Book III: Casino Royale (IV): Placing Bets

  --- Gregory Fischer ---

  He tapped his book in consideration before an idea popped into his head. “Can I provide an ante for someone else?”

  Both Maeve and Katarina glanced at him while the attendant gave him a considering look. “Hmm… the standard ante is simply you betting upon your own skills and abilities. So I suppose there’s no reason you can’t bet on someone else instead. Though might I ask who you intend to bet upon?”

  “Maeve.” He answered, throwing a thumb at the actress.

  “What?” Maeve blinked.

  “And what will you be providing for her ante?” The attendant pressed, eyes clearly on Fischer’s book.

  He thought about it for a moment, briefly tempted to bet some of the things he knew about Smoke magic -arguably his best- before remembering that (I might be good in practice, but my actual theory work is shit.) Meaning that anyone who actually studied Fire or Wind magic could easily know as much about Smoke as he did, even with it being a derivative element.

  So instead he reached into one of his pockets and focused on summoning an Inhealant, a mental reflex that was slightly more difficult than summoning his Chem Smokes given how that was a habitual instinct he did in and out of combat.

  “How about this?” He asked, when he finally pulled the small inhaler-esque device. “It’s a Inhealant, allows basic healing for anyone who takes it.”

  Unlike he’d hoped, the attendant seemed to frown at the device. “We’ve been offered more than one miracle drug in the past and most are little more than snake oil.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded, before reaching for a pen on the attendant’s table. “You mind?”

  The attendant merely waved a hand in front of him, allowing Fischer to pick the pen up and promptly stab it into his own forearm. Causing the girls on either side of him to jump, literally in Katarina’s case, while the attendant eyed him with more curiosity.

  Glad that no pages had erupted out of him, something he’d only been half sure he could prevent the formation of, he put the Inhealant to his mouth and took a deep breath as the Chems sprayed into his mouth, down his throat, into his lungs and then into his bloodstream.

  He took a deep breath, savoring that cool minty fresh chemical taste that always accompanied the Inhealant’s use, before pulling the pen out of his arm and raising a finger to tell everyone to wait.

  For the first few seconds the small inch deep hole bled with the object stopping it removed. Over the next few seconds this bleeding stopped, and with a few more the hold began to visibly shrink.

  “Still think it’s snake oil?” He smirked.

  “No, but I do believe your… Inhealant was it? Is empty.” The attendant noted as he took the delivery device in hand, only to have it dissolve into a handful of pages.

  “Yeah, I tend to make most Inhealants single use for safety sake.” He admitted, having never been one of those civvies who could make a single vial last through several household accidents. “But what I’m offering is the spell that lets me make multiple copies of an Inhealant.” He explained as he revealed an empty coat pocket and then removed another of the devices.

  “Ah, you registered a duplication spell to a medical device.” The attendant nodded in appreciation. “Both more and less valuable than an actual healing spell in some ways. I’m assuming there are limits beyond magic for production?”

  “Haven’t actually tested how far I can go before one pops, but I know they disappear if I go too far.” His failed attempt to create a stockpile of Chem Smokes and Inhealants to sell at discount to a certain pawnshop dealer he may or may not have met during some of his previous work.

  “And when you say you’re betting this spell, you mean full rights to it. Including the memory of how to cast it?” The attendant pressed, his fingers pushed together.

  Fischer narrowed his eyes, the idea of trading one of his actual spells not sitting well with him, before remembering that this wasn’t actually a spell he worked to figure out so much as Briar saving him a twenty at the corner store. (At least until I get a couple more copies if I understand things right…)

  Eventually he let out a reluctant sigh. “Fine… but the payout better increase proportionally.”

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  “Of course.” The attendant smiled as if he’d just conned Fischer out of something incredibly valuable. (You know I’m not even sure Black Briar magic will work if you don’t have a book to work with.)

  If Maeve did lose he’d be a bit disappointed he couldn’t see their faces when that happened.

  “So we’ve reached an accord then?” The attendant asked, offering a long fingered hand with a spell circuit visibly spinning in the palm.

  “Yep.” He nodded, clasping the man’s hand and willingly binding himself to the deal.

  “The Casino Royale Conglomerate. Offering proportional payment based on tournament progress using preestablished and publicized rulings.” The attendant stated as their hands began to spark.

  “Gregory Fischer. Offering ante of the… spell pages and memories referencing my ‘Inhealant’ and its use there in based on the loss of ‘Maeve Roisin’ within the same tournament rulings.” He added, verbally signing his own name and conditions.

  With both terms set they shook, a ring of light quickly around both of their hands, before dissipating with a sharp crack.

  One almost as sharp as the sudden but short twisting inside of Fischer’s head.

  He blinked for a moment as the pain faded, before realizing, “Oh. You are a Dealmaker.” He was honestly kind of impressed that the attendant was skilled enough to hold his ‘mental’ payment in a theoretical limbo. “They better be paying you the big bucks.”

  “They do.” The attendant preened, clearly glad that someone could appreciate his craft.

  And given how most of the Dealmakers he’d worked with over the years could enforce a payment, be it mental or physical, but not put the more information based payments in holding. (He really does deserve the praise.)

  “Well Mr. Fischer, the tournament will be beginning in approximately an hour, I look forward to seeing how your associate does.” The attendant nodded, before beginning to fill out the non-magical paperwork for their entry.

  “That was… something.” Katarina admitted once they’d stepped away from the attendant.

  “It was.” Maeve agreed before giving him a curious look. “Are you sure it was wise to enter myself in this tournament instead of you? Or at the very least for you to pay my entry fee?”

  He shrugged, itching hands putting a cigarette in his mouth even if he couldn’t light it. (Which, seriously, what kind of casino doesn’t have a smoking area?!)

  “With certain… skills currently sealed, your experience as an actress is probably better in this setting than anything I’ve got at the moment.” He might think differently if he had his Smoke of War with him or the lack thereof hadn’t noticeably messed with his skill set. “And I’ve got a fair few more spells than you in my book right now.”

  Admittedly, that fair few was really only one or two but (I’m not going to tell her that.)

  “Besides this basically guarantees you’ll collect a Story of some kind, while I can still look around for a few others around here.” He tacked on, when he saw he hadn’t reassured his fellow librarian.

  “If you’re sure…” Maeve sighed with a conflicted look. “Though I should point out that while I may be good at acting, my actual experience with cards is… somewhat limited.”

  “Eh, acting is half the game at the professional level.” Katarina offered with a wry grin, likely unsure of how to respond given how Maeve’s lack of experience would make her easy pickings to most people.

  (Wonder how she’d feel if she knew that Maeve’s ‘limited’ experience is probably more years than she’s been alive?) He smirked to himself, remembering the vampire’s early comment on ‘experience’.

  “So we’ve an hour to kill, and I am willing to kill for a smoke.” He was not joking about that. “Any idea where I can have one?”

  Katarina’s face twisted a bit in distaste, clearly not a fan but she still pointed him towards a far set of doors. “That should open out onto a balcony. I believe some people smoke out there if they absolutely must.”

  Fischer nodded, starting towards the door, his eyes briefly drifting to some of the decorations, namely the card shaped ones. (A heart, a clover, a diamond, and a… leaf? Probably the local flavor of flame, steel, smoke, and water.)

  A brief glance behind him showed that neither of the girls were joining him, the pair instead hanging back and making their way towards what he was pretty sure was a bar. Something he’d personally be avoiding if he was going to be competing in any kind of competition.

  Stepping out onto the balcony, he found himself looking out over the dancing lights of the casino district, his current floor apparently being much higher up than he’d initially thought. (Spatial magic. Why does everyone think that spatial magic is a good idea?)

  In his experience it was just good for creating a kill field.

  He could only shake his head as he lit his cigarette, before taking in the others floating about the balcony either smoking or taking in the cool night air to clear their heads.

  Off to one side half hidden by shadows he saw a large and clearly frustrated man in a white button up, puffing away at a cigar while running a hand through his gray hair.

  At the balcony ledge he found a youngish man wearing suspenders and a beanie leaning against it while staring at a glass of alcohol thoughtfully. One eye clear and the other grey with a large scar over it.

  Sitting at a table off to the side he found another youngish face in a woman with wild brown hair and yellow eyes, dancing a silver coin across her knuckles as she looked down at something.

  Oh, there were other people on the balcony but these three, they caught his attention because all three had something in common with him.

  Namely that unlike half the people on the balcony, everyone he listed was fully aware of everyone else and fully prepared for a fight to break out of nowhere.

  (This place really does attract all sorts doesn’t it?)

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