were nose to nose.

  They stared at one another.

  His eyes went from their normally round and human appearance to thin slits devoid of any warmth or compassion they might've held. He exhaled a chuff of a breath letting loose a string of acrid smelling smoke that had collected in his nose. A soft growl rumbled in his throat but when he spoke, his voice was terrifyingly clear. “We'll make a place for you, then.”

  Chapter 4: Faults and Failures

  “There's are tricks that keep the world in balance, I think. In the same way one would run a good household by managing the finances, the cleanliness and safety, I imagine that the gods have a similar division of labor. Nowhere is this more evident than what they have chosen to represent themselves: Dreams, Creativity and invention, Birth and Death and the Pleasures both simple and complex.

  Taken individually or missing any key component, I imagine life would be incredibly boring and we would suffer as a result. There are still wars, people still die of disease and some even take their own lives, but I suspect this has as much to do with our own shortcomings from what we've not yet learned as the world itself.

  A family can make a home and still be unable to make their children behave, their children need to grow into adulthood and maturity over time. This process only comes with a lot of trial and error, but with a little guidance there are no limits on what can be accomplished.

  It's my hope that by the end of this book you too will understand the difference between servile and service.

  Jameson Lytel

  Foreword to “A Practical Guide to Gods and Goddesses”

  The sphinx plodded ahead of Isira and Leslie down a wide arch of a stair case that had formed as they walked through the shadow behind the dealer's table. It was a massive arch over what felt like a bottomless pit punched deep into rough hewn stone-- the platform the stairs melded into was wide enough to encompass a small village. Haloing the odd platform were hundreds of billboards hanging from chains anchored into the rock above. The billboards, each as wide as a house yet as thin as a few planks of wood, dangled proudly in the muted light depicting strange runes Leslie had never seen and people that looked slightly off to her. The features of the exceptionally painted models were slightly askew, with eye folds and impossibly white smiles that made them look exotic and vaguely inhuman to Leslie. The visage was made all the more unsettling by the age of the billboard's lettering and art: each one was faded a little but positively glowed with magic that felt like chalk and salt, preservation magic of some sort, maybe?