Easing up onto her tiptoes, she pointed to the berserker currently in the ring. “For example. That man favours the offensive, but at the expense of leaving his left side unguarded. A more canny opponent could take advantage. Reasons for my gil to rest on the other man.” Heron followed the line of her arm, an obscure smile forming on his face as he tilted his head to listen over the din of the crowd and the resounding clang of steel on steel.
It was common knowledge that some fighters chose to line their pockets or pay their debts with engagements in underground battle rings, but Heron had been largely removed from the temptation ever since making Monk. Responsible as he was for scouring the ranks of young would-be Blades, the sorts to dedicate themselves to the Cardinal’s cause were often also the sort to steer clear of pay for play crowd. She was looking at the same world through an entirely different lens.
Heron made a low sound of understanding in his throat, but ended up doubling back:
“You often end up on the wrong side of these sorts of people?”
“I said ‘if ever’, didn’t I?” The choice of wording was exact and precise, her voice sweet with something that sounded like innocence. But the act rode that fine line where it was calculated to give itself away, a house of cards dissolving after she’d placed the last piece: of course Ofelia was joking, and of course he could tell. Finally, she settled back onto her heels, arms folding against the rail in front of her once more. The beams in the fence shifted minutely, and Heron gradually became aware of how close they were standing, the crisp lines of their shadows mingling on the ground.
He didn’t respond to her canny technical dodge beyond lifting his eyebrows. At which point she relented. “Sometimes,” the broker admitted. “As I think I’ve mentioned, my work takes me to some unusual places. And you? Why are you here?”
“Would be stranger if I wasn’t.” It was Heron’s turn to point, indicating a white tent some yards off with an expansive gesture. “More than a handful of my students competing. And the Blades keep an eye on potential recruits. Few and far between though they be.” He picked a splinter off the rail idly, thick as a spindle but small in the callused edges of his thumb and forefinger.
“Ought to have thought about the more lucrative side of scout-work. Clearly.”
“Money does make the world go ‘round. I don’t expect a man of the church to pay lip to that sort of lucrativeness, however.” She’d picked up some awareness of their code over the years, their valuing of glory but not the gil that could accompany it. A useless philosophy, in Ofelia’s opinion: mere glory alone did not pay the rent, nor keep her tuck case stocked with blistering magical cards.
“Admittedly, I have some eggs in this basket.” Her dark eyes scanned the row of participants on the other side of the ring, picking out Kiernan, Loch, Mag, and Cian from the crowd. She didn’t venture any names, however, nor did she ask Heron for his. She was a regular at another type of fight, the knock-down drag-out bloodiness of the Ring: something far messier and uglier than this sanitised tournament, spells preventing any real damage from being wrought. The old knight watched her face as her gaze swiveled away, as if taking in the silent memories of bloodshed via osmosis.
The question was on her tongue—what are you doing after this?—but the broker swallowed it again. “Did you ever compete? Before?” she asked instead. (The woman’s curiosity was a nagging thing, like pricking up her ears at any opportunity to dig. She carried a metaphorical shovel for this very purpose.) The pause before he answered was nearly imperceptible, especially since it was followed immediately by a low chuckle. He didn’t look at the burnished cane, leaning against the fence below them as though it had gotten there on its own.
“Well before,” he said. “Money was--an issue, when I was young. Before I had gainful employment through the guilds. It was the one skill I had that felt like the way to a quick supply of gil.” He nodded at the field. “Can’t count how many of these tournaments I showcased in. But that was something different.”