Soothsayer Read online

  She smiled with more confidence than she suddenly felt. “It's only money.”

  “You have something more valuable than money, and you're taking a chance on losing it,” said the Iceman, glancing across the room at Penelope. “King Tout and his friends don't know who or what she is yet, but if either of you screw up, he'll figure it out pretty damned quick.”

  “We're still under your protection,” she reminded him.

  “I thought you were playing to raise money for a ship,” he replied. “Once you take off from Last Chance, you're on your own.”

  She stared at him for a moment, looking for some sign of emotion—annoyance, jealousy, anything—but finding none. Then she turned and walked rapidly across the tavern into the casino, approached King Tout's table, and seated herself where she could watch Penelope without making it too obvious.

  “Good evening, ma'am,” said King Tout. “I trust you're ready to give me a chance to win some of my money back?”

  “If you can,” said the Mouse.

  “It looks like a small game tonight,” said King Tout. “Just the four of us.”

  “Suits me,” said the Mouse.

  “Fine. This gentleman on my left is called the Duke"—she smiled politely at the Golden Duke, who stared impassively at her—"and this charming lady is September.” The alien called September Morn inclined her head slightly and briefly contorted her face into a smile.

  “Same game as last night?” asked the Mouse.

  “That'll be just fine, ma'am,” said King Tout.

  The Mouse signaled to the banker, who opened the safe and brought a number of thousand-credit chips to the table, placing them down in three neat stacks directly in front of her.

  “Shall we raise the ante to two thousand tonight?” suggested King Tout.

  “It sounds like you're in a hurry to get your money back,” said the Mouse.

  He shrugged. “If you'd rather not...”

  She stared at him. “No, two thousand is fine—if you'll get an unopened deck from the bar.”

  “That's shows a serious lack of trust, ma'am,” said King Tout, though he looked unsurprised.

  “We're playing for a serious amount of money,” she answered.

  He shrugged, then called for a fresh deck. He had the Mouse open it, then shoved two chips to the center of the table and shuffled the cards with an easy precision while the other three players placed their chips atop his.

  The Mouse won the first hand, then lost three small pots in a row. The Golden Duke seemed totally uninterested in the game, dropping out of each hand early and never taking his dark, piercing eyes from her. September Morn played her hands with more skill and more subtlety, and won two of the pots.

  Then the Mouse hit big, winning sixty thousand credits when her four jacks beat King Tout's full house. After that the whipsawing began, with the Golden Duke, King Tout and September Morn began taking turns riding out each hand; the one with the poorer cards always folded early, leaving the other to bet against the Mouse. The Mouse couldn't quite tell how they were signaling each other, nor did she particularly care.

  The game went on for another hour, the Mouse gradually accumulating more money, until at last, as the deal came around to King Tout once more, he stopped shuffling and stared at her for a long moment.

  “You're a very lucky card player, ma'am,” he said at last.

  “Maybe I'm just talented,” she replied.

  He shook his head. “No, I'd have to say that you're lucky.”

  She shrugged. “Have it your way: I'm lucky.”

  “Very lucky.”

  “Are you accusing me of cheating?” asked the Mouse.

  “I would never accuse you of cheating without knowing how you did it.”

  “You know, it doesn't sound any better that way.”

  “How could you be cheating?” asked King Tout with an expression that belied his words. “Why, if my friend the Duke thought for even a moment that you were cheating, he'd cut your heart out right here at the table. If there's one thing the Duke hates, it's a cheater.”

  “Yeah, well, your friend the Duke could use some lessons in poker,” said the Mouse.

  “Poker's not really his specialty,” said King Tout meaningfully.

  The Mouse looked briefly at the Golden Duke. “I can believe that.” She pushed her chair back. “This is becoming rather unpleasant,” she announced. “I think I've had enough for tonight.”

  “How much have you got in your pile there?” asked King Tout.

  “I don't know,” said the Mouse.

  King Tout stared at her chips. “Looks to be about two hundred thousand.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I'll tell you what, ma'am,” said King Tout. “I'll cut you for it.”

  “For the whole pot?”

  He nodded.

  The Mouse took a quick glance in Penelope's direction, but the little girl was seemingly involved in her solitaire game. Which makes sense, decided the Mouse; she can't tell me if I'll win or lose until I decide whether or not I'll even agree to play.

  “What if I declined?” asked the Mouse. “Respectfully, of course.”

  “I think my friend the Duke would take it as a personal insult,” answered King Tout.

  The Mouse returned his smile. “My friend the Iceman might not like that.”

  “Then let's leave our friends out of it,” said King Tout. “Let's make it just you and me. We'll cut for the whole pot.” He pulled an unopened deck out of his pocket. “And we'll use a fresh deck.”

  “I kind of liked the one we were playing with.”

  “For this kind of money, we should use a brand new deck.”

  The Mouse considered asking him to get a deck from the bar, but decided to look at Penelope first. She saw no negative signal, and she finally nodded her agreement.

  “Okay,” she said. “You match what I've got here and we'll cut just once for it.” She paused. “If you lose, you lose. We don't go double or nothing. You could keep that up all night until you finally won.”

  “Agreed,” said King Tout. He broke open the deck and shuffled the cards, then placed them on the table.

  “Be my guest,” he said.

  “You go first,” she replied.

  “I'd really prefer that you cut first.”

  She shook her head. “It's my money. If you want a chance at it, you cut first.”

  “As you wish,” he said. His hand reached out, caressed the deck swiftly, and then cut to a king.

  The Mouse looked at Penelope, who seemed oblivious to anything but her solitaire game. Finally Mouse cleared her throat, reached out, paused hesitantly for a moment, and placed her fingers carefully on the sides of the deck.

  And then Penelope spilled her glass of fruit juice, and made a distracting clatter as she jumped back from the table to avoid getting it on her clothes.

  “Are you all right?” asked the Mouse, her hand once more poised above the deck.

  “I'm sorry,” said Penelope, starting to wipe her table with a napkin. “I was just clumsy. Are you mad at me?”

  “No, of course not,” said the Mouse.

  “Ma'am,” said King Tout impatiently. “We're waiting on you.”

  The Mouse stared at the deck, then took a deep breath and cut the cards—and came away with an ace.

  “My congratulations, ma'am,” said King Tout, getting to his feet and bowing deeply. “I guess tonight just wasn't my night.”

  September Morn also arose, but the Golden Duke remained seated, still staring impassively at her. Finally, when King Tout and the alien reached the door, he stood up and walked silently after them.

  As she had the previous evening, Penelope walked over and joined the Mouse, while the Forever Kid remained at his table.

  “Well, we did it!” whispered the Mouse, trying to control her excitement and elation. “What was that business with the spilled glass?”

  “I saw that if you cut the cards, you'd draw a three, so I tri
ed to see how to change it,” explained Penelope. “If I shrieked and you looked up, you'd draw a jack, and if I did other things you'd draw other cards ... but I saw that if I spilled the juice, you'd draw an ace. It all depended on how startled you were and how much you moved your hand.”

  “Remarkable!” said the Mouse. “Just remarkable!” She summoned the banker, changed her chips into credits, and carried the cash over to the Forever Kid. “Here,” she said, handing him the money. “You can probably protect this better than I can.”

  The Kid placed the wad of bills inside his tunic.

  “Why the long face?” asked the Mouse. “I won. I can afford you for another week or two.”

  “They just walked out,” said the Kid unhappily.

  “What did you expect them to do?”

  “I know what I wanted them to do,” he replied. “I've heard about the Golden Duke. I never thought he'd walk away from a fight.” He shook his head in abject disappointment.

  “Look, I'm sorry you didn't get to die on this godforsaken planet,” said the Mouse with false sympathy. “But look at the bright side: You'll have two more weeks of opportunities to toss your life away. In the meantime, do you mind taking Penelope back to the hotel?”

  “I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on both of you,” noted the Forever Kid.

  “I'll be all right,” said the Mouse. “Besides, everyone just saw me give you the money. Don't get your hopes up too high, but if anyone's going to be in danger, it'll be you.”

  That seemed to raise the Kid's spirits, but Penelope suddenly looked unhappy. “Can't I stay with you?” she asked.

  The Mouse shook her head. “I have to talk to the Iceman.”

  “I'm not afraid of him.”

  “I know,” said the Mouse with a smile. “But I have a feeling that he's afraid of you.”

  “Him?” said Penelope unbelievingly.

  “Him,” repeated the Mouse. “Now go on over to the hotel. I'll join you in a few minutes.”

  The Kid got to his feet, took Penelope by the hand, and walked unhappily into the cool night air.

  13.

  The Mouse saw the Iceman staring at her as he leaned against the long bar. She beckoned him to join her with a motion of her head, and he carried his drink past half a dozen gaudily-dressed miners and traders, giving a wide birth to the huge alien Torqual who seemed to have no interest in drinking either whiskey or any of the exotic alien concoctions, but insisted on standing at the bar anyway. A striking redheaded woman stopped the Iceman to whisper something to him; he looked across the tavern, seemed to consider whatever it was he had heard, then nodded his head and, without another look at the woman, walked the rest of the way to the Mouse's table.

  “You won a lot of money tonight,” he noted, seating himself and placing his drink in front of him. “Would you like me to keep it for you until you need it?”

  “The Forever Kid won't let anyone take it away from him,” she replied. “And I'm going to need it tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. “I need to buy a ship.”

  “I thought the Forever Kid had a ship.”

  “He does, but I can't keep paying him 100,000 credits a week. Sooner or later I'm going to need my own—probably sooner.”

  “How big?”

  “Big enough for three people,” said the Mouse. “No, make that four, in case the Kid's still with us when we join up with Merlin.”

  The Iceman arched an eyebrow at the mention of Merlin's name, but didn't ask any questions about him.

  “Well?” said the Mouse.

  “Well what?”

  “Can I get a ship tomorrow?”

  “Go over to the hangar. They usually have a few for sale, or, if not, they'll know where you can get one.” The Iceman paused. “You're definitely leaving tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Too many people know she's here already. The longer I wait, the more of them we'll have chasing us when we finally leave. Now that I have the money, there's no reason to stay.”

  “She's in no danger,” said the Iceman.

  “Are you kidding?” she demanded. “Look around you. Not everyone is here just to drink your booze and play at your tables.”

  “You're in plenty of danger,” replied the Iceman, gazing casually at a pair of bounty hunters who were pretending that they had no interest in the Mouse. “But you still don't seem to know what you're traveling with.”

  “I'm traveling with the best damned gambling partner anyone ever dreamed of.”

  The Iceman shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Do what you want. It's none of my business.”

  “I don't know why you persist in thinking of her as dangerous,” continued the Mouse. “I keep telling you: she's just a very tired, very frightened little girl.”

  “A little girl who has had 200 professionals looking for her for the better part of a year, and who's still free,” said the Iceman. “Doesn't that suggest something to you?”

  The house banker caught the Iceman's eye, made some brief signal with his hand, and the Iceman shook his head. A moment later the banker was explaining to an annoyed customer that New Kenya shillings were not acceptable currency on Last Chance.

  “She was an alien's prisoner when I found her,” answered the Mouse. “I told you that.”

  “Is she an alien's prisoner now?”

  “No. She's just damned lucky that I found her.”

  “Do you make a practice of entering the alien sections when you're looting a hotel?” asked the Iceman.

  “No.”

  “How many rooms were there in that hotel?” he continued.

  “I don't know.”

  “A few hundred?”

  “Probably.”

  “Haven't you wondered how you wound up in the one alien room where she happened to be?”

  “I told you how it happened,” said the Mouse irritably.

  “I know how it happened.”

  “You haven't changed at all, Carlos. You never trusted anyone or anything.”

  “Maybe that's why I'm still alive.” He paused. “But let me give you one piece of advice.”

  “What?”

  “Don't ever get her mad at you.”

  “I'm the only friend she's got.”

  “She didn't do that badly when she had no friends at all,” he noted.

  “What would you have me do?” demanded the Mouse. “Desert her? Return her to your friend 32?”

  The Iceman stared at her for a long moment.

  “If it was me,” he said at last, “I think I'd kill her while I had the chance.”

  She stared at him for a long moment.

  “No,” she said distastefully, “you haven't changed.”

  She got up and walked out the door, then crossed the street and entered her hotel. She got on the airlift, ordered it to elevate her to her floor, then rode the corridor to her door. Just as she turned the corner leading to her room, she found herself face to face with the Golden Duke. He held a sonic weapon in his hand, and silently directed her into a darkened room three doors down from her own.

  “Lights,” commanded a low voice, and suddenly the room was bathed in illumination.

  “Good evening, ma'am,” said King Tout, as the Golden Duke stationed himself in front of the door. She looked around desperately, silently cursing her stupidity for not keeping Penelope with her, and saw September Morn smiling at her from her position by the room's only window.

  “What do you want?” demanded the Mouse. “If it's money, I don't have it with me.”

  “Oh, we'll get around to talking money in a while, ma'am,” said King Tout. “Right now I think I'd like to talk about luck.”

  “Luck?” repeated the Mouse.

  “Luck.” He stepped forward and pointed to a small scar above his temple. “Do you see this, ma'am?”

  The Mouse nodded, but said nothing.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “No.”

  “It's a surgical
scar.”

  “Somebody you tried to whipsaw shot you in the head?”

  He chuckled. “No, ma'am, I'm afraid not.” Suddenly his smile vanished. “It's where I had a silicon bubble implanted. A Steinmetz/Harding 90347 bubble.”

  “Should that mean something to me?”

  “It's the most powerful mathematics bubble ever invented,” explained King Tout. “I can do eleven million calculations before the card you see registers on your retina.” He paused. “Do you see my left eye, ma'am?”

  “It looks just like the right one,” answered the Mouse.

  “It's supposed to. But it's artificial, ma'am. It can see into the infrared spectrum, just as this artificial digit"—he raised the index finger of his left hand—"can produce a mark that can only be seen by this eye.” He paused again. “That's why I know you were lucky these last two nights, ma'am. Do you know how lucky?”

  “Why don't you tell me?” said the Mouse.

  “Well, in the beginning, I had a nine-to-one chance of winning, just because of the bubble. But when I started losing, I started cheating. By the end of the evening, you'd beaten odds of more than six thousand to one. That was impressive enough. But tonight,” he continued, “tonight I was dealing seconds and we were whipsawing you and I knew I was going to cut to a king, because I marked it when I opened the deck. The precise odds of your coming out ahead tonight, ma'am, were 53,024 to one.” He paused again. “That's so lucky it's almost unbelievable ... so you'll have to forgive me if I don't believe it.”

  The Mouse made no reply, and King Tout continued speaking.

  “You know, ma'am, for almost two nights I couldn't figure out how you were doing it. I know you couldn't read the cards, because you don't have an eye that can see into the infrared spectrum, and even if you did, you couldn't have broken my code. I knew you didn't have a collaborator, because there was no one else at the table, and I knew there was no way you could know what was in my hand, because on two occasions I didn't even look myself.”

  “Get to the point,” said the Mouse.

  “The point?” repeated King Tout. “The point is that I couldn't figure out how you were cheating me, so I decided to make you cut the deck with me, and I decided to pick a king, and then I watched to see what happened next.”

  “What happened was that I drew an ace, in case it's slipped your memory.”