Soothsayer Page 10

  “What about the child?” asked the dealer as the banker answered a call at another table.

  “She doesn't play,” replied the Mouse.

  “She also doesn't walk around looking at anyone's cards,” explained the dealer.

  “Are you accusing me of cheating before I've even played a hand?”

  “Not at all,” said the dealer. “I'm just making sure I won't have to accuse you later.”

  The Mouse turned to the little girl. “Penelope, go sit over there"—she pointed to the Forever Kid's table, which she could see without having to turn her head—"and wait for me.”

  “Can I have a deck of cards?” asked the girl. “So I can play solitaire?”

  The dealer withdrew a sealed deck from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Give her these.”

  “Thank you,” said the Mouse, picking up the deck and handing it to Penelope. “Now go over there and wait for me.”

  Penelope thanked the dealer for the cards and walked over to the table.

  “Got a name, ma'am?” asked the dealer.

  “Lots of them,” replied the Mouse.

  “Any particular one I should call you?”

  “Whatever you like.”

  The dealer smiled. “I've always been partial to Melisande, myself.”

  The Mouse considered it, then frowned. “My name is Mouse.”

  The dealer shrugged.

  “What's yours?” she asked as she picked up her cards and studied them.

  “Well, when I'm passing through Customs back in the Democracy, it's Valente, ma'am, Riccardo Valente. But out here, where I make my living by courting the goddess of chance, it's King Tout.”

  “Do I call you King or Tout?” asked the Mouse.

  “Call me anything that suits your fancy, ma'am,” replied King Tout.

  “How about if we play some poker while I think about it?” said the Mouse, pushing two chips to the center of the table.

  The Lodinite and the two men matched her bet, the woman dropped out, and King Tout surveyed his cards again.

  “See you and raise you a thousand,” he said, picking up three chips and placing them next to the others at the table's center.

  The Mouse held her cards up, appeared to be studying them, and took a quick peek over the top of them at Penelope. The little girl rubbed her nose once, the sign that the Mouse was going to lose the hand, then went back to deciding which card to play in her solitaire game.

  The Mouse considered tossing in her cards and minimizing her losses, but decided against it: having opened, it would look strange if she folded immediately, so she regretfully met King Tout's bet, drew two cards, and then refused to match the five thousand dollars he bet after drawing a single card.

  “Poor luck, ma'am,” he said with a smile as he reached out and collected the pile of chips. He passed the deck to her. “I believe it's your deal.”

  “Same game,” said the Mouse, pushing another chip to the center of the table.

  She dealt out the cards, then picked up her hand. She had three queens, a five, and a four, and when none of the others chose to open, she was about to bet five thousand credits ... but first she glanced at Penelope, whose hand seemed inadvertently to brush by her nose again as she looked down at the cards that were spread out before her.

  The Mouse sighed, studied her cards for another moment, and then regretfully tossed her hand onto the table.

  She won two small pots, dropped out of another one early on, and then it was King Tout's turn to deal again. As the Mouse picked up her hand, she took a quick peek at Penelope, who seemed to be paying absolutely no attention to her at all.

  The Mouse held a deuce, a five, a six, a nine and a queen, three of them red, two of them black, and she opened with a single chip. So did the next four players. King Tout pushed five chips to the center of the table.

  The Mouse frowned and pretended to study her cards, again glancing surreptitiously at Penelope. As before, the child seemed immersed in her game of solitaire, and sat rigid and motionless.

  “I'll see you,” said the Mouse, matching King Tout's bet and hoping that Penelope's lack of a negative sign was purposeful and not merely neglectful.

  “I'm out,” said the Lodinite into its translating mechanism.

  “Me too,” chimed in one of the men.

  The remaining man stared at his hand for a long time, finally sighed and pushed a little pile of chips next to King Tout's.

  “How many cards, ma'am?” asked King Tout pleasantly.

  “Three,” said the Mouse, tossing in the deuce, the five and the six.

  “One for me,” said the man.

  “Dealer stands pat,” announced King Tout.

  The Mouse slowly picked up her cards, and found that she had drawn two nines and a queen.

  “Check,” she said.

  “Same,” said the other woman.

  “Well,” announced King Tout, “I'm afraid it's going to cost you five thousand credits to see what I've got.”

  The Mouse stared at him and resisted the urge to grin.

  “I'll see you,” she said at last, “and raise you five.”

  The man dropped out, and King Tout stared at his cards, fanning them so that he could see the edge of each in turn.

  “You took three cards, right?”

  “That's right,” said the Mouse.

  He look at his hand once more and sighed deeply, as if he'd finally made his decision.

  “See your five thousand,” he said, pushing a large pile of chips to the center, “and raise you another five.”

  My God, thought the Mouse. When I think of the walls I've climbed and the ventilation shafts I've wriggled through for a twentieth of this amount!

  “Right back at you,” she said aloud, pushing ten chips of her own up against the rapidly-growing pile between them.

  Deep in his heart, King Tout had a feeling that he was beaten, that no one bluffed a pat hand to the tune of twenty thousand credits—but he'd invested so much money already that he felt he had to at least pay to see what the Mouse was holding, and so he did, tossing five more chips onto the table but declining to raise her again.

  She laid out her full house—three nines and a pair of queens—and he folded his flush, tossed it face down on the table, and with a nod indicated that she had won the hand.

  “That was very bold of you, matching my opening bet while you were sitting there with just a pair of nines ... or was it queens?” remarked King Tout.

  The Mouse allowed herself the luxury of a smile. “Nice try, King Tout,” she said. “But if you want to know what I bet with, it'll cost you another twenty thousand.”

  He matched her smile with his own grin. “I think I can live in ignorance.”

  She purposely lost five and seven thousand credits on the next two hands, then struck again and won a fifty thousand credit pot, most of the money coming from King Tout.

  That set the pattern for the next ninety minutes. Within an hour the other players had all quit, and it was just her against King Tout. She never folded a poor hand at the beginning, but always lost just enough to encourage him to keep trying her ... and then, when Penelope stared at her solitaire game, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world, the Mouse would invariably win the larger pots.

  Finally King Tout pushed his chair back.

  “You're quitting?” asked the Mouse politely.

  “I know when the cards are running against me,” he said. “Will you be back here again tomorrow night?”

  “I imagine so,” she answered, deciding that whether she bought a ship or an extension of the Forever Kid's services or both, she was going to need more money.

  “I'll be back,” he promised, getting to his feet, offering her a low, courtly bow, and walking out the door.

  “It won't do him much good, will it?” said a low voice at her side.

  She turned and found herself staring at the Iceman, who had seated himself next to her. “I don't know what you mean.
”

  “I mean that my protection doesn't extend to people who cheat my customers—not even you.”

  “It's hardly my fault if he doesn't know how to bet his cards,” said the Mouse defensively.

  “Would he have known how to bet them if the little girl had stayed in her room?” replied the Iceman. He paused. “You may not know it, but you've made yourself a powerful enemy tonight.”

  “I've had enemies before.”

  “Your courage does you no credit,” said the Iceman. “It's the result of ignorance.” He paused. “If I were you, I'd quit while I was ahead.”

  “I need the money, if I'm ever going to get off this dirtball.”

  “If I were you, I'd find some other way to make it.”

  “I can get what I need in one more night,” she said. “Will you extend your protection for forty more hours?”

  He paused, considering her request.

  “I'll let you know,” he said, getting up and walking away.

  As soon as he left the table, Penelope got up and approached the Mouse.

  “Did I do good?” whispered the little girl.

  “You did great,” the Mouse assured her. “Do you think you can do it again tomorrow?”

  “I suppose so,” said Penelope.

  “You suppose so?” repeated the Mouse. “What does that mean?”

  “Just that I can't see that far ahead.”

  The Mouse relaxed. “You'll be just fine, partner,” she said, tousling Penelope's blonde hair. “Now let me cash in my chips, and then let's go to bed.”

  She summoned the banker, converted her chips into cash, and then, taking Penelope by the hand, she began winding her way in and out of the tables and walking to the door, with the Forever Kid following a few paces behind.

  “Had a good night, I see,” said the Kid when they were out in the street.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Got enough money to leave now, or are we going to stick around?”

  “I want to play one more night,” answered the Mouse.

  “Good.”

  She stopped and looked at him curiously. “Why should you care one way or the other?”

  “Because that was King Tout you beat tonight,” said the Forever Kid. “He'll be back.”

  “With more money, I hope,” she said, trying to ignore a growing feeling of uneasiness.

  “If you're lucky.”

  “And if I'm not?” asked the Mouse.

  The Forever Kid's eyes brightened with anticipation.

  “Then I've got a feeling I'll be lucky,” he said.

  12.

  The Mouse slept late the next morning, and spent most of the day loafing in her room and watching the holovision with Penelope, who was willing to watch the umpteenth rerun of anything as long as she didn't have to do it alone.

  She had their meals sent to their room, and at sunset she took a long shower, dressed in a new outfit she had bought during a brief tour of End of the Line's shops (and which was still dull in comparison to those she knew she would see at the casino), and spent a few minutes brushing Penelope's ragged hair and giving her some last-second instructions. Then accompanied by the little girl, she descended to the street and walked the short distance to the tavern and casino.

  The Iceman was waiting for her, as she had suspected he would be. He stopped her before she could walk across to the table where King Tout, dressed even more splendidly that the previous evening, his tiny alien bird again perched on his shoulder, was dealing cards to a trio of men whose blue-tinted skin proclaimed them to be some of the mutated colonists from Kakkab Kastu IV.

  The Mouse spotted the Forever Kid sitting by himself at a table that was midway between the tavern and casino areas, then turned to Penelope. “Go and sit with the Kid,” she said.

  Penelope nodded, stopped by the bar to borrow a deck of cards, allowed the bartender to fill an elegant cocktail glass with fruit juice, then joined the Forever Kid at his table.

  The Mouse turned to face the Iceman.

  “What's your decision, Carlos?”

  “If you insist on using the little girl, I'm withdrawing my protection.”

  “I've got to have more money,” said the Mouse. “I'll have to count on my other protector.”

  “Him?” said the Iceman, jerking his head in the Forever Kid's direction. “Forget about it. He couldn't protect you for five seconds in here.”

  “He's managed to protect people for more than two centuries,” said the Mouse.

  The Iceman shook his head. “He's been killing people for more than two centuries. There's a difference. And the only reason he's still alive is because he protects himself first and his clients second.” The Iceman looked around the bar and the casino. “There are six men and three women here, each of whom is pretty damned good as his job. Any of them would kill you and steal the child the second my protection was lifted. Even the Forever Kid can't save you from all of them.”

  The Mouse surveyed the interior of the building, trying to spot the nine people in question. Two or three she knew from their holographs, another from his weapons ... but she realized that more than half of them were unknown to her.

  “It's your decision,” said the Iceman. “You do what you think best.” He paused. “But remember what I said. If you use the little girl against King Tout, I'm—”

  Just then a man and an alien entered the End of the Line, and the Iceman frowned.

  “What is it?” asked the Mouse anxiously.

  “Nothing,” said the Iceman.

  “Don't tell me it's nothing, Carlos,” she admonished him. “I've seen that expression before.”

  He turned to her. “You know what I told you about not using the girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Forget it.” He nodded his head almost imperceptibly toward the two newcomers. “Your friend just evened the odds.”

  She turned until she could just see them out of the corner of her eye.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “The man is called the Golden Duke. Ever hear of him?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, take a good look at him,” said the Iceman softly, “and if you ever see him anywhere but on Last Chance, run like hell.”

  “A killer?” she asked.

  “A little bit of everything,” replied the Iceman, staring at the tall, almost skeletal human. The Golden Duke obviously possessed some Oriental ancestry, which was apparent in the shape of his eyes, the tint of his skin, the prominence of his cheekbones, his straight black hair. He moved with the smooth grace of an athlete, as if he was prepared to change directions and speeds instantly. He carried no weapons, but his right arm ended in a prosthetic hand made entirely of gold, a hand that hid four lethal, retractable knives, one in each long, lean, golden finger.

  “He's been known to run drugs back in the Democracy,” continued the Iceman, “and he's also done a bit of arson.”

  The Golden Duke and his companion seated themselves at King Tout's table, and suddenly the other players all seemed to remember that they had pressing engagements elsewhere and made a mass exodus to neighboring tables or the long chrome bar.

  “A gambler, too?” asked the Mouse.

  “Not much of one,” replied the Iceman.

  “Then why is he sitting at the card table?”

  “I imagine that King Tout has invited him to play cards with you.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I said he wasn't a gambler.” The Iceman paused. “If he helps King Tout cheat you, it isn't gambling, is it?”

  “How do you think they'll try to cheat?” asked the Mouse.

  “They'll probably whipsaw you,” replied the Iceman.

  “Whipsaw?” she repeated, puzzled.

  “They'll have some way of signaling each other which of them has the best hand. The other two will drop out early, so if you win, it's a much smaller pot, but if you lose, you're going to have to pay just as much to see the winning hand, bec
ause the one holding it will keep raising like there's no tomorrow.”

  “I see,” said the Mouse. She nodded to the alien. “Who's that one?”

  “Her?” said the Iceman, looking at the humanoid alien with wideset orange eyes, broad nostrils, a reddish wig that barely covered her gaping earholes, and a body suit that kept recirculating a clear fluid across her torso and legs. “They call her September Morn. She is a gambler, and a damned good one. She's King Tout's shill on alien worlds.” He continued to stare at her. “She doesn't actually breathe the liquid through gills or anything like that, but she's got to keep her body moist. If that suit stops running water over her for more than a couple of minutes, she curls up and dies ... or at least goes into some kind of catatonic state that's just about the same as being dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I've seen the suit malfunction on a member of her race,” answered the Iceman. “Not a pretty sight.” He paused. “Not a pretty smell, for that matter.”

  They were both silent for a moment, and then the Mouse turned to him.

  “What would happen if King Tout tried to kill me at the table? You're not even carrying a weapon.”

  “This is my world: I don't need one. And he won't try anything.”

  “But if he did.”

  “Then he'd have eleven holes in him before he could aim his pistol.”

  “You have eleven men watching him?”

  “Twelve,” answered the Iceman. “I assume one will miss.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Around.”

  “They're very well-hidden,” said the Mouse, scanning the tavern and casino.

  “They're supposed to be.”

  “How many are behind that mirror?” she continued, nodding her head toward the huge mirror behind the bar.

  “A few.”

  “It's a one-way mirror, isn't it?”

  The Iceman almost smiled. “They wouldn't be much use to me there if it wasn't, would they?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she answered. “Well,” she added, looking across the room, “I suppose I'd better go over to the table and let King Tout and his friends do their worst.”

  “Just remember: they're not stupid.”