The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04 (36 page)

Good, I thought. You're just the fellow I'm looking for. Flashy Clothes would be the first rung on the ladder that I hoped would lead me to the men who ruled these thieves.

"Lemme at those dinks, boys," I roared as I bellied up to the table. "I gotta new silver piece says I find that pea straight off."

I belched into the dinksman's face so he got a good whiff of the spirits on my breath. I rattled my purse at him. "Sarn't Rali's the name, friend," I shouted. "And dink's me game."

The dinksman hesitated. He'd been working another mark and was reluctant to switch in mid-pitch. I slapped a silver coin on the table to get his attention. "Spread 'em out, my friend," I said. "Let's see them dinks."

His eyes glittered at the coin. I gave my purse another shake. He heard the rattle and his grin spread to his cropped thief s ear. "And my pleasure it'll be, Sarn't," he said, voice greasy with false respect. "I'd purely love to see yer take me money. Feel like it's me duty, don't yer know? Bein' as how yer wuz wounded servin' dear ol' Orissa."

He put his villain's hand over his heart and all the bumpkins applauded his generous words.

"Run them dinks," I said. " 'N' we'll see if the gods're smilin' on dear ol' Sam't Rali."

He did his show. Displaying the three hollow nut halves on the table. Flourishing the hard green pea between finger and thumb. Running his dinksman's patter: "Inter the first bed she does go. Now it's inter the second 'cause the first is cold. Then she goes dossin' the third lad cause the second was slow. But his sausage's soft so it's back to ol' stiff 'n' cold."

The pea was rolled from shell to shell. I didn't bother trying to keep track. I could see the pea quite plain with my ethereye. Besides, he'd let me win the first round so I'd get a good taste.

Soon as he stopped I roared, "There she be!" I slapped my hand on the center dink. "Waitin' fer me like the good pea she is!"

The dinksman lifted the shell to reveal the pea and smote his head as if he were as surprised as the rest of us. "She got me good, boys," he shouted to the crowd. They crowed with delight at my good fortune. 'Try her again, sister," the dinksman said. "Yer may only have one lamp, Sam't, but it's worth two of yer normal civilian-type peepers."

I laughed, swept my winnings into a pile, then trickled a few more silver coins on top of that. 'Te-Date's smilin' on me today, friend," I chortled. "Made that bastard paymaster choke up what he owed me." I hefted my fat purse for all to see. "She was at low tide till two hours ago," I announced to all. "But she's at high tide now. Four years wortha back pay they was cheatin' me of, boys. Four damned years!"

I pounded on the table. "How about we go for eight?" I said. "Show me that pea!"

The dinksman praised my good fortune to the skies, shifting the pea back and forth between the shells as he did so. He went slowly, though. Clumsily. As if he were trying to make certain I'd guess the right one when he stopped. My ethereye saw him palm the pea on the last shuffling round. His actions, however, made it seem like the center shell hid it once again.

"Go get it, Sarn't," he bellowed when he stopped. 'Take my money. Get that pretty pea."

I slapped my hand down on the center dink. "Here she is," I shouted. "Hidin' in the same bed."

The dinksman's face was already turning to sorrow at my loss as he reached to turn over the center dink. I knew he'd slip it under the third shell while I reacted in shock. But when he turned up the dink, there was the pea, staring at him. The onlookers roared in pleasure. I saw the dinksman tighten the fist he thought he had the real pea hidden in. More shock registered as he realized it was gone. He gleeped at the exposed pea on the table, wondering how he could have made such a slip-up.

"Lookee that, boys!" I cried out to my new friends. "Sarn't Rali's luck's still holdin'. Let's do her again, whatcha say?"

The bumpkins were all for it. But the dinksman, still trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong, was reluctant. He was shying away from the table. I saw Flashy Clothes move closer, watching the action, then giving the dinksman a nod to go ahead when the bumpkins grew surly at his reluctance. I hit the pea four more times before I emptied his purse. Each time the size of the pot and the size of the crowd grew larger.

Finally the dinksman threw up his hands. "Wiped out, I am, boys," he said. He tried to grin with good humor but looked more like a smiling snake. "But I'll be sayin' prayers of thanks to the gods tonight, lads. Might a lost me money, but I lost it to a worthy cause." He clapped me on the back. "Good fer you, Sarn't! You're a game one, and that's a fact"

The crowd started to melt away and the dinksman handed me a jug. "Don't mind if I do, sir," I said, taking a long drink.

"Wantcha t' meet a friend of mine," he said, motioning to Flashy Clothes, who showed all his teeth when he smiled.

I smiled back and he came close. Smooth and deadly: one hand out to touch palms in greeting, the other close to his side, where I had no doubt he kept a sharp weapon. As we touched hands I sensed him looking me up and down, taking note of my infirmities but paying even closer attention to the quality of my weapons. He was eager for the contents of my purse, but wary of the well-worn look of my sword and sidearms.

"The name's Legg," he said, friendly but businesslike. "I'm a sportin' man myself, Sarn't
Rali
," he said. "Dinks ain't my game, though. Takes more guts'n I got to hunt that pea. And my congratulations to yer, Sarn't, for your nerve. It was a pleasure to see."

I drained the jug and tossed it back to the dinksman. I grinned, drunk and happy. "Never tried to beat the dinks before," I said. "Nothin' to do with skill. Just dumb soldier's luck. Which I been short of in the past" I thumped the wooden bowl guarding my stump by way of illustration.

"I happen to know a small but honest 'stablishment just down the way," Legg said, knocking a bit of lint off his gaudy cloak. "Dice and cards is what they got. Clean bones and straight cards, too."

I hesitated as if tempted. Then I shook my head. "I'm shy of strange grogshops, Legg," I said, solemn-faced but weaving slightly. "They got a way of skinnin' a poor soldier when she's alone. And without a friend to watch her back."

"Then you got a friend in me, Sarn't Rali," he said, clapping me on the back. 'Tell you what Your luck's ridin' high. Maybe me 'n' me pal, here, could ride with yer a ways."

I peered at him, suspicious. "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Whyn't I explain it over a splash of grog?" he said. He nodded at a small open-air grogshop just across from us. "If yer don't like the cut of my offer, why, no harm done. And yer'
11
get some nice free cheer in yer belly to go along with the good luck yer've had."

I accepted and we all repaired to the grogshop. Four or five drinks later we were the best comrades; Legg, the dinksman, and me. I told them my tale. How I'd come up all the way from the delta region to collect the pension I'd been cheated out of. How that bastard of a paymaster had finally relented and paid me my due after demanding and receiving a fat slice of it as his own reward. They commiserated with me. Worried with me that the sum I'd collected wouldn't last long and I'd soon be poor again. Then we conspired together to assure me of a gentler retirement

We'd each put up equal shares. The stake they could afford, by odd coincidence, matched exactly what was in my purse— which they'd expertly estimated in a series of quick, greedy glances at the pouch dangling from my belt. I'd hold all the stakes—that's how much they trusted me, they said. And we'd all go to the gaming house in Cheapside. It seemed it was such an honest place that a lucky person like myself was sure to walk away with fortune enough for all of us.

I agreed. And off I went with my new friends, their purses hanging from my belt and their arms draped over my shoulders in an elaborate show of friendship. Whenever I tarried, I noticed, their arms tightened, making certain I didn't try to bolt with their money.

The "small but honest 'stablishment" proved to be a gambling hell of the lowest sort. It was set in a warren of dark narrow alleyways once known as "Murder's Row" because it was such an ideal place to cut a throat and dump a stripped corpse.

A battered sign marked the entrance, a rickety set of stairs leading to a cellar beneath an ancient tenement. The sign had peeling letters that read:
the boar's breath
. The name was apt, for that's exactly what the dimly lit place smelled like when the door opened to receive us. It had a low ceiling, with greasy smoke from the cooking fire curling up and around the timbers. Lizards swarmed through the smoke, hunting bugs, which there seemed to be enough of to keep their hides swollen. Despite the smell and appearance, it seemed to be a favorite spot for thieves. There were all sorts of rat-eyed villains gathered at the tables, drinking and bragging about their latest exploits. I found it mildly amusing that with my eye-patch and stubbed arm I hardly looked out of place. One end of the broad cellar was taken up by card and dice pits, and men and women were jammed elbows to arses above those pits, shouting the participants on.

"That's where the action be," I said to Legg and the dinksman.

Legg nodded. "Yer a sharp one for certain, Sam't," he said. "Now whyn't yer two go see what's up while I get us a little sumpin' to drink and say hello to my friends."

The dinksman nudged me toward the gambling pits while Legg tarried behind to whisper in the ear of a squat muscular villain who was dripping with mismatched jewelry of every variety. He had four or five earrings on each ear, two through his nose, one dangling from a cheek, a dozen or more heavy gold and silver chains hung from his neck, and his short fingers were crusted with rings. He nodded and smiled at me as Legg whispered into his ear and I saw two gold teeth with diamonds embedded in them winking from his mouth.

The dinksman tugged me forward, and we pushed our way through the crowd of thieves. It was like stumbling on a crow's treasure hole. Half of Orissa's wealth seemed to be on display on the backs of the men and women gathered in the cellar. And the other half was in danger from all the conspirators gathered at tables, plotting new adventures. Beauties of both sexes held court in scanty finery that had their scar-faced and crop-eared swains swooning. Hard-faced thugs huddled at the tables in deep conversation. Drunken barrow boys danced to the tune of raucous music coming from a trio of sweating musicians. And everyone was shouting and pounding on the tables, demanding more drink from the scurrying servers.

We paused to study the action at one of the card pits where they were playing Evocators and Demons. There was a big pot on the table, and a dozen rogues and ladies were going at it hot and heavy, slapping their cards down in turn and roaring out their challenge.

"Demon King blasts the Dragon!"

"Dream Catcher nets the Demon King!"

"War Evocator seizes all!"

Around the table they went, slapping down elaborately painted cards of ever-increasing power. The dealer passed the first two times they came to him but stayed in the play by upping the house's stakes, which had to be matched or beaten by each succeeding player. I knew that on the third turn, however, the dealer'd have to make his move, which meant the house would have to double the size of any pot in play. Then the action would become ferocious indeed.

I whispered the liar's spell and snooped the dealer's hole card. It was a mere Market Witch, vulnerable to all but the most common peasant and farmer cards. Then I saw him move slightly, feet shirting under the table, hand coming back to scratch a knuckle. A flickering finger, and the Market Witch was exchanged for the all powerful Harlequin, a hole card guaranteed to capture any pot. It was an expert rendition of the card faker's twist: card kept trapped between knee and table; slip the knee back when you require the card and switch one for the other. With no one the wiser.

I shook my head at Legg. "Don't feel lucky at cards, friend," I said. "Whyn't we give the dice a go?"

Just then the dealer called out: "Harlequin fools them all! House takes the pot!" His announcement was accompanied by loud groans from the losers. When the dinksman heard that, he looked most disappointed at my refusal. But he quickly recovered, saying I ought to go with my feelings, and he led me to the dice pits.

Legg joined us at the center pit where the largest crowd was gathered to watch the shooters shake the bones and bounce them off the point wall. He was accompanied by the squat man I'd seen him talking to.

"Sarn't
Rali
," he said. "Like yer to meet an old dear mate of mine and owner of this here fine 'stablishmenL"

The squat man grinned, exposing his golden teem. "Fiorox's my handle, Sarn't Rali," he said. "Owned this place near on to ten years now. Military's al'ays been welcome, I'm proud to say. Can't do enough for those who wear the uniform of our proud city."

I breathed boozy fumes on him as we touched palms in greeting and slurred my words as I expressed pleasure in meeting him. He smiled wider, exposing a broad tongue with a naked woman tattooed on it.

Fiorox would be my second target.

He said, "Legg's braggin' that you and the Dink are gonna challenge the house," he said.

Legg snickered. "All in good sport, of course," he said. "I pride meself on me sportsmanship."