60. Hull - The Consequences of Winning

Chapter 60

The Consequences of Winning

“You best watch yourself,” Penkmun said, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “You’re likely to get whacked on the head in an alley by some studious Tender desperate to study your soul card, and they won’t find you locked in his basement until decades later.”

“I hope this imaginary brother of yours doesn’t mind losing a few fingers,” I said, sitting up from the bench where I’d been reclined as he viewed my card. “I’ve had all the experimenting I’m willing to put up with already.”

We were sitting in his chapel in the Lows, still half-built and bearing the marks of the city’s war. I could see the morning sun slanting through the clapboards over the door where they hadn’t yet been nailed into place. Was it just the very next day after we’d stormed the palace, or had it been longer? Time in the Twins’ ghostly arena felt strange. None of us had slept at all, but at the same time it felt like we’d been there for months. I itched to poke around the Lows to ensure that the city truly was empty – that everyone else was still trapped in the Twins’ city – but I feared that if I stepped through the doors the gods would cut my conversation with Penkmun the Tender short. With everything that had happened, he’d been the obvious one to talk to. The Queen would have just bitched at me and given me all sorts of commands, and I wasn’t ready for that just yet, and it’d have been not all that different with Harker. It would have made my heart happy to see Bryll, who – the more I thought about it – I was increasingly convinced was another of Hestorus’s bastards, but I needed a wise head and some kind words. Roshum the Relicsmith would have done in a pinch, but Penkmun had been there for me ever since he’d first met me in the Rising Stars Tournament, and I trusted him. It was strange to think that there were people in this world I could trust now.

“I’m tempted to misbelieve my own eyes when it comes to you,” Penkmun said, rubbing his bald head and shaking it in disbelief. “Dressed in rags and nearly biting off my hand the first time I got close less than a year ago, and now look at you. Mythic! And well into the upper tiers, unless my measurement skills have gotten far worse than I think. They’ll be telling stories about you a hundred years from now, you know. Less.”

“Bugger off,” I said, scoffing. “Anybody that tries is going to find my foot in their ass.”

“You’re going to run out of feet,” he laughed. “I mean it. Not too many years and they’ll be singing about you and your friends in the taverns alongside Dallon the Keeper and all the old heroes.”

“Don’t care about that,” I grumbled, picking at a splinter on the bench. I did care, though. I felt scared. Exposed. Heroes couldn’t hide. People with songs written about them couldn’t dredge up the rabid gutter rat living in their hearts to claw their way out of a corner, bloody and raging.

His hand rested on my shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in,” he said quietly. “You just wanted to survive, to be safe… and now people look to you. There’s responsibility there.”

I nodded, a worm of worry burrowing in my gut. “I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You might,” he admitted, sitting next to me. “We all do, sooner or later.”

“I’m supposed to fight Basil for the throne,” I said, barely believing the words even as they came out of my mouth. “What kind of idiot gods would let me end up in charge?”

“You’ve done right by the Lows so far,” Penkmun offered.

“But that’s the Lows,” I said, bouncing to my feet to pace. “Ticosi was so awful that a feral monkey flinging its shit at people would have been a step up.”

The Tender quirked a smile. “I have yet to see that particular behavior from you.”

“I’m making it up as I go!” I burst out. “I’m not even there most of the time. I just tell Harker and Roshum what I think and hope it turns out okay.”

“Thoughtful planning. Creative thinking. Responsible delegation.” Penkmun spread his hands. “I am unimpressed by the recitation of your flaws.”

My heart twisted, and I finally found the real concern buried under the others. The words were bitter in my mouth. “What if I’m like him? I’m his gods-damned son.”

Penkmun was quiet for a long moment. “The Sun King was well loved by the people. Humanity’s first living Legendary! Plenty of petty tyrants would love to rise to his stature.”

“He used us. He toyed with us. He thought he knew best, and to hell with everyone else.” I wanted to throw something, to summon Nether and break a bench into kindling, but this was Penkmun’s chapel, and my friends had put sweat and tears into building it. It wouldn’t be right.

Penkmun stood and faced me, reaching out to unball my clenched fists and hold my hands. “You fear to be like your father. You fear that you will become so arrogant that lives mean nothing.”

“I see it happening already,” I admitted shamefully. “Out on the battlefield, when Qi’shen died, I barely even cared. The old bastard literally sacrificed himself for us, and all I could focus on was the next move. How to strike back. And Edaine – she was good to us. I haven’t shed a tear.”

“There has been precious little time for tears,” the old man said. “But answer me this: if Hestorus could have confided his fears to me, do you think his first words would have been I’m gonna mess it up?”

A laugh bubbled up and out of me at the thought. Imagining dear old Dad being doubtful was like imagining a lion running from a mouse.

“Seems to me,” Penkmun said, “the time to worry about becoming a tyrant is when you stop worrying about it.”

I frowned. “But by then it’s too late.”

“That’s why I’ll keep an eye on you. So will your friends. You have surrounded yourself with good people, Hull. Keep doing so and it will be hard to go too far wrong in the end.”

I looked him in the eye. “Do you really think I should try to win? Try to be king?” The words sounded absurd.

He thought hard before he answered, and I loved him for it. “You may not see it yet, Hull, but the whole city is broken very near as badly as the Lows. We need someone who can look at a crowd and see the beggars at the edges. Someone who knows what it’s like to be there. Someone who wants to build and to fix. I see a man like that in front of me.”

I took a shaky breath. “I’m not sure you’re right about all that.”

His smile was as bright as the shine off the Twins. “Oh, my boy, neither am I. But I choose to hope.”

* * *

When the Twins brought me back, I misted into being already on the arena floor. Basil stood across from me, blinking uncertainly, and I got the distinct feeling he had only just appeared as well.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” I said.

His eyes locked in on me with the unblinking focus he’d gained ever since he’d been the lich’s prisoner. “It appears so.”

Our soul cards flashed overhead, but instead of ante cards showing up afterwards, we saw a misty view of Treledyne from the air as if we were hawks flying high over its towers. The city itself was the ante for this match. Even having talked about it with Penkmun, I still felt overwhelmed by the thought.

I distracted myself by pulling cards. Basil did the same, frowning with that scholar’s intensity he’d always had as he mulliganed all but one card. There he stood, the best friend I’d ever known, and suddenly I remembered that the first time I’d ever seen him had been a moment not all that different from this one.

“Who’d have thought we’d end up here?” I said to him. “A kid that crawled out of the gutter and into the arena by mistake facing off against the only noble kind enough to give him his card back when he lost.”

Basil’s hard face relaxed into a small smile, and for a moment he looked like he used to. “Who’d have thought?” he echoed. “Our wildest dreams have all paled next to reality.”

I used the cards in hand to give him a casual salute. “Cheers on your wedding, by the way. Didn’t get a chance to say that yet.”

He bowed to me formally. “My deepest thanks. But let us now focus on our duel.”

My Nether Source in the opening gambit meant I went first, of course. “Basil, we’ve faced demons, vampires, and liches. We’ve barely walked away with our lives more than once. In comparison, this feels almost relaxing. It’s more of a spar than a duel, wouldn’t you say?” I could have summoned my Root Imp to really press him, but matching my actions to my words, I left the Soul unsummoned and did nothing more than saunter over to give him a bare-handed blow.

Any softness I’d seen in him faded as he discarded an Equality and a Protection out of hand to block. “Hull, listen to me carefully. I mean no disrespect to the trials either of us has faced when I say that this duel – duel, I say, not a spar – is the most important either of us has ever undertaken.” He had two Source out, an Air and a Life, and in an eye-bending flurry of both devoting and then the Air being unsummoned, a truly surprising force of Souls appeared.

Both of the huge ravens swooped down to slash at me, and I found myself swearing as I scrambled to respond. I’d focused myself to attack, meaning I couldn’t devote my Nether on his turn to reflect any damage using my soul ability, so I had no choice but to block out of hand. It cost me a Ghastly Gremlin, whose ability summoned it fruitlessly only to Expire at the end of the turn, along with my Marauder and a Bog Imp. I didn’t want to lose anything else I had in hand, so I took the last point off the top of my deck. The card shreds showed me what I’d lost.

“You son of a bitch,” I sputtered. “Take it easy! What are you doing?”

“Winning,” Basil said firmly. “I have considered the consequences of this match. If you have not, now would be a good time to begin.”

“We’ve won, Hintal,” I growled, the old anger rising in me. “The city is safe. If you win, great. You’d be a hell of a king. But I’ll be damned if you’re going to ruin what ought to be the best moment of our lives playing some petty king-of-the-hill kid’s trick.”

“It’s not petty, nor is it a trick,” he said with icy calm. “And it’s no hill we’re fighting over, it’s the city of Treledyne. I love our home with all my heart, and I know you do too. Does it deserve any less than our best efforts? Should we not strive with everything we possess, everything we are, to earn its leadership? Were you not eager for this fight mere moments ago?”

“Well, yeah,” I grumbled, readying my next play. “But not like this. I thought… I dunno, I was thinking–”

“You thought we’d reminisce over our shared victories, swap a few lazy blows, and I’d hand you the victory out of an overabundance of love for my friend?” he said, cocking his head.

“No,” I said, nettled. That had been exactly what I’d thought, and it was unsettling that he saw through me so easily.

“I am not that boy anymore, Hull. You are dear to me and always will be, but I want Treledyne to have the strongest, most capable king possible in every respect. I will fight to my utmost to make it so. If you do any less, then you are not the man I believed you to be.”

I firmed my jaw. He was right. Everyone was watching. They needed to know that the one who led them wanted it. Cared about them. Would fight for them. “Let’s do this, then.”

I’d drawn both Ravening Hatchlings, which let me summon my Root Imp without taking any permanent damage. 

I’d shattered both Raven Nightguards with my counterstroke when they’d attacked; only his Spiderkin remained in play. If I tried to hit Basil he’d just block with that Spiderkin, which would Dodge the damage. Best to leave myself at the ready in order to have the Source to reflect damage on Basil’s turn as needed. Still, no point in leaving my Root Imp idle. It swooped down to harry my opponent. He was forced to discard more cards from hand.  

Another Soul misted in on Basil’s side.

He held the Spiderkin in reserve while sending the Golem to destroy my devoted Root Imp. I wasn’t having it. Using my Intervene ability, I jumped in front of my demon, taking the hit and crushing the metal construct with my bare fists. 

“Being able to do five damage all on your own is a ridiculous amount,” Basil said, drawing a card from the destruction of the Golem. “Particularly when paired with Intervene.”

“So is being able to elevate a card whenever you please,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet, wondering when he would unleash that new ability of his.

“Yes, well,” he allowed with a small smile, “we certainly aren’t the same duelists we were in the Rising Stars Tournament.”

I summoned my Iron Maiden Plate.

Having been burned once already, I held back from attacking, preferring to keep my 1 remaining Nether available on Basil’s turn for reflecting damage. As always, the gutter rat inside screamed at me to attack, attack, attack, but I’d gotten good at keeping that voice to a dull buzz. I couldn’t be the feral street kid anymore, win or lose. I had to think about things strategically.

“So you really want to be king, huh?” I asked Basil. 

“I want,” he said, “to be of the greatest use I can be. I am thorough, adaptable, and driven, and have the Fortune to be married to a woman who is equally so. The city needs a leader, and I would be a better one than what we’ve experienced in the past.” He summoned a Spell, paying the extra to make it stick.

“Damn,” I muttered. Reflecting damage at him had just gotten harder. He’d only be able to Dodge once per turn, but until I had more Source up, he could stall me pretty effectively.

“Of equal importance,” Basil said as we continued the dance of our duel, “is whether you want to be king. That’s what we’re fighting for. If you’re not sure, perhaps it makes sense for you to concede as you expected me to.”

I snorted. The thought of conceding made my blood boil.

“I mean it, Hull,” he insisted. “Take your pride out of the way for a moment and consider. I know you feel overwhelmed and out of place among the noble class; you’ve made no secret of it. Do you really want to spend your life stuck on the throne?”

The answer didn’t come as easily as I might have wished. “Penkmun thinks I should.”

We’d traded several more Souls on each side, and Basil was slippery as an eel with that Fluid Grace on him. Both his Bodyguards came and eventually went. “And what do you think? What do you want, Hull?”

I thought of my urchins in the Lows, of Roshum, and Penkmun, and Bryll. I thought also of Afi, of the guards of the City Watch that had fought and died in the streets, of the Queen, and of Esmi, and even of that asshole Lord Hintal, Basil’s father. “I want to protect people. I want things to be fair.”

“A just sentiment,” Basil said, slipping past yet another one of my blows. Dodging me meant leaving himself open to the Bog Imp I had just summoned, which forced another Protection from his hand. I was slowly whittling him down now that I’d stabilized. If I could get my Talisman of Spite into play, I’d have him, but it was swimming somewhere at the bottom of my deck, apparently. “But while I have seen you be that noble, brave, and just man, I have also seen you be selfish, venal, and secretive. It nearly cost me my life once, if you’ll recall.”

“I said sorry about that,” I grumbled.

He brought out his flying knight.

She came swinging at me, and Basil had timed her entrance right to where I didn’t have the Source to reflect her damage. The Precision cut deep, ignoring my Plate. I had to take it, and my hand nearly emptied, costing me a bunch of little demons and an Unstable Rift I’d been hoping would be the quick burst I needed to finish this. I didn’t even do any return damage due to that damnable ability of hers! If I’d had my Vampiric Blade it’d have done the trick, but alas, I’d lost it off the top in an earlier attack.

On my next turn, I finally drew and summoned Sucking Void, starlight protection coating my body. Then I used the double-Wildfire combo that had always served me so well.

The angel creature saluted me as she shattered, and I gave a nod in return. “We’ve both done some stupid shit,” I finally replied to Basil. “If we judge each other at our worst, then neither of us deserves to rule a chamber pot, much less a city. But I don’t think you’re somebody who sees the worst in people, Basil, even after what you’ve been through.”

A shadow crossed his face. “You give me more credit than I deserve, my friend.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess, because that’s what you did for me right from the beginning,” I said as I scored another hit. He was almost empty. I’d have to be careful not to hurt him. I had the perfect move. I summoned the two Hatchlings that had been soaking up damage in my hand all through the match.

“I’m glad we talked about this,” I told him. “You’re right; I needed to think it through. Yes, Basil: I want to be king. It’s a shit job, but I care about this city. I have a lot to learn, and I will spend the time do it. I want to make Treledyne a place where people are safe, where they can learn, and where they can live in peace. Thank you for helping me realize it.”

I sent the Hatchlings in to nip at him. He Dodged one, and the other took his last card from him. It was over.

He gave me a slow nod from where he crouched after his Dodge. “I’m so glad to hear that, Hull. I believe you.” Instead of getting up, he closed his eyes and shifted.

He didn’t move, and he didn’t look any different, but it was like everything about him had moved one inch to the side without moving at all. It was a different Basil, even though he was exactly the same. Confused, I squinted at him, and my mouth dropped open. “Impossible,” I whispered.

He had a completely full Mind Home. A second one.

Basil stood smoothly, holding out an inviting hand to me. “Now that you know your own thoughts, you’ll be properly motivated to win. Shall we begin?”