CHAPTER 1

Entearra Gharu,Game of the Gods

[Narrator] His mother, daughter to a butcher, wasgiven to his father, a captain of the Lados guard, as paymentto avoid extortion by the guard. In those days, before therise of the guilds, the guards ran the criminal aspects of thecity unchallenged. Hating her forced union with Callahan'sfather, his mother often sought the company of sailors andpassing adventurers that frequented the inn she tended. It wassuspected that one of these unions was the cause of Callahan'sconception; thus, his father looked on him with contemptand disgust. A love for the drink, gambling, and women keptCallahan's father from the home for the most part. When hedid happen to be home, the sight of Callahan would send himinto rage. He would verbally rip apart his wife until the wordswere no longer enough to satiate his anger, at which time hewould beat her mercilessly.

[Callahan] Yep, Mom was a slut. I say slut and not whorebecause at least whores get paid for it. Dad was a drunkenmoron who had no concept of holding on to money.Suddenly, the lack of memory and a prison cell isn't soundinglike such a bad gig after all.

[Narrator] Drug down into a depressive state ofhopelessness, the best she could muster for her son was settinghis room in the loft of the home, where due to the confinedspace and rope ladder access, entry was not easily managedby a raged-out drunk. As he got old enough to gain someself-awareness and understanding, the beatings turned in hisdirection, so Callahan quickly learned not only how to makehimself scarce but also how to scrape out an existence on thestreets.

By the age of twelve, he had engineered a false floor inhis loft, which provided him sanctuary when outright escapeseemed unlikely, as well as a hidden rope with a knotted stickhe would latch under his secured nightstand so he could dropdown next to the front door and, with a quick snap, unlatchthe stick from the dresser legs. A good deal of practice whilehis parents were away got him in the habit of being able tocatch the stick as it fell, so he could enact the process quicklyand almost silently.

During those years of his young life, he took an orphanboy named Selfin under his wing and started teaching him theins and outs of acquiring what one needs to survive. Duringthe course of his younger days, Callahan found his quickwit and knack for impressing himself upon people to be hisgreatest allies. Information and knowledge were key to him.He found that the shifting and acquiring of those luxuries wasa far more worthwhile endeavor than petty theft and carried aless immediate threat if handled with care.

[Callahan] Selfin was a good kid. None too bright, mindye, but a good kid nonetheless. My first real friend, he was. Iremember the time I went out in the morning to find him,only to see the dipshit being pummeled by a street merchant.He had got himself nicked for snagging a loaf of stale bread.Course, he had to pick the surliest merchant on the block tosteal from. I'd taught him better than that but wasn't about tolet him go down on his own.

[Narrator] "Whoa, ye burly ogre, lay off that boy there!"Callahan deftly hopped from his perch on the rooftops to anoverhanging sunshade, then down to the ground with a lightroll.

Turning his attention to the new kid, the merchantgrowled, "Mind your own, boy. Caught this 'ere thief fair andsquare, so what I do with him is what I do with him, and Idon't want to hear a word from you about it. `Less, of course,ye want yerself a healthy dose of it too."

"While an ass whooping would be entertaining and shavemore than a little time off this otherwise drab and boringmorning, it would not accomplish either of our purposes."Well outside the merchant's reach, Callahan smiled his wry halfsmile. "I propose an offer. You want profit. I want bread and anend to me mate's ass whooping, deserved as it may be. So whatI propose is ye not only give me the loaf of bread he tried tosteal but a second one, and within the hour, I will return withfour times the payment for both."

"Do I look that stupid to you? Don't answer that, ye littlepuke. Now bugger off." The merchant raised his hand to strikethe boy again.

"Swear to me upon whatever ye hold dear that ye won'thit him again. Give me the loaf he tried to steal. I will go onme own and, as I said, return with four times the profit fortwo loaves. If I cheat ye, ye'll still have me friend to pummelon, and all ye'd have lost is one loaf of stale bread. If I don'tcheat ye, then yer up a healthy profit, and ye don't have togo bruising those soft, lovely hands of yers." Winking to Selfin,Callahan removed his raggedy old cloak as he spoke, thentossed one end out next to his friend. Selfin, catching the hint,snagged the loaf he had tried to steal from the dirt, where ithad fallen, and dropped it on the end of the cloak.

Pulling the bread quickly to his grasp, Callahan grinnedagain. "We have an accord, then. As I said, look for me withinthe hour." Bolting off with calculations running through hisbrain, Callahan figured twenty minutes' travel to Horuce'sguard station, eight minutes for negotiation, and twentyminutes' return time left him more than ample room to err.

Taking to the rooftops, Callahan smoothly traversed thedistance to the guard shack, placed more as a guide betweenthe noble sector and the middle class than as an actual positionof danger. His father placed his most unreliable guards at thispost, and Callahan delighted in the dependability of Horuce'sstupidity. Horuce was his father's least favorite employee andoften wound up on duty at this particular station.

"Sleeping yet again, ye lard-ass lout!" Bouncing the staleloaf of bread off Horuce's head to land it in his lap, Callahangrinned wide at Horuce as the large man tried to stir himselfto attention. "Last time me dad caught ye wasn't lesson enoughfor ye, eh?"

"He only came out this way 'cause you ratted me out,you little pissant, and if I heard right, what cost me a month'spay and a lashing cost you a few weeks' worth...