Chap. 370 The Con Man

Chap. 370 The Con Man

“Here you go, um, K’ndor, is it?” the man behind the table said. He handed K’ndar a pair of placards and a pinny.

“It’s K’ndar, sir. Brown dragon Raventh.”

“Aye,” said the man, turning to check his slate board. “You’re number four.

Ever raced before?”

“Not officially,” K’ndar said. “We did a lot when I was in Weyrlingschool. But that was just grabassing. Nothing like this.”

“No matter. The rules are posted over on that slate there. But I’ll tell you anyway, because you’d be amazed at how often someone says, “I didn’t know.”

The man took a deep breath.

“No closer laterally than two wing spans. Keep two dragon widths above and below. Stay in your lane. If you purposefully block a dragon, you’re disqualified and no you don’t get your entry fee back. If someone blocks YOU, you make a claim immediately upon finishing, and we’ll investigate. That doesn’t happen too often, dragons tell the truth and the golds watch every meter of the race. You won’t hear a ‘go’, the golds start the race. First across the line-there is no real line, K’ndor, it’s when you go between the golds. Finally, you fly straight towards Flag pinnacle, go left around it and fly back. Doyouhaveanyquestions.”

“It’s K’ndar and yes, my fire lizard, is he allowed to ride with me?”

“He’s not the blue who flew the last race, is he?” The man grinned.

Siskin chipped, still very proud of himself.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry to say, I had no idea he’d do such a thing. I was afraid I’d be run off.”

The man laughed. “No, no, it’s okay, K’ndor, he can ride with you, no problem. I can’t remember ever having such a thing happen but we don’t have many fire lizards out here. Not sure why, but not to worry, it’s like a loose horse at a race, the racer always wins but he’s disqualified if they come in without a rider. Hehehee, when it’s a loose horse, he says, “Hey, this is MUCH easier without that lout on my back!”

K’ndar laughed.”Yeah, Siskin here, he’s very proud of how he beat all those big dragons.”

The man smiled. “Okay, K’ndor, if you don’t mind, I’ve got other riders to process. Good luck, mate, and oh, you’re going off at twenty to one.”

“Oh. That’s-that’s not good odds, is it.”

“Don’t you bet? Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. If you’re racing, you’re not allowed to bet. On ANYONE in the same race.”

“No, sir, I don’t bet. I don’t have that kind of money to lose.”

He clutched the gear to his chest as he made his way through the crowd.

It thickened as he approached the dragon meadow. People were walking a safe distance around the dragons, looking at wings and eyes, looking for any clue as to what the dragon might do.

“Number four, eh? Bad luck there, mate,” someone said as he headed for Raventh.

He turned to look at the person. Something in the man’s demeanor made him wary. I’ve seen that look before, he thought, a long time ago.

“Why do you say that?” He continued to walk, not wanting to indulge someone who looked sketchy.

“Green four came in dead last. Blue four got hurt. Now it’s your turn.” The man trotted to keep up.

“Well, maybe I’ll win, maybe I won’t, but I won’t let my dragon get hurt if it means winning. It’s not that important to me.”

“I could make it so that four is a lucky number for you,” the man said, beginning to puff. He was very well fed.

“What, a talisman? A secret sauce?” K’ndar felt satisfaction at making the annoying man exert himself.

“Nay, nay, not that messy. Let’s find a spot where we can discuss this in depth.”

K’ndar looked hard at him. “I’m busy and I’m not interested in discussing anything.”

“No, I’m serious, Four. Lissen, okay, I can see you don’t believe me, but just lissen.”

K’ndar stopped, more because of a large horse drawn wagon, loaded with what looked like white saucers, was crossing his T. My goodness, that’s a good looking team, he thought.

“Lissen, mate. All you got to do is sort of ease into the favorite’s lane, that’s number six and he’s sure to win.” The man looked around, trying hard to be inconspicuous amidst a scattered crowd.

“‘Ease into his way? You mean, fly into his path, cross into his lane? On purpose?”

“Not so loud, mate! Not purposefully, no, just sort of, you know, kind of interfere, like you just didn’t see it happening. Maybe touch wingtips so he falters. It’s nothing bad, it just, just make the leader pull up. You do that and you’ll get a big pouch full of money, guaranteed. “

“In other words, cheat. I’ll be disqualified if nothing else. How then does it make money? Huh?”

“Sshhhhh!! It don’t hurt nothing, you’re gonna lose anyway, the punters are expert handicappers. The favorite is two to one.”

“And so, what’s your name? Explain how a loser makes money?”

“My name t’aint important. I’m just trying to help you make some money when you’re sure to lose. Right now you’re out three marks, eh? But if you do this little favor, just a little thing, I’ll be waiting at the finish line with a lot more’n three marks.”

Now I remember your type. I was just a weyrling at my first Gather and two shysters tried to cheat me. Yes, that woman felt me up like I was naked, intending to get me drunk on MY money and then rob me.

“So, you want me to purposefully lose the race, risk the lives of two people and their dragons by blocking, and you’ll be waiting with a big pouch full of money.”

The man smirked. “I didn’t say so, now did I. No, sir, the words never left my lips. But you’re obviously very smart, very intelligent, I didn’t have to write it out for you. You got the idea.” He winked and nodded slyly. “Think of it, dragonrider. If you win, you get twenty one marks. If you do what I suggest, you’ll make three, maybe four times that. You’ll see me waiting at the finish line with a big pouch in my hand.”

“I see. Why not give me the money in the pouch NOW? I’ll still lose.”

The look on the man’s face told him all he needed to know.

“Uh, that’s not how I work, you know, I have to see you lose first. But I promise you, I’ll be there.”

“So, I have to trust you, but you don’t trust me. Okay, I got it.” He walked off.

“So you’re good?”

“Meaning what?”

“Decisions, Four. You got about half an hour to plan how you do it. Just think about it and give me the high sign at the start.”

“Actually, I have thought it through. I am going to report you for bribery and fraud.”

Raventh, have you been listening?

Of course.

Contact Falconth. Have him tell P’jar and the Lord Holder that this man is trying to get me to cheat. Push his face to the dragons. Tell P’jar the Lord Holder and the Weyrleader need to catch this man now.

“You’re going to report ME? I’ve done nothing wrong, this is just a friendly conversation. You don’t want to piss me off,” the man snarled,” I’ve got ways of making you sorry.”

K’ndar snapped. Dropping the racing gear, he roared “SO DO I, ARSEHOLE!” and lunged at the man.

Siskin leaped at the man’s face, screeching and spitting like a cat. The man fell backwards to avoid the slashing claws.

A crowd came running. Siskin hovered over the man, trying to get past his flailing arms. K’ndar resisted the urge to kick the man.

“Hey, hey, there, what’s this?” a deep voice came from behind K’ndar.

“Siskin, to me, to me, lad!” K’ndar cried. The blue landed on this shoulders, still hissing. When he’s like this I’m almost afraid of him, he thought.

He wouldn’t hurt you. Not for anything.

I know but he certainly is convincing!

Raventh laughed.

Two large men-at-arms came round either side of him. They took in the situation immediately.

“Here, here, now, no fighting. What’s going on here, dragonrider?” One reached down to give the shyster a hand up. K’ndar noticed he didn’t let the man go.

A thin trickle of blood ran down the man’s cheek. Siskin had made contact.

“Good lad, Siskin,” he said, running the lizard’s tail through his fingers to soothe him. Siskin chortled.

The man wiped the blood from his cheek and shrieked. “Look! I’m bleeding! I was minding my own business and he sicced his lizard on me!”

A large group of people began to approach them. A teen was in front, running hard.

“Sir, this man tried to bribe me into losing the up coming race,” K’ndar said, “and threatened me when I refused.”

They have been following him. Falconth said they know what he does.

“No, I didn’t, this lout tried to rob me,” the man protested.

The girl stopped just short of the shyster. She was wearing a Weyrlingbraid.

“Sir, that man tried to bribe me into throwing the race,” she cried to the bailiffs.

“You lie, I never seen you before in my life,” the man shouted. He twisted in his captor’s grip, trying to escape. He turned to snarl at the bailiff. “Release me now, I did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t take orders from you, lout. Besides, I think you did try to bribe these dragonriders,” his captor said.

“He did, he did. He told me to interfere with the other greens and I’d be rewarded,” the girl shouted, afraid the bailiffs wouldn’t believe her. “And he said if I did, he’d give me a pouch full of money. I didn’t cheat, sir, I promise. You can ask my dragon.”

“He promised me the very same, sir. He wanted me to intentionally block the dragon in the lead, and then he’d give me a big pouch of money at the end of the race,” K’ndar said.

The two security men nodded.

“No, that never happened, they’re in this together, they’re both lying. She tried to rob ME,” the man rushed.

The unencumbered bailiff laughed. “This little mite of a girl? Pffft. She’s half your size, and you’re a half pint to begin with. No, Stewie, I believe them both,” his captor said.

The Weyrling wasn’t sure if she should be delighted at his belief or insulted at him referring to her as ‘little”.

Stewie’s face blanched. “My name isn’t…”

“So you’re not Stewie this time. Funny, that’s what your mates down at the horse track called you. That’s the name you gave my Lord Holder last Gather, remember? No? Your memory’s gone bad, lout. Or else it’s because you and your thieving friends go all over Pern, at every Gather. You do it so often, you’ve forgotten where you tried bribing racers or cheating at cards before. You might not know me, but we certainly know YOU. Didn’t you listen to Lord Framdon at the last Gather? He said he’d throw you into his darkest cell and forget about you there if you return. Didn’t believe him, eh? Big mistake. Huge.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t hold me for an innocent remark,” Stewie said. He kept pulling, without success.

“Ah, I see. Well, maybe a nice long stay wait in the Holder’s cell will remind you,” his captor said. He pulled the man’s collar up until the man was standing on tiptoe. “My goodness but you’re fat. We won’t need to feed you for weeks.”

“No, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!”

“Maybe. I”ll let our Holder figure it out. He’s got a good memory, you know, and something you may NOT know is that your likeness is on the walls of the jail. Yes, Stewie, you’re well known. Not only that, we also know who you’re working with, they’re here at the Gather, so convenient for us to round up! So you’ll have company!

“Thank you, dragonriders,” the unencumbered bailiff said, “We’ll take care of this lout. These shysters, they breed like crawlers. We have to run them off every single Gather.”

He began to move the man off when a girl came galloping up on a lovely pony.

Oh, stars, he’s gorgeous, K’ndar thought, WHERE does this Hold get them? I MUST speak to their Herdmaster. Even their ponies are perfection.

She slowed and stopped, beckoning the bailiff. “Sir, please?”

He went over to her and listened to her urgent message.

The look on his face was one of utter delight. From his expression he must have just inherited an entire Hold, K’ndar thought.

“Thank you, lassie, my regards to Lord Framdon and tell him we have this one in hand. You’re a very good messenger.”

She smiled. She was possibly ten years old. She wheeled her pony and trotted downhill. K’ndar sighed. Horses.

The bailiff called out to the other who had moved with his captive downhill. “Hold on, let’s take a look in his pouch.”

“Hey, there’s naught in it,” the shyster squeaked, his face draining of color.

“No? Didn’t you tell two dragonriders you’d have a pouch full of money waiting for them at the finish line? Now I do see a bulge around your middle that looks like it’s leather rather than you.”

“Could be a baby bump. It’s big enough,” a woman yelled from the crowd.

“I, uh, well,”

“Could it be full of money? The marks you promised these two dragonriders?

“Um, you’ve got me all wrong, sir, it’s not mine.”

“No matter. We’ll just take a look to see what’s in it.”

“I said it’s not mine, you know, it’s uh, I’m carrying it for,”

“For your partners in crime, who are about to join you in the cell for trying to fix the horse races?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about, you’ve not let me explain, you’ve listened to them, don’t I get a chance?”

“No. We don’t need more of your lies, your partners have told us all sorts of things about you, Stewie. Stand still, I want that pouch.”

Stewie tried again to break free.

“If you don’t stop wriggling, shyster, I’ll be forced to lose my patience.”

“Let me help, bailiff? He’s the one who shweened me last Gather.”

“Thank you, sir, but I think I’ve got this lout in hand.”

Now both of the con man’s arms were held tightly, the elbows almost touching.

“Not so tight, you’re breaking my arms.”

“Tsktsktsk, too bad. Don’t know my own strength.”

“We can help,” said several men in the watching crowd. “Maybe step on his feet whilst you’re finishing the breaking?”

“Thank you, but no. Screaming turns my stomach.”

The second bailiff removed the pouch from the shyster’s waist. “Ah, here we go. My, but it feels quite hefty for nothing in it.”

There was a large dagger tucked in the waist band behind the pouch. He pulled that out, too.

“You won’t be needing this sticker, lout. And by the stars, this pouch feels quite full.”

“It’s not mine, I found it, I have no idea what’s in it, I was going to go to lost and found and turn it in.”

“How kind of you, but, you’ve passed Lost and Found at least twice in the last ten minutes. Was it on someone else at the time? You mean you robbed someone? With this hidden dagger?”

“Umm, no I didn’t do nothing of the sort, it was…”

“Shut up,” the bailiff said, “you’re a con man and I hate con men. Piss me off and I’ll let my mate break your arms. He’s being too gentle in my opinion.”

He opened the pouch.

Utter shock, then understanding flooded his face.

It was full of not money, but punter’s chits. Dozens of them, from all of the punters there at the Gather.

“Chits. Lots of chits.”

“What?” the crowd gasped.

“Hmmm,” he said, pulling one out, You’ve been a VERY busy bettor today, haven’t you?”

“I, you see…

He held the wooden chit up to the sunshine. Then another and another.

The chits were carved out of various woods, lightree, redtree, fellis wood, klahtree, even skybroom, all except markwood. They were of slightly different colors according to species. Each shape was trademarked to the owning punter.

“Let’s see, now. Here’s a horse, Horse has his kiosk down by the track. And this one is Dragon’s, this one is, poorly carved but I think it’s a dolphin. Here’s an octagon, I know for a fact that punter’s never been here, I believe he’s up north. So you have what appears to be chits from just about every punter on the planet. And they’re numbered, here’s a wher ten, a triangle seven, he’s down there, too. Say, didn’t Seven win that last race? Didn’t get a chance to cash this in, did you Stewie? You have to cash them in before the next race if you want your money.”

The shyster seemed to shrink. “Don’t have to return ’em if they don’t win.”

“Sir, this Gather, the chits are all redtree wood. That one you’re holding, it’s not the right wood, from here it looks to be lightwood, from last years racing seasons. Punters won’t take it if it’s not the wood of the season. That’s how they keep them apart at Gathers,” a man called from the crowd.

“I didn’t know that,” the bailiff said, “My lord forbids his men at arms from drinking or gambling.”

“And, maybe you’ve been too busy cheating people, Stewie,” said his captor, easing up on the man’s arms just a little bit. “Everyone knows that a tradition of a Gather is that punters collectively pay for a free treat or a drink in exchange for a losing chit. That way they get their chits back for a lot less than what it cost to make them. The Holder lets them put up their kiosks for free in return. “

The bailiff returned all the chits into the pouch.”But the most interesting thing about all these chits, Stewie, is that your louts forgot something when they were carving them. I don’t see the punter’s name branded on the back, as REQUIRED by their own rules. No name, no payout.”

Several people in the crowd gasped as they understood the implication.

The bailiff looked down at the shyster. “These are counterfeit chits, Stewie. Aren’t they.”

“Counterfeit! You bastard!” came angry voices. The bettors in the crowd pulled chits out of their pockets or pouches. “Here’s one,” a man called, his voice thick with anger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I found that pouch, I swear it.”

“No, sir, he didn’t,”a man yelled, “he was in front of me when he cashed in at least for four chits for the winning green. She won at ten to one odds. He won a LOT of money.”

“You’re all in this together. You’re all lying,” the shyster said, but he was sweating in fear.

“Well, now, seems as if you’ve crossed yet another line, Stewie, and this time you’d better hope I can get you to the safety of a cell before the punters hear we’ve caught you-which won’t be long. That pony messenger is telling my Holder that we’ve caught you, and he’ll be informing the Gather at large.

“I swear, it wasn’t my doing…”

A woman pushed her way through the crowd to face him. The crowd pushed her even closer.

“You!” she said, stabbing a dagger shaped chit within a few centimeters of the con man’s nose. “You told me you were freelancing, you didn’t have time to set up your kiosk. I paid you good money for counterfeit chits!” She made to slap the man, but the bailiff put up his hand.

“Ma’am, rather than dirty your hands contacting him, I beg you to attest to our Holder when he tries this scum.”

“That I will do, I promise. You slob, I want my money back.”

“Me too,” the crowd growled. The bailiff gave it a big grin as if to say, watch this.

“Okay, Stewie or whatever your name is this moment, we’re going to put you somewhere safe from the punters. They’re a tight bunch, you know? Those folks have no sense of humor when it comes to con men like you passing off counterfeit chits. Nope, not a bit. They’re putting up a board right now, right this minute they’re betting on themselves. Maybe you’ve been too busy being a shyster to notice but punters, when they’re at work, they’re competing amongst themselves for the bettors. But they’re all friends and family, and at the end of the Gather, you’ll find them all in one group with cold beer and warm bread, trading descriptions of yobs like you. Right now, they’re betting on which one of them gets your bollocks first, and they don’t put time constraints on themselves. It could be today, it could be next year. Wherever you go, you’re a marked man now, Stewie. So let’s you come along quietly right into a cell. You know where it is. You’ve been in it often enough.”