A new ring

[Kalamere]

I rolled the ring over in my hand once, twice. A near match to mine, the same blood red ruby etched with the diving hawk. Only the band was different - platinum instead of blackened silver. The gem stone reflected the light of the room, sparkling in my hand, but I was looking through it rather than at it, reliving the moment I'd "earned" it. A bit of self torture or maybe just trying to finally numb myself to the fact it'd been done. Acceptance through repetition.

The scene continued to play out in my thoughts. Dinias, the man who had gathered me off the streets of ShadowDale, lay back limply in his bed; his face ashen grey, limbs twisted and tense as the coughs wracked his body. Gods but I'd been young when he found me. And stupid. Or maybe it was arrogant. Both probably fit. Just a pre-teen street rat trying to make a living with quick hands and a finger blade. When the thieves guild enforcer came looking for their cut I laughed in his face. What he didn't know was that I hadn't started this life on the streets and got my first sword before I could walk. What I didn't know, though should have, was that the thieves guild doesn't have only one enforcer...

Dinias found me while the man's friends were setting out to educate me. To this day I like to tell him I would have won that fight. There's a comedian who tells a story about a bar fight he backed down from. He says, "I don't know how many of them it would have taken to whip my ass, but I knew how many they were going to use..." My math skills were just as good. Dinias offered me an apprenticeship and guild protection. I could see a dozen thieves enforcers shrink back at his arrival. Fear and respect fought for dominance in their eyes. I was quick to accept.

He became my teacher and mentor. Brought me up through ranks and gave me the opportunities to prove myself. He had his ulterior motives, needing my elven heritage for a very specific job, but he made sure I had the tools and experience to survive it.

Dinias was the longest tenured guild master in the history of its existence. It probably helped that his first lieutenant never wanted the job. A subordinate's poisoned blade or the dangers of the work should have been his end years ago. Instead he'd simply fallen victim to the human condition. Age had caught up to him and while I sat beside him on one side of the bed, Death had taken up a position on the other.

I've never really been sure of my standing with Death. Are we in competition or is it more of a partnership? Maybe she appreciates the helping hand here and there. It wasn't the sense I had that day though. Time had eaten away at the man, stripped him of all vigor and strength. The stroke suffered the night before left him a shell of himself; incapable of speech, unable to control his limbs. Yet his heart still beat, his lungs still drew air. He was being tortured now. The slow and painful end brought by a vengeful enemy. Some might call that karma for the type of life he lived, but I don't want to think too hard on that one.

He coughed once more as I dripped two drops of a violent green toxin down his throat. I was half afraid he'd expel it. He didn't. His breathing calmed and then ceased, my fingers upon his wrist felt the final pulse of blood drawn back to a stopping heart. In my imagination I sensed Death's scornful gaze at the ruin of her sport.

Blinking away the memory, my eyes focused again on the ring and I grumbled as I turned it over another time. "I still don't want the job. Tis meant to be yours."

With a flick I tossed the guild master's ring into the wooden box to join a dozen nearly like it. The crown jewel in a bloody collection that already held 3 lieutenant rings. "You'd been saying I ought put those back in circulation so the council's not stuck at nine bodies. S'pose you'll be getting your way now."

[Kalamere]

"Tell me again how much I get?" said Jerry.

"19%." I repeated for what had to be the 4th time. He knew the answer. He just liked hearing it and grinned like the cat who made lunch out of your pet bird when I repeated it.

"And I get to fire Rath, right?"

"No, Jer. Rath technically works for B and SwordPlay."

"So I have to fire Brandon first?"

"You can't fire Brandon," I sighed, admitting it was rather a good idea. "He's the majority owner of the place, like it or not. Best you can do is quit and force him to buy you out."

"Well that sucks. Hmmm. How about Tahlia? Can I fire her?"

"Why are you firing her? I thought she was working out behind the bar and down at The Hold?"

"Just testing the extent of my authority here. Ok, so I get 19%" there was that grin again, "and the upstairs loft. I can fire Tahlia whenever the mood strikes me and it is completely up to me if I want to hold Margarita Mondays.

"What else do I get?" he asked, turning over the silvered playing card I gave him that would act as his key past the wards and into the loft. "Contracts with Jake and Red Orc? Kent still at the computers? Other allies? Dates?"

"Yes, yes, uncertain, only if you want to risk losing your teeth, and beside there's the small detail of a war to be fought, so all dates are off."

"What about contracts with the arena or your Old Temple holding?"

"Like I mentioned, there's a war to be fought. Raye negotiated B out of the arena and then sold it to Olivia. You're free to get in touch with her and see about a new arrangement though. As for Old Temple... I have to retire it. I'll stop by the arena on my way out of town." It's a good thing I'm not really the sensitive type, or Jerry's focus on his new holdings over my skipping town might have gotten to me.

"Got it. Maybe I'll do that. Without you here drinking all the good scotch, maybe I'll finally get this place turning a decent profit."

Jerry smirked at the barb, but then his face softened and he held out his hand. "Be careful back home, yeah? I'll hold down the fort as best I can, but that's still your name on the sign."

I nodded and shook his hand. Jerry and I had been working this place together for a lot of years now and I knew it was in good hands while I was gone. Back home the remains of the council would already be consolidating and forming their plans though. I didn't have time for sentimentality. "Just try not to burn it down."

"Hey, this place is gonna be on fire!" he laughed and turned to the back room. "Hey Ken! Find me some of that Mexican wrestling to bet on for Margarita Monday!" Leaving me to take a long last look around the place, Jerry headed to the back room to continue making plans with Ken.

I shook my head and slung the backpack that'd been resting on the bar over my shoulder. Inside were two wooden boxes, one containing rings and the other a collection of vials; two spare daggers and a change of clothes. Anything else I needed I could arrange for back home. I adjusted the sword on my hip and straightened my cloak as I stepped out of The Line, my eyes drawn to the engraved wooden sign that, indeed, did have my name on it. "Proprietor: Kalamere Ar'Din".

I couldn't say when or if that might be true again.