Iron Quill - The Duel - High Stakes at the Bonsai Garden

[Haunter]

Here's my first try at Iron Quill.

Word count: 1747.

Ingredients used: All.

Comments & critique welcome.

 

 

High Stakes at the Bonsai Garden

 

Callie looked down at her hand, trying to keep her face impassive.  Three hours in, and four players out.  The pressure was on and the stakes were high.  Higher than anyone knew.  A pair of Aces wasn’t going to do the trick. 

 

It had to come down to this, didn’t it?  A proper duel, winner take… I don’t even know what. 

 

She leveled a cool gaze at Wire-framed Glasses, sitting across the table.  He raised his eyebrows with studied nonchalance. 

 

Inscrutable bastard.  She swallowed her frown long before it reached her lips.

 

“Well?”  Grey eyes glinted with amusement behind those little round lenses.

 

Callie shifted in her seat a little, plumping her cleavage just enough to distract most eyes.  She subtly ran her thumb over the Three of Tomes, channeling a tiny wisp of energy and turning it into an Ace.  Three of a kind was a safer bet.  “I’ll call.”  The required coins clinked on the table.

 

Wire-framed Glasses smirked and met her eyes boldly.  He spread his hand – a pair of fives.  Callie squinted at the cards and at him in spite of herself.

 

Nothing.  Just that same damned image again.  A candle burning with a blue flame.  Who the hell are you?

 

Callie laid out her three of a kind and thought hard about a chorus line of burlesque dancers.  She met his gaze with all the brazen confidence she could muster.  Unbidden, a memory came to mind instead.  New Orleans.  Mother calls me from in from the yard.  I am nine years old and wearing a yellow sun dress. 

 

Wire-framed Glasses smiled.  She frowned.  He’d won again.  She collected her coins and stacked them neatly in front of her.

 

She’d come to Malifaux four months ago.  They say that crossing the Breach can change a person, and she knew it to be true.  She’d been an accomplished card shark before, but since she crossed over she was reading a lot more than just tells.

 

She looked at the other players who still sat around the table, all watching the game intently even after bowing out of it.  Iron Hand, the foundry worker who hated the cold of his mechanical arm.  Top Knot, who loved his baby girl even though she’d been born with no eyes.  Grizzly Beard, the filthy-nailed Gremlin hunter and improbable poet.  Eye Twitch, who’d killed his first wife in a rage and still blamed her for making him do it.  She read each of them like so many books as the hands played out, but not Wire-framed Glasses.  He stymied her at every turn, and yet she knew he was reading her.

 

She wished it was just coincidence that sat them both down at this table in this bar on this night.  It seemed unlikely.  The Bonsai Garden was a very out of the way place way down in the Little Kingdom.  She had only even learned of it by chance.  It was a shameless little hole where upstanding folk could come and get a taste of the exotic orient.  The two tittering ladies at the bar were dressed like geisha but acted like the whores they were.  Sake and noodles were about the only things on the menu because they were the only things outsiders knew about food from the Three Kingdoms.  Focus, you silly bint.  She turned her attention back to the game. 

 

It was her deal.  She shuffled the well-worn deck and dealt with automatic efficiency.  She watched her opponent take up his cards.  He had small hands and greying hair cropped close to his head.  His clothes were bland and nondescript.  She couldn’t place a foreign accent of any kind, which meant he’d probably been an American before crossing over.  He’d come to the game with a modest buy-in, nothing high rolling.  The man was maddeningly unremarkable.

 

Callie picked up her cards.  Ugh, utter dross.  Not even her new tricks could save a hand that bad.  She folded, drawing some murmurs from the little knot of bystanders.  Grizzly Beard and Top Knot had a side bet going on who was going to take the pot.  The big lug nudged his companion with a hairy elbow. 

 

Wire-framed Glasses flashed a look of mild disappointment and put down his cards as well. 

 

His deal.  A better hand this time and Callie allowed herself a little confidence.  She bet modestly, still trying to keep the game going.  Wire-framed Glasses raised without blinking.  Callie chewed her lip and weighed her options.  “I’ll call.”

 

Wire-framed Glasses laid out a lone pair of tens.  Candle with a blue flame.  Again.  She wanted to shout at the obtuse little man, but that would break the unspoken silence of the real game. 

 

Callie gritted her teeth, emptied her mind and revealed a straight.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Nothing, you little troll.  You get nothing.

 

She shuffled and dealt.  The cards were getting tingly to the touch now.  It was like they were picking up the magic themselves.  She swore she saw a tiny wisp of blue arc between the cards and his hand when he picked them up. 

 

This time Wire-framed Glasses folded, denying her three thirteens their moment of triumph.  She cursed inwardly.  No hand, no read.  No read, no hope of figuring out who this man was or what he wanted from her.

 

He took the next hand with a flush of Rams.  He’s sitting at a desk with a ledger and a scale.  Bookkeeper maybe?  A miner walks in and dumps a glowing chunk of soulstone on the desk.  Even in a memory he can feel its power.  Where’s your blue candle now, you prig?

 

Callie couldn’t hide a little victorious smile.  She caught Top Knot’s puzzled expression.  She centered herself and focused on the duel at hand.

 

The deck was warm to the touch now.  She saw wisps of blue energy clinging around the cards like a hazy afterglow.  Apparently none of the onlookers saw them, but she was sure if she could then so could he.  It took more and more discipline to keep her mind blank when she laid down her cards.  There was a faint sheen of perspiration on her upper lip, and she didn’t think it was due to the warmth of the close little bar room.

 

When he laid down four of a kind with the black joker, Callie felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.  It wasn’t that there was no read.  It was more like staring into the Abyss.  Hungry black nothingness. 

 

Another hand – two pair against his three of a kind.  Paris.  I’m twenty-one.  Jean-Louis squires me around the city in his private carriage so I let him in my dress.  Guess I’m a real woman now.  Oh god, of all the bloody things to think about.  Damnation!  A smile ghosted across Wire-framed Glasses’ face.

 

A few more onlookers were paying attention now.  The tittering geishas and the one-eyed bartender had stopped pretending not to notice the hottest game in the house.  The original players seemed enraptured, watching each hand as if they had a stake in it.  Callie found herself wondering if there were other powers at play in the cards here. 

 

Wire-framed Glasses laid down a surprise full house, crushing her triples.  He’s in a lecture hall with a hundred other men all listening to a tall fellow with a mechanical hand at the lectern.  Unabashed admiration.  He looks at the man like he’s the mouthpiece of God.

 

Callie looked at their respective piles of coin.  They both knew the money was just window dressing, the real game unseen by the curious crowd.  Her stack has dwindled in the last hour.  More importantly, her concentration is starting to waver.

 

He dealt her a full house, thirteens over nines.  Callie held her impassive poker face steady.  It was time to make an exit one way or the other.

 

“I’m all in.” she said, pushing all her remaining coin into the middle.

 

Wire-framed Glasses didn’t miss a beat.  “I’ll call.”  Coins crossed the table.  He arched his eyebrows quizzically.

 

Callie smugly laid out her hand and sat back.  Wire-framed Glasses calmly laid down a royal flush capped with the red joker.  The rush of magic washed over her with almost palpable force and pushed a gasp past her lips.  The train’s just about to the Breach.  My heart’s in my throat.  I said I’d never look back, but I’m thinking that jumping off a moving train seems eminently sensible as we hurtle towards a hole in reality.  We enter the Breach.  I hear screaming in the next car, or maybe it’s outside the train.  I can’t tell.  I close my eyes and cover my ears.  I can’t bear to look out the window.  I’m so scared I wet myself.  I cower and weep until the man in the next seat puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me it’s over.  I made it.  I made it to Malifaux.

 

Wire-framed Glasses adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat a little.  Callie abruptly snapped out of her reverie.  He looked a little rattled himself, but not half as much as she.  He seemed almost reluctant to take his winnings, to allow the game to end.

 

“Well,” she said in her breeziest southern drawl, “Looks like I’ve gone and lost my stake.”  Still flustered, she lurched to her feet rather less gracefully than she’d intended.  She took in the motley crew of men seated around the table, “Gentlemen, I thank you for a fine evening’s entertainment.  It’s past time for me to retire, I’m afraid.”  She extricated herself from the table and collected her skirts about her, “I thank y’all again.  Good night.” 

 

Callie hustled out the door and waved to a distant rickshaw boy.

 

“Miss Doucette,” Wire-framed Glasses was right behind her, close enough to grab her though he made no move, “Miss Doucette, a moment, please.”

 

Callie waved again to the rickshaw boy who looked at her, looked past her, then retreated into the fog.  Callie felt suddenly cold.  She glanced out the corner of her eye in the direction the rickshaw boy had looked.  A bearded man in a wide brimmed hat leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarillo.  His hand rested casually on an ornate custom pistol.  Shit.

 

“Miss Doucette,” Wire-framed Glasses said again, “There is someone who would very much like to make your acquaintance.  If you’d be so kind as to come with us…”

[admiralvorkraft]

I enjoyed this, nice use of formatting. I would have liked to know a little bit more about Wire-Framed Glasses, not a ton, but enough to be scared of him. Maybe he tipped his first hand a little?

[Haunter]

Hmm.  Good point.  I was going for enigmatic, but upon reflection I can certainly see how it sort of misses the intimidation factor.  Must ponder.  Thank you for the feedback!  This is the first short story I've written in a loooong time.  I found pacing the action and fitting in all the desired detail really challenging.  

[admiralvorkraft]

I think your pacing is really good, I would just like a better sense of the stakes.

[The Grue]

I enjoyed reading this. You are very descriptive in your writing.

 

There was one part that confused me though:

 

Wire-framed Glasses smirked and met her eyes boldly.  He spread his hand – a pair of fives.  Callie squinted at the cards and at him in spite of herself.

 

Nothing.  Just that same damned image again.  A candle burning with a blue flame.  Who the hell are you?

 

Callie laid out her three of a kind and thought hard about a chorus line of burlesque dancers.  She met his gaze with all the brazen confidence she could muster.  Unbidden, a memory came to mind instead.  New Orleans.  Mother calls me from in from the yard.  I am nine years old and wearing a yellow sun dress. 

 

Wire-framed Glasses smiled.  She frowned.  He’d won again.

 

I may have misread this but I was under the impression that a three of a kind beat a pair. I figured that you meant that she lost the "concentration battle" between the two when you wrote the last sentence that I quoted above "Wire-framed Glasses smiled.  She frowned.  He’d won again.". This may have just confused me but it was the only thing I saw that broke the immersion for me. It did not break it in a bad way, just enough where I had to stop reading and re-read.

 

I look forward to more stories from you and all of the other new writers in this Quill.

 

As always,

The Grue

[Haunter]

You read it correctly.  She was disappointed that she'd lost the concentration battle.  The line was meant to convey that the magical duel was what really counted and that the poker game was sort of irrelevant.  I hoped that following up 'he'd won again' with her collecting the pot would make the dual nature of the games clear.  The ambiguity was intentional, though if it breaks immersion it may not be working quite as intended.  There was another bit later on where she looked triumphant even though she'd lost a the hand that was intended to serve a similar purpose.

 

I really appreciate the feedback.  My writing chops are pretty rusty, and this sort of commentary helps sharpen them up again.

[The Grue]

That is what I thought originally and I only re-read the section to make sure what I thought was correct. I wouldn't change it as the only one that has mentioned it so far is me and you can't always trust my mind, it may have ulterior motives of its own.

 

 

As always,

The Grue