No Holds Barred (Avari)

by **Astrolabe** on October 20th, 2011, 7:55 pm

Fall 10, 511 A.V.

OK, this was not good. Astrolabe pressed his lips together, silently squeezing his thigh muscles with all his might, while the sailor’s elbow dug into the side of his neck. His own biceps strained as he pressured down on the back of his opponent’s neck, as throttling was about the only hold barred in this catch as catch can match. Seconds before, Astro thought the fall had already been lost. The burly tow headed mate had almost hooked him, having gotten him to the ground with a rear mount. At the last moment, Astro had swung his head back and smashed the guy in the face, then managed to roll him. He now had both legs twisted around the sailor’s one, as the guy lay sprawled over his chest, blood pouring from his nose. Now they both pushed mightily with their bare feet, trying to gain the advantage.

Thick, dark clouds scudded overhead, swollen with the rain that had threatened to fall for the last few hours. Face to the sky, Astro felt one fat drop land on his forehead. Great – rain, just what he needed. The ground beneath his back was already slick with mud. It was one of the reasons neither of them could get a firm foothold and break the hold of the other. With his half guard, Astro was just managing to hold on to the ever shrinking chance of taking this second fall. He had barely taken the first, and he wondered how he had gotten into this match in the first place. He seemed to recall Dexter proclaiming loudly at the bar the night before that this particular sailor was a pushover. Easy money – or so said the scrawny little bookie who had never so much as wreslted with a house cat. Last time I listen to Dexter, Astro thought, as he strained to get his arm loose. It was trapped between their two bodies, and if he could just get it out and hook it under that free leg . . .

At the same time, he struggled to heft the not inconsiderable weight of his opponent upwards, to keep at least one hip and shoulder some inches from the ground. If either got pinned – giving the sailor the three he needed – he was screwed. With a swift motion, Astro pounded his fist into the sailor’s ribs, but to little effect. The guy was scrabbling with his free hand, reaching for any vulnerable part of Astro that he could find. Astro felt the jab of an elbow to his waist, but neither was able to get much momentum going, as entangled as they were.

Then suddenly it all broke apart. With a rush of triumph, Astro felt his arm pull free. At the same time, the sailor brought his other elbow back and smashed it into Astro’s temple. There was no help for it – Astro’s legs let go of their grip, and the sailor was laying across him perpendicularly. If he had been able to, Astro would have shoved his hips up to at least prevent being pinned. But his head was ringing and his vision blurred. The man charged with refereeing the match was slow to call it and the sailor got in one more punch to Astro’s mid-drift before the fall was given to him. Rolling off of the student, the older guy growled, “Best be slapping the ground quick boy, next fall. Or I’ll have your nuts for a necklace.”

Astro ignored the bastard, rolling to his side and slowly rising, shaking his head trying to clear it. The yelling and screaming crowd that formed a circle around the two combatants shifted and blurred and swayed, before coming back into focus. With a slight stumble, Astro headed in the general direction of Dexter, who had a decidedly unpleased look on his ugly face.

“What the petch are you playing at, lad?” The little man screamed up at Astrolabe, who only reached silently for a ladle of water, dumping it over his own sweat soaked head and shirtless torso, in a rather useless gesture, as the rain began to fall in earnest. “You’d best get him down fast, Dusk – or I’ll be so far in the hole I’ll have to go to ground for a year.”

Astro had heard it all before – Dexter’s predictions of murder and dismemberment if he lost his wagers and ended up owing more than he could pay out. He waved a vague hand at the bookie, spat on the gound, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers over his chest, as if he would rub away his opponent's blood which had splattered there, though all he did was smear it around.

Looking across the way, he saw his opponent – looking a bit blown and bloodied, but talking merrily to his mates. It seemed like the entire petching Zeltivan fleet had turned out for this match. His gaze went next to the referee, who seemed to be having a dispute with Zeon, one of the bigger of the small fry that ran such entertainments for the masses. Fingers were poking into chests, and Astro wondered just how long it would be before they were called back to the center of the irregularly shaped ring of humanity. He spat again, put his hands on his thighs, and bent forward slightly, and tried to focus on winning this third fall, as water dripped from his face to splatter on his bare feet and the muddy ground.

by **Avari** on October 24th, 2011, 7:09 pm

Avari had told her gambling companions over and over that she was not interested in spectating, let alone laying any sort of bets, in any sporting events that featured elements as unreliable as only living people could be, rather than the impersonal apparatus of cards or dice. She complained that she knew absolutely nothing about wrestling, boxing, or any physical sports, for that matter; she expostulated respectfully; she argued that she had no business at a brawling match. She said repeatedly that she would rather not go, and she protested that it was not fair. And thus, on a drizzly, overcast afternoon, Avari found herself standing at the docks amidst an enthusiastic crowd of wrestling aficionados and gamblers, watching two men struggle against each other in the center and wearing a secret smile of satisfaction.

She had made so much fuss about not wanting to come to a wrestling match and learn how to gamble on a sporting event involving real people, rather than a game of cards or dice, that she had hopefully made her gambling companions lose sight of the fact that she could gaze into a person's own memories and experiences and extrapolate from them what she needed to know. Avari indeed might not know nearly as much as the other spectators did about the rules, history, and statistics of wrestling, but given time, she could come to know the wrestlers better than they knew themselves. She figured it was only fair that she used her natural abilities to their fullest extent. Her gambling companions had persuaded her to attend these matches precisely because they were hoping to swindle her of her money, thanks to their superior understanding of wrestling and brawling, after all. If she wanted to hold on to what was rightfully hers, Avari had no qualms about using her Avalis-given sight to give her an advantage.

The current bout that the Konti was watching was between a weather-beaten, seasoned-looking sailor and a fresh-faced young man who had the look of a blacksmith about him. As the two stepped into the irregular ring formed by the spectators, Avari had delved briefly into the Chavena and studied first the chavi of the seasoned sailor and then that of the younger man. The former held few surprises for her. Brief though her examination was, the sailor's chavi revealed that he was everything that his supporters and friends, including Avari's own gambling companions, had claimed he was: a tough, hard-as-nails competitor with a dozen tricks up his sleeve and a penchant for fighting dirty.

The latter chavi, on the other hand, had taken her aback. Mingled with the swirling tendrils of desire for victory, confidence in his own strength, and pride were hints of...something else, something magical and far removed from the experiences and memories of the common sailors around him. Avari gleaned hints of shimmering beauty and esoteric learning, all bound together with an overwhelming determination.

That determination had been enough to make up her mind. "I'll bet ten mizas on that man there," she said loudly to one of the bookies hovering near the ring, pointing to the younger man and dropping ten mizas into his hand.

"Oho!" Haros, one of her gambling companions, chortled. "A pretty brave wager for someone who's never seen a wrestling match before! I might cheer for your man, except I already bet twenty mizas on the other one."

"I'll look forward to spending your money, then," Avari shot back, smiling sweetly.

Haros burst into roars of laughter. "Shows how much you know! You're not going to be collecting my money if you win, which I know you won't. Look at that boy you bet on; he's so green you can see the grass comin' out of his bleedin' ears. My man might have ten years on him, but that's ten years more scheming, more tricks, and more cunning."

Avari ignored his last statements about the two wrestlers, confident that she knew better. Instead, she replied thoughtfully, "Ohh, that's right. You were just telling me about odds and stakes last night, when you were all trying to get me here." She turned to the bookie, who had been collecting other bets while they were talking. "What are the odds on that young man with the dark hair and blue eyes, who doesn't look like he might totter to his feet and die of old age in a few minutes or so?"

"Five to one," the bookie told her, while Haros, hearing her words, went off into another fit of laughter.

"So, if he wins, I get fifty mizas back for betting on him?" she asked. The bookie nodded.

Avari turned back to the hulking Haros. "In that case, I'm going to enjoy spending my new money, while you sit there counting your losses. I've got a good feeling about this one."

"Big words comin' from a little lady," Haros bantered, as they both turned to watch the two men in the center of the ring tussle and struggle against each other, churning the ground beneath into mud. "But see? I told you you'd get keen on watching the action, if only you tried it out. It gets into your blood, it does."

There did seem to be a great deal of blood involved in these wrestling matches, from what Avari could see. It surprised her more than it should have, but it was oddly exciting as well, as though the blood made the struggle real and vivid to her. As the bout wore on, though, Avari's brow wrinkled in worry over her investment. The two men seemed well-matched, but it did seem that the seasoned sailor had the advantage of cunning and deviousness. The crowd, mostly made up of Zeltivan sailors and dock laborers, seemed solidly on the side of the older sailor, which gave him an unexpected advantage as well. The younger man was struggling valiantly, Avari could see, even with her limited knowledge of wrestling, but he emerged from each fall looking more and more dazed and bloodied. The sailor hit hard, and he seemed to know where to hit to hurt his opponent most.

Without even thinking about it, Avari sank back into gazing into the Chavena, focusing on each man to look for a way to recoup her money. Ten mizas was the largest bet she had made yet this afternoon, and she couldn't help wondering if she had picked wrong, after all. But the younger man's determination and resolve still shone strong in his chavi, and she couldn't quite bring herself to doubt him.

And there was something else about the older sailor... Avari bit her lip as she tried to mentally tease out the fragment that she had only vaguely noticed the first time. The sailor was hiding an injury, something he could hide in the real world but couldn't possibly conceal in the wealth of glowing, radiant truth that was the Chavena. The red miasma of pain flickered over a large portion of the web of his thoughts and feelings, making him anxious to finish this match as quickly as possible. She squinted her eyes, trying to trace the injury to its source. If only that one tangle of glowing light would shift aside for a second... There!

A moment later, Avari was rushing over to the scrawny bookie, who seemed to be in charge of handling the younger wrestler. She had to nudge and twist her way through much the crowd, all while brushing away raindrops that dripped onto her face from the brim of her hat. But she had to share what she'd seen. If only the younger man knew of the sailor's weakness, it could radically change the match in a way that favored his chances and, more importantly, Avari's fortunes.

"Wait! Wait, please!" she called to the small, short bookie who had handed the younger man a ladle of water. "Please let me speak to the man. I have...I have something important I want to say to him."

by **Astrolabe** on October 30th, 2011, 2:25 am

At first, Dexter had paid absolutely no mind to the young woman who was calling out to him – for he hadn’t seen her or heard her. The noisy crowd was milling about restlessly, growing impatient for the third and last fall to begin – wanting to see their gambling smarts come to fruition, though many would not, one way or another. The gambler that stood next to the grizzled old bookie, though, had noticed the fresh face that looked so out of place in this rough crowd. He plucked at Dexter’s elbow and practically shouted in the bookie’s ear, at which Dexter’s head swiveled about on his scrawny neck as his rheumy eyes focused on the chit of a girl. His frown was one of both bafflement and irritation as he practically growled at her. “Go on, get off with you! He don’t need no distractions – not now!” In fact, it had occurred to the bookie that this was just the sort of thing any number of his competitors might get up to – to send a pretty face to unfocus the wrestler and make him even more likely to lose the edge that he really didn’t even have at this point. The idea settled in his mind and, forgetting the girl herself, he turned to scowl across the ring at the several men whom he might pin this one on.

Astrolabe, too, had been oblivious to the Konti’s presence – until Dexter had yelled at her. Laconically, his eyes had lifted from the ground as he wiped the rain from them, and they had latched onto the pale skin, the fair hair hiding under a hat, and blue eyes that were the shade he would have wished the sky to be. He hadn’t heard what she had said to the bookie, but he had sure as hell heard what Dexter had practically screamed back. It was clear Dexter had been referring to him – and to her. But what it was all about, Astro hadn’t a clue. He just looked at the young woman curiously, his eyebrows drawing together.

In the next moment, the referee was calling out. “Back to the center, gentlemen. Time, please.”

Astro’s gaze had shot to the man momentarily. He then turned back once more to have one more swig of water, but Dexter had let the damn ladle drop back in the bucket and was already having words with a fellow three meters away. Astro stepped to the bucket and drew the ladle up, knowing he needed to be moving in the other direction, and slightly dreading that knowledge.

by **Avari** on November 2nd, 2011, 7:28 pm

Already bridling at the skinny man standing between her and the young wrestler and shouting for her to go away, Avari stiffened with alarm when she heard the referee calling the fighters back into the ring. There were ten whole mizas of her money on the line, and she'd be damned if some bumbling men was going to stop her from delivering her message and staving off her losses. When the scowling old bookie stalked off toward the other side of the ring, Avari pushed through the gamblers lined up behind him as hard as she could, striving mightily to squeeze through in hopes of getting to the young wrestler before he stepped back into the ring. She hadn't much time left!

Her mightiest efforts only jolted one heavyset gambler forward a step or two, no more, giving her a few inches of empty space between the men. What the Konti lacked in strength, however, she made up for in smallness of form and efficiency of movement. Avari slipped quickly through the narrow space just as the startled gambler whirled around to face her again, looking annoyed that she had tried to shove him aside. Anticipating an angry outburst from the portly gambler, she seized the initiative and gave him a show of her own belligerence. She took a short step toward the man and bared her teeth at him, hissing like a cornered rat at bay.

It worked; the gambler instinctively backed away a little, startled by her unexpected aggression. Avari took advantage of his lapse to hurry toward the young wrestler as he took a deep drink from a ladle of water and stood up to return to the ring. She grabbed at his arm, but his skin, slick with rain, slid away from her grasp.

Still, the momentary contact had been enough to make him pause and look down in her direction.

"Listen," Avari whispered urgently. "That man you're fighting. If you get in trouble against him, hit him in the right shoulder. Right on the...the..." Her brow furrowed as she tried to find the word.

Finally, she merely balled her left hand into a fist and pressed it gently against her own shoulder where it joined her arm. "There. On the...joint, yes, the joint. Hit him there. Hard. Please. Trust me."

That was all she was able to get out before the referee called out again. "Time, gentlemen! Back to the ring, now."

As she watched the young wrestler square his shoulders and stride back toward the circle of mud that comprised their ring, Avari hoped her terse message had been enough. She had told him all he needed to know, but perhaps not enough to make him believe in the truth of her words. If only she'd had time to tell him how she had peered into the older sailor's chavi and caught a brief but vivid glimpse of a memory of the sailor dislocating his shoulder during a sea voyage, when a storm-tossed wave threw him so hard against the deck that he'd passed out from the pain. That shoulder had been tender ever since and vulnerable to another repeat of the injury. Of course, if she had told him, the wrestler might have scrupled to use such knowledge, believing it to be cheating. It was hard to predict how human men would react to anything. Some of them were so venal that they took even her breath away, while others were so honorable and pure that she wondered how they got through life at all, and many of them often distrusted anything that smacked of prophecy or second sight.

Not for the first time, Avari wished that bearing a single bloom of Avalis' seers' lily was enough to allow her to gaze through the veils of the future. But all she could see was the past, and even the present was a mystery to her. She had no idea if the young wrestler had even heard her, let alone if he would heed her message. The Konti bit her lip and fretted restlessly, thinking of the ten mizas she had bet on the younger wrestler and the relatively lavish dinner of grilled horned sand-fish she had intended to buy with them this evening. She could only hope that the young man would take her advice to heart, so that she could eat well tonight.

by **Astrolabe** on November 6th, 2011, 3:27 am

His attention refocused on the matter at hand, Astro had already shoved his contemplation of the girl out of his thoughts, when he felt a touch on his arm. He had just set the ladle back in the bucket and was rising, and his head jerked about at the unexpected sensation. When he looked down into that upturned, pale face, and saw that it was her, his head pulled back physically in surprise, and his frown deepened. She was already whispering to him, in an urgent undertone, and he only half heard her words, as he was almost too confounded to take them in. The referee was calling out again, and all Astro could do was look at her – like some idiot who was also hard of hearing. What had she been babbling about? Walking towards the center of the ring, his head was still turned back towards her. Who was this girl? He had never seen her before this moment . . . had he? What had she said – something about hitting the sailor in the shoulder? In his minds eyes he saw her tiny hand balled into a fist and tapping at her own shoulder – her right shoulder. What was that supposed to mean and how in the hell . . . ?

His attention was really refocused by the weight of the old sailor’s head crashing into his mid-drift. Like a rag doll, Astro went sailing backwards, crashing to the ground with the man in a frenzy on top of him, trying to get his shoulders down in the mud. The mud was a godsend, though, for the sailor slipped at the last moment and over shot Astro by a half meter. Rolling to the side, the younger man tried to gain his footing, but the gods were laughing at both competitors. The best he could do was to raise up on his hands and knees, and again the sailor came crashing at him, once again trying for that back mount which had been the deciding factor in the last fall. Throwing his right arm back, Astro managed to get it around the guy’s head and dragged him forward under his right arm. The man clawed at his face as Astro squeezed the bull neck. His eyes darted towards the crowd for one millisecond when he heard a noise that seemed directed at him. A flash of white skin, a tiny form jumping up and down under a rain soaked hat – and then his eyes went to his opponent. Rearing up onto his knees, arm still wrapped tight about the sailor’s head, Astro put his all into his left arm and smashed his fist into the sailor’s right shoulder.

There was a howl of pain so loud it made Astro’s ears ring. But he hung on, as the sailor cursed through gritted teeth. Again, he landed a punch backed by the steel of his bicep and shoulder, and the man practically screamed in his face. Another blow, and a fourth, and the sailor was going limp in his grasp, pawing at Astro’s chest with his fingers. “Do you submit?” Astro yelled into his ugly face." The man made no answer, his face twisted in pain. “Do you?” Astro yelled, landing one more punch to the useless shoulder.

“Aye, Aye! I submit! I submit ya bleedin’ son of a petchin whore. I submit, damn you!” The sailor was practically sobbing at this point, but Astro wasn’t moved. With a jerk, he flipped the old sod over and onto his back, pinning him for the three, just to be safe. With a grunt, he shoved himself up off the heaving chest of his foe, spitting so that the glob of sputem landed right next to the man’s head.

“Leave my mother out of it next time, right?” he growled, shoving down hard on the injured shoulder with the heel of his hand.

The referee was already in his face, telling him to leave off, but Astro waved him away, grinning as he rose. The sound of the crowd was deafening. There were cries of congratulations, but mostly directed from one bettor to another, not specifically at him. He was just the conduit for their good fortune. There were also plenty of stony, murderous looking faces amongst them – those who had lost what had seemed like a sure thing. Already, there were mutterings and murmurings about the unexpected outcome of the match. All this Astro ignored. Even the delighted antics of Dexter, who was hopping about the ring and waving his hands above his head like some court jester, a huge shyke eating grin on his weathered old mug, couldn’t distract Astro from the quarry that his bright blue eyes sought out in the raucous ring of spectators. There was only one face he wanted to find. One person that he wished to speak to.

Stepping over to the bucket of water, pushing the few who wanted to thank him personally aside, his head swiveled about. Now where the petch had she got to?

by **Avari** on November 8th, 2011, 4:53 pm

As soon as Avari had managed to deliver her message and the young wrestler had stepped into the ring, she had nearly been swarmed under by a wave of enthusiastic spectators and gamblers eager to cheer for their favorite fighters. The Konti was as helpless to resist them as a pebble hoping to stand against the force of the tide. In a matter of moments, a dozen men surged forward toward the very edge of the muddy ring, pushing past her and crowding around her. Naturally, every man there loomed above Avari, except perhaps for the short, grizzled bookie who seemed to be in charge of the younger wrestler, and she found herself having to stand practically on tiptoe to get a glimpse of what was happening inside the ring.

If only Laviku had shaped his daughters to be great and mighty like whales, instead of slight and small like shrimp!

For the most part, the intricacies and implications of each wrestler's movements completely escaped Avari as she watched the two men grappling and writhing in the mud. The Konti probably couldn't have figured out who was winning from one moment to the next if her life depended on it. Yet, despite her ignorance, Avari found herself swept up in the excitement of the crowd and vigorously cheering her chosen wrestler's successful attacks or wincing in sympathy when he took a blow. Not for the first time, she felt grateful that she wasn't nearly as sensitive or empathetic as most of her Konti sisters, who probably would have had a fit of the vapors as soon as they sensed the violence of this contest. Avari was made of sterner stuff, though, and she jumped up and down eagerly to get a clear view of the action and cheered loudly along with the rest of the crowd.

As both men slid down into the mud, Avari gasped when she saw the older sailor kneel almost on top of the younger wrestler, who was trying to get to his feet. Even with her relative ignorance of wrestling, she could tell the younger wrestler would be extremely vulnerable to all sorts of strikes to his head, neck, and chest if he didn't get free. The younger wrestler fought valiantly to get out from under the older sailor, pulling the man forward and squeezing his neck with one arm. But from her vantage point, Avari could see what the younger man couldn't, and her eyes widened in horror as she watched the older sailor lifting his right elbow, preparing to drive it sharply into the younger man's ribs.

My dinner!

"No!" she screamed, unable to restrain herself.

The sound of her voice was drowned out in the din of the ecstatic crowd, yet the younger man's head swiveled toward the crowd, almost as if he had heard her cry out. His eyes, as blue as a calm and gentle sea, met hers for an instant. Then, with a suddenness that startled her, the younger wrestler bunched his left hand into a fist and delivered a powerful punch into the sailor's right shoulder. The sailor howled in agony, and Avari knew he must have dislocated it again.

He heard me! He listened! Avari exulted. She could almost taste the grilled horned sand-fish now.

It took only a few more minutes for the sailor to surrender. With a triumphant cry, Avari turned around and started scanning the crowd for the squat, stolid bookie who had taken her bet of ten mizas. Her attempt to reach the younger wrestler and deliver her message had separated her quite far from her gambling companions, and the seething crowd of delighted or disgruntled spectators didn't make it much easier for her to spot a single man in their midst. For at least five minutes, she craned her head and peered over the shoulders of taller men, until finally she spotted the squat bookie several feet away surrounded by a crowd of bettors.

She strolled over the bookie and tugged at his arm to get his attention. "My name is Ari! You owe me fifty mizas!" she shouted, leaning toward his right ear.

His bleary eyes rolled toward hers and then slid down to the fistfuls of betting slips he held in both hands. "Ari? Hmm. Are you sure? Let me see. Oh, yes. Ten mizas on Mr. Dusk. Five-to-one odds. Yes, that would be fifty mizas. Here's your money, now please move away."

The coins made a delightful clinking sound as they poured into her hands. Avari was quick to tuck them into her money pouch and hide them out of sight. She was smiling to herself at the weight of her pouch and thinking of the delicacies at the Fish Market, when she felt someone nudge her on the shoulder. The squat bookie pointed to her left, where she saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the young wrestler striding through the crowd and looking straight at her.

"I think he's looking for you, miss," the bookie told her.

Avari's smile faded. Perhaps it had been too much to hope that she could simply collect her payout and walk away. She wondered what the wrestler could want with her. She could only hope that the serious expression on his face didn't mean he was intending to give her any sort of trouble. Behind her, the bookie nudged her again, as though telling her to get a move on already. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hat low and her cloak tight around her and walked toward the wrestler.

Attempting to sound as careless as possible, Avari said nervously to him, "I'm glad you got my message. You, uh, you did very well out there. Thank you."

by **Astrolabe** on November 10th, 2011, 4:08 pm

It took several minutes to find her. As perplexing as her brief whispered words of advice had been, it seemed equally as bizarre that the girl seemed to have disappeared into the crowd – or perhaps altogether. For some reason, Astrolabe felt a bit put out at her lack of desire to at least confirm that they had . . . what? Had she really been somehow responsible, somehow a part of, his win? His frown deepened as he jostled his way through the ever noisy fans, the next match already being called and the two participants shoving forward into the mud of the ring. Though he had no idea why, or how, Astro did know that she had purposefully sought him out. That much he had gathered from Dexter’s animated screaming. And he did know that Dexter’s imprecations had not dissuaded her, for she had still managed to approach him, and relay that crucial bit of information. But, why she had done so – and how she had known, about the sailor’s shoulder – were a mystery – a compelling one, to Astro. He wanted answers. He wanted to talk to her. But she was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he pushed his way forward, his size making it easy enough for him to clear a path. It didn’t occur to him that the girl’s diminutive size might allow her to slide through the tightly packed bodies as easily, though in a far different way.

So it was that Astro did not think to look down, but only continued on, like some mindless caterpillar creeping along the rim of a teacup, almost coming full circle, before he finally spotted her. She was standing very near to Solomon, a well known bookie and an acquaintance of Astro’s, if not exactly a friend. Solomon just happened to look towards the rather large figure that was the source of the girl’s largesse, and Astro waved his hand, pointing at the much tinier figure. Gratified to see Solomon give the girl a poke, he hurried forward, skirting across the ring. He saw the girl shoot him a look, and then she was moving – but towards him and not away from him. Astro wasn’t sure why that should surprise him – and please him somehow. Perhaps it had been the somewhat stony expression that had passed over her face upon sight of him. He wasn’t even really prepared as to what exactly he meant to say to her, or ask her, and he used the time she took to speak first to think.

"I'm glad you got my message. You, uh, you did very well out there. Thank you."

His frown remained fixed and he stared quite openly down into her face, which was slightly averted, though possibly just because of the now steady rain falling about them. Water was dripping off his ears, his chin, and running in rivulets down his throat and shoulders, mixing with and slowly washing away the blood on his bare chest. After a moment, he said simply, “You knew – about the shoulder.” His eyes looked a question. “How?” he asked, though the more he took in her features, the more a light was going off in his head.

by **Avari** on November 10th, 2011, 7:55 pm

Avari relaxed when she heard the young wrestler's question and, despite the heavy rain, something in his voice made her look up from under the drooping brim of her hat to study his face. He didn't sound as if he were angry or suspicious of her, just honestly perplexed and curious about her uncannily accurate message, and she thought she detected a cultured, perhaps even a well-educated note in his voice. His face wasn't like those of the other wrestlers or gamblers, either; his features were straight and regular where theirs were crooked, his skin was unwrinkled by the sun and wind, and his face lacked the cynical, hardened look of the older men who had seen everything and could no longer be shocked by anything.

It made her think about what she had glimpsed in his chavi earlier, when trying to decide whom to bet on. There was something different about this man, something mysterious and wondrous in his past. She hadn't lingered long enough in the Chavena to find out what, but it was enough to make the young man interesting, even intriguing.

Tentatively, she smiled up at him and opened her mouth to answer his question.

But then, someone jostled the Konti hard, pushing her nearly into the wrestler's chest and giving her a sharp reminder of just where they were. The midst of an energetic, partially drunken throng of sailors, gamblers, and fighters was no place to be revealing her secrets, particularly those that allowed her to predict the winners of each wrestling match. Momentarily rattled by the jostling, Avari patted down her pockets quickly to make sure everything was still there and glanced behind her for the culprit. Only then did she notice, for the first time, a number of grim-looking gamblers who were giving the young wrestler rather unfriendly, even vicious looks. Their harsh glares and the damp rain made her shiver.

She looked back up at the wrestler and leaned forward, keeping her voice soft. "I have my ways," she answered in a murmur, "but I do not believe this is the place to be sharing them, right now. There is too much noise, too many things going on here, and too many strangers, not all of them kind."

For a moment, Avari paused and brushed rain out of her eyes, unsure what to say next. In the relative silence, her stomach grumbled plaintively. The unexpected sound, as well as the pleasant weight of the money-pouch at her side, gave her an idea. A broad smile spread across her face.

"But," she continued, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd, "if you are not fighting again soon, perhaps you will join me at the Fish Market for a celebratory dinner? My treat," she added generously. "I believe I owe you something for...well, for taking my advice. I heard that the catch of horned sand-fish was especially good today, and I'm sure we can speak more comfortably there.

"And, after all, we do have a worthy occasion to celebrate. Your victory." One corner of Avari's mouth curved upward slightly in a half-smile. "Our victory, perhaps."

In a gesture of invitation, she extended her hand toward him in its slightly rain-dampened glove. "So? Shall we?"

by **Astrolabe** on November 11th, 2011, 4:39 pm

Her face tilted up to his and she gave a tiny smile. But as soon as it seemed that she would speak, she was suddenly thrust forward by some careless lout passing behind her. Astro’s hand went out instinctively to catch her, though she would not have gone far in any case, as close as they were to each other. The girl managed to catch her balance before she collided with him, however – and it was a very good thing that she did so. He was a right mess, soaking wet with both rain and sweat, and covered in mud, grime and the last remnants of blood. She didn’t appear too put out, but he noticed the quick motions, as she ran her hands over her clothes, and he knew them for what they were – as anyone who spent much time amongst the denizens of Zeltiva’s seamier side would. Once again, he found himself wondering exactly why this girl was doing just that – rubbing elbows with gamblers and sailors – when her words, and her suggestion – caused him to look around briefly, as if seeing the crowd for the first time.

He nodded, knowing that she had a good point and coming to the conclusion that she was no naïve little creature when it came to functioning in such an environment – despite her fair and innocent looks. He still intended to have his answers – and she appeared willing to give them – although in his experience, females were a treacherous bunch and he wondered if she just meant to give him the slip. Smiles and sweet looks went only skin deep with many of the girls he had encountered.

“You’re right. Perhaps this is something best shared in private.” His tone was still questioning, as he looked down into her blue eyes. Clearly, he was still at a loss to know exactly what she was up to, and why, and how. At any other time, the prospect of sharing a meal with such a girl was one he would not have turned down anyway. Right now, with his curiosity alight, there was no way he was going to say no to her offer.

His seemingly huge hand slipped into hers. “Ours – yes. And I can’t wait to hear how exactly that is . . . “ Astro pulled her close, almost as if he was wary that she might yet try to flee. As they began to move through the crowd, his size once again clearing a path for them both, he looked down at her. “Mind if we make a quick stop? I don’t fancy eating when I’m covered with muck from head to foot. Some dry clothes might be nice as well.” He kept a firm grip on her delicate fingers, and it was questionable whether she really had a choice.

by **Avari** on November 14th, 2011, 7:45 pm

Avari allowed herself to be conducted to the nearest bathhouse, privately congratulating herself on her guess about the young wrestler's respectable upbringing. Only a man of culture and refinement would insist on cleansing himself before sitting down to dinner; she had seen too many hungry sailors covered in grease and pitch wolfing down their meals at the Fish Market to think otherwise. Her own standards had dropped dramatically since she'd left Mura, though perhaps that wasn't saying as much considering her birth city's fanatical fixation on purity and cleanliness. Still, Avari could appreciate his desire not to look like a mud-covered ruffian at mealtime.

Besides, it wasn't as though she had much choice, given the strength in the large hand that gripped hers. Now that the euphoria of financial success had worn off, the Konti found herself having second thoughts about the wisdom of telling the truth to the young man, as she'd originally intended. She though that his taking her advice in mid-match was a sign of solidarity with her, of not scrupling to use any information he had as long as it led to victory. She'd been sure that he wouldn't mind knowing just how she'd gotten her information or, perhaps, accepting further help of a similar nature in the future.

But now it occurred to Avari that the man had been in the heat of battle, when he had probably felt more desperate and reckless than usual. Who knew what would drive a well-brought-up young man to wrestle in the mud? It was well-known, though, that men often did things under stress that they would ordinarily never consent to in normal circumstances. Just because he had profited by her once didn't mean he would condone it or indeed even let her near him ever again.

Such were the thoughts that chased themselves round and round in Avari's mind as she silently followed the wrestler to a bathhouse near the docks. Too preoccupied by her musings, she flinched when a puff of warm steam brushed her face as the bathhouse door opened and closed. Gratefully, she ducked into the bathhouse's entryway after the wrestler, happy to be out of the rain.

In the entrance room, though, Avari sat down on a bench beside the doors to the changing rooms and gestured to the young wrestler. "You go ahead," she told him. "I'll wait here for you."

After he had left to change, lay his clothes out to dry in the changing room, and bathe, the Konti leaned back against the wall and listened peacefully to the sound of falling rain outside. Briefly, she thought about leaving without the man and enjoying a lavish dinner of skewered grilled fish on her own. But it was warm and dry inside the bathhouse and rainy outside it, and it felt good to sit down after spending hours at the docks standing and watching the wrestling matches.

As her thoughts turned back to the wrestling matches, to gambling, and to money, Avari thought again of what she would say to the young wrestler over dinner. She still did not know. Without even thinking about it, she reached for the leather pouch that held her whalebone dice. To others, the six-sided cubes were a symbol of chance and randomness, but to her, they were tools of divination and fortune-telling, a source of information and certainty in an uncertain world, as long as she had the wit to interpret them correctly. Avari cupped the six small dice gently and lovingly in her palm, until they took on the warmth of her skin.

Then, concentrating her thoughts on the dice, she whispered, "Will he react badly if I tell him the truth?"

She released the dice, letting them roll and clatter on the surface of the bench beside her. A faint groan rose from Avari's lips when she saw the numbers come up in a perfect jumble: two threes, one four, a two, a one, and a five. There was no sequence to it that she could see, nor any congruency or harmony.

Avari sighed in disappointment. It seemed as though even her dice wasn't sure how he would take her news. She would have to gamble, one way or the other, and accept the consequences, whatever they turned out to be.