The men made small talk as the next hand was dealt. Two bleary-eyed players ordered more ale. Leesil ignored them as he caught one twist to the game.
“Breach!” the young man on his right declared.
Leesil scanned the man’s cards. After an opening bet in Two Kings, a further bet could be placed after the first two cards had been dealt, one up and one down. Winning meant coming as close to twenty points without going over. Two “kings” was the best possible hand on a first deal. But in this game of “Gates,” the dealer had two cards, one up and one down. It appeared that a player had to beat the dealer’s hand as well.
The young man had a nine of one suit and a seven of another; on a call for his last draw, he’d been dealt a one from a third suit. The dealer flipped her hidden card, giving her a king and a queen—and so her hand should’ve won. But the redheaded woman doubled the young man’s bet and took away all of the other bets.
It seemed that a “one” in any suit breached the toughest “gate” the dealer could come up with. It was a long-shot play, but the game was closer to Two Kings than Leesil first thought, and he opened his pouch. To his advantage, the cards were a bit smaller than the ones he used in the Sea Lion tavern, though he’d never cheated there.
Leesil bet one silver Numanese penny, a bit much for a first hand, and the cards were dealt. His face-up card was an eight from a suit with floral leaves. Hoping for something low, he peeked at his hidden card and found a two of crossed iron bars. Calling for more cards, he kept on until the fifth took him over twenty, and he lost.
Magiere hissed behind him.
—What—are you—doing?—
Leesil ignored Chap as well as Magiere. What he needed most was a king or a queen. A nine would do almost as well, but not a one, for apparently that card won even if the dealer had twenty. He didn’t want to win just yet.
He lost again on a hand of five cards, but therein was a nine of waves. Gathering up his cards facedown, he purposefully placed the nine on top. Before he slid them back to the dealer, he palmed the top card and kept his hands down on the table.
Yes, he’d said he wouldn’t cheat, but he never said he wouldn’t lie ... about cheating.
On the next hand, he was dealt a face-up queen of clouds. He flattened the hand with the nine over his face-down card and bent its corner up for a peek: a two of floral leaves.
Leesil drew the card fully up before his face and intentionally scowled. When he put it back down, he kept his thumb over its face. Hanging onto it as he drew his hand back in plain sight, he slipped the nine, facedown in place of the two, from under his fingers.
The dealer had a seven of iron up.
Leesil placed five silver pennies atop his opening bet and passed on taking more cards. This was a fairly large bet for what the others had been wagering, and it drew more than one glance.
The dealer never blinked as she flipped her down card—a nine of clouds to go with her seven of iron.
The other men lost, two of them drawing out over twenty. Leesil flipped his hidden card for a total of nineteen. At the sight of that, Leesil felt Magiere’s hand drop onto his shoulder and clench. From behind him, she couldn’t have missed seeing his initial cards. But he had just doubled his wager.
—You said—you would—not cheat—
Leesil ignored Chap as the good-natured young man shrugged and looked to the redheaded dealer.
“Sorry, Merina,” he said, and cocked his head toward Leesil. “He must have beginner’s luck.”
Leesil stored that phrase away for future use, but he was suspicious. The other men hadn’t minded losing to the dealer, yet they appeared to resent that he’d won. On the next hand, the young man’s first two cards totaled fifteen. He upped his initial bet of one penny with something smaller, probably equal to a groat in the Farlands. Merina was showing a six of waves, and the young man shook his head at the offer of another card.
Leesil ended up over count and lost. He hadn’t drawn anything worth palming, and as he gathered his cards, he secretly discarded the floral two that he held. He won a fair amount on the third round, and his stack of coins grew. The young man won as well, but not the two drunkards.
Both cast baleful glances at him, as did Merina.
No one appeared to mind that the young man had won. Perhaps he was local, and the others only resented outsiders. From then on, Leesil made the minimum bets and lost three hands. The other players each won a hand along the way, and the mood at the table improved. It was time for one last good win.
Leesil was dealt a king of clouds faceup—and a queen of iron as his down card. Merina dealt herself a faceup nine of waves. When the others finished their draws and bets, she turned over a queen to match the nine. Leesil still won and doubled his coins again as he feigned astonishment.
“Beginner’s luck,” he echoed.
Merina slid over a small stack of coins, and she wasn’t smiling. Only then did Leesil think about where he was ... playing cards with a red-haired dealer in a place called The Red Fox.
It was time to get out of this.
“Enough for me,” he said, sweeping coins into the pouch and glancing sidelong at Magiere. “She is waiting.”
He turned away, avoiding Magiere’s glare, as Chap scurried out in front, making patrons stumble into each other as they gave him room.
“We need to go,” Leesil whispered, taking his blades from Magiere. “I think the dealer is the owner ... and it appears she is well liked.”
“You idiot,” Magiere growled behind him.
Chap huffed in agreement as he reached the door.
They were outside and halfway down the street before Leesil slowed. He looked back, found the way clear, and started to strap on his blades. Magiere didn’t say a word and stood ahead with her arms folded.
“Well?” he goaded. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“What?”
“How much I won,” he said.
“Probably more than you should have!”
In truth, Leesil hadn’t done a final count, but he’d turned a few silver pennies into more. Better, tonight left him feeling as if the past year had never happened—even with Magiere being grumpy with him. Or maybe because she was grumpy with him.
In the old days he’d been reckless and carefree, while she’d been cautious and conservative. He missed those days, and for a moment he’d gotten lost in the vision of how things used to be. After all, Magiere had improved some since that slip when she’d almost cut down the first mate. In part, that had been because of Leanâlhâm. Maybe he and Chap didn’t have to be so vigilant about Magiere.
Following her, Leesil headed down the street, while Chap strolled at her side and made a good deal of noise licking and smacking his jowls.
“What have you done to yourself?” Magiere asked, stepping away from the dog. “You’re a greasy mess.... I’m taking a wet towel to your face when we get back.”
Still trying to clean sausage grease from all over his muzzle, Chap shook himself. Instead of growling or licking his nose by way of a retort, he suddenly stopped and looked back. His ears stiffened upright.
“What?” Leesil said, instantly on guard, and then he heard ...
Quick footfalls—more than one set—carried from the first side street behind them.
“Move on,” he said quickly.
Magiere kept pace, and as she was about to look back, someone shouted.
“There he is!”
Leesil groaned. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to scurry away from a card table.
“You! Stop!” a man yelled.