Downtown Druid

Gaspard woke in the dark and for a moment, he wondered if he was dead. He didn’t feel any pain, which was a stark contrast to how he felt when he’d finally passed out. How he felt while Dantes was striking him. He tried to move, and found that he couldn’t. The feeling of ropes on his arms and legs straining against him helped him to realize that no, he wasn’t dead.

A single flame appeared at the end of a finger of bone, and descended in front of him onto the tip of a candle that took to the flame easily, illuminating Dantes’ dark form in the middle of a room almost danker than the one that Gaspard had just been sleeping in.

“I was worried you wouldn’t wake up for a moment there. Good thing you had that potion I could pour down your throat.

Gaspard cursed under his breath. That’s why he wasn’t in pain anymore. “What do you want? Going to beat me near to death again?”

“Possibly. I have some questions I need answered first.”

“Why would I do that? You’re just going to kill me anyway.”

Dantes let out a cruel laugh. “You think you’re worth that effort? No, I have a contact on a Frasheid ship. Deals in slaves. I told him I could haul you in and sell you as an unmarked slave, no questions asked. Even offered me some coin since they’re below quota.” Dantes was lying, but he savored the fear on Gaspard’s face as he spoke. “Or, I could turn you into the guard. The Pit is better than being a Frasheid slave. Hell, at least you can still get dust down there. It all depends on how you cooperate.”

Gaspard tested his ropes again, trying to be subtle, but they didn’t budge. Dantes had always been an expert with knots so he wasn’t surprised. “Fine…ask your fucking questions you piece of shit.”

Dantes stepped toward him and gave him a light slap on the face. “There’s a good little halfling.” He leaned back and sat on a chair across from Gaspard, leaning just far enough that his face was lit by candlelight. “My first question is why?”

Gaspard swallowed. “Why wha-”

Dantes’ glare stopped him from asking the obviously stupid question.

“Listen man, it wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t anyone’s idea. After the job with the Dock Sharks safehouse, when you went to hide some of the haul for later and the rest of us went out to celebrate… You remember that?”

Dantes grimaced. He remembered sneaking away to be alone with a brick of dust he didn’t want to share. “Yes, I do.”

“We were hanging out, just smoking, drinking, at the Middle Child, the tavern.”

Dantes nodded. “Get the fuck on with it.”

“We got a weird fucking invitation. It had real gold on the edges and everything. A man in black gave it to us. On it was directions.”

Dantes stayed quiet. Gaspard was a good liar, if he wanted to make something up he’d have been able to come up with something much more believable than what he was saying.

“We followed them. Not sure why, but I personally couldn’t even bear to take my hand off the invitation. It was like it had a hold of my soul.” Gaspard paused to lick his lips. He was staring at the flickering candle as he spoke, almost as if he was watching the memory play out in the flame. “We arrived at a building near the Temple of the Many Gods. It was unmarked. When we went inside, there was a man there alone. His face… It was made of gold.”

“Like a mask?”

“No, it moved like skin… I could see a gold tongue in his mouth moving when he spoke to us. He offered us a deal. We’d need to make a sacrifice, the larger the better, and in return we could have everything we desired…as long as gold flowed to him.”

Dantes leaned further forward in his chair, realization hitting him. “I was the sacrifice.”

“Yeah… and he was the one to suggest it. His words… they had a rhythm to them. Like you could listen to them forever.”

“How did he know me?”

Gaspard shook his head. “It wasn’t about you. Hells, it wasn’t about me. It was about Mondego, Mercedes, and Danglars. He saw something in them, and the minute that he made the offer, any resistance they might’ve had to it crumbled with only faint protests.”

“None of them spoke up? Not one of you questioned it?”

Gaspard laughed, cruelty dripping from the tone of it despite his situation. “What? You think we all loved you? Do you really not know what you’re like? How bad you were after your mom died?”

Dantes stayed silent.

“You had us take insane risks. Jobs we never would’ve tried if you hadn’t been there driving us forward. You were high on dust all of the time that you paid for by skimming from our profits. It was not a high price to pay, to get rid of you for the promise he offered.”

Dantes clenched his jaw, his small tusks drawing a bit of blood on the inside of his cheeks. “My mother had only been dead for a year. None of you ever said anything. None of you argued or disagreed with any of my plans. We were a crew, not a group of slaves, any of you could’ve left whenever you wanted to.” Dantes spoke calmly. “You cost me five years of life, doomed me to a hole without light, because it was easier to listen to the honeyed words of a strange man than it was to confront me.” He stood up from the chair.

“Wasn’t my business to confront you. Mondego and your bitch should’ve done that.”

Dantes laughed. “I’m guessing that’s why your life is shit and theirs are great? Because getting rid of me wasn’t a big sacrifice for you?”

Gaspard sneered. “Probably. I’d’ve thrown you in the pit for a handful of copper and a warm beer.”

Dantes backhanded him, but held back his full strength. “Why didn’t they kill me? There were chances both before and after I was in the Pit.”

“The man said it had to cut deeper than just death. They had to bring you to ruination. To take everything from you. Even hope had to be cleaved from your heart. He also said, it had to be gamble a risk. His god enjoys a a dangerous bet.”

“His words I assume?”

Gaspard spat out a bit of blood, and nodded.

“What happened after that?”

"Well, no one really committed to anything. We all thought we'd just think about it. Then the job with the carriage happened, and Mondego took the choice out of our hands. After that we had another meeting with the guy. We all shook his hand, and the three of them were marked. Their left hands, a ring of gold around their middle finger. They have to offer to the God of Greed to fill it, and they will continue to find their ambitions met and their desires fulfilled. Least that was what he told em."

Dantes thought of the godmarks on his own body, and how they functioned. The blessings that they were. The only difference was that when his ran out, his luck wouldn’t necessarily run out with them. For Mondego, Danglars, and Mercedes he bet the consequences would be much more dire. His mother had warned him of the God of Greed when he was younger. It was one of the few things she and his father had agreed on. The God of Greed could grant tremendous blessings, but each time you made an offering to him, it needed to be greater than the last one, and when you were no longer able to make your commitments to him and you found yourself skewered at the end of someone’s blade, your soul would be his forever. To be counted like a coin, smelted into gold bars, or traded with the Hells.

“You didn’t receive a mark?”

He shook his head. “No. The man simply gave me a pouch of gold and told me to help them along. I counted myself as the lucky one. Money in hand is always more valuable than vague promises.”

“Apparently not in this case, eh?”

Gaspard gave a frustrated groan in response.

“When was the last time you heard from any of them?”

“I haven’t seen Mondego or Mercedes for years. Last time we crossed paths I asked for a loan and they had me beaten. Greedy bastards.”

“And Danglars?”

“He got me out of some trouble when the guard caught me with some dust. He was always the only one of you all worth a damn.”

“What about the man with the golden face?”

He shivered. “No. And thank all the gods for that.”

Dantes stood there, looking at Gaspard for a few moments. He’d reached the end of his questions. There was nothing else he could learn from him, no other information he could get. In front of him sat a Mutt covered in his own dried blood and filth. There was no value in killing him. Even if he let him go, the guard would catch him shortly after. To go any further than he had, would be meaningless.

“It would make us feel better,” noted Jacopo, sensing his thoughts.

Dantes smiled. “That it would.”