Knivesies!

Shadow strolled down the gangplank onto the gambling barge, The Twin Tigers, with Erin on one arm and Wren on the other. They’d come to Eel’s End to try to gain an audience with the crime lord who ran it, Devargo Barvasi, but this was way more fun than he’d anticipated. He ducked his head to enter one of the low huts on the deck of the barge. Inside was a riot of noise and color: spinning wheels, clattering dice, jingling coins, and raucous laughter. He pulled out a gold piece and flipped it carelessly onto a roulette table; it landed on red and he let it ride. The wheel spun, the ball clattered, and landed, of course, on red. He swept up his winnings and prepared to bet again, but Erin’s sharp elbow brought him back to the mission at hand.

“What do you think those eel tattoos mean?” Wren asked quietly, nodding towards another enforcer standing nearby, watching the proceedings with an eagle eye, ready to shut down any trouble before it got started. Like the greeter who’d met them when they arrived, he had a moray eel tattooed across his left arm and hand.

“This place is ‘Eel’s End’”, Tomas explained, joining them. “It’s probably their gang symbol."

“I wonder if that means Barvasi was Lamm’s supplier?” mused Jax, who’d accompanied Tomas. They’d seen the same tattoo on the thug they’d killed in Gaedren Lamm’s hideout.

Dragging Shadow away from the gaming tables, they passed through the Twin Tigers and crossed a gangplank to the next barge. This once-proud vessel, the Dragon’s Breath, had been painted a gaudy red. A sign at the entrance said simply ‘Pass into the Dreams of the Dragon’. The deck was empty, but a curtained doorway led below decks. Shadow poked his head through. Unlike the frantic din they’d just left, this was almost silent, with eerie sitar music floating in the air, along with a haze of pungent smoke. The open interior was partitioned with silken curtains, and he could see glassy-eyed patrons lounging on large beds and cushions. He recognized one of the aromas filling the air, and darted out quickly, gulping for fresh air and fighting the urge to let himself be drawn back inside. “Let’s keep going!” he urged the others, and scrambled up the next gangplank.

They found themselves on the deck of the Eel’s End, a former warship that served as the namesake and flagship of this enterprise. A musician played a lively dancing tune in the center of the deck and one corner of the foredeck had been converted into a bar. Several revelers caroused on the lower deck, but the aft deck was mostly empty, save for a pair of enforcers standing guard before a pair of double doors that led into the stern section of the ship; the doors were decorated with a complex painting of a spider.

“Where’s Nat?” Jax asked suddenly, looking around. The young wizard was nowhere to be seen. Scanning the area, they finally spotted him far back up the long pier that led to Eel’s End. Nat waved timidly, but made no move to join them; apparently, he didn’t have the nerve to face the temptations Eel’s End had to offer.

One of those temptations almost knocked Tomas down. “Dansh with me!” a woman slurred, grasping for his hand. She had the largest breasts he had ever seen, barely contained in the low-cut, loose blouse she was almost wearing. She was also easily as old as his mother. “Yeah, dance wit da lady!” demanded her companion, whose belly rivaled his date’s breasts for size. Tomas was seized by near panic as he stared at the twin mountains of flesh; he had no stomach to see those things start moving in rhythm. But his good breeding took over. “I’m afraid I have other business,” he said with a slight bow, backing quickly away. “Perhaps on some other occasion.” The couple erupted in braying laughter, mocking his hasty retreat, but made no move to stop him.

The group followed Tomas up the ladder to the aft deck, and approached the guards. Once again, Shadow took the lead. “We’d like an audience with his majesty,” he said respectfully, remembering that Devargo was known as ‘The King of Spiders’. “We have a business proposition that we’re sure he will find very profitable.” As usual, the half-elf’s charm was on full display. “Mr. Barvasi is in a meeting,” one of the guards said gruffly, but then softened, “but I’ll see if he wants to meet with you.” He opened the door a crack and slipped inside. After several minutes, he reemerged. “Mr. Barvasi will see you now.”

They entered a large room, once the captain’s cabin, that had now been converted into a throne room of sorts. The walls were thick with spider webs, in which scuttled dozens of spiders, some as large as a fist but most considerably smaller. The spiders seemed content to stay in their webs and did not venture into the room itself, which was furnished with two sturdy oaken tables surrounded by chairs. Seated at the table to their left were half a dozen rough-looking men, in the middle of a rather sumptuous looking meal. They’d heard loud voices and laughter when the door had opened, but the group fell silent as the party entered, all eyes turning to focus on them. Jax noticed that unlike all the enforcers they’d encountered so far, these men did not bear the Eel’s End tattoo.

At the aft end of the cabin was a low wooden stage, supporting a large leather chair covered with cobwebs and scampering spiders. Lounging in the chair was Devargo Barvasi, the self-styled King of Spiders. He was a tall, muscular man with shaggy black hair and a fierce glare. His black leather armor was accented with a steel spider-shaped shoulder baldric and a thick chain crisscrossing his chest, linked together in the shape of a spider. His hands were clad in gauntlets fixed with blades over the knuckles, and the steel blades glistened with some rainbow-hued liquid. Now and then, spiders scuttled over his skin, but he took no notice. Next to his throne, an iron birdcage hung from the ceiling like a chandelier, its inhabitant a haggard-looking House Drake. A narrow door to port was ajar revealing a flight of stairs leading below.

Devargo considered the group a few moments, as the silence grew uncomfortable. “I understand you have some business with me?” he said at last.

Shadow stepped forward. “We do indeed, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing respectfully. “The word on the street is that you might have some information about a certain Chelish diplomat – at least in theory. Now if you did have such information – again, speaking hypothetically – we might potentially be able to enhance your bottom line if you were to share such information with us.”

Shadow’s honeyed words had never been sweeter. A slow smile spread across Devargo’s lips. “I like you, kid,” he said, leaning back. “I like your style. I might ‘hypothetically’ have the sort of information you’re interested in – just how much do you think you can enhance my bottom line?”

Cressida Kroft had given the group 1,000 gold sails to use as bribe money – but she’d also told them anything they didn’t spend was theirs to keep. “Oh, I think we could manage 400 gold pieces,” Shadow said confidently.

Devargo’s smile turned into a frown. “You disappoint me, kid. I give you some of my precious time, and then you insult me with an offer like that. The kind of information you’re looking for? It would go for 1,500, easy.”

Shadow gulped. “How about 800?” he countered.

Devargo’s face darkened at another low-ball offer. But then his smile returned. “Tell you what – let’s make this interesting. Since I like you, I’ll give you a chance to change my mind. Let’s play knivesies for it.”

At the mention of ‘knivesies’, the thugs at the table, who’d been silent to this point, erupted in cheers. They leaped to their feet, and swept the table clear with a crash of shattering crockery. “Knivesies! Knivesies! Knivesies!” they began to chant.

The group exchanged confused looks. “Um … that sounds like a great idea.” Shadow responded weakly. “Just one question – what’s ‘knivesies’?”

Devargo’s smile widened. “You kids have never played knivesies?” Everyone shook their heads as he rose from his throne. “Oh, you’re going to love it. It’s a very simple game.” He took a dagger from the belt of one of the thugs and slammed its point into the center of the table. “There’s two players,” he explained, “and they stand on either end of the table. People place their bets by putting their gold on the table and standing at the end with the player they’re betting on. There’s no armor and no weapons allowed – except of course, for this one,” he said, flicking the dagger stuck in the table with a finger, causing it to vibrate. “We tie your right hand to your side, and put a bag on your belt. The winning player gets to keep any gold they can put in their bag, up to half the winnings, and those who bet on the winner split the rest.”

“How do you know who wins?” Wren asked meekly, fearing she knew the answer.

The thugs erupted in laughter, stamping their feet on the deck. Devargo leaned over, his face directly in front of Wren’s. “The game ends when all the gold is off the table. Or when one of the players is dead or off the table himself.”

“Now! Who’s going to play?” Devargo shouted, straightening up. One of the thugs was already stripping off his armor, and his mates had a cord ready to tie his hand. “I’ll do it,” Jax said, stepping forward, and taking off his own armor. As they tied his hand, Devargo raised his voice again. “Now everyone needs to place the same bet, else you could actually lose money by winning. Shall we say 5 gold each?” His thugs cheered and started tossing coins onto the table.

“How about ten?” Shadow countered, and the cheering died. Devargo clapped him on the shoulder. “I knew I liked you, kid! Ten gold it is!” The thugs went back into their pockets and anted up, although much less enthusiastically than before.

Jax climbed up onto one end of the table and the barrel-chested thug onto the other. They were barely an arm’s-length apart, and there would be no room to maneuver. The thug gave him an evil smile, revealing several missing teeth. “GO!” Devargo shouted with no warning, and the match was on!

Jax feinted a kick at the thug’s groin, then dove for the knife. He got to it a fraction before his opponent, and ripped it free, slashing the thug’s leg in the process. The thug tried to sweep Jax’s feet out from under him, but Jax hopped over the kick, stabbing the dagger down into his back twice more. The thug grunted with pain and dropped to one knee, scooping up a fistful of coins into the canvas bag tied to his waist. Jax slashed him again, but the move had been part of a ploy; the thug used his lower position for leverage, and launched himself forward, catching Jax in the mid-section and trying to bull-rush him off the table. Jax slammed the dagger to the hilt into his back, then dropped to the table, using the thug’s momentum to send him flying off the table and onto the floor, where he lay unconscious and bleeding.

None of his comrades seemed concerned about his fate, grumbling instead about their lost bets. Jax struggled to his feet as Devargo applauded his performance. “Well done!” the King of Spiders praised. “That should earn you a discount – I’ll give you what you want for 1,250.”

“We’ll meet you at 1,000,” Shadow countered again. He was mentally doing the math to see how much higher their knivesies winnings would allow them to bid. Devargo grinned. “I’ll tell you what – if you win one more game of knivesies, I’ll meet your price. Who wants to go this time?”

Erin stepped forward. “I could do it,” she said coyly, “but I’m just a girl. I think you should give me some advantage – say starting with the dagger?”

The thugs whistled and hooted. “I’ll give you an advantage,” one offered. “You strip off ALL your clothes, and we’ll coat you with oil. That should make you harder to grab!” His mates cheered, and he stripped off his own shirt, revealing a pelt of thick hair covering his chest, shoulders and back.

Erin turned to Devargo. “Seriously,” she purred, “a girl wouldn’t stand a chance unarmed against them, would she? Don’t you think I should get some extra advantage?” Devargo snorted. “You walk in here wearing chainmail and carrying a sword almost as big as you are, and you claim you need an ‘advantage’? I don’t think so. If you want an advantage, I’ll have my men bet 15 gold to your 10.” The hooting and hollering died away.

“I’ll do it,” Tomas huffed, disgusted by the way the thugs were leering at Erin. As he stripped off his armor, Devargo gave a disappointed sigh. “Very well, but betting’s back to 10 a side.”

Tomas climbed up onto the table. His opponent was a wiry man with an impressive collection of scars. At the shout of ‘Go’, they both lunged for the dagger, and for a moment both had their hands on its hilt. But Tomas jabbed an elbow into the man’s teeth, and ripped the knife free, cutting a deep cut across his foe’s chest in the process. Already down near the tabletop, the thug grabbed for some coins, hoping to get what he could from the contest, as Tomas slashed him again and again. The thug grabbed Tomas’s ankle and yanked his feet out from under him, sending him tumbling to the tabletop, but Tomas managed to avoid falling off. The man stood and kicked Tomas, trying to force him off for a victory, but Tomas held on and stabbed the knife upwards, catching his opponent in the lower gut, just above his groin. The man gave a gasp of pain and clutched feebly at the blade before his eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled off the table.

“Good show!” Devargo applauded. “You’ve helped me out here tonight. I was interviewing these fellows to see if they deserved to be part of my operation – now I know that at least two of them don’t.” Those two lay in pools of blood on the floor – whether they were dead or just unconscious was difficult to say. “I’d say you’ve earned what you came for,” he continued, and raised two fingers to his lips, giving a shrill whistle. The door opened, and the two guards came in. “Keep an eye on them while I go below,” Devargo ordered before he disappeared down the stairs.

He returned a few minutes later, carrying a leather satchel. “When Lord Amprei arrived in town, I paid him a friendly visit, offering to establish a line of trade, if you will, with Cheliax. The man had me thrown out of his house – hardly a way to do business. Luckily I’d lifted his house key from his pocket, and I paid another visit later that night when he was out. In his bedroom, I found a collection of love letters – rather steamy love letters, I might add – from the wife of a very important noble back in Cheliax. Since then, I’ve been selling the letters back to Amprei one at a time. The fact that he hasn’t gone to the Guard to stop me says plenty about how dangerous these letters would be to his career – and his life.” Devargo held out one hand, and Shadow dropped a heavy pouch of gold into it. Devargo tossed him the satchel. “Now the letters are yours to do with as you wish. Pleasure doing business with you! If you every have any other ‘opportunties’, I’d be happy to work with you!”

Stepping over the bodies on the floor, Devargo showed them to the door. Within minutes, they were back on the pier leading back to Endrin Isle. “I was waiting here to cover your escape,” Nat explained lamely as they headed back into town.

Cressida Kroft was delighted to hear that their mission had succeeded, and eagerly opened the satchel and began to read the letters. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, her face growing red. “Oh MY! Yes, these should do nicely to give us leverage over Lord Amprei.” She hastily stuffed the letters back into the satchel and then into her desk drawer. It took her a moment to regain her composure.