The Shell Game (Open)

[Avari]

Season of Fall, Day 6, 511 AV

One of the greatest advantages of living in Zeltiva, thought Avari as she gazed toward the churning grey sea under a cloudy, overcast sky, was its fluid, ever-changing population of sailors, merchants, tourists, and scholars that continually poured in and out from the city like water flowing through a stream. New people were constantly arriving at the docks, while others were just as frequently departing to seek new lands or return to old abodes. Fresh-scrubbed University students came and went every season to begin their studies or go home for vacation; ambitious traders and ship captains entered and exited the harbor following the many lucrative trade routes controlled by Zeltivans. It made the city both prosperous and exciting, as money and knowledge alike exchanged hands and heads hundreds of times every day to the benefit of both the city dwellers and the travelers.

For Avari, this meant that she never had to move on and leave the city for fear of reprisals or discovery. The constant influx and outflow of out-of-towners meant that she was free to practice her pickpocketing skills and confidence tricks on fresh, unsuspecting victims every time, just as long as she was careful not to target the same person twice. Very few people ever stayed long enough at the docks to remember or recognize her for what she was, let alone raise a hue and cry about her activities to the authorities.

Today, what she intended to practice was a simple, classic game that she'd seen a silver-tongued but utterly nondescript man perform on the grounds of the University of Zeltiva only a few weeks ago, surrounded by a group of fascinated, avid students. It was called the shell game and required nothing more than three cups or hollow nutshells, a small item like a pebble or pea to be covered by the shells, and some nimble sleight-of-hand. She would place the pebble under one shell and then slide the shells around on a table, switching their positions rapidly. Once she stopped, the mark would place his bet and point out which shell concealed the all-important pebble. If Avari was quick and deft in manipulating the placement of the pebble, however, the mark would always choose an empty shell and wind up with an emptier purse because of it.

It was simple indeed, yet classic because it still worked. That man had won a double handful of gold-rimmed mizas and disappeared into the crowd before she could question him about the tricks he used. The simplicity and flair of it amused her. People queued up to play the shell game even when they knew it was probably a scam, because they hoped against all reason that the pebble would really be under the right shell and they would really win something for nothing. The monetary reward of the shell game didn't lessen its appeal, either.

Thus, she arose early this morning to roam the harbor of Zeltiva, ambling along the rocky shore of Mathews Bay to find seashells and pebbles. While her eyes searched the ground, her mind was busy thinking of ways to shuffle the shells and the pebble.

In a narrow slot between two boulders, she found a clutch of seashells, no doubt washed there by the bay's waves. Most of them were chipped or flawed, but Avari managed to find three clean white mollusk shells, fan-shaped, gently curved, and practically indistinguishable from each other. When she found a small, smooth stone a few minutes later, its surface worn away to reveal a bright jade-green hue, Avari had founded all she needed for the shell game.

The docks were already humming and bustling with activity by the time she approached, with tall, proud ships berthing at the long piers and cargo being offloaded by the efficient dock laborers. Keeping one eye on the passengers and sailors disembarking, Avari quickly stacked three empty, discarded wooden shipping crates to form a makeshift table and draped her cloak on top. It was faded and a few long tears marred the grey wool, but it would serve. Carefully positioning the shells and pebble upon her cloak, she sneezed loudly as the cool breeze off the bay enveloped her in a momentary chill.

As a crowd of people made their way down the piers, Avari cracked her knuckles, flexed her wrists, and rapidly wiggled her fingers in preparation. She made a few practice passes with the shells, testing how easily they slid across her cloak and hoping to attract the attention of passerby with her swift, darting motions. In her head, she rehearsed the lines of patter that she'd memorized and prepared all those weeks, remembering the almost hypnotic effect the man's words had had on all those students, lulling them to place their bets.

Her heart sang in her chest, crooning a song of sweet money made by trickery and cunning. She opened her mouth to greet the passengers making their way off the docks, and it felt as if the very air around her sparkled and the universe held its breath in the stillness, the risk, the thrill of the game.

"Ladies and gentleman, if you would be kind enough to look this way," Avari called out. "One moment of your time, if you will. You will notice I have three shells here lined up on this cloth. Under one of them, you'll find this little jewel." She held up the jade-green stone she'd found, then covered it with a seashell with a theatrical gesture. "Can you find it when the shells start spinning? If your sight is quick enough, you win, but if you miss, you lose.

"You might think you can win. And if you can, then I suggest you do, and make yourself a miza or two. Five mizas will get you ten if you win, ten will get you twenty..." She began sliding the three shells upon her cloak, switching them, interchanging their positions, making the white shells dance in complicated, eye-catching patterns. "I say you can't find it. Why don't you prove me wrong? Watch the shells and tell me: where's the jewel?"

[Oracle]

Season of Fall, Day 6, 511 AV

The cool fall air blew through the port city as Avari gazed out into the ever moving ocean. The locals all murmured that the Bonesnappers were coming in earlier and earlier each year, with the Watchstones across the land barely red with the Fall season and the winds chilly presence already could be felt pushing in on all those roving the docks for trade. Cold enough to need a coat but not enough to keep the sea hardened sailors from doing what they did best.

Avari wandered the beach searching for the perfect shells for your "game". Most washed up on shore broken or chipped but Laviku had smiled down on her that day and placed three perfect white shells and an iridescent pebble in her path. Perhaps this was a sign her scheme would go well today?

The crowded docks would be the perfect place for her plan today, the ever changing push of people would make finding marks easy from day to day and keep the guards from being any the wiser. Stacking her boxes up covering them served for a table and her shells served for cups.

From across the dock peering eyes watched her work. They noticed the nervous energy all about her, but also the confidence in which she maneuvered the shells around the table. The sailor smirked, he had seen this game before and knew a quick and easy gold was to be had here. He looked around at her pickings today and saw it was far from slim.

Bright eyed university students moved about looking at each thing being sold and bought, tourists milled about there to see the temple of Laviku and sea fresh sailors who didn't yet have a roll in their walk who were still too familiar with their land legs. The old sea dog had nothing better to do that afternoon, he carefully leaned back against the poles of the dock and decided to watch how this played out.

Avari called out into the crowd of people to grab their attention with well rehearsed lines and grab there attention she did. Several of the aforementioned tourists came waddling forward to see what she was selling along with a few sailors still wet behind the ears.

One young scrap of a lad with a mop of messy brown hair and bright baby blues watched the shells with narrowed eyes and hopeful ambition waiting for them to stop.

"I say you can't find it. Why don't you prove me wrong? Watch the shells and tell me: where's the jewel?" Avari preached to the crowd raising their spirits and hopefully soon lightening their pockets.

With a bright smile the boy produced five Gold Mizas and slammed them down in front of the shell on the left. "I say you are wrong my Konti friend."

[Avari]

Despite the steely self-control that Avari believed she had over herself, she couldn't help jumping a little when the young boy with the brown hair and blue eyes slammed a handful of gold-rimmed mizas onto her makeshift table. Even with the strong understanding she'd gained of human cupidity and gullibility, due to the insight granted by her Konti gift, she hadn't expected this vehement a reaction this quickly. Some of her discomfiture also came from his instant recognition of her Konti descent, but then, Avari supposed that in this well-traveled city, the citizens no doubt could tell an ordinary pale woman from a seeress from the White Isle. She took a deep breath and covered her surprise with a blithe, bright smile, looking up at the hopeful face of the blue-eyed boy.

"Ah, ah, ah!" she chided him, shaking her head playfully at the boy. "You placed your bet before the shells have stopped! How do you expect to find the jewel when it's still moving and swooping about? Here, see," she added, lifting up the shell to her right, "here was the stone on the other end! But I'll be kind and let you place your bet again."

As she spoke, Avari thought hard about the bet that the young man had placed. Five mizas was more than most men made in a day of work, yet this boy was willing to wager that on a single shuffle of the shells! If she let him win, she would have to give up ten mizas, almost half of all her money in the world. Yet, she sensed an adventurous and risk-taking spirit in this boy. If he had an early taste of victory, he might very well bet again for an even larger amount of money, enough to make a tidy profit later on. For that matter, even if the boy collected his money and left, there were others watching who might be lured by the temptation of easy winnings into placing their own bets.

It was all a gamble, as much for her as for the potential marks she preyed on. But that was part of the fun of it.

The boy was looking at her curiously now, and Avari quickly collected her thoughts and began circulating the shells around upon her cloak again.

"Right, then. Let's play again and see how your luck holds out!" she said to the boy. "Round and round it goes, and where it stops, no one knows!"

Swish, swish, swish the shells went atop the grey wool as she deftly switched their positions. She watched the boy's eyes following the moving shells and discerned that he was looking to the left again. If that was where he would place his bet again, then that was where the shell hiding the stone would be, she decided. She could feel the correct shell as it slid around across the cloak alongside the empty ones, with the tiny green stone inside like a barely perceptible added weight that made its presence known to her at all times.

"I showed you that the stone started out on the right," Avari spoke up again, drawing the boy's attention back to her. "But in the end, it doesn't matter where the stone began. Just say where it stops, and you're going to win."

With that, Avari let the white seashells come to a rest, with the stone hiding under the leftmost shell. Now it all hinged on where the boy placed his bet. If he wagered again on the left shell, she would be ten whole mizas poorer but hopefully richer in prospects and future bets. However, if he changed his bet, then his five mizas would be hers, but she would have to be more careful if he wanted to play again. Avari waited, listening to the steady beat of the blood in her ears, for it was the only sound in her world as she held her breath and watched in perfect stillness to see what the blue-eyed boy would do next.

[Oracle]

Season of Fall, Day 6, 511 AV

The blue eyed boy hummed with innocent energy and determination. He had no idea how the game was played but somehow he thought he could win. He confidently stared into the eyes of the pale woman standing in front of him before looking down and watching her shuffle the shells around in an erratic pattern. He followed the shell he believed held the stone and listened to her hypnotic voice further lull him into a sense of security. He knew he could win this, win the big one so to speak.

The money in his pocket burned him, or so it would seem in his hast to be rid of it. The memory of it's recovery still played fresh in his mind. The captain had turned his back, in a moment of insanity the boy had grabbed the bag and ran. He might as well enjoy the Mizas while he had them, if Captain Arion ever saw him again he would slit him from ear to ear. With that knowledge the boy's smile grew wider as the shells came to a standstill, he had this.

He, a little more gently than before, threw the five Gold Mizas towards the left again and looked the woman in the eye. My name's Philippe. Remember it well friend. He winked at her with a flirty smile. Soon the whole of Sylira..no...the whole of Mizahar will know that name.

[Avari]

When the young man who called himself Philippe placed his bet on the seashell to the left again, Avari felt curiously torn between competing emotions of triumph and dismay. Triumph, because she had read the lad correctly and guessed that he would bet on left again. Dismay, because his winning bet meant she had to yield up ten mizas of her own money to him in the fragile hopes that he would bet again. Of course, she had known it was coming and it was all part of the game, but that didn't stem the flow of reluctance that poured from her heart at the thought of relinquishing even one of her hard-won golden mizas to this blue-eyed, brown-haired whelp of a man.

Nor did it help when the young man looked her in the eye and actually seemed to start flirting with her. At least, that was what Avari interpreted his playful wink and suggestive smile to indicate. No man had ever flirted with her before, not when she had been surrounded by numerous pearls of feminine beauty in Mura or when she took such pains to conceal herself under loose-fitting, nondescript clothing here in Zeltiva. She could feel herself starting to blush. If this was how it felt to be flirted with, Avari thought uncomfortably, then she didn't like it one bit.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself to return Philippe's smile as she reached for the seashell on the left. With a dramatic gesture, Avari flipped over the white shell to reveal the green pebble beneath.

"Oh, well done!" she exclaimed, with an expression of feigned enthusiasm and a show of applause for the young man. Several of the onlookers joined in the clapping, uncertainly at first but with growing merriment. "It seems you have a sharp eye and a lucky soul, Philippe. Quick wits and cleverness and a little capital, that's all you need to win, you see? It's simple as that!"

Adopting a philosophical pose, she took ten gold mizas from her pocket and dropped them on top of the pile of coins with a musical clinking noise. Only another Konti would have sensed her disgruntlement as she pushed the money toward the blue-eyed young man. "Well, money comes and money goes, just like the way the tide flows! If you keep making money for yourself like this, Mister Philippe, all of Mizahar is sure to know your name."

Regaining her composure, Avari began rapidly shuffling the shells again, signaling the start of another round of playing.

This time, however, she lifted the seashell hiding the pebble just as it slid over one of the tears in her cloak. She was careful to lift it in such a way that her hand was in front of the seashell, concealing much of the slight motion from view. With the keen perceptiveness that came from the intense focus that Avari was directing toward this game, as she directed toward all matters involving money and survival, she felt the pebble roll into the tear and under the cloak. All the while, she continued shuffling without a break in her rhythm. Flick-flick-flick the shells went across the surface of the cloak, while the pebble lurked beneath it.

Now there was no winning seashell, no matter which one the next player chose.

"Now that you've seen how this works, who will risk their mizas for a chance to win double? You again, Mister Philippe? Or someone else perhaps?" Her eyes roved the crowd, lingering on the blue-eyed Philippe before moving toward the tourists and then wandering toward a weathered, experienced-looking old sailor standing off to one side. "Who feels like trying their luck and raising their fortunes? Choose your shell, ladies and gentlemen. I always have two chances to your one, but if you pick the right one, I'll pay you twice what you put in. Who will place a bet? Who wants to pick a shell?"

[Oracle]

Season of Fall, Day 6, 511 AV

Across the way the seasoned sailor continued to watch the game from afar as the scrap of a boy won his first round, a small smile played at his lips as things unfolded. He felt the woman's eyes briefly flick towards him. She noticed me. He thought to himself and his smile widened ever so slightly. Grabbing a nearby crate the sailor sat himself down with graceful ease, tilted down his hat, leaned into the fence and settled in for a long game.

Avari's words filled the docks again as the shells shuffled on their makeshift table. More locals had started to gather: uppity women from the historic district, inebriated university students, muttering tourists will bright eager faces.

Who feels like trying their luck and raising their fortunes? Choose your shell, ladies and gentlemen. I always have two chances to your one, but if you pick the right one, I'll pay you twice what you put in. Who will place a bet? Who wants to pick a shell?

Her voice held a melodic tone to it which lulled all those around her to feel more and more at ease, not everyone was fooled. Philippe narrowed his glittering watchful eyes as for a moment her aura flashed. He was still new to the art of Auristics, but when he needed it the most he received a glimpse, just a peek at what made this woman tick. It was always dim and quick, he never had enough time to fully interpret the images he saw. A flash of a darkness, a sense of uneasiness came off the Konti woman. It was not a strong feeling. Philippe brushed the thought aside as rubbish and trained his eyes back towards the shuffling shells.

His eyes stayed trained on a pure white shell with a chip he noticed in the corner. The chip had not been there the first round, in the process of shuffling the shells it must have become damaged. With a confident smile on his face he watched and waited for the shells to come to a standstill.

The motion stopped and Avari waited for someone to place their bet. Philippe fondled the coins in his fingers and searched in table for the chipped shell that he had lost sight of momentarily. His eyes locked on the middle shell, a small chip which was barely large enough to been seen seemed to jump out at him as if a lovely beacon on his road to riches.

The boy counted out 10 Gold Rimmed Mizas and was about to place them in front of the middle shell when another sailor he recognized from his trade route stumbled to the front of the crowd and placed his own bet of 5 Gold Mizas on the table in front of the same shell Philippe had been eyeing.

The smell of Kelp Beer came off the stumbling man in waves, his breathe a fierce weapon for the stench as he opened his mouth to say, I bet you 5 coppers it's under this 'ne right 'ere. He pointed a wobbly finger at the middle shell not noticing his mistake and which coins he laid down.

[Avari]

Avari could have danced and cheered when the drunken sailor stumbled up to her table and dropped five gold-rimmed mizas in front of the middle seashell. The very best kind of mark was a drunken mark, especially the sort that believed he was still mostly sober when in fact he was too sloshed to tell his right hand from his left. They were the easiest to part from their money and the quickest to forget who had taken it, which more than compensated for their clumsiness, dreadful odor, and occasional poor grasp of the concept of personal space. This one looked especially muddled if he was plopping down five gold-rimmed mizas on a bet and calling them coppers. Inwardly, Avari was clapping her hands and giggling with sheer glee as the man slurred, wobbled, and staggered from side to side before her eyes.

The last thing she wanted to do, though, was to show any sign of her delight in her face. If she let her audience see how pleased she was, they might very well start suspecting she had something up her sleeve. And that was the last thing Avari wanted them to think.

So, she did her best to feign a look of genuine puzzlement about the man's drunken bet, followed by a minute shrug and a spreading of her hands to convey wry aquiescence. What can I do? her gestures said. The man placed a bet. I have to honor it. That's just how it works.

"Very well, sir, five…err…coppers on the middle shell it is," Avari announced. She leaned forward and added in a confidential tone, "Some free advice, sir, I'd say you ought to be in bed. But who knows, you may have beginners' luck! Drunk or sober, the game doesn't care. All that matters is if the stone…is…there."

With the last two words, she slowly and dramatically lifted the middle seashell from atop her cloak and turned it over in her hand with exaggerated leisureliness. Of course, the little green pebble wasn't there. The groan of disappointment from the crowd in response was deeply gratifying. Avari flashed a sympathetic smile at the drunken sailor as she cupped her hand over the small stack of mizas he had dropped onto the table, sliding the gold-rimmed coins toward herself.

"So sorry, sir, but it seems you've had one too many today," she commiserated. "I'm afraid your bet is mine. You should have watched more closely! It's a simple game, but it's not always an easy one to play and win."

She looked up briefly and felt a sudden chill when she noticed how the blue-eyed Philippe was staring at her and at the seashell in her hand. There was an acuity in his gaze that she hadn't seen there before, an intensity that made her suddenly remember that she was hosting her game in the most learned city in the world. Even the roughest-looking Zeltivan might have picked up a few bits of arcane knowledge from being around the University or listening to its students and professors. She dared not think that he might have some unsuspected skill or ability to see past her modest deceptions and sleight-of-hand somehow. With a start, Avari remembered how the grey, nondescript man she had first seen running the shell game had only allowed a handful of bets before packing up. Perhaps she would be wise to follow his example.

But…but…not yet! Avari looked around herself, at the steadily growing crowd and at the staggering drunkard still gaping at her across the table. How could she leave when the pickings were still so plentiful? Just one or two more rounds, she told herself.

In the meantime, she had to address the unspoken inquiry in Phillipe's gaze. "Ladies and gentlemen, unless you want your pockets to be light, you need to pick the shell that's right! Follow the stone, not the shells. That's the best advice I can give you. Follow the stone with your eyes, if you can, and don't forget: I may not always leave the stone under the same shell it started under. You must follow the stone, gentlemen."

As she shuffled the shells around again, not noticing how one of them had already chipped, she turned to the drunken sailor again. "Care to risk your fortunes yet again, good sir? There's silver and gold to be won, if you do, the gleaming mizas that are the stuff of dreams. Perhaps Ovek just needs you to make a larger offering of your faith, before He blesses you with prosperity. Come now, won't you place another bet?"

[Paragon]

The drunken man slammed a hand down on the table, muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and then staggered away. About eight metres from the table, he fell into the small crowd of people, who managed to prop him up and send him on his way again. Phillipe watched the woman carefully. There was trickery at play here, he was sure of it. Little flashes in her aura, assumptions, feigned surprised. He began to smile. She was a great showman, keeping the crowds entertained with her honeyed words and Konti smile. But Phillipe wondered just what she was planning. Something in her aura told him she wanted to leave. Well, he wouldn't let her do that. He'd push her again. "10 Miza's," he said, the words coming out more like a snarl, "10 Miza's on the righthand shell." Somehow, he'd play this trickster at her own game.

[Avari]

Narrowing her eyes, Avari reluctantly turned to look back at the fresh-faced but increasingly suspicious-looking Philippe. On one hand, she was gratified that the young man seemed to be as hooked on the game as a fish on a barbed line; he was exactly the sort of gambler that any betting establishment could desire. She silently congratulated herself on managing the many aspects of running the shell game so well on her first try, without accomplices, from the patter to crowd management and sleight-of-hand.

On the other hand, though, the Konti didn't like the way he was looking at her or the snarling sound of his voice, not at all. More than ever, Philippe gave her a cold feeling in her belly. He didn't look hopeful, dejected, or irresistibly addicted to the thrill of the game, as she expected a gambler should. He looked watchful and determined, with the wary alertness that reminded her of an Ivaski on the prowl. Yes, she thought with a sudden shiver, he looks like a predator, trying to flush his prey out of hiding.

It was just a feeling he gave her, not a vision granted by Avalis or a revelation granted by the powers of Divination. Neither evidence nor fact lay behind her growing misgivings about him, only instinct and her keen sense of self-preservation. One scoundrel knows another, Avari reflected. For a moment, she thought about delving into his chavi and finding out exactly what sort of person she was dealing with here. But who knew how long she might linger looking for information within the Chavena and what suspicions she would raise?

The very fact that she was even considering using Avalis' gnosis jolted Avari into realizing that she was in over her head. Her earlier intuition had been right. It was time to pack up, take her winnings, and leave.

As casually as she could, Avari started to reach out to accept Philippe's ten-miza bet. Then, she feigned a look of shock and alarm, her eyes going wide.

"Oh no! The city watch!" she cried.

Unsteadily, she pointed off into the distance and, as much as it secretly pained her to do so, hurriedly shoved the mizas back at Philippe. Several heads turned in that direction. Avari took advantage of their distraction to hastily collect the pebble and three shells that were her props and to gather up the cloak she had spread across a pile of discarded crates.

Of course, there was no watchman heading her way, but in the ever-shifting throng milling around the docks, no one could tell for sure. After all, a few scattered guardians of law and order did patrol the docks every day to make sure business was conducted peacefully, and they did tend to look down on unsanctioned gambling. It made a good excuse for a hasty exit.

"Time to pack up," she announced to the small crowd gathered around her. Sardonically, she added, "You just know those tiresome city watchmen will do anything to keep ordinary citizens from doing anything 'illegal' like gambling...'illegal' meaning anything fun and exciting that can make them rich in an instant. I had better get going if I don't want to get clapped in chains. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for kindly taking the time to play a game or two with me!"

With that, Avari swished the cloak around her shoulders and gave a clumsy attempt at an extravagant bow before her impromptu audience. I'd better work at that, she thought wryly. Then, she turned on her heel and slipped through the crowd, holding her head high and moving as quickly as she dared.

[Paragon]

It all happened so quickly. One moment, Phillipe was placing his bet, the next, the young woman was crying out something about the city watch, and packing away hurriedly. He saw several flashes in her aura. She was acting, he was sure of it. When she took off into the Zeltivan crowds, he glanced around. There were no members of the city wach here. Would they have arrested her for merely playing a game on the streets? He wasn't sure. All he knew, was that she was lying. He tried to spot where she had gone, and took off in an approximate direction. She couldn't have gotten far - not through this throng. He couldn't follow her aura. The crowds were packed, and if he opened his auristic sight, he would be overwhelmed with bright flashes of colour and emotion. He simply ran as fast as he could, pushing through, trying to spot the blonde Konti ahead. Like a mouse, running from a cat. Soon enough, I'll catch her. And then I'll find out just what she thinks she's playing at. The whole chase had turned mandatory. He was caught up in the thrill, and he was intrigued. There was something about her... a roguish glint. He was determined to find out more.