AWagerLost"Interesting show.. Perhaps I'll participate another time. I prefer my luck with cards instead of hot coals. A game anyone? Excellent stakes once more," Valefor offered from the wall. From the doorway, Lahire looked back with a self-mocking expression on his face. "I've lost enough for tonight, Valefor. Ask the winners." He gestured at Argent and Devon, then went back into the main chamber. "I think I'm just about done, and ready to end my first visit on a high note," the Novice said. "After all, better to come back a winner than to crawl back having you only know me as having lost," he grinned. In the main room, Lahire's cold eyes scanned quickly for the red-robed figure of Mephistopheles. Absently he adjusted his cuffs and gloves to cover the bandages on his wrists, and he was no longer walking with any kind of limp. With the novice done, and his own wager's winnings mostly spent, Rook scanned around, looking for something interesting. As he spotted Lahire, and his absent minded motions, Rook smiled a bit, and slowly wandered in his direction, to get a better look at what his counterpart was up to. Argent watched too - a strange, almost fervently greedy light glittering in his eyes, as though this was his chance to witness something he had waited for a very long time. Jongleur, however, turned to Valefor. "What game did you have in mind?" he asked. "Poker sounded fine to me. Any version of it," Valefor said, straightening from the wall. "I feel lucky with the cards tonight, not coals." The white-clad Mephisto was seated at the high table, sipping from a gold-chased goblet and watching the main room. He looked relaxed, almost preoccupied. Lahire took a moment, prepared his comment, and resolutely approached the High Table. When he arrived in front of Mephisto, he sketched a quick but flawless bow, ending on one knee. "If it pleases you, my Lord, this humble figure, your servant, asks what task or challenge he might offer you this night." "Now this bears observation." Rook said quietly, mostly to himself. He slowly sidled in the direction of the High Table, hoping not to be caught out by the Lords there himself in so doing. "And what," Mephisto asked, "brought you to make such an offer to me? Are you aware of what that could mean?" "Quite aware, Great Lord, but I have been... complacent of late, and complacency sometimes leads to an excessive degree of boldness. In direct answer to my Lord's question, I lost a wager... to protect my reputation somewhat I must add that I am not entirely displeased. The evening has become much more interesting." Lahire's lips curved slightly into something akin to a smile. The figure paused. "And in what game did you so rashly wager your services to the High Table?" "At the Runaround, great master," said Lahire. "It is the first evening I have seen someone manage that course without being marked." The white-clad demon sat forward. "Now that -is- interesting. You can start your time in purgatory, then, by telling me the tale." Lahire's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly but he nodded. His voice was modulated well, pitched to carry only to the High Table. He told a story of a bored young nobleman who only barely lost at cards earlier that evening, and decided that he would rather move on to something which had less of an element of chance. "This young man - I myself, of course - offered the Runaround. I only managed to get two takers - the valiant but rash Jongeleur, and an untried Novice who had proved himself earlier in cards with the Cur. We made the usual bets, and then I made my ill-fated wager that both my opponents would be marked this time... It seemed a fair bet at the time - as I said, this is the first time I've seen a man undertake the thing and not end up wounded a little bit." To demonstrate, Lahire pushed the lace from his fencing blouse up, and tugged his gloves down a little so that the bandages on his wrists showed through. Rook turned his eyes toward the sight, and then nodded thoughtfully. He tugged at his own wrists a little, in memory of his own last attempt at it, some time ago. Argent was watching as well, and drinking a large beaker of deep red wine. Lahire continued. "I had a girl demonstrate the Runaround for the Novice, and she continued on to score-keep. We managed to attract a fair-sized audience by that point. Jongeleur went first - and I think the alcohol may have gone to the poor boy's head because he only made it to the second challenge and ended up bruised pretty badly. I think he's all right now and playing cards again, though, so it can't have been that bad. His score was mediocre. "I followed, and did fairly well, but I got fancy and tried for the value of originality, which cut me up a bit and slowed me on the succeeding challenges. Still, my score was high. The Novice would need a nearly perfect score to win." He paused again, looking around for a glass of wine. Finding none available, he simply licked his lips and let the dramatic pause continue. Mephisto leaned forward, interested in spite of himself. His eyes, dark through the eyeholes of his mask, were fixed on Lahire. Rook continued from his position to look at Lahire's presentation, giving glances now and again up at Mephisto nervously. Lahire smiled. "The first challenge was executed flawlessly - the first perfect score Electra ever gave out. The child had balance, I'll give him that. And the second was near as good... only a glancing blow from the dummy. Then he paused for more ale and I thought perhaps I had him - a slender youth like that can't possibly hold his alcohol while exerting himself, I thought..." He shook his head. "I was wrong. He did not fall, and his final score bested mine easily. Worse than that, he had no marks on him. Which sent me where you see me, great lord." "I have seen you here before," Mephisto said at length. "But this Novice... this was his first journey into the depths?" Lahire's lips tightened slightly. He had not been expecting to raise Lord Mephisto's interest in another by offering his services, and it vaguely offended him. Still, one paid the price for losing. "Indeed, Lord," said Lahire. "He was the one who came with Fuego." The white-clad demon pondered this, then nodded. "Very well." He paused a moment, long enough to make Lahire quite uncomfortable under his stare, then stood. "Come with me." Lahire rose smoothly and followed, casting a quick wry look at Argent and Rook as he left them. Rook gave the slightest of nods, barely visible to any save Lahire, perhaps, in support as he followed the the white clad demon. Mephisto led Lahire through a doorway behind the high table; from there, he led the other man through a dizzying number of passageways and turns. It was quickly apparent that they were no longer under the Hellfire Club. The passage became stony, the kind of stone used in the construction of Aquila City's sewer system; but there was no other indicator of their location. Eventually, one of the side passages led to a thick wooden door, which squeaked as Mephisto opened it and closed it behind them. They were in a small library of sorts, with a large desk, many bookshelves of books, and three lit glass lamps that provided a moderate amount of light. Mephisto moved behind the desk, then indicated a sideboard where a crystal decanter of green liquid and several small glasses sat. With no hesitation, and indeed a certain panache, Lahire moved to the sideboard and poured them each a glass of the bright green liqueour. Then he brought the glass to Mephisto. Smiling slightly, he proffered it. Mephisto took the small glass, then indicated the chair across the desk. He took the lid off a small bowl, revealing sugar cubes, and pushed the bowl across the desk to Lahire. He did not take one for himself. "Absinthe is very bitter," he said. Lahire nodded. He took a cube of sugar and dropped it into his drink, watching it begin to dissolve for a moment before he glanced back up at Mephisto. Then Mephisto sat, silent, regarding the other man for a short while. "We've had our eye on you for some time, Lahire," he finally said. "I am honored, great lord," said Lahire. "I had long hoped... to be associated with you." "And it took the loss of a bet for you to act upon it?" Mephisto said. "Not the best of times to come forward... unless you arranged the loss." Lahire swirled the liquid in his glass, dissolving more of the sugar cube, then sipped it. Carefully he said, "I had meant always to approach you tonight... At first I had hoped to come to you after I had offered the Novice - as a gift... Then I thought perhaps it would be simpler to come myself... And cut my wrists up accordingly. My girls will keep an eye on Fuego and the Novice... if they interest you as they interest me..." "They do," Mephisto said. "But that is a matter for a later time. You are the subject of interest, at least for now... "So. You are interested in me, and in the Hellfire Club. In your mind are feverish expectations of eventually gaining the high table, I expect. How far are you willing to go to seek the deeper mysteries of the Aquilan underworld?" Lahire met Mephisto's eyes with no hint of discomfort. "I have gone... to depths in my time. I am not an innocent, nor am I unused to a certain kind of power. But I will serve you well. I have few limits." "Then we shall have to see," Mephisto said, sitting back, "what you are capable of. A test, of sorts. A test of your abilities." Lahire sipped his absinthe again, smiling over the rim of the glass. "Very well." "You are not the only one of interest," Mephisto said. "There is another who has caught our attention. One who is dangerously close, I think, to revealing... sensitive.. information about our gatherings. That person should be taken care of." "The name of this soon to be corpse?" Lahire removed one of his gloves, revealing abnormally long fingers before he lifted the bared hand to scratch under his mask. "His name is Jongleur," Mephisto said. "Perhaps you met him this evening." He drains his glass, and his mouth twitches under the mask. "Jongleur?" Lahire's exhalation of breath may have been silent laughter. "No, lord, I've met him many times before. He's a fool, but I thought him barely begun in the mysteries - he seems the drink and women type, not the sort for... deeper games. To whom is he revealing our secrets?" "Who else? The Dragon house," Mephisto replied. One of my contacts there reported it back. Especially after tonight, something needs to be done." The masked head inclined. "You are not averse to the idea?" Lahire shook his head slightly. "Not particularly, no. What must be done will be done. However, I'm not one to go in without all the available information, and Jongleur never particularly interested me before now... Will you tell me his outside identity or is finding that part of the test?" "You will have to find out his true identity yourself," Mephisto said. "And eliminate this threat to our... organization. I can tell you that if you can handle this, you will have the gratitude of the Hellfire Club." He reached forward, fished a cube of sugar from the bowl. "And of Whiteblood." "That will be a great gift," Lahire replied smoothly. He rose, made a bow to the white-clad demon, and added, "And now, if you will allow me, I shall make some inquiries." Mephisto nodded in return. "Keep us abreast of the situation. Good hunting." |
