Firebrand

The Copper Lady

The woman's words rang through Martel's mind. She knew they were mages. They had been found out. He felt panic rise and tried to consider the situation. He realised why she wore such heavy jewellery with her work clothes; the gold protected her from their powers. Likewise, Martel guessed that the brass knuckles on the thug behind him probably were not made from brass after all; as for the second man, the blade had looked like bronze, yellow-red, which probably was not the case either.

Maximilian's hand grasped the hilt of his dagger. "If you think we are mages, it is unwise to corner us. You let us leave now, and we both avoid trouble."

Undaunted by any kind of threat, Kerra sat down behind her desk. "I have no doubt you could cause all manner of havoc. Probably burn the whole place down. But rumours of a magical battle would reach the ears of inquisitors, I can assure you. And downstairs has a lot of witnesses who saw the pair of you playing and gambling. In fact, I have told my staff to take note of your name and description, should anyone ask."

"We never told you our names, and do not think you can gain them by your threats," Maximilian growled.

Kerra smiled. "You are as subtle as a fox in a chicken coop, Maximilian of Marche." A small object appeared between her fingers, and she began letting it run across her knuckles. "Of course, having this made learning your name even easier."

"That belongs to me." Maximilian's voice gained a menacing edge.

"It certainly did. Until you gambled it away."

She finally held the item still, and Martel caught a glimpse. It was a signet ring, bearing the axe crest of Marche.

"That rat Vernon! I told him I would get the money!"

"Oh, Vernon did not sell this to me. No, he works for me. All the gambling houses in the copper lanes belong to me. When he acquired this, faithful Vernon brought it to me." She resumed running it across her fingers again, just like Martel had seen jugglers do with coins at the marketplace. "I made some inquiries, wondering if a rival of your family might pay more than what you promised Vernon. Imagine my surprise when I learned that Maximilian of Marche is a mage."

"This is why you did this?" Martel stared at Maximilian. "You didn't do this to help me, you needed to dig yourself out of your own grave!"

"You had your reasons, I had mine! You made no complaints while it worked! You failed miserably on your own if I recall," Maximilian snared.

"And now we are caught because you can't control yourself!"

"As entertaining as this is," Kerra's voice cut through, "I did not bring you here to watch you squabble."

"You will get nothing from me," Maximilian declared. "I'm leaving with all my fingers and my ring." While his right hand drew his dagger, his left held out an empty palm in expectation of the jewellery.

Behind him, the two thugs took a step forward with weapons ready, but Kerra raised an open hand to dismiss them. "Both can be arranged, with certain conditions. I am first and foremost a businesswoman, my dear viscount. You broke the rules in my place of business, and you lost your ring in an honest wager. I need something in return for both." She palmed the signet ring; when she opened her hand again, it was empty.

Maximilian sheathed his dagger and threw his heavy purse of silver on the desk. "Here," he growled. Martel felt a tinge of disappointment at the thought of the lost silver, but given the situation, he was not going to haggle for their freedom.

"That is a start, of course, paying me the money stolen from my customers," she remarked dryly. "But you swindled me two nights in a row before this, not to mention, you agreed a price of hundred birds with Vernon for the ring."

"I'll get the blasted coin!"

"Given all your attempts so far have been futile, I have my doubts. In fact, that is why we let you continue to gamble, even after learning you're a mage. You clearly weren't using magic to cheat." She turned her eyes from Maximilian to Martel. "Until our new friend here came along, of course."

"So what do you want?" the young nobleman asked impatiently.

"If you will relax, take a seat, and we can discuss this like business associates rather than dogs snarling at each other." She gestured at the empty chairs opposite her own. Eager for any solution that did not involve violence, Martel sat down, albeit with a disgruntled expression. Maximilian did the same. "Very good. Now, you will have to indulge me as I do a little explaining. See, I run a variety of businesses, though gambling certainly is among the more lucrative. Basically, I control the copper lanes."

She spoke the final sentence a little slower, with a little more emphasis, and Martel understood. She was not simply the proprietress of a few gambling houses and such. Even now, the two thugs stood at the door in silence, barely moving a muscle, exhibiting the discipline one might expect of veteran legionaries; actually, they probably were former soldiers of the legions, he considered, at her beck and call. No doubt she had many more, and presumably eyes and ears throughout the area.

"My counterpart in the harbour district is called Tibert. As his territory has plenty of legal gambling houses, he has little incentive to pursue such business. In fact, he and I have had an understanding. He does not step on my toes, and I stay out of smuggling and other such affairs better suited for the port. I say, we had."

"No honour among crime lords? I am shocked," Maximilian remarked.

"A rather judgemental attitude for someone who's been caught using magic to cheat at illegal gambling," Kerra retorted. "Tibert has begun hosting prize fights. He does not feel this violates our understanding, but it nonetheless pulls business from my doors. I want redress, but without him tracking it to my doors and escalating our little spat into a greater conflict."

"And you have a plan to accomplish this that involves us," Maximilian considered, looking none too happy about it.

Kerra, on the other hand, smiled. "Exactly. I want you to do the same to him as you did to me. Join his fights. Use magic to win against the odds so that I can win a tidy sum when I bet on you, recouping my lost business."

Martel finally understood what it felt like to leap from the frying pan and land straight into the fire.

"You may refuse, of course. I have no interest in starting a fight with two wizards in my home. But if you leave without an accord, the Lyceum will be informed of your activities tonight, which does not bode well for your future education. Reversely, if you accept, all fences between us will be mended, you shall win ample coin from the fights, and I will return the good viscount's ring to sweeten the pot."

She smiled affably, and Martel could see how this woman ruled the copper lanes. Her calm behaviour and demeanour even in the face of threats, her refined manners of speech, and the methods by which she had engineered this situation to be certain of her desired outcome, it all pointed to a cunning mind. She did not require brute force or violence, though he expected she wielded such when needed; rather, she used guile and knowledge, having manoeuvred Maximilian and him into a trap without escape.

Martel did not know how to respond. It did not seem like they had any choice, yet he could not make himself speak and actually make the choice. Finally, Maximilian put him out of his misery.

"Prize fights, you say. Fine. If it will get me my ring back, I will do it." He crossed his muscular arms in front of him.

Kerra shook her head. "My dear viscount, magic or not, you look the part of an able fighter. You would hardly command good odds. Worse than that, your aforementioned lack of subtlety makes it rather doubtful your identity will remain hidden as needed, should anyone inquire into your background." She looked at Martel. "I want you to fight."