Day Three

Funny, with all the money Akland Cooper made over the years running The Whipped Mule, I would have thought he’d live in a nicer place.

This is the second award-winning work of Höbin Luckyfeller, and the second book in his Field Guide series. The script is hot and fresh and we also have a new cover for the book!

Enjoy.

When Höbin is contracted to research the popular game of chance, he quickly learns the truth surrounding its history is anything but. Circumstances unfold faster than he can anticipate, pulling Höbin from his assignment and thrusting him into the shadows of intrigue, magic…and murder.

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Chapter 8 — Day Three

“What d-do you m-mean, you l-lost it all?!?”

Dathern keeps shaking his head in disbelief. I can’t help feeling like a six-year-old being scolded by a parent. His voice scrapes the back of my brain, which aches from the lack of sleep. 

I shrug my shoulders, “I…don’t know what happened.”

“Obviously.”

“I have nothing left. No savings, no back up…Keeley took it all and I don’t know how. I won the first two games and then he came out of nowhere like a landslide, wiping the table clean of money. Now I owe him twenty gold pieces and I still didn’t get any information.”

Dathern chokes on his tea, spitting it all over his lap, and Tilly. She squeaks and darts from the room.

“HOW much?”

“Twenty…pieces of gold.” Oh, that hurts, just saying it out loud. I pull the port key out from under my vest. “He offered to wipe the debt clean if I turned this over to him, but I had to refuse. I gave him my marker, instead, based on this job. Oh, don’t look at me like that Dathern….I know…I KNOW! This is exactly why I didn’t want the cursed assignment in the first place!” I scratch my scalp, trying desperately to think of what I’m going to do. “There’s still enough if I get this done on time. My only hope to pay back Keeley and all my other obligations is to get the job completed as fast as possible.”

“You’d b-better disappear!” Dathern blurts out frantically.

I sigh heavily, flopping back into a chair. He’s right. Keeley’s a thug that hires dirtbags just like himself to deal with collections. There’s no way to tell how long I have before his goons lose patience and start looking for me. Not to mention a lack of places to run or hide here in the Market, even for a gnome.

My hand shoots to my side as a sharp pain rips through my belly. “Ungh!” It’s getting worse—and I can feel the pain moving towards my hips and up towards my chest.

Dathern looks at me, concerned. “And you n-need to have t-that looked at.”

“I know. Figured if I had to go to Humar, I might as well start at Ashbrook and drop in on Toshi—but that doesn’t matter now. I don’t have the coin.”

“Yes, you d-do,” he mutters softly.

“What?”

“You do h-have the coin. I’ll l-loan it to y-you,” he glares at me, then shakes his finger in my direction, “on one c-condition.”

Hope floods back into my bones, and I sit upright in one fluid motion. “Name it!”

“You b-buy a fresh p-pouch of licorice r-root for Tilly. S-she l-loves it m-more than anything.”

I grin so wide my cheeks hurt—I’m back in business! “Done.”

Dathern’s always been a kind soul, but I was believing he was a poor beggar. There’s rarely anyone in the shop and I’ve never seen him exchange more than a few coins at a time. I’m shocked to see him return with a modest bag of money, which he drops on the table.

“This should d-do it. Just steer clear of T-the Whipped M-mule, you hear m-me!?”

I nod. “This is a lot of mon…”

“D-don’t worry.” He pats me on the shoulder. “You j-just pay me back as y-you c-can.”

I take out a couple of coins and hide the rest in the cavity of my metal leg. With a firm handshake, I bid Dathern and Tilly goodbye, grab my notes, and hobble out the front door. 

The other advantage of going to Andilain, besides staying clear of Keeley, is Ashbrook’s close to Castle Andilain. That means access to the Royal Archives. If I’m going to find any significant records, it’ll be within the greatest library in the world. Luckily, it pays to be a friend of the King.

Just one more quick stop before I pack for the trip…just to settle my curiosity.

***

It’s unnaturally quiet as I walk up the path—well, so to speak. The underground stream drowns out any residue of sound from the Market, but there are no citizens, no kids playing about. The air is cooler here—thick smoke rolling along the ceiling of the cave, leaving a charcoal taste in my mouth.

Funny, with all the money Akland Cooper made over the years running The Whipped Mule, I would have thought he’d live in a nicer place.

The house looks haphazardly made, wood and stone used in ways that seem diametrically opposed to one another. The builder hastily assembled the remaining materials of the project to avoid wasting them. It’s not too big — set back from the community, just off the path. The roof isn’t flat like most of the buildings in the Market, either. This one has a pitch to it with thatch work. It looks more like wild, unkept hair, sticking out in every direction. There’s no rain here…unless you count dead snails falling from the cavern ceiling, so it seems rather pointless. The entire structure is short, stained and…almost alive, walls leaning towards the path, like it’s squatting in front of the small fire to keep warm.