《Stepping Through》


 We Play the Game – 01 – How to rent out Trouble

    Not the turn Tina will be expecting gainful employment will be taking her:


    Once the fire died down, Tina glanced over to Devon, an uncertain grin on her face. The throw has been kind of a muffin, a floater, but had kind of worked anyway. He didn¡¯t have another ball in his hand though, and instead was glancing around apprehensively as though something was wrong, something else. From all around she started to hear something, the sound of distant shouting. It was getting louder.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she wanted to know. ¡°Is there another game going on somewhere?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t seen another arena when they¡¯d arrived, but with building¡¯s set so close to one another and several stories high it was possible that this place was some kind of sports complex or whatever they called it in this place and this time.


    ¡°I think we need to cut this practice session short,¡± Devon said, glancing up at her and then towards the nearest archway off the arena floor. He then started heading towards it, waving urgently for her to follow.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked. The sounds grew louder, was as much a wave as a noise. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    He turned around, hustled up as fast as a his short legs could move him and grabbed her still sort of oven mittened hand.


    ¡°Because there¡¯s a riot going on out there. And the arena is kind of a gathering point for the two sides to duke it out. It¡¯s a thing that happens here, from time to time. Pretty soon that riot out there is going to be a riot in here.¡±


    ¡°A riot?!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he told her. ¡°Don¡¯t you remember what you¡¯ve read? Constantinople was-is rather famous for its riots.¡±


    He pulled her along haltingly. She wasn¡¯t exactly mobile in this armored outfit meant to protect her from flying balls of fire.


    ¡°What are they rioting about?¡± she asked trying to recall.


    Horse races? Food shortages?


    ¡°Who knows?¡± he asked. ¡°Who cares? Let¡¯s go! There are usually hundreds involved and it gets very violent.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t good. And worse, even before they got to the edge of the arena floor, people, mostly men, had started streaming in through the other arches and onto the stands above them.


    Tina wanted to move fast, but her clunky armor wasn¡¯t helping at all. They barely got to the athlete¡¯s entrance archway before the crowd and a big one started surging down the walls to meet the ones who were already down with them.


    ¡°Shed it!¡± he told her. ¡°We¡¯re not going to make it if you don¡¯t get a move on. We¡¯ll get something better. It¡¯s not the best fit anyways.¡±


    That was a fact Tina could agree with him on.


    She managed to get a couple things off. The mittens were easy, the skirt a bit harder, but it was enough to free up her legs for effective running. By that time they were engulfed in the shouting and jostling men and women who were now screaming and fighting with one another all around. She couldn¡¯t even tell what side any of the people were on, there really wasn¡¯t any apparent uniform or color or anything to tell who was fighting who and why. It just seemed like a mass brawl.


    In moments She was just lost in the crowd of screaming and shouting and punching and kicking people.


    ¡°Devon!¡± she shouted, but couldn¡¯t see him anywhere, and tried to back away from the largest clusters of fighting people and find a way out of this.


    She was hit and almost lost her balance. Someone grabbed her hand, helped pull her back to her feet, then up straight. Tina tried to pull her hand away, but the looming figure who had grabbed it in the first place held on hard.


    It was a woman in robes, face and hair wrapped up so she could barely make out what the woman looked like. She was at least tall, taller than her even. The woman offered a ghost of a smile


    ¡°Come with me,¡± the woman insisted. ¡°Or would you rather they rip you to pieces?¡±


    First, the present day:You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The middle-aged woman across the desk gave her that look; slightly narrowed gaze, slight downturn of the mouth.


    There¡¯s a certain way people look at you when you¡¯re unemployed and they know it. Or at least that¡¯s how it had always seemed to Tina. That slight air of disappointment, disapproval, superiority even if she had make sure to dress to the nines to impress in her best and most professional looking navy pantsuit which were the best for toning down how out there and rebellious her red hair and freckles tended to be perceived by people in authority.


    Yeah, that look, as though they¡¯re better than you for being employees, or there¡¯s something wrong with you. Or that you¡¯ve come to take from those who are actually working. And this woman worked for Employment Insurance so make that all double.


    So, she hated the experience, and always tried to get through it as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Because, Employment Insurance was like any other kind of insurance, or at least was supposed to be. There were always ways that the powers that be tried to squirm out of paying up for any reason possible, especially with the ¡®let them eat cake¡¯ kind of government that had gained power last election. Maybe you didn¡¯t go to the Thursday seminar on how to write a resume, or how to search online for work. It was all so patronizing. She had picked up a few online jobs through the freelancer sites. It just wasn¡¯t enough to pay the bills in an expensive to live in city like Toronto.


    ¡°Forms,¡± the woman told her after Tina offered her full name. She said it in a tone that suggested Tina hadn¡¯t filed them all out.


    Not this time, thank God. This time she had all her ducks in a row.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± she told the inquisitor. Although you¡¯d think in this day and age it would be more efficient to use the internet for everything. Apparently the premiere had wanted to turn back the clock. But again, that sort of thing was going on all over, just turn and look south, or across the Atlantic.


    Still, she had it all, forms printed, paperwork from her former employer in hardcopy (although she¡¯d had to go back to the office three times to collect it), proof that she hadn¡¯t left of her own volition (she¡¯d had to fight with Stan, the guy at HR who told her it was cutbacks, then tried to weasel in a poor job performance note in retaliation), proof that she¡¯d been looking for work (yes, eight sterling interviews and eight sterling rejections so far). It had been a rough week, but her share of the rent was due next Friday. And she did everything that was asked of her, all the little things, including signing up for the ''mandatory'' classes on getting re-employed (as if that was going to help her in this recession). Honestly it made her sick to think she¡¯d be late. Just last month the landlord had even called in the cops to evict one of their neighbors.


    The woman collected the papers, checked them over like she had all the time in the world. And then she looked up and offered Tina something she hadn¡¯t dared hope for. An smile!


    A smile that lasted for about nine one hundredths of a second.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get your next payment on the first,¡± the woman seeming to have lost all interest in her case. ¡°Your next appointment is on the third. Have a nice day.¡±


    She sure would, Tina thought gloomily. She knew she¡¯d be checking her phone and her account all day on the first the moment the money was deposited, and praying every hour it got closer to the end of the day. The rent had to be delivered by five on the dot.


    On a whim, she checked out the free if archaic computer stations where you could search for work through the EI system. She could have done this at home or on her phone, but what the hell. It would get her mind off things for the moment, like getting through the next five days with next to no money and little left on her credit card. And who knows, she might actually find something this time, as opposed to having to go home and sit in her room in the apartment she shared with her best friend from University, her cousin Claire, and bid on a job online amongst the crush of hundreds of third worlders promising to work for free or nearly so, while her fluffy tuxedo Trouble did his level best to distract her by demanding noogies, attacking her sneakers or otherwise being a cat. The other day he¡¯d had caught a bird and brought it home, played with it for a good hour, leaving feathers strewn all over the kitchen. Her roommate had been mortified.


    At least she knew if push came to shove, Trouble could take care of himself, even in the age of the Toronto Animal Services Gestapo. Too bad she hadn¡¯t figured out a way to rent him out for cash. He was adorable after all, who wouldn¡¯t pay for his services?


    With whatever money she still had in her account and on her card and would be coming weekly, Tina was still going to have to scrimp until she found a new job, whatever that was going to be. So much for a university education, degree and all. She didn¡¯t have any idea what she was going to do, other than maybe land another temp gig, hopefully one that would get extended by some miracle. And considering what she¡¯d done in the past to get by, it could be just about anything that involved office work. Hopefully she¡¯d find something that would involve travel.


    Hah! Like that would ever.


    Just before she left the employment office, she stopped by the old style job board that for some reason people still put up little cards with writing scrawled on them. Like why?


    It was an oddity in an age where smartphones, social networks, sexting, and swiping ruled. Where what you had in your pocket could to everything her parents desktop had been able to and tons more and where themonsterthateatsawayyourselfesteem.com that was a source of constant job application humiliation. But there it was, a dumb wall covered in people¡¯s bad penmanship, like you used to find at supermarkets, some block printed some scrawled in lousy cursive to the point you had to guess what jobs people were trying to offer. Did no one teach penmanship anymore? Tina mused. No of course they didn¡¯t. This was the 21<sup>st</sup> century.


    Yep, unemployment did send you to the dark ages, didn¡¯t it?


    That reminded her to check that out, the supermarket. After all, she¡¯d gotten her last job just that way. And all those pet sitting jobs, too, the first year out of University.

 We Play the Game – 02 – An Assistant, of Sorts

    Unfortunately the job board, with its scrap picking, hoard sorting, memoir ghostwriting, and dog washing jobs and fast food ¡®opportunities¡¯ was utterly devoid of anything attractive. Tina took in a breath and let it out slowly.


    ¡°Utterly depressing isn¡¯t it¡±, a voice said on her right, behind her and, oddly, from maybe chest high, especially given male and baritone timber and gravelly tone of it.


    Tina turned to glance in that direction, and yes, the voice was a glance down, a good head and shoulders at least. It¡¯s source was a man of maybe four and a half feet all. An actual dwarf. The tip of his head maybe reached her elbow. He was well dressed though, in a dark suit, and he certainly rocked that goatee of his.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± she replied, not being able to think of anything else to say that wouldn¡¯t be misconstrued as snarky.


    If you can¡¯t say anything nice... Auntie Jean always pointed out.


    The dwarf, male, and certainly an adult waved a chubby hand at the job board before them.


    ¡°It is an utterly pathetic collection of dead ends don¡¯t you think? Who would want to do those things anyways¡­ dog washing, interning at a food bank¡­¡±


    Well, the second one at least helped people-people, but Tina got the point.


    ¡°Somebody desperate,¡± Tina posited, a little bemused at the thought, at least enough to add a joke. ¡°Or tasty.¡±


    The short man grinned back at her. His pudgy hand tapped his chin. The other remained in his suit jacket pocket.


    ¡°Oh, likely less interesting than that,¡± he offered. ¡°Someone with a small mind, small ambitions, living in a small, small world.¡±


    Tina was about to make a remark about that, but heroically held her tongue for as long as it took to work her way to something more appropriate to add to the conversation.


    ¡°You looking for work as well?¡± she asked even though it didn¡¯t look at all like he was.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Heaven¡¯s no,¡± he told her, then raised his eyebrows right up to where his dark hair hung over his brow. ¡°I am looking to hire.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she asked with sudden enthusiasm that was probably completely unwarranted. ¡°For what kind of work, exactly?¡±


    ¡°As an admin assistant, of sorts,¡± he told her.


    ¡°That¡¯s not very specific,¡± she suggested, her enthusiasm wavering, her mind imagining requests to grab things from tall cabinets and shelves to opening jars of pickles for nickels an hour.


    The dwarf eyed her speculatively


    ¡°The job involves some research, some travel, some ability to handle oneself in¡­ realms of diplomacy, and perhaps flexibility and¡­ agility.¡±


    This sounded¡­ maybe good?


    ¡°Would your prospective employee have to move?¡± she asked, enthusiasm mixed now, although she was enjoying the wordplay. Most people she knew didn¡¯t talk like this. Tina didn¡¯t really detect an accent, though. ¡°Would they need a car?¡±


    She hadn''t driven in years. And her first and last car expired on the 401 half way to her last decent job. An omen, really.


    ¡°No and no,¡± her prospective new employer stated. ¡°All of that would be taken care of by the business. And any traveling would be short jaunts, day trips you could imagine.¡±


    ¡°You do know how strange that sounds,¡± she told him. ¡°Approaching desperate people and offering them what sounds like an amazing job.¡±


    ¡°This is an employment office,¡± he noted. ¡°Is that not what this place is for?


    ¡°Yeah, it should be¡± she agreed, then glanced around at the depressing scenery. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what they have in mind here.¡±


    ¡°And yet you¡¯re interested,¡± he replied. ¡°Am I right?¡±


    Tina could feel a blush coming on. She couldn¡¯t help but nod.


    ¡°Then shall we conduct an interview?¡± the dwarf asked. ¡°There are places to eat nearby, are there not? Perhaps a lunch interview.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a food court in the mall,¡± Tina agreed, then added hopefully, ¡°are you paying?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said,¡± and pulled a small shiny object out of his pocket and studied it. It looked like some sort of compass, brass and glass, with a little red pointer spinning around. As she watched, the pointer stopped, but he snapped it up to quickly to see what direction it was actually pointing in.


    ¡°This way,¡± he told her, pointing out the Employment Insurance office¡¯s main doors.


    What an odd way of looking for directions, Tina decided.


    ¡°I know how to get to the food court,¡± she told him. ¡°And that¡¯s the only way out of here anyways.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied. ¡°But finding the best food is another journey entirely.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡± she wanted to know, as he pocketed the thing.


    ¡°Call it a GPS for another century,¡± he offered as they pushed through the glass doors and headed for the escalator that would take them where they were going.


    ¡°It looked like a compass,¡± Tina replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m a little old school,¡± he admitted looking up over his shoulders up at her. ¡°Humor me.¡±


    Tina did just that.

 We Play the Game – 03 – It’s a Sport

    ¡°And who might I be interviewing?¡± the dwarf asked her as they rose from street level on the escalator in the general direction of food.


    ¡°Tina Ruttledge,¡± she replied. ¡°And who¡¯s my prospective employer?¡±


    ¡°Devon,¡± he told her. ¡°Son of Olaf. Olafson.¡±


    ¡°And are you new to Toronto?¡± she asked.


    There was nothing that unusual about her interviewer than his height, really, but Tina did get the impression he was somehow out of place. Perhaps it was the way he wore his suit, seeming like it hung a bit awkwardly on his short frame as though it was uncomfortable being there.


    ¡°Relatively,¡± he admitted as they stepped off the escalator. ¡°But most of us are from somewhere else, are we not.¡±


    Tina nodded. Here family had move to T.O. from Belleville way back. Though most of her friends these days were Torontonians now, many came from elsewhere too.  That was kind of what being a Torontonian was.


    The Matheson Mall Food court had seen better days, like, maybe the eighties. Sure there were still a decent collection of fast food places spread around the south end of the mall, but, like the rest of the place, there were closed stretches that used to house joints that once were popular. Tina found it kind of sad. Malls still hadn¡¯t quite figured out how to survive the 21st century yet, from what she read online. From what she heard, there were ghost malls all around the country now. Haunted, probably, by the ghosts of retailer¡¯s past. Eaton¡¯s, Zeller¡¯s, Target. Chi-Chi¡¯s. She still remembered Chi-Chi¡¯s. It had been her favorite place to go as a child. Ah¡­ the Mexican Fried Ice-Cream. How old had she been then? Six? Eight? Had it been the E. coli in the salad bar that had done them in? Or was it Hepatitis? Tina couldn¡¯t remember.


    Salsafication, he he. That she did remember.


    Back to the present. Devon, Son of Olaf (giggle), her potential employer, didn¡¯t seem to notice her brief moment of childhood nostalgia, and somehow, his old school GPS lead them directly to one of her favorites, Thai Express. Not only did it serve great Asian fast food, but unlike the other places, there was rarely a line up. Tina couldn¡¯t imagine they made much money these days. Maybe it was a front for the Siamese mob.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Guess this one wouldn¡¯t be here long either, she decided as she pointed out what she wanted. Nothing lasts, she knew. That thought ensured she enjoyed her General Thai¡¯s Chicken all the more.


    They both sat down, enjoyed their meals, adding some small talk, the weather, the Jays youth drive, summer movies. And once they were done, Devon started the interview.


    So¡­ the interview started out a lot like most of her job interviews. Discussions about her Education (linguistics degree) previous jobs and experience (varied but not really worth the time spent talking about it), why she left her last job (not the actual truth, that she¡¯d wanted to beat her boss over the head with his accounting binders until he cried uncle), and what she was looking for in general. Tina could help but offer some stock responses at that. She still wasn¡¯t sure what she wanted to be or where she wanted to go with her life, what a career meant other than steady direct deposits in her account. God, almost twenty four and still drifting. What the hell was wrong with her? Most of her friends had actual careers or were starting ones.


    Crap. What was her mother¡¯s voice doing in her head? Out damned spot!


    The dwarf was the consummate interviewer, giving away absolutely nothing. He moved on to interests and activities, There Devon showed a particular interest in the subject of her continuing, post-high school and university of playing competitive dodgeball, or more specifically, the variant known as murderball that she had been drawn to.


    ¡°It¡¯s a sport,¡± she told him a bit defensively by practice. It was one of those sports that people made fun of often enough, like synchronized swimming or javelin tossing, ¡°And good exercise and a bit of self-defense in there too!¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± the dwarf replied nodding. He took a sip from his large Dr. Pepper. ¡°But there are more popular sports, aren¡¯t there? Hockey, basketball, hammer throw?¡±


    She almost laughed as she sipped on her pop. Luckily she didn¡¯t. Soda up your nose was the worst.


    ¡°Hammer throw?¡± she asked frowning in condescension. ¡°How many people do that?¡±


    ¡°It is kind of an Olympic sport after all. You¡¯d be surprised how popular that could be in certain quarters,¡± he offered.


    ¡°I would be,¡± she replied. ¡°Very.¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°Back to this¡­ murderball,¡± he replied. ¡°What is it about the sport that you have found so compelling, I mean, to keep doing it into your mid¡­ twenties.¡±


    Tina thought for a moment. She had been at it a long time, Since she was fourteen, at least seriously.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s not just about winning like other sports, I guess,¡± she told him. ¡°It¡¯s about survival. It¡¯s about whether you have it in you or not. There¡¯s not many other sports where the goal is to knock other people out. It¡¯s a bit like team MMA, you know, maybe, if people got to throw things in MMA.¡±


    Then she tapped her right temple.


    ¡°Without quite so many blows to the head, of course,¡± she added with a smirk of pride. ¡°I mean, if you¡¯re any good at it. Which I am.¡±

 We Play the Game – 04 – Add Ten Dollars an Hour

    ¡°It¡¯s kind of the sport I was made for, I think,¡± she told him. ¡°I mean, what sport out there, if you¡¯re a girl, is it the object to throw things at people and try to hit them? Maybe Yukigassen, but that¡¯s not the same. Who¡¯s afraid of getting hit with a snowball? But a blocker in the head-¡±


    Tina stopped there, thinking maybe she¡¯d revealed a bit too much about herself that might not fit in an office environment.


    But Devon was just look up at her, not judging it seemed, just looking.


    ¡°The sport you were made for,¡± he repeated in a voice that almost sounded pleased.


    It was not the reaction Tina usually got.


    ¡°Does that sound weird to you?¡± she asked.


    Devon shook his head.


    ¡°I¡¯m familiar with destiny,¡± he told her in a way which did sound a little weird to her. ¡°And are you playing now? Still?¡±


    Tina shook her head.


    ¡°No, the league I was in folded in the spring.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± he wondered.


    Tina let out a breath, reached for her large seven up, then withdrew her hand.


    ¡°When we lost our space due to Board of Ed cutbacks.¡± There was a wistfulness to her voice Tina couldn¡¯t suppress. She missed it. Murderball kept her on her toes. And God she loved to win. ¡°Every time the Tories get into power its cut, cut, cut.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to play again?¡± he asked. ¡°If the opportunity presented itself?¡±


    ¡°Sure, in a heartbeat,¡± she told him. ¡°Why not? Got a spare couple of gyms you aren¡¯t using? Recruiting for a professional murderball league? Is that why you tracked me down?¡±


    Devon laughed. It wasn¡¯t at all high pitched. It was a good laugh. She liked it.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± he told her. ¡°No gyms and no league I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Tina pulled the Diet 7UP over and took a sip from the straw. Glanced back at the dwarf, wondering what he¡¯d look like without the beard. Young? Maybe not. He had some line on his face, forehead, between his eyebrows. She pegged him to be anywhere from his late thirties to late forties.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Anything more you want to know about me?¡± she asked, pushing the drink away from her again.


    ¡°Not for now,¡± Devon told her. ¡°Although it would be good to know when you are available to start.¡±


    She was taken aback for a moment. That was fast.


    ¡°You want to hire me, then?¡± she asked, then kicked herself internally for sounding so surprised.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± he offered in a tentative tone. ¡°I admit you aren¡¯t my first interview, but you are the best I¡¯ve had and that¡¯s good enough. It¡¯s not like I can put off hiring indefinitely. Can you start Monday?¡±


    Monday? It was Thursday. Monday. Wow. Awesome!


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so,¡± she said tamping down her enthusiasm. This was too good to be true right? ¡° You still haven¡¯t told me much about the work I¡¯ll be doing, or how much I¡¯ll be paid?¡±


    She realized that she hadn¡¯t asked this at all for some reason. Maybe she just liked the guy and he was offering a free lunch. Had she even expected the job offer was for real?


    He seemed to consider her questions for a moment.


    ¡°Well, how much were you paid for your best job,¡± he said first.


    ¡°Seriously,¡± she asked, staring.


    ¡°Certainly, he replied.


    Tina told him.


    ¡°Add ten dollars an hour, and an opportunity for added commissions that I earn from my clients as well,¡± he told her. She felt like a balloon had inflated in her chest. This was totally too good to be true. There had to be a catch.


    ¡°What about the work?¡± she asked, tensing for the hard letdown. ¡°What exactly are you going to want me to do for that?¡±


    ¡°As I said, administration and research. Starting with office organization. It does involve a lot of trade secrets,¡± he confessed. ¡°So when you come in on Monday, well go over that and have you sign an NDA. Are you OK with that? I do have all the business paperwork if you want to check that my company is legit. Is Monday fine, then?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Where¡¯s your office?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Scarborough,¡± he told her, then winced at her non-verbal reaction. No, it wasn¡¯t a positive one. She prayed it wasn¡¯t Agincourt or further out. ¡°My apologies, but the cost of office space in this city is staggering. It is near a subway station, if that helps.¡±


    It would, she supposed.


    Tina shrugged, resigning herself. The pay would be worth it.


    ¡°Scarborough isn¡¯t so bad,¡± she replied. It¡¯s not like it would be Woodbridge again, or, she cringed a bit, Brampton.


    ¡°Here is my card.¡± Devon reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out the small grey rectangle and passed it over to her.


    It felt heavier, more solid than it she thought a business card should. Less flexible than the usual cardboard ones she was accustomed to. The address was clear on it. Along with his Seeker of Antiquities title in flowery gold script. There were some symbols embossed on the background, nothing she recognized. Maybe Viking runes, she thought to herself.


    But¡­antiquities. Kind of classy. Unless of course he dealt in stolen paintings and jewelry. Maybe not so classy. She¡¯d find out soon enough. It¡¯s not like she was going to find work before then anyway.


    ¡°Nine AM, Monday,¡± he added. ¡°Is that good for you?¡±


    Tina looked up, into his grey-eyed gaze. Took in a breath and nodded.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied, the whole interview now had taken a dreamlike quality somehow.


    ¡°Then I will see you then,¡± Devon stood, offered a quick bow then headed off north into the long mall corridor that stretched out beyond him. She glanced back down at the card he¡¯d given her. Devon Olafson. Then she noticed the second line below Seeker of Antiquities ¨C and Recoverer of Heirlooms. This was going to be different, Tina decided.


    And maybe this time different was good.

 We Play the Game – 05 – So Old-fashioned

    Tina pocketed the card, finished off her 7UP, then got up and tossed the remains of her lunch into the nearest food court bin.


    She wandered around the mall for a while, thinking of things that she could buy with all that her new paycheck could provide, or perhaps, what she could pay off. Thirty dollars an hour! That was as much as her friend Jason made at the non-profit he worked for.


    She was sure she might even be feeling overjoyed, but wasn¡¯t completely sure, given how little attention she¡¯d been paying to her positive emotions these days. The feeling did last, though, so after an hour or so, she was sure how she was feeling.


    But she didn¡¯t go so far as to pick out something nice and put it on her card yet. No, her mom¡¯s voice interrupted. Not until you¡¯ve got at least a week¡¯s wages in your account.


    It was nearly four by the time she got home to the apartment she shared with her best friend from university. Claire wasn¡¯t home from her job downtown yet, and wouldn¡¯t be for at least another couple hours or more if there was a deadline, so she was forced to announce her good luck in two less than personal ways. On the phone, Instagram and Twitter to her collection of kind of virtual friends and cuddles and noogies for Trouble.


    Trouble, of course, was less interested in her latest good fortune at gainful employment than getting out running for the door as soon as she opened it, slipping out onto the third floor landing of the old house and down the stairs. He knew where outside was, and she had to chase him down to the front door, two flights down. Him getting out ¨C that couldn¡¯t happen, given the traffic around the place, and the fact he wasn¡¯t listed for the city cat tax, plus. Besides, he was like Jeckel and Hyde where it came to getting outside. Not even winter would stop him from staying outside, hanging with the raccoons until he was literally starving. Inside, however, he was adorable and even over affectionate and shed literally it seemed about one whole cat every couple of months.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Yeah, she vacuumed a lot.


    Claire, however, did come home in time for dinner to offers some in person high-fiving, wine and plans to go out to celebrate the month anniversary of the new job Friday night. Yeah, they¡¯d celebrated prematurely before, but why not? Now it was the two direct deposits, paid rent rule, fast and hard. That brought her back to reality.


    But, Monday came around quickly, and it was off to work, crammed in with the city¡¯s working multitude, at least half the way there. Once you pass Bloor-Yonge the trains really emptied out and there was room to actually breath.


    Devon Olafson¡¯s office was located in a strip mall, a ten minute walk from Kennedy station. Tina was early, so it wasn¡¯t hot yet, but she prayed that his office would be air-conditioned since she¡¯d dressed for the office and not for summer comfort, at least until she figured out how casual her new boss liked things. She hoped given the slight discomfort he wore with that suit on that jeans and a t-shirt would be OK, at least some of the time. August in Toronto could be brutal, and it was supposed to get up to thirty degrees and the humidex, well, let¡¯s not talk about how high that was going to get.


    As it turned out, the office wasn¡¯t quite as classy as she¡¯d imagined, based on the card. It was cramped, its two small rooms crammed full with filing cabinets with barely room for a pair of desks, one for her in the outer room, and one for him inside his own office. Happily her desk didn¡¯t look like a reception desk. But, thankfully, there was air-conditioning, if a little noisy.


    ¡°What¡¯s in all these? she asked after greeting her new boss over the cup coffee he¡¯s passed her.


    He put his a finger to his lips.


    ¡°First we have some papers for you to sign,¡± he told her.


    And there were a few. More than a few. Her pen just about gave out as she signed the last one. Totally nuts here about NDAs, but really, what did she care about what was in filing cabinets?


    When she finished Tina asked jokingly, ¡°Now do i prick my finger and sign the last in blood?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± he replied, sounding shocked. She swore she heard him mumble under his breath a moment later while he filed her papers, ¡°Nobody does that anymore.¡±

 We Play the Game – 06 – Worth his effort

    And it wasn¡¯t so much the words that made her narrow her gaze at Devon, it was the surly tone he¡¯s used, as though he¡¯d faced that question enough times for it to be annoying. Had she inadvertently walked into a cultural taboo? It wasn¡¯t as though she knew much about Scandinavian culture, maybe? With a name like Olafson, he was probably form Sweden or Norway or Iceland, even if he didn¡¯t have an accent. He just still seemed foreign to her in some way even if he didn¡¯t sound foreign.


    His company¡¯s business number did come up as legit on the government¡¯s website, so there was that. A week Friday and she¡¯d be flush.


    Tina was almost about to apologize when Devon reached out, collected the rest of the papers, stood up and turned away to file away them in in a cabinet to the side of his desk without another word.


    Okay. Don¡¯t talk about signing in blood again. At least it wasn¡¯t enough to get you fired before you¡¯ve even earned a toonie.


    Damn though, Devon¡¯s remark about being old school was right. The place was wall to wall file cabinets that looked so retro it was almost painful. Devon Olafson needed to move into the 21<sup>st</sup> century in a bad way. Tina idly glanced towards the ceiling to confirm there was a fire alarm, considering how much a firetrap this place probably was, although it was tidy and relatively dust free, not at all scuzzy like some of the offices she¡¯d worked in. She spotted a small plastic disc above the door and felt a little better. Still, she wondered if Devon had a scanner, so she could more comfortable suggest starting to digitize things around here.


    Her boss finished packing the papers away and then gave Tina the five minute tour. Actually it was more like the one minute tour, given the outer and inner offices was the extent of Recoverer of Heirlooms, Inc. He started with the cabinets in his office.


    ¡°In here I have my private casebooks,¡± he told her. ¡°As well as ongoing research project information. You needn¡¯t concern yourself with them. Besides, my system is rather complex and I rarely deal with customers whose first language is English. So unless you can read esoteric scripts half of them written code, I wouldn¡¯t bother.¡±


    He motioned her to follow out into the main office. Tina stood up and followed.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Out here is the supplemental research library,¡± he continued. ¡°From time to time I will ask you to provide me folders from these cabinets. This will be your primary job, except for answering the phone of course, but I don¡¯t get many calls, so that shouldn¡¯t take much time from your main job.


    ¡°Lastly, I might need some online research from various museum and archeological directories,¡± he added, not at her desk. His hand ruffled through what had to be a rolodex. Talk about archaeological.She hadn¡¯t seen one in real life since her first year of college in her English Lit professor¡¯s office, otherwise it was period piece movies for things like that. ¡°I will provide you the basics of the system for finding what I need, so it¡¯s not like you will need to translate what I¡¯ve got in these cabinets.¡±


    Yes, the cabinets, all twenty four of them. Well, they were filled with documents, but as Devon had intimated not one of them were in English. Not that she was able to find, anyway. Later that week, when she got bored, and she did, Tina even tried running some of the text from a few of them online, but in grand Google tradition, those that could be translated the text was garbled, sometimes amusingly so, especially the one involving Ducks and Horses. The more she ran it back and forth in Google Translate the sillier it got. Some of the text was apparently identified as Swedish, but not quite, considering what came out, nor was it exactly Danish, Norwegian nor Icelandic. She even tried Finish, German and Dutch, but what came back was unreadable.


    Thankfully, Tina did have some work to do, although it didn¡¯t make much sense at the time.


    The people she called in the rolodex sounded like they¡¯d be a riot at parties, going on about ancient cultures that made a simple question take an hour to answer. Very few of them seemed to have website or considered the internet a good idea.


    Most of her office work involved research, looking into the culture of the Byzantium Empire of all things, along with and historical and mythological Viking weaponry. And some group of mercenaries called Skraelings. Most of what she got back came in the form of scans through an ancient and loud fax machine. So old, in fact, it used thermal paper that she had to wear gloves to handle or the sheets ended up covered in fingerprints.


    Wednesday was a particularly heavy fax day, and she made several trips to the back office with reams of fax paper for her new boss.


    ¡°What are you exactly looking for,¡± she asked, curious at the volume of medieval looking text that was regularly printing out.


    ¡°My primary client has heard that a historical weapon is in the hands of a certain collector I have dealt with in the past, and I need to do perform authentication before I can confirm it will be worth his effort to rehome it.¡±


    Tina thought that was an odd word to use, ¡®rehome¡¯. Made it sound like it had been adopted, like it was a untrainable puppy or an ugly sweater or a Christmas cake. Or was she thinking re-gifted?

 We Play the Game – 07 – The Nature of the Business

    And then there were the calls. Devon¡¯s business wasn¡¯t a busy one as it turned out, at least beyond the ever running fax machine. There were three calls the entire week, each one rather odd. All were calls for Devon, and were people with distinctly foreign sounding accents, except for Claire who wanted to check out how the job was going.


    ¡°Have you worked anywhere that still has a fax machine?¡± she¡¯d asked her. That call had come in on Wednesday, mostly because Claire was spending most of the week at her boyfriends to test out how living together would work. Tina had been crossing her finger that it would be a disaster. Not that she didn¡¯t want Claire to be happy, and DeWayne seemed like a good enough guy. It¡¯s just that a good roommate was hard to find. Everyone she met these days seemed to be allergic to pets and Tina had found herself in between boyfriends the same way she had been in between jobs. ¡°It¡¯s like the 1980s in there.¡±


    ¡°The 80s?¡± Claire scoffed. ¡°You weren¡¯t even born in the 80s.¡±


    Well, neither was Claire.


    ¡°No,¡± Tina agreed. ¡°But my parent¡¯s still live there. I¡¯m sure mom has the same coffeemaker that Devon uses.¡±


    But when she answered, the callers made her the subject of interest, before she decided to pass them on to her boss. With one, an older woman by the sound of her voice, the questions were rather probing.


    That call came in Thursday morning just after eleven, interrupting her fax collating duties.


    ¡°Hello, Seekers of Lost Heirlooms,¡± Tina answered brightly. ¡°How can I help you?¡±


    There was a pause on the other end. That was the same as the previous calls. She took it that callers weren¡¯t expecting a woman answering the phone. Devon hadn¡¯t said much about his previous admins.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Is this the office of Devon Olafson?¡± an older sounding woman asked.


    ¡°Yes he is,¡± she replied. Tina did have some Reception experience. That was generally the first job you were sent to from a temp agency. Funny, though, to have a person with no real affiliation being the first voice of your company, but that was business in the big city. ¡°Can I transfer you over?¡±


    ¡°In a minute,¡± the woman said. ¡°Are you his new assistant?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Tina admitted. ¡°I just started on Monday.¡±


    ¡°And how are you finding the job so far?¡± the woman asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Tina replied, and then oddly felt compelled to continue. ¡°It¡¯s very educational. I¡¯ve never done so much historical research before.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and what does your employer have you working on?¡±


    There had been that non-disclosure agreement, but Tina didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be breaking it by mentioning generalities.


    ¡°Oh, the Byzantine Empire and stuff like that,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s kind of interesting.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the woman answered, then completely changed tact. ¡°You sound like an athletic young woman? Are you into sports?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± Tina replied. That was a weird question. ¡°I think Mr. Olafson is free now. I can transfer your call.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the woman replied. ¡°Have yourself a good day.¡±


    With a bit of a chill running up her spine, Tina transferred the call.


    That afternoon, she brought the call up with Devon.


    ¡°Nature of the business,¡± he told her. ¡°Some of the people I have to deal with live in their own little worlds, and their curiosity knows no bounds. Even where it comes to my choice of admin assistants.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she replied. Well, she¡¯d had jobs where she¡¯d dealt with stranger people. Especially in her barista days. All twenty-three of them. She even joked about that with Devon.


    ¡°The worlds of coffee lovers are even tinier,¡± Tina shared over their late morning coffee. She indicated that nonexistent space between her thumb and forefinger.


    He''d given her a strange look then.


    Before she could pursue more questions, however, he had work news. He needed her to join him on a short road trip.


    Ooh, she thought, forgetting about the phone call entirely. Road trip!

 We Play the Game – 08 – You Trust This Guy to Take You to Hamilton?

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± Tina asked, considering the apparent foreign nature of the business as it was. Thoughts of Scandinavia flickered through her mind. Then Greece and Turkey as that was where the Byzantine Empire had once ruled. Tina wasn¡¯t even thinking about the fact that she¡¯d only been working at the job for just four days. And that Turkey wasn¡¯t exactly the safest of places at the moment as far as she had heard.


    ¡°Oh, not far,¡± Devon told her, ¡°Just about an hour west of the city. Hamilton.¡±


    Tina was disappointed. And she tried not to let it show. Not so exotic then. Kind of the opposite to exotic, really.


    ¡°Hamilton?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Near there,¡± Devon told her. He smiled and added, ¡°Not disappointed are you? You look a little disappointed, I mean, from a couple minutes ago.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied, ¡°I thought my first business trip I¡¯d be going somewhere more¡­ interesting.¡±


    ¡°Like the Byzantine Empire?¡± he offered with a smirk.


    Tina laughed.


    ¡°Well, maybe Istanbul,¡± she agreed. ¡°It still sounds a pretty cool place to visit.¡±


    ¡°You know what they say,¡± he told her. ¡°Be careful what you wish for.¡±


    There seemed a bit of a conspiratorial tone to his voice, but Tina wasn¡¯t exactly paying attention to that. Hamilton, was, after all, a more realistic destination.


    ¡°How long are we going to be there,¡± she asked.


    ¡°Just for the afternoon,¡± he told her. ¡°At most.¡±


    There was that look again. She wanted to bring it up with Claire, but when the topic of Hamilton came up her roommate laughed.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You trust this guy to take you to Hamilton?¡± she joked. ¡°Does your boss have a mullet?


    ¡°He is my boss,¡± she told her roommate. ¡°And yeah, he does have a bit of a mullet. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s taking me there to meet his family.¡±


    ¡°Just make sure you keep your GPS on and don¡¯t let him take you to the secondary crime scene,¡± Claire joked.


    ¡°Is that really funny anymore?¡± Tina asked.


    ¡°Oh come on, how tall is he?¡± Claire joked again. ¡°Four feet? I think you can take him. Have another hard lemonade.¡±


    ¡°Four foot three,¡± Tina corrected. That was what Devon claimed. It was about right. She herself was five foot four, only eleven inches taller than he was. She did grab that hard lemonade.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you have to worry,¡± Claire laughed. ¡°Besides, if he wanted to pull something he¡¯d ask you to go to some place cool. Like Montreal or Cancun. Cheer up, at least he¡¯s not taking you to Buffalo.¡±


    Tina laughed.


    * * *


    Friday she got her direct deposit. And wow, it was exactly as he had promised. Twelve hundred dollars minus EI, taxes and CPP. It was a bit surprising. Usually she¡¯d had to wait a couple weeks to get paid.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I have to run through a middle man,¡± Devon told her as he filled it out and signed it with a flourish. ¡°And I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll want to celebrate.¡±


    The comment made her blush. Too close to the truth.


    Tina got it to the bank just before closing and happily read her balance. Another few weeks of this and she might even be able to start making a dent in her student loans.


    The next Thursday morning they met at the office. She¡¯d packed a few extra things in her purse, a couple chocolate bars and a bottle of peach flavored water. Just after 10 AM, where a vintage brown and white 70s looking limousine pulled up to the strip mall¡¯s parking lot, a Lincoln by the hood ornament if her time with ex-ex-ex boyfriend Danny had taught her anything. The driver looked to be from south Asia. He certainly had the accent.


    ¡°As I said, Devon noted, ¡°Old school. Plenty of room to stretch out.¡±


    ¡°There is a small bar as well,¡± the driver replied.


    And stretch out she must have. Had Devon spiked her morning coffee with decaf, because somewhere between Walkers line and Burlington proper she nodded off. To be fair, unless she was driving, or in the passenger¡¯s seat, long drives made her sleepy. But the trip had been only 45 minutes.


    Suddenly bumpy travel brought her back to consciousness. She¡¯d must have just nodded off for a few moments, Tina decided. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d been tired.


    ¡°Have a nice rest there?¡± Devon asked.


    She shook her head, rose to sit in her seat, suddenly aware the car was moving slowly on a bumpy road and that she was wearing different clothing. Something robelike. What the-?

 We Play The game – 09 – Not the Smokestacks of Steeltown

    Had the dwarf changed her outfit while she was asleep? How did he even do that? Did he drug her? Tina turned to him. Devon cast a raised eyebrow back. He¡¯d apparently changed clothes as well.


    ¡°What the hell?!¡± she stammered.


    When she started to pluck at it, Devon spoke up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, its on top of your clothing. Trust me, its important that you fit in where we¡¯re headed.¡±


    It then registered that his clothing looked medieval as well. With studs on the leather of his, what, a breastplate? no less. Tina began to feel anxious, and backed away from him.


    ¡°I think you need to tell me what¡¯s going on,¡± she demanded. ¡°Before I call the police. She figured she needed to get out of the care, but a glance outside the window only showed stone walls, on both sides. It looked like they were driving down some kind of alleyway, but the stone on the walls, they looked wrong. Sandstone like and hand stacked.


    ¡°Now,¡± she added more stridently, glaring at the dwarf.


    Devon offered her a pained look.


    ¡°Do you remember saying you wanted to go someplace exotic?¡± He offered raising his whole brow this time.


    Tina glared at him, then turned to look out the car windows. The stonework was primitive, and the limo was still bumping along like it was travelling on a dirt road. Were they in a different country? None of this made sense.


    ¡°What?¡±


    She still couldn¡¯t see anything past the two stone walls. Where the hell were they.


    ¡°Where have you taken me?¡± Her voice rose. ¡°This is not fucking Hamilton is it? Are we even still in Canada?¡±


    The car lurched to a stop, almost tumbling her off her set..The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Tina immediately searched for the latch, grabbed it, opened the door and stumbled out of the Limo into the dusty air . It was hot. Much hotter than when they¡¯d left, not to mention it was hard to see anything through the yellow dust floating all around them. She couldnt see anything yet, or anyone else. And hell, once out in the light, the outfit she was wearing looked like it came right out of a renaissance fair.


    Her boss had gotten out after her, through the same door following her.


    He moved ahead of her as the dust began to clear a bit.


    <div>


    ¡°This way, Devon said, pointing to a set of stone stairs that appeared out of the yellow-beige atmosphere. There didn¡¯t seem to be anywhere else to go, so Tina began climbing, with the dwarf following her as she did, at the very least she¡¯d get a better work where she¡¯d been taken to.


    <div>


    When she reached the top, Tina gasped.


    <div>


    There was a bay, or at least a widening body of water, and a city on the other side of it. But there was no way in this world that she was looking at Hamilton Harbor. It was like... out of the pictures of...


    <div>


    There was no skyway arching over the water and it definitely wasn¡¯t the smoke stacks of Steeltown she was staring at, but something out of some kind of postcard city, especially given the sepia tone that the dusty air around her still added to the scene. The sight had some similarities to photos of Istanbul she¡¯d looked up, especially the one structure that dominated the old world sprawl across the water, a blue domed building. But it was missing something. Something crucial.


    <div>


    Right, Tina realized, the minarets. And all the modern building in the skyline were also absent. It was like...


    <div>


    ¡°That city you are looking at was founded to be the new capital of the Roman empire, about seven hundred years ago by today¡¯s reckoning¡± Devon noted. ¡°What you see is it near its post first millennium height.¡±


    <div>


    Her thoughts whirled, picking up memories of history classes and cheesy sword and sandal epics she¡¯d watched on TV combined with a few days of research. Oh, and that news of the big election in Turkey a few months back.


    <div>


    ¡°Constantinople?¡± Tina barely squeaked out, not believing what she was seeing. She brushed her hair back from her eyes as the middle eastern sun beat down on her and the dust cleared further making the reality of what she saw even more real. ¡°First millennium?¡±


    <div>


    ¡°First millennium,¡± he agreed. ¡°Now, that¡¯s enough gawking like a tourist, this is a business trip, remember. You¡¯re still on the clock and that clock is ticking.¡±

 We Play the Game – 10 – Disneyworld!

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will,¡± he agreed. ¡°But before you do that, take another around you. You said you wanted to go somewhere exotic. Can you think of anywhere more exotic than where you are, right now. Is there anything in your world that hasn¡¯t be normalized into what everything else it through your industrial revolution and your globalized world?¡±


    ¡°Disneyworld!¡± Tina shot back.


    The dwarf appeared to consider that.


    ¡°Hmm, point taken perhaps,¡± Devon replied. ¡°My trip there last year was... unsettling. However, remember when I talked about you earning commissions on your work for me should it come to it. Well, this is work, and you are going to earn whatever your take of what I recover here is worth.


    ¡°Work?¡± Tina asked.


    ¡°Yes. I am- you are on a very important antiquity recovery mission. And if we secure what I am looking for, you can expect a very fat commission. And that is mostly because you are one of the only people who are capable of earning it.¡±


    Tina narrowed her gaze. All this had to do with, time travel or alternate histories or whatever she was earning her wages for?  Had it been somewhere in the fine print she hadn¡¯t read.  Tins suddenly suspected it had been.


    ¡°How fat?¡± she wanted to know.


    ¡°Could be five figures in your currency,¡± he told her. ¡°Maybe even six, in Canadian dollars. I¡¯d have to do some calculations of what that would be in Byzantine right now. Electrum is just all over the place with how much gold or silver is in the mix, but both metals are still valuable in your time.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Tina let out a breath. It certainly did feel real by now. Time travel, almost a thousand years. Or some serious hard drugs she¡¯d only ever heard of. What else could she do, but play along until she either came out of it or a blue box or something came to take her back? But she was going to kick Devon¡¯s ass, but maybe after she got paid. Employers, she knew, kind of rarely took being belted well.


    ¡°OK¡­¡° Tina took in a breath turned around, looking over at the Hagia Sofia minus the familiar spires across the water that she remembered probably the Turks had put up, or wouldn¡¯t put up for a few hundred years, then back at Devon and let it out in a sigh. ¡°What about getting back to my home time? Once this is done, how much time will have passed for me? I have a life, a home, friends, family, a cat. He¡¯s only got a couple days food and water you know.¡±


    When he didn¡¯t answer, she added, ¡°You said we¡¯d be back the same day. Is that the truth!?¡±


    ¡°Well, between my experience and this, he lifted up the compass again, we will be able to get back within a few hours of the time we left at the most. But it could be either way, so some careful tip-toeing around might be in order so that we don¡¯t run into each other.¡±


    Or what? They could meet themselves? Really, every time it seemed that Devon knew what he was doing, something came out of his mouth that told her maybe he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± she asked, suspicious at the lack of complete confidence in his voice.


    ¡°This compass led me to you when I asked it to find me someone who could help me,¡± Devon told her. ¡°It will certainly lead us back to your Toronto.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s some magical thing that¡¯s always right,¡± she offered in a tone that he needed know she didn¡¯t believe or trust him.


    The Dwarf shrugged, offered one of those weird half-smiles people offer when their confidence is based on what they know is a ludicrous level of faith.


    ¡°Has been so far,¡± he told her.


    Tina let out another long breath. She felt the salty breeze from the Hellespont blow through her clothes, her hair, unlike any other breeze she¡¯d felt in her life, exotic that filled her with... dare she allow it... wonder?


    ¡°All right,¡± she told Devon. ¡°What now?¡±

 We Play the Game – 11 – Strange Languages

    ¡°We have to get across the water,¡± he told her. ¡°And that means we need to take our ride down there to the nearest wharf and find whatever passage we can obtain. Unless you¡¯d prefer to walk.  It is about a league to the nearest boat.¡±


    Tina followed the dwarf down from the top of the wall and climbed onto the cart after him wrinkling her nose at the smell of the mules.


    ¡°Not much of a limo, is it?¡± she pointed out as they made their bumpy way through the alleys of whatever town it was that lay across the water from Constantinople. Despite how slow they were traveling, she had to hang on hard to the board that served as a seat to avoid getting thrown off.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Devon agreed. ¡°Most places in history isn¡¯t quite as soft as 21<sup>st</sup> century Canada.¡±


    She doubted he heard her snort of a reply, he certainly didn¡¯t react to it.


    The journey took almost a half hour of jolting minutes. Finally Tina could see the water through the buildings ahead, not to mention smell a hint what had to be rotting fish. The dwarf drove it down to the water where they paid for passage across the narrow waters to Constantine proper. There were actually people to brush against on the busy waterfront. Plenty of them accompanied by all the smells of a fishing town Tina could imagine. This was getting more and more real.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Thankfully their stay in the smelly fishing village was a short one.


    As they sat on the skiff that practically skipped across the waters to their destination, Devon handed Tina a small pouch that jangled a bit when he dropped it into her lap, as her single hand wasn¡¯t fast enough to grab it.  The ride on the skiff was even bumpier than the cart and added the occasional spray of water.


    ¡°Think of this as your ¡®direct deposit¡¯ for your first week on tour,¡± he told her. ¡°And a small advance for week two should you not fall on your face. Don¡¯t spend it all at once and don¡¯t waggle it around. Not a lot of citizens here earn that much in a year. Oh, by the way, keep it on hand.  There won¡¯t be any banks here for five hundred years or so.¡±


    She scowled at him, but opened the pouch, spotting a number of rudely stamped bronze and silver coins just like what she had read about.


    ¡°What, no gold?¡± she asked, feeling a bit cheated.


    ¡°I¡¯m not made of money,¡± he told her. ¡°Gold is what the rich here only deal in, you know. That you¡¯ll get if you earn your commission.¡±


    Tina was still overcoming her surprise that she could understand what was being spoken as the dwarf had arranged and paid for their brief passage a few minutes earlier.


    ¡°How is it that I can now understand medieval Greek, or really any kind of Greek?¡± Tina asked.


    ¡°We''re now of this time and place, Devon told her. ¡°So we can speak what the people here understand. You get used to it. Do you imagine I was educated in such a strange language as Canadian English?  This kind of trip wouldn¡¯t be very useful if the journey didn¡¯t come with a method of communication as a reward for the effort.¡±

 We Play the Game – 12 – We Drove

    Tina hadn¡¯t thought much of where there boss might have really come from, but now she did wonder. But there were more important ideas that jostled about in her head.


    ¡°So, what, if we¡¯d been transported to Baghdad, I¡¯d be able to speak Arabic?¡± She wondered, suddenly excited at that thought.


    There could also be so many other places she could travel too if it was possible..


    ¡°Yes, but we aren¡¯t going to Baghdad,¡± he told her. ¡°I do not intend to go back there, not again, not after last time.¡±


    That comment caught Tina¡¯s attention, but he didn¡¯t elaborate further, so she continued on.


    ¡°So when you got to Canada, in my time, wherever you came from you immediately could speak English in Toronto?¡± she asked. Devon gave her a look. ¡°Any other languages.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ several,¡± he finally replied sounding like it wasn¡¯t a pleasant experience for him. ¡°But not French. Never French.¡±


    It was an odd thing to say. He certainly didn¡¯t seem too displeased about that fact. Too bad, she¡¯d never been able to maintain more fluent French than it took to read cereal boxes.


    The trip across the waters didn¡¯t take long, and like the cart, was spent mostly holding on for dear life. And soon the full force of the medieval metropolis hit Tina in full force, the sounds, the sights, the smells which were a whole lot stronger than on the other side of the water. Oh god the smells.  Too many, too strong, and many just horribly offensive.  Her eyes quickly started watering as they made their way through the fish market, and then there were the smells of animals, refuse and excrement from the city¡¯s main thoroughfares and whatever the people were carelessly tossing out of their windows. Real medieval times was like living on an open sewer!This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I thought you said we were now of this time. How come it didn¡¯t affect my sense of smell,¡± Tina complained as the smell of rancid meat wafted over to her. She¡¯d spent most of their walking through the city with her arm over her face, the fabric of her stola barely helping out.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± Devon told her as they both were forced to swat away flies from the cloud that they were walking through by stalls where rancid smelling meat hung while being smoked. Even covering her face, Tina still coughed and choked a bit. ¡°Besides we aren¡¯t tourists here, so don¡¯t act like one. We are here on business. And needless to say, don¡¯t talk about where you¡¯re really from, or that we¡¯ve stepped through time.¡±


    ¡°We drove,¡± she corrected.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the term that used,¡± her replied.


    ¡°Oh, is there a scientific term then?¡± she wanted to know.


    ¡°Stepping through,¡± Devon told her.


    ¡°In our sleep?¡± she argued. ¡°Or at least mine. We sleep walked here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s better for those who are unfamiliar with how it is,¡± he told her.


    ¡°So, I do it enough times I¡¯ll get used to it?¡± Tina asked.


    ¡°If the gods are with us, no, because your trip back to Toronto will be the last time I will ever need you to.¡± He replied.


    A rebellious part of her reacted in disappointment at that thought.  In response, Tina pushed it back down where it had come from.

 We Play the Game – 13 – So… You’re a Viking?

    They¡¯d finally moved to a less powerfully smell  alley. Tina dropped her cloth covered hands from her face, taking that deeper breath that her lungs had been screaming for..


    ¡°Where am I- where are we supposed to be from then, to people here, now?¡± she wanted to know, thinking about her own families likely ancient roots. ¡°Germany? Spain?¡±


    ¡°From the north,¡± Devon said. ¡°Kiev. If anyone asks, just say you are Rus. With your hair and complexion no one will question that.¡±


    Her red hair?  Pales skin and freckles?


    ¡°Rus?¡± Tina asked. ¡°Russian then?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± he told her. ¡°Actual Russia won¡¯t exist for a few centuries. The Rus were the Norsemen who carved their own small kingdoms there.¡±


    ¡°You mean Russians are really the Vikings?¡± Tina asked. That would explain a few things. Probably a lot really.  But that wasn¡¯t in what she¡¯d read, or remembered reading.


    ¡°In a way,¡± he told her leading her around about the seventh corner in the last five minutes.  Constantinople was built like maze.  Oh yes, she remembered now.


    ¡°So you¡¯re a Viking?¡± she said. ¡°Is that where you came from originally? Norway? Sweden?¡±


    ¡°No place so mundane,¡± he told her. ¡°I am from Ymiria.¡±


    ¡°Where exactly is that?¡± Tina wanted to know.


    ¡°The Halls of the Mountain Kings,¡± Devon replied matter of fatly.


    ¡°And where is that?¡± Tina asked, growing frustrated with him again.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°No place you need to be worried about,¡± Devon told her with a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s get something to eat. I¡¯m hungry, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe?¡± she asked, even though she was hungry. ¡°It¡¯s the middle ages. Couldn¡¯t we get, like, food poisoning or hepatitis?¡±


    The food was supposed to be kind of Greek, but they were probably at least eight hundred years before Louis Pasteur was even born.


    ¡°If you are worried, eat what is cooked and don¡¯t drink the water,¡± he told her, angling towards what looked like some kind of patio restaurant packed with patrons eating and drinking and waving their hands around at each other.


    ¡°Well, what can I drink?¡± she asked, getting alarmed.


    ¡°The wine should be fine,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s probably watered down, but that¡¯s not a bad thing. They will probably have mead and beer as well.¡±


    Sitting at the patio they were served food that reminded her of what they served ¨C would serve ¨C in Greek restaurants back in Toronto. The lamb at least was well cooked, the bread not too stale. And although she did have to scrape mold off of the cheese they were served, and at least the main drink of choice wasn¡¯t ouzo. Flush toilets too, weren¡¯t going to be invented for several hundred years, but Tina had roughed it in the past. Afterwards Devon dragged her to the tailors, and clothing promised for the next morning. The whole going from shop to shop was exhausting, though fascinating as well. She¡¯d never imagined a trip like this, not in her entire life.


    ¡°What now?¡± she said, standing outside the dresser¡¯s shop on the cobblestones streets.


    The shadows had turned quite far over the afternoon. It was going to get dark in a few hours.


    ¡°Now we talk to the man who has what we came for,¡± Devon told her.


    ¡°What you came for,¡± Tina reminded him. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why I have to be here anyways. I don¡¯t think I really got to read much about ancient Greece or the middle ages.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my assistant, remember,¡± he replied. ¡°I have to say, I''m impressed by how quickly you¡¯ve adapted to your situation. Others have handled it with less... decorum.¡±


    ¡°I''ve always been a fast learner when it comes to terrible situations,¡± she told him. ¡°And this place isn¡¯t so awful, once you get used to it. I¡¯ve camped with my family in worse places... maybe. Besides, the sooner this is done, the sooner we get to go home, right?¡±


    Devon nodded, not stating that it would depend on how the stars and planets aligned and one never knew how such alignments worked out.

 We Play the Game – 14 – Her Skin is Rather… Unblemished

    Tina wasn¡¯t sure what kind of meeting place Devon was going to take them to, but the last thing she expected after finding their way through the narrow, darkening and soon even torchlight streets of Constantinople was to show up at what appeared to be an ancient arena. Well, Devon had mentioned something like that after she¡¯d repeatedly pestered him about where they were going, but she hadn¡¯t expected what looked to be a gladiatorial arena from ancient Rome. So Colosseum-like?


    ¡°I thought this was the middle ages?¡± she said, looking out from the stands they had arrived at. ¡°Weren¡¯t these sort of places abandoned when Rome fell?"


    They were in the stands now, below was a huge round space, to doubt where men, animals and slaved fought to the death. The walls of the fighting area seemed a bit scorched here and there. Did they have a fire here recently?


    ¡°This is still the Roman Empire, just... evolved somewhat¡± Devon noted. ¡°I thought you read the reference books I gave you?¡±


    ¡°Mostly, but this still isn¡¯t Rome,¡± she told him. ¡°We are a long way from Ancient Rome.¡±


    Both in time and space, really.


    ¡°True,¡± he agreed. ¡°But the emperors and their subjects still like to think they are Roman, even though they are actually Greek.¡±


    And they would for another three hundred years Tina guessed by what he¡¯d told her so far.


    ¡°And what is that smell,¡± she wondered at the new horrible odor that assaulted her nose.


    It smelled to her like¡­ like burning hair of all things. Why the hell would they be burning hair in a place like this? she wondered. Was maybe the fire that made those black scorch marks on the arena walls was still lit?


    They couldn¡¯t be burning people alive, could they, for entertainment? No, she decided. Sure the Byzantines had had Greek fire, but that was for war.


    She only caught a few more brief glimpses of the main field of the arena before some men in armor Devon referred as ¡®bezainted¡¯, something to do with the fact that they looked like they were wearing jackets made of coins, came to collect them and take them to Devon¡¯s business partner or whoever their meeting would be with. As they walked, he added the man was a Byzantine official of some repute, or whoever had the hammer of the gods or some such thing that Devon was looking for.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Did traveling through time always feel like a movie, she wondered, adding another question to her very long list that her boss had yet to clarify.


    The man¡¯s chambers were decked out in an absolutely medieval manner, what with tapestries, braziers spitting sparks from burning charcoal and marble floors that her sandals and the men¡¯s boots clapped echoes around them. Tina briefly wondered about the risk of carbon monoxide poisoning from the sizzling stands that stood at each corner of the room. She¡¯d read once a Roman emperor got killed because of that, but there seemed to be enough ventilation in the chamber to prevent that kind of untimely death. And there seemed to be no hair in these fires, so where, she wondered, had that odor she¡¯d smelled earlier coming from?


    Some medieval Eastern Orthodox sacrifice maybe? She probably should have paid more attention to the religious sections of those books her boss had had her read.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know exactly why you needed me here,¡± Tina asked Devon. ¡°What is it about me that¡¯s special where it comes to dwarven hammers?¡±


    ¡°Have trust in the compass,¡± the dwarf told her. ¡°It¡¯s was made by the Norns themselves, and has never steered me wrong.¡±


    ¡°If you say so,¡± she replied.


    An attendant came out. He was decked out in more of the kind of toga like attire that she associated with the Roman Empire, so maybe he was into nostalgia. The guy looked pretty young, not even as old as she was.


    ¡°Consul Merimus will see you now,¡± he told them.


    They were led to another ornately furnished chamber, where a heaviest older man reclined on a divan. Yep, this guy really did think he was a Roman.


    ¡°Consul,¡± Devon stated and bowed slightly. Tina wasn¡¯t sure if she should bow in kind or offer up a curtsy. She decided to bow, at least a little.


    ¡°Ah, the dwarf from the Halls of the Mountain Kings,¡± the man said, rising slightly, then he waved a hand at her, although only barely glanced Tina¡¯s way and with a kind of amused smirk on his lips. ¡°So this is your player?¡¯


    ¡°Player?¡± Tina wondered, getting a suddenly bad feeling about what her purpose was here and instinctively glancing around for the best exit.


    ¡°She is by all accounts an expert,¡± Devon stated. ¡°Worthy to face your champion and of a very sizable wager, I would say.¡±


    The consul turned and squinted at her and pursed his lips. This wasn¡¯t a casual glance, but an appearing to size her up, although not in any kind of sexual way. It was kind of the way she¡¯d been looked at by past coaches. Tina¡¯s apprehension deepened even more.


    What was really going on here? What was she really here to do?


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit that she is tall, and her limbs appear supple,¡± he stated. ¡°But she doesn¡¯t look like a Murderball player to me. Her skin is rather¡­ unblemished, wouldn¡¯t you say, considering?"

 We Play the Game – 15 – Human Torches

    Tina glanced from the middle aged man in purple and white linen getup to Devon, who offered her a brief and attempted reassuring smile. That was not, she decided then and there he was not particularly talented at.


    He turned back to the nobleman.


    ¡°She¡¯s a winner,¡± the dwarf offered flatly. ¡°And as agreed, should she win, you will hand over the hammer. You remember the wager.¡±


    The way he said that the second time, Tina figured he had some doubts about the arrangements. He eyed dared around as she took a step back. Was there some possible way out of this, get back to her life?


    ¡°No worries, my good man,¡± Consul Merimus said a honeyed tone that pulled Tina¡¯s attention right back to him as he tapped himself on the chest. ¡°Consul Merimus does not back out of any wager of any kind.¡±


    The man offered a sly smile at the both of them.


    ¡°Have you seen my current champion on the floor?¡± he asked. ¡°Are you sure you want to throw this young woman to Hyperion¡¯s Lioness.¡±


    Hyperion¡¯s Lioness?!


    ¡°Yes, Devon,¡± Tina replied, now thinking that she was being used, not to mention threatened. ¡°Are you sure I should be thrown to-?¡±Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Perhaps we should take a glance at what my champion is capable of,¡± the nobleman said. ¡°Above all, I want to sure that the spectators are entertained. They are so disappointed when a match all over in but a few moments.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I should think so,¡± Tina decided growing aggravated now.


    She decided that being angry would be better than scared.


    And she didn¡¯t like what she saw, and now understood what all that burning smell was about.


    They were led back to the stands and could see that in the late afternoon sun there was now some kind of activity down on the sands under the now flickering torchlight.


    Below there did seem to be some sort of familiar game going on that did immediately remind her of dodgeball, or at least some kind of practice for people who did play the game. But it wasn¡¯t any variation she¡¯d ever seen or played or even practiced before. Certainly not the Murderball she was familiar with. That torchlight was not coming from torches, for instance.


    Yes there were men and women scattered about the playing field, and yes there were ones throwing balls at the others trying to avoid being hit. The exercise did seem similar enough to the reps that she was accustomed to, although there wasn¡¯t any team play per se.


    And these players, they were wearing some kind of armor, a mix of metal plate and some kind of chainmail. Not to mention helmets that just about entirely covered their heads. Why?


    That was what made her eyes go wide as she watched these players in action.


    They were throwing balls that exploded into flames on contact. Some kind of seriously flammable liquid filled them, because when they missed, the fire would spread all along the walls and over the sands and onto the players, who were quickly doused in water after becoming human torches, even if they weren¡¯t directly hit. They were throwing balls filled with Greek fire at each other!


    ¡°Oh My God! What the hell have you gotten me into?!¡± she yelled at Devon. ¡°You didn¡¯t say anything about being burned alive!¡±

 We Play the Game – 16 – That’s not murderBALL, that’s MURDERball!!

    All she got from him was a pained expression at her freaking out, as though she should have known all along what was coming and/or being burned alive was no big deal.


    ¡°As you recall I did ask you numerous questions about your interest and talent in Murderball. And they were very specific, especially regarding your pain threshold.¡±


    Pain threshold?  No he hadn¡¯t, had he? No, not that she remembered.


    Tina pointed to down below where one of the players screamed like a lobster in a pot of boiling water, then was doused in water, which boiled over him in a gout of steam. The violence did hold her attention before Tina turned back to her boss.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t murderBALL,¡± she told him with her emphasis on the ¡®ball¡¯ part of the word. ¡°Devon that¡¯s MURDERball!!¡±


    ¡°Again,¡± the consul asked, ¡°Are you sure she has even the adequate temperament to even last three rounds.¡±


    Devon tried a grin, the space between him and the Consul filled with an awkward silence while the two men appeared to reassess each other. As far as Tina was concerned, this was all just nuts.


    ¡°As you can see, she has a fiery temper that will serve us and your crowds well,¡± the dwarf offered.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Consul said glancing over at her again. ¡°But only if you can convince her to put that fire to good use. And, with all due respect Jarl Olafson, I really don¡¯t see that happening, do you? She does not seem...¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± Tina protested, caught between arguing against how the Byzantine nobleman was dismissing her and the fact that arguing against him was in favor of being barbecued.


    ¡°It will take a little time to get her into a fighting, but only a little, I assure you,¡± Devon replied. ¡°She is a player, and of your Lioness¡¯ caliber. She¡¯s just new to your city. You want a good match, an entertaining match, right?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Tina stated flatly. ¡°I don¡¯t want to play a game where I am going to be literal toast.¡±


    ¡°But you have an affinity with fire,¡± Devon said out of the blue. ¡°You like fire! You always have.¡±


    Where the hell did that come from?  Yeah, she¡¯d played with matches as a kid, who didn¡¯t? But she¡¯d learned that wasn¡¯t a good idea by the time she was seven.  Yeah, she liked campfires, the crackling, the dancing lights, the glowing embers and even put her TV on the Christmas log channel...  but she didn¡¯t think it was a good idea becoming a human torch herself. And how did Devon even know she was a teeny tiny bit of a long, long, long reformed firebug?


    ¡°I am not some entertainment for arsonists. And I¡¯ve had enough of this.¡±


    Tina turned on her heels and stalked out. There was no way she was going to get burned to a crisp, not for anything Devon could possibly offer her.


    ¡°Tina! Tina, be reasonable,¡± Devon called from somewhere behind her.


    It sounded like he was catching up to her. Damn, there was nothing reasonable about kidnapping her, bringing her a thousand years in the past and trying to get her get barbecued for some dick measuring contest.


    Damn, he was going to catch up to her. She glanced back but couldn¡¯t¡¯ see him through the uneven row of columns in the hall she¡¯d found herself in. Worst it was getting dark and there were people lighting torches. Whoever had built this arena hadn¡¯t been too concerned over aesthetics, at least any more so than the people who built the Rogers Skydome. She wasn¡¯t finding the way out of this maze at all. How did the fans of these death matches manage to find their way in or out?

 We Play the Game – 17 – There’s Only One Thing I Want

    So Tina stopped. It was pointless getting lost in the bowels of an arena when even getting out of here wasn¡¯t going to help any.  How exactly was she going to get back to 21<sup>st</sup> century Toronto without her soon to be ex-employer. Like it or not, she had to figure out how to stay on Devon¡¯s good side until she could get home. And damn, a part of her didn¡¯t like the idea of running from a match against someone who called themselves freaking ¡®Hyperion¡¯s Lioness¡¯. Anyone with that kind of ego needed to be taken down a peg.


    Oh crap, she thought to herself. Was she really thinking of taking on a game where people threw fireballs at each other?


    Pretty cool, that voice in her head told her. Something you¡¯d damn well want to put on your Instagram page. Wouldn¡¯t that rack up the likes.


    How am I going to do that? She thought back. I don¡¯t even have my phone anymore!


    ¡°Tina!¡± Devon shouted again, startlingly close. Oh, there he was. Chugging along after her, looking almost out of breath, face red in the glow of the torches. Good for him.  The exercise and some groveling would do him some good. Tina turned away, but actually didn¡¯t try to get away. Again, where exactly was she going to do, or go. Sure she had a pouch full of coins but so what? They weren¡¯t getting her back onto the QEW, were they?


    He stopped when he reached her and grabbed her sleeve.


    ¡°Stop, please,¡± he told her. ¡°You have to listen to me. What we are doing here is very important. It does mean a lot.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Why do I have to listen to you?¡± she wanted to know. ¡°It¡¯s not like you gave me any choice in being here.  You brought me here to be some sacrificial... broiled lamb for... whatever you want here.¡±


    ¡°Because I have some important things to tell you,¡± he made out between breaths. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t sacrifice that I had in mind.¡±


    She turned around and looked down at the dwarf.


    ¡°How about you explain to me how getting myself killed- burned to a crisp, is part of my job description?¡± she argued. ¡°Yeah, I play some kind of game that¡¯s sort of like what they¡¯re doing out there. But no one get killed or ends up the star of the burn ward!¡±


    He looked up at her.


    ¡°And maybe what exactly is really going on here,¡± she continued. ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot, Devon. This was planned, wasn¡¯t it? Down to the tiniest detail. Shit, maybe I am an idiot for not seeing this coming. I mean, not the part about time traveling to Byzantine Constantinople, who could see that coming. But, you know, the rest of the stuff.  I knew the job was too good to be true back in the mall.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course it was planned,¡± he agreed. ¡°Do you think that I would have gone to all this effort without a plan.  Do you think I would have made the effort to find the one person in all the worlds who could help me and my clan succeed where all others failed. Who would drag anyone across worlds and a thousand years into the past without a plan? What do you take me for? A gambler?¡±


    ¡°So you do admit you dragged me here against my will,¡± she stated, pleased with herself that she now was in some way lording the situation over him. ¡°Lied and manipulated your way into all of this!¡±


    She gestured at the torch lit hall around them. Well, not just this, but Tina figured he got the point.


    ¡°You could put it that way,¡± he admitted nodding. ¡°But perhaps there¡¯s something that could be negotiated...¡±


    ¡°You dragged me away from my life, from my friends, family, city,¡± she told him. ¡°From my cat! God knows what¡¯d going to happen while I¡¯m away. Or if I never return!¡±


    ¡°I did say the compass would¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up with that silly compass,¡± she told him, and then added something that wasn¡¯t 100% the truth. ¡°There¡¯s only one thing I want.¡±

 We Play The Game – 18 – Call that damned Limo back!

    He looked up at her and let out a slow breath of exasperation.


    ¡°And what is that?¡± Devon as, as if he didn¡¯t know.


    Wow. Tina wanted to clock him.


    ¡°That you call that damned limo back and take me home!¡± she yelled. ¡°If I get back soon, then I won¡¯t make a complaint to the police. I¡¯ll just quietly quit and that will be that.¡±


    Not that anyone would believe her, even if her stola didn¡¯t turn back into a 2019 outfit and her pouch of coins didn¡¯t turn into a roll of fifties or God knew how many rolls of toonies they were worth.


    The dwarf looked up with a distinctly unhappy look on his face. Oh, now, he was giving her the sad look. And damn but it didn¡¯t work on her, at least a little bit.


    ¡°But¡­¡± she didn¡¯t want to say it, but hell, when she went back to the employment office she was going to need the form that said she didn¡¯t quit. ¡°You will state that you laid me off or something like that. Understand? So I can keep paying my rent until I can find another job. And I damn well want a decent recommendation as well, for even putting up with a minute of this!¡±


    His unhappy look turned to more of a contrite expression.


    ¡°You are certain that you won¡¯t enter the tournament?¡± He said that in a rather unexpectedly hopeful tone after all she had yelled at him.


    ¡°One hundred percent,¡± she told him. ¡°I¡¯m only going to live once, and I intend to die with my skin intact! Someday¡­ in the distant future. The distant future from 2020, you know, like 2099 or something even more science fictiony! I¡¯m going to live to see people on Mars! A robot prime minister. That kind of stuff.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Okay, that was enough. And Tina knew it from Devon¡¯s raised eyebrows.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he told her. ¡°Again, I will check the conjunctions tonight and let you know. As I told you, it may take a few days before we can find a ride back to when we came from.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± she asked. ¡°We get back for the weekend? I told you my cat only has a couple days of food and water!¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± he told her. ¡°As I said, we will return at near the same time we left, within hours at worse. The doors between realms are rather fixed. Besides, don¡¯t you have a roommate? Your cousin? Can¡¯t she feed your cat while you are away.¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t going to be happy about it, that¡¯s for sure!¡± Tina shot back. ¡°Okay, how long will I have to stay here in this smelly world?¡±


    ¡°A few days at the most,¡± he told her. ¡°And I have arranged that the stay isn¡¯t going to exactly be unpleasant. Why don¡¯t we head back to the  apartments I have secured for us. To give you time to calm down, and think things over.¡±


    He motioned her to follow him and started walking.


    Tina let out a breath, but as he started to stroll out of sight, she started after him, catching up quickly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not changing my mind,¡± she told him. ¡°You¡¯re not making me change my mind!¡±


    He stopped, and turned to glance back at her over his shoulder. She could swear that there was a glint in his eye and a bit of a smirk on his lips. Maybe glint had to with the torchlight, but the smirk, that was pure dick.


    Damn, she thought. He¡¯s not going to stop nagging, is he?


    Why should he? that devil¡¯s advocate in her head whispered. Don¡¯t you want to have a little fun? Don¡¯t you want to win?


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Devon told her, completely ignorant of the debate playing out in her head. ¡°Now come along. The streets of Constantinople aren¡¯t especially safe at the best of times, and are even less safe after dark.¡±


    Tina took another breath, this one of steely resolve and hurried after him. No, after thinking about it, she did not want to find herself lost in the alleys of this ancient city with who knew who wandering about looking for someone with a jangly purse worth their stabby while.

 We Play The Game – 19 – I’m not Changing My Mind

    And so they made their way through the city again, but to a different part of Constantinople, and an upscale one at that. The alleys they strolled through gave way to the occasional sign of greenery, and then Tina could spot walled gardens through wrought iron gates.


    Apparently, Devon had at least found them a place to stay in a better part of the city than they originally arrived in. And the gate they finally had opened for them lead into a pretty courtyard, well at least pretty for what could be made out in the dark that was only somewhat brightened by a few flickering torches and lanterns. It was clear that in the olden days, nights were truly dark. Looking up in fact, Tina could enjoy the Milky Way shining across the sky, beautifully. No light pollution in the eleven hundred¡¯s it seemed.


    Their ¡®apartments¡¯ turned out to be quite a bit more than Tina had expected. Once out of the dirty alleys and into the gardens, the place that Devon had somehow booked for them seemed more like a palace than what she might think of as a byzantine era hotel, or she had guessed, an inn. First, there was the gardens, the breeze from which blew the rank background stench from the city completely out of the air, a bit salty and startlingly fresh, a lot like what it had been like skipping over the waves on their way across the Hellespont plus an underlying sweetness of flowers. It felt like she could finally fill her lungs with full breaths for the first time since they¡¯d set foot on this side of the Constantinople proper and she was kind of glad that not all of this world''s medieval cities were entirely open sewers.


    And then there was the marble entranceway, something right out of a sword and sandals epic, with various servants, and men in tunics and women in stolas going to and fro on whatever tasks they were off to perform. Tina did find herself a little disappointed that the attire involved more puffy pants and jackets and less of what the consul affected, but she remembered, the height of the Roman empire was nearly eight hundred years in the rearview mirror, so it made sense most people weren¡¯t pretending it wasn¡¯t.


    She hesitated for a moment at the threshold of their suite, as though by entering she¡¯d be agreeing to what her soon to be ex-employer was offering, selling out, something like that, giving in entirely to some trick of Devon¡¯s to weaken her resolve.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The dwarf stopped, turned back to look at her after the servant who led them to the room finished with the lamps, fully brightening up the marble decked chamber impressively.


    ¡°This is¡­ really nice, ¡°she finally said to break the silence.


    ¡°You stated that you wanted to wash the filth off of you, didn¡¯t you¡± he stated. ¡°You can¡¯t do it in the fountain out front. Well¡­ you could, but you might make a spectacle of yourself and most people here have more decorum than that.¡±


    She glanced out into the gardens, back at the fountain. No, not with people likely watching, even if it wouldn¡¯t in broad daylight. It did look inviting though and certainly appeared both sparkling and clean.


    Tina turned, took in a breath and walked across the marble-clad threshold into the suite. After wandering around Byzantium for most of the day and picking up every smell imaginable, she could certainly use a bath, not to mention some clean clothes.


    ¡°All right,¡± she told him. ¡°As long as I have to stay, it might as well be here. But I warn you, I¡¯m not changing my mind about that Deathmatch 1100 back there.¡±


    He gave her a look, raised eyebrows included, suggesting that mind-changing was exactly what he intended. Figured. Knowing Devon as much as she did by now, he probably thought he could wear her down.


    ¡°Can¡¯t he?¡± said that little voice.


    ¡°Shussh,¡± she ordered, but did find herself looking forward to making the most of at least the luxuries on display here.


    The only fly in the chardonnay was she realized that the servants who attended her were most likely not paid at all but were probably slaves or at least indentured servants. Slaves she could do little for, just like she could do for herself. And the last thing Tina wanted was to get stuck in this time, this place, to be constantly reminded of such injustices, but perhaps she could pass them some of the odd cup-like coins shed been paid herself, and maybe that would help them. She had read such people could buy their freedom, that it was allowed.


    The woman who stood by to attend her bath, she couldn¡¯t help but glance at as she shed her clothes in preparation for dipping into the waters topped with flower petals, the steam rising a bit, as there was a fire stoked beneath the iron tub. That could just as easily be her if she¡¯d been born in a less egalitarian time like the 21st century. It was a sobering thought. Tina remembered from her historical ethics course that slavery was a way of life for most of human history. It was where she was from that was the oddity, but not such an oddity that she didn¡¯t enjoy slipping naked into the warm water with gusto.

 We Play The Game – 20 – Some Prizes Can Only be Won

    Tina intended to stick to her guns. Even after she was treated to a nice hot bath and a new set of clothes when the flower petal infused spa-level relaxation was done and even with her devil¡¯s advocate still making her wonder what it must feel like to throw balls of fire at her opponents rather than balls of rubber and leather.


    When she was called to dinner with Devon, she kept her mind on the time and place she needed to be returned to, but it was getting harder. The little devil on her shoulder, so much like in those cartoons she watched as a kid on the oldies channel was pretty persuasive. She usually was, although her devil''s realm had used to be restricted to only boyfriends.


    Finally, after a good hour of sampling the food, which she had to admit was quite a tasty example of Greek cuisine ¨C the lamb kebabs were mouthwatering ¨C Tina had enough of Devon¡¯s questions, including what she thought about her chosen sport and if she did think she was championship materials was all about and posed a question of her own.


    ¡°Look, Devon,¡± she started. ¡°If you can afford all this, apartments in this palace, all of this food, pouched so coin, then why can¡¯t you just buy the hammer if you want it so bad. Why did you need to hunt through all of space and time to find someone good at throwing things at people?¡±


    He looked at her while he chewed on a fig, at least she hoped it was a fig. The pile also looked distinctly like a pile of shriveled cockroaches, which was the only plate on the table between them that she hadn¡¯t dared take a sample from.


    He finished and took a drink of wine from the goblet an ever-present young slave boy was there to fill after just about every single sip. That was his eighth and he didn¡¯t even seem buzzed.


    Was there anything she could do about his predicament? What she recognized between them was sympathy. Neither of them could be where they were of their own accord.


    ¡°It¡¯s not simply a tool to make pieces of furniture or something to drive nails into boards as you imagine,¡± he told her, tone deadly serious. ¡°The hammer I seek is an object of power. Such items can never be bought and sold like common hardware. They need to be fought for, they need to be won.¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Tina raised her eyebrows at him, brushing away another slave¡¯s attempts to refill her own goblet. Getting drunk tonight on this rather potent stuff was not a good idea, as it made her little voice all the more persuasive.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Tina wanted to know, maybe already feeling a bit of a buzz. ¡°Where do you come up with statements like that?¡±


    ¡°I thought that as an athlete, you¡¯d understand what that feels like,¡± Devon needled ¡°After all, couldn¡¯t the richest players or team owners simply buy the matches if they chose? Wouldn¡¯t that be easier than playing for a victory that¡¯s not certain? Couldn¡¯t you just do that back in Toronto, and then have all your wins easily, be adored for the least possible effort?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the same,¡± Tina protested. ¡°It¡¯s not like that at all. Sports are supposed to be hard. You don¡¯t get to be the best if you don¡¯t work hard, and don¡¯t have opponents pushing themselves to the liming to push you to be the best. That¡¯s what a game is. And besides, I¡¯m not a professional athlete. None of us are. We play because we like to.¡±


    ¡°Not a professional athlete,¡± he repeated. ¡°Not someone who plays for money...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she told him. ¡°Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be working in an office, or supposed to be working in an office. Haven¡¯t you realized that yet?¡±


    ¡°Of course I have,¡± he told her. ¡°After all, professional athletes are in it for whatever money they can get, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡±


    ¡°Then you understand,¡± he said. ¡°Some things must be won. For the pure desire of winning them, and pushing as hard as you possibly can to achieve just that.¡±


    ¡°Won ¨C or get killed trying?¡± she wanted to know.


    ¡°No one in Toronto was fast enough to hit you with a regulation dodgeball,¡± her voice whispered in her ear. ¡°Those fireballs, they are knuckleballs, floaters. You know how to spin a floater.


    Yes, yes she did.  She was the best at it. Everyone said so.


    ¡°Depends,¡± the dwarf was saying. ¡°You need to remember how brilliant a murderball player you are. We wouldn¡¯t be here if you were likely to lose. The hammer wants you to win it from that fat wannabe Roman.¡±


    Tina let out a laugh, took a few moments to recover.


    ¡°Does it now?¡± she finally replied. ¡°It sounds pretty confident.¡±


    The dwarf nodded in response.


    ¡°It is. It¡¯s Lola, the hammer of power,¡± he told her. ¡°And what Lola wants, Lola gets. It¡¯s been the way of things since she was forged.


    Tina started giggling, again having trouble stopping. That had to be some kind of a joke. Wasn¡¯t that line from some kind of musical comedy?


    ¡°You¡¯re hammer¡¯s a she? And her name is Lola?¡± she chuckled.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Devon replied with complete seriousness.

 We Play The Game – 21 – Maybe She Wouldn’t Get Herself Killed

    Devon did not hang around long after he¡¯d eaten his fill, but left Tina to her own devices and a table still overladen with treats both sweet and salty and savory.


    ¡°I can¡¯t possibly eat another thing,¡± she confessed to the last dining room attendant, a tallish but thin man with a prominent nose dominating his narrow face. ¡°What happens to the food that¡¯s left over?¡±


    Other than the consul and a few muscular characters they¡¯d come across most of the population of twelfth-century Constantinople, including those serving her and Devon seemed distinctly underfed.


    ¡°What is not perishable will be sold, mistress,¡± the man whose name was Basil of all things, told her. ¡°The rest would be shared between the servants and the beasts of the stables.¡±


    That made Tina feel a bit less guilty about leaving the half-loaded table. It didn¡¯t sound like any of it would go to waste.


    To work off her full to bursting belly, she wandered the halls of the quiet and seeming near-empty palace for a while, finally returning to her rooms to find her servant woman, Cassia, waiting for her on one of the divans, rising as she crossed back over the threshold into her suite.


    ¡°Do you wish another bath?¡± Cassia, her servant asked. ¡°Perhaps a massage with scented oils to ease your tired muscles?¡±


    Tired muscles? She¡¯s barely had any exercise to warrant such a luxury.


    ¡°No, not right now,¡± she told the woman. ¡°But a bath in the morning would be welcome. First light?¡±


    The woman nodded.


    ¡°I will go and ensure it will be prepared,¡± the woman told her, started heading out, then looked back, as if in question.


    ¡°You can go,¡± Tina told her, torn between enjoying being pampered and guilt for enjoying it so much. Then she settled down on a chair on the balcony, to look out over the byzantine city at night. It was quiet, but for distant noises, barking, roosters crowing, cries, maybe a scream, she couldn¡¯t tell, nor if it was the good kind of scream or the bad kind.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    And she thought about the day, what she¡¯d seen, all that she¡¯d learned from Devon. And what it might feel like standing in that arena, a mini conflagration in her hand, ready to fight, win, or get literally burned.


    If she wasn¡¯t looking over a Constantinople a thousand years before she was borne, she could have easily dismissed all that talk of her being here for a reason, chosen by a hammer, named Lola of all things, to fight for it¡¯s... what? Where was Thor when you needed him. Well, maybe he had more important things to do. Besides, he already had a hammer, he didn¡¯t need another one, least of all named Lola.


    Tina couldn¡¯t help giggling at that again.


    But did she not want to win, even a hammer?


    Did she just want to hand out in this place until she could go back to Toronto. Or did she want to do something, accomplish something amazing? Something that would, in the real world, earn her a million fans on Instagram or any other site like that, standing on a podium, holding a magic hammer high over her head.


    It had been some time since she¡¯d played a real match, or any kind of playoffs or championship game, one with serious stakes, and against a truly scary opponent who would be worth smashing in the face.


    Sadly, she didn¡¯t have her phone in this time to capture such things for posterity. Damn time travel rules!


    ¡°Now you''re admitting that you¡¯ve wanted this all along,¡± there little voice said.


    Tina let out a sigh.


    ¡°Okay, maybe a little,¡± she agreed.


    Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad.


    Maybe she wouldn¡¯t get herself killed or even burned. There had to be some way to protect herself in the arena. Armor? Some kind of gel-like stuntpeople used in the movies?


    She was even more motivated when she got up in the morning, having spent all night allowing herself to be convinced. Cleaned up after bath and dressed in a fresh stola, Tina sought out the dwarf.


    She found him at the breakfast table another sumptuous feast made for an Emperor laid out before him.


    ¡°Are you going to eat all that?¡± she asked.


    He looked up from the plate he was eating from.


    ¡°Something different about you this morning?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I had a good night¡¯s rest,¡± she admitted. ¡°And I did some thinking.¡±


    He pushed his plate away from him.


    ¡°Really,¡± he said. ¡°What about?¡±


    ¡°About this championship game of yours,¡± she told him. ¡°We didn¡¯t get to talk much about it yesterday. And maybe it isn¡¯t so bad as the first impression I got.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure,¡± he offered in a suspicious tone. ¡°You seemed rather sure of yourself last night that having a match with the lioness was the very last thing you wanted to do.¡±


    Now with reverse psychology? Tina smirked at him.


    ¡°Are we going to the arena or do we sit here for the next week?¡± she asked.

 We Play The Game – 22 – How To Avoid Getting Roasted

    He chuckled, then picked up what looked like a strip of fried bacon to start chewing on. How apropos, Tina thought.


    ¡°You should get yourself some protein,¡± he advised her. ¡°And make sure you are well hydrated. It can get pretty hot in the arena. ¡±


    Tina shook her head and snorted at the pun. But then she did chow down on what he advised. She was an athlete in training after all.


    An hour later they were back in the big arena.


    Tina glanced down out over the burnt sands and walls below the stands.


    ¡°So, how exactly do I avoid getting roasted?¡± she wanted to know. ¡°Whatever they put in those balls seems to be both flammable and inflammable, right.¡±


    ¡°Greek fire, yes,¡± Devon said.


    ¡°Well yeah, sure,¡± she replied. ¡°Make one wonder how these guys were ever conquered when they could napalm anyone who got on their bad side.¡±


    ¡°Turks had cannons,¡± he replied. ¡°Which you would know if you finished reading what I gave you.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. But there are no cannons here,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s the trick to not end up becoming one of those scorches?¡±


    ¡°Your agility? Footwork?¡± the dwarf offered. ¡°And your wits.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s all there is, I¡¯m out of here,¡± she told him. ¡°I don¡¯t care how good anyone is there, no one is going to go down looking at getting themselves barbecued. There¡¯s got be more to it than that.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he admitted, ¡°Although that sort of attitude might not lead you to victory.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± Tina replied. ¡°But I want to be able to go back home not looking like Freddy Krueger.¡±


    He looked at her for a moment, then sighed.


    ¡°It¡¯s a not very courageous choice, but, yes, there are protections that can protect you if that will make you feel more comfortable.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± she told him. ¡°Now what are they. How am I going to survive down there when I¡¯m hit. How does the Lioness survive? And don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s by her agility and her wits and her fancy footwork.¡±


    ¡°Alum,¡± he told her.


    ¡°Alum?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You soak armor and clothing in it,¡± he told her. ¡°Makes it fireproof. You won¡¯t get burned. Likely, not much. No armor offers one hundred percent coverage.¡±


    ¡°Not too bad?¡± Tina worried. ¡°How much coverage can I get? Ninety percent? How much of my hair is going to get singed?¡±


    That memory of the smell of burnt hair returned, though today it was absent, at least for the moment.


    ¡°That¡¯s only a risk if you get hit,¡± he told her. ¡°But that¡¯s not going to happen right? You are as advertised. Tina the Ghost, that was your nickname, right?¡±


    How did he know that?


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡¯ remember that being advertised,¡± she told him. ¡°But you¡¯d better show me. I don¡¯t want to become a ghost for reals.¡±


    He took her down to the player¡¯s quarters. Tina watched while he rummaged through a few chests before finding what he was looking for and pulled it out. It was a short coat that looked made of some kind of stiffened fabric with a bit of a silvery tinge to its general beigey-brown.


    ¡°Put this on,¡± he said, handing it over to her. ¡°It¡¯s about your size, isn¡¯t it?


    It was big and hung loose and not really comfortable in how stiff it was. The buttons were weird hook-like things, but she figured them out fast enough.


    ¡°All right, Now hold out your arm,¡± he instructed.


    Tina did as instructed


    ¡°Hold it there,¡± he told her.


    Then he grabbed a torch from the wall and swung it up at her in a fast arc of billowing flame.

 We Play The Game – 23 – Fireproof Negligées

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 We Play the Game – 24 – There’s a Riot Going On

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 We Play the Game – 25 – Would you Rather They Rip You to Pieces?

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 We Play the Game – 26 – We are Rivals, of a Sort

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 We Play the Game – 27 – You are the Murderball Player of the Age

Greta laughed.


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 We Play the Game – 28 – I Think I’m Good

    Tina heard a noise of disgust. She turned to look over at Greta who was shaking her head. She looked back at the warriors, tensing as the whole eight of them filed in and surrounded them in a semi-circle.


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 We Play the Game – 29 – I’m Going to Regret This

Greta looked down her nose at Devon. Not an unimpressive feat, as he now loomed over her reclined position. The woman continued to trash talk.


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