Chương 43: Cormac’s Gamble

As Róise headed off to the town square, Cormac decided to sleep in. Why was everyone in such a hurry anyway? Why not take the time to enjoy this nice bed, these luxurious bedsheets, this quiet moment on solid land that wasn't rocking around with every wave. You learn best with a mind well rested, he decided.

"Róise said you'd still be asleep," Cian said from the doorway.

"Noooo," Cormac said, snuggling up tight with the extra pillow he'd asked for last night "What's the rush?"

"Well, my other self is hearing from Róise that there is a rebellion going on in your homeland?" Cian shrugged.

"I might have thought you to be similarly motivated." Cormac huffed and sat up.

"Sure. But there's been a rebellion going on since I first entered the Third Ring. One less day of training isn't going to overthrow Shorinu oppression any slower."

"Interesting. You seem to lack the fervor for the fight that Róise has." Cormac looked at the boy balefully.

"Excuse me if I don't spill the innermost details of my life to a sentient island I only met yesterday."

"Oh? I thought we were getting to be friends." Cian opened the trunk in Cormac's room that was identical to the one in Miriam's and began rummaging through clothes.

"Don't get me wrong, kid," Cormac said, standing up and stretching.

"You seem like a nice enough fellow. But I've met tons of nice enough fellows who turned out to be not so nice at all." Cian pulled out a nice shirt and vest combination and tossed it to Cormac.

"I think this suits your taste. You strike me as a man who tends towards an old-fashioned look."

"I like to think of it as classic," Cormac said, looking over the clothes.

"Yes, these are nice. Ok, fine, you've gotten me awake and ruined my perfectly pleasant day off. What do you need me to do today?"

"I was hoping we could feel out some Adept classes," Cian said.

"Here's some trousers that should match." Cormac snatched the pants out of the air and started to put them on.

"I don't know what Adept classes are available for Luck. I thought maybe there just weren't any." Cian shrugged.

"The common wisdom that Adept classes are set in stone is pretty much bull, if you ask me." Cormac slid on the shirt and vest, admiring the fit.

"Yes, this works very nicely. I don't suppose you have a hat in there?"

"Nope," Cian said, shutting the chest abruptly.

"Honestly, you don't really have a head for hats."

"I had this really great felt captain's hat on the Líadan. I even managed to keep a hold of it on the little boat, but when I woke up on the beach it was gone," Cormac said sadly.

"Yes," Cian said flatly.

"What a mystery. Let's take a walk."

"Oh? Are we going to where Róise is?" Cian floated to the door and opened it with a gracious flourish.

"No, though we might pass by for a moment. We're just going to walk around the village and talk about your power."

"Can we get breakfast on the way?" Cormac pulled his vest down smartly and slipped on the shoes Cian had found for him. They didn't quite match the outfit, black instead of the more appropriate brown, but it was good enough for now.

"We'll see what we find out there," Cian said. The boy led Cormac away from the main cluster of buildings to what felt more like a more industrious part of Láthair Maol. Here were clothworkers, cutting and sewing anything from shirts to canvas tarps, weaving new material from what looked like extraordinarily soft reeds. There were metalworkers, making nails and repairing a large plow. Finally, cooks stationed on long lines of metal grills, roasting vegetables and frying eggs.

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"A group of visitors had about two dozen chickens with them when they wrecked here about fifty years ago," Cian said.

"Best thing that ever happened to Láthair Maol." Cormac's face was alight with excitement, his fingers dancing by his side as he observed the bustle of life in this small village. He stopped to talk to every tailor, every man or woman washing clothes in large tubs, every smith or craftsman. He snagged a plate of roast corn with fried potatoes and devoured it rapturously, forever singing the praises of the chef, who managed to find some butter they had thought used up for the exuberant visitor.

Before they walked on, the cobbler promised Cormac a new pair of brown shoes - just as soon as he delivered some monster carcasses for leather.

"What a delightful little town," Cormac said, licking his fingers. They had continued walking and were now getting close to the edge of the jungle, Cian having guided them away from the fields and agricultural areas.

"It's been hard on them," Cian admitted.

"As much as we all love each other and do our best to make Láthair Maol as good as it can be, we're all basically prisoners with no hope of ever escaping. I always hope that no more ships land on the beach for the sake of the visitors, but I have to admit we look forward to it happening. There are some crucial supplies that we just don't have here. Sometimes we get lucky."

"Speaking of," Cormac said.

"Are you going to tell me what Adept classes I can try for?" Cian shrugged.

"There are only a few. One - Gambler Adept. Focusing on personally favorable outcomes to random situations. That's games of chance, leaps of faith - dangerous situations where taking a risk could give you a huge payout. It's an extremely fickle class to master."

"Sounding like me so far!" Cormac said gleefully.

"Trying to find Cianán's Walk was a pretty big risk, wouldn't you say?" Cian continued as if Cormac hadn't interrupted.

"There's the Devil Adept Class. This is a curse specialist. Bringing bad luck to their enemies, bad omens, foul acts of misfortune, things like that. A subtle class, but very effective if used right." Cormac shrugged.

"I've been known to spread a little bad luck to a few less than savory people."

"Finally, the Saint Adept. This is someone who applies their luck to the benefit of others. Even when they apply bad luck to someone, it's because they're helping another person who deserves it. This is the hardest one of all - not because it's hard to use, but because most Luck Natured people don't qualify for it." Cian shook his head.

"It's hard to be a Saint, I suppose."

"Well, that makes it pretty clear," Cormac said, grinning.

"Honestly I thought it would be harder. Seems I'm a gambler through and through!" Cian sighed deeply, looking back at the village.

"No, you're not. It's really annoying, but you're not."

"What do you mean?" The boy shook his head.

"You thought I didn't notice you weaving your threads throughout our entire walk? There was a lady cutting fabric who got distracted by the new visitor walking through and nearly veered off her line. It would have ruined her cloth - and that's very hard to make here. There was a little golden thread that helped her hold steady." Cormac flushed.

"I just happened to see it. Not a big deal."

"There was a smith forging nails who looked up as you walked by and an ember of forgescale bounced right towards his eye. Pulled away by a golden thread." The former captain frowned.

"I'm not a saint, Cian. That should be obvious."

"The chef turned his batch of corn over before it burned. A plate with a crack in it stayed together when it had been about to shatter and waste half a dozen eggs. The cobbler placed a binding in just the right place, where if he hadn't been pulled to the side just an hair, would have broken the first time the owner wore them. All maneuvered by shining golden threads." Cian crossed his arms.

"I was just being nice. And I got some free food out of it! That doesn't make anyone a saint."

"The food is always free, Cormac. You were being nice because it's in your nature to be," Cian stepped closer.

"Tell me, Cormac. Why did you actually come seeking Cianán's Walk?" Cormac tried to glibly rattle off a joke, but his excuses died as he looked in Cian's eyes.

"I… the rebellion was getting bad. Any day now Róise was going to jump in headfirst. She would have died. Out here she's unstoppable, but back in the Third Ring she's just… the girl that lives in the tavern."

"So you fabricated the whole thing to get Róise away from Shirren?"

"No," Cormac barked, his expression stormy.

"I would never lie to Róise. I truly believed that we could get stronger by coming here. I kept imagining Róise thundering in at Fourth - maybe Fifth! And just tearing the place apart. Safe. But… I also believed that if I didn't get her out of the city then she would be in a hangman's noose before a month was gone."

"A big risk," Cian admitted.

"But not a gamble for personal gain. Everything you do you do for others. You're a Saint, Cormac." Cormac spat in the dirt.

"Yeah, I hate it too," Cian said.