Legend of Ransera

[con't. from The Demon of the Crossroads]

Aurin reached out and clasped hands with his new—friend? Surely not. His own hand was a slightly larger, scarred version of the thief's own, though his had likely been a mistlord's playground to worse ends over the years.

"Well met, Arvine," he said, sensing candor coming his way as well. There was always a margin of error when it came to people, but perhaps Lunaria had been correct: a holiday was what he had needed. He might come return to Kalzasi with old skills honed back to a razor's edge, with information and spoils, and a new—apprentice? Well, the city elf would likely complain the whole way. Sore feet, though perhaps they could travel with a caravan. Beasts of burden wouldn't notice two men sitting on the edge of a wagon even if Arvine stuffed his face with honeyed lemon cakes from now until it was time to depart. Then again, he might need to escape Antiris at speed, in which case, an airship would be best.

"What say I meet you in front of this place at noon in three days? Perhaps they'll have some cake for the journey."

He cracked a smile. It wanted to be a smirk, but it was a smile, albeit a small one.

"Madame Lunaria is Hytori, as well. Hytori and human." He barked a short laugh. "Perhaps it's fate."

For all that she took good care of her employees, he wouldn't call her maternal. And for all that there was some turnover in employees, there was a collegial air behind the scenes. The performers relied upon each other for their acts to succeed. The bartenders, the card dealers, the cleaners, and the cooks—they were a sort of team. It was as like a family as the little thieves' guilds like that to which Arvine likely belonged.

He leaned back, stretched his legs out under the table to prop them up on the bench next to Arvine, not so close as to alarm, and still leaving an easy avenue of escape. He rested his mug in both hands on his belly. There was work to be done, and soon, but this was surprisingly pleasant. And perhaps he could demand a finder's fee of Lunaria for bringing her a new employee while he was supposed to be enjoying himself.

"That's the plan," he said, uncomfortable with the lad's enthusiasm, but glad for it anyway.

"Ahh..." His smile turned into a frown, but it wasn't for ire directed at Arvine. "She makes no bones about her heritage and anyone who has a rude word to say about it wisely keeps it to themselves if they want to patronize her establishment. I've been around... some places are worse than others about that. Kalzasi's one of the better places, probably because of the bird boys in charge. They are... well, they're magical. But some of them are orkhan with wings. Others, elves with wings. The crown fucking prince... his mother's an elf. The silver kind. His father, the human sort of bird boy. Everyone wants in good with the people in charge, so perhaps that's why Kalzasi isn't quite so fucking racist.

"Anyone can be a shithead," he added. "Doesn't matter what race or mix of races. Seems to be an equal distribution from what I can tell. Don't be a shithead, all right?" Then he smirked again, which was his way of smiling while keeping himself safe.

"I'll just steal your hat when we leave. Teach you to be proud of yourself by the time we get to Kalzasi so you don't stand for people shitting on you anymore. Madame Lunaria won't want you embarrassed of yourself on that account. It would imply she should be embarrassed of herself, and the woman has no shame, which is probably a good thing for someone running a cabaret. Lots of feathers and sparkling things, by the bye, to answer that question of yours. Sometimes not a lot else, though." He could already think of several of the costumers drooling at the chance to deck him out. Golden eyes, golden hair from what little was peeking out from under his hat, and gold in his complexion. No wonder the Hytori thought they were amazing; the Gods saw fit to make them creatures of gold.

"I'll have your back," he said, "so long as you don't go doing something stupid like picking the pocket of someone bigger and meaner than me."

That was a lie. If Arvine put his future in Aurin's hands, he was going to have his back regardless. He might be a bad man, but he did have an internal sort of ethical system.

"But I can also teach you to fight. The first lesson is: avoid fighting. But if it can't be avoided, you should be able to take care of yourself. At least until I can get there and end the fight, I guess." Half of him still expected Arvine to disappear and never return, but the other half was accepting that he was going to help this kid get out of a shit situation and at least put him in a decent one where he could make a life for himself if he put in the time and effort.

"It won't be glamorous at first. But you'll be able to see it, study it. You'll probably start cleaning, running food from the kitchen. That sort of thing. But you'll be learning to sing and dance. All the courtesans do. Some of them become stars, but even those who aren't stars end up in the shows. They'll find what you're good at and hone those skills. A lot of it is just being charming, looking pretty and making conversation, keeping people drinking, gambling, and the like. Make sure people are having a good time, but that mostly entails having a good time yourself, so it's not a terrible trade-off. Some of the clients are less entertaining than others, but that's why we get paid to do our jobs."

He paused. "But you are a performer. You have your schtick for seeming innocuous when you're cutting a purse. No doubt you've learned how to keep Demitrov happy. It's a similar skill. You meet new people and show them a good time. Figure out people's humor and then be funny. A lot of it's showmanship, knowing how to perform. You can learn."

"I know you're good at what you do," he assured him. "You wouldn't still be alive if you weren't. The streets have a way of culling the herd of the inept."

A frown appeared for a moment as he watched Arvine check his wrist. It was rare for Aurin to feel bad about something he had done. Most of his bad actions he placed on the altar of Necessity. He could knife a man without batting an eyelash, but he wasn't in the habit of manhandling kids.

"I don't know if this..." he indicated Arvine right now, "is an act or you being relaxed, but it's pretty charming. Pretty funny. Courtesans are entertainers. The word covers a variety of expected skills. Changes from place to place, culture to culture. Since we're a cabaret, they lean into the arts—singing, dancing, instruments. Some courtesans are rich themselves and host parties with dignified guests that they engage in witty conversation, hiring out the entertainment to other people. Some people get trained like apprentices in a long line... others come with some of the skills and pick up the rest as they go. It can be what you make of it. It's good you're young, though. You still have time to pick up a lot of those skills. How old are you, anyway?"

Regardless of his answer, he would be safe from a whole bevy of transgressions. Madame Lunaria was many things, but a purveyor of children for prurient interests was not one of them.

As Arvine mirrored his posture, he wondered if it was meant to be a joke or if it was an unconscious thing. Either way, observation and imitation were good skills to have from what he understood of it all.

"I don't think the best actors are really acting," he mused, "but I'm not an actor either. At least, not the stage kind. I can convince a drunk patron of the Cabaret that we're long lost best friends and that he should definitely let me buy him a drink instead of harassing the pretty lady, though... Most of the time. But hells, they'll train you for that as well. The Velvet Cabaret is on the same plaza as the Theater of the Golden Peacock, so if acting turns out to be your thing, you might be working next door as well... or exclusively."

He gazed at Arvine, his golden eyes more open than he had seen them. It was strange he wanted Aurin's opinion as to what he could accomplish with his life.

"None of that is outside the realm of possibility. You just have to work on your skills. And be smart with your money. Once your working, I'll take you to the Bank and start an account there. Put your money there rather than spending it like some of the idiots do and you can buy yourself a place to host parties. Hells, befriend the right bird boy and he might even take you flying. Just be sure to bundle up. Those fuckers don't feel cold like normal people and even on a sunny summer day, it gets cold up where the birds live."

He shrugged one shoulder, the other holding steady so he didn't spill his drink as he took a sip. "I'm twenty-four. We both survived longer than we should have, so we both should be able to dream big."

Of course, his own dreams were to keep surviving and maybe become a power player in Kalzasi, to be the guy who drinks and knows things.