They began with a modest half-credit bet. Snelz threw 20. Heller declined to make a second bet that he could beat it. He threw 51. He won. Ah, well. Good strategy. Heller was to win for a while.
"Let's bet one credit," said Snelz. "I feel lucky." Heller took the dice. Now dice players have a routine all their own, all unnecessary. They take the six dice in their cupped palms; they shake them on the right side of their head; they shake them on the left side of their head; then they tap one set of knuckles or the other on the table and send the dice bouncing onto the board with a sort of shovel motion. And they sing to the dice as they do it. Heller did all this. But he had two wrinkles of his own. He blew onto the palmed dice first and then shook them and he shook them longer and harder than I have seen dice shaken before. His hands sort of blurred in the shake – very, very fast!
Heller threw a 62. Against his own advice, he said, "One credit to a hundred says you can't beat that. I frankly advise you to decline."
"No, I'll take it," said Snelz. He placed the dice carefully in his palm. When he shook them, he didn't permit them to roll about. He banged his knuckles on the table.
I thought, hey, this is early to start winning. The bang on the table, of course, settled the lead pellets into the goo in the hollow. The dice rolled out a 10!
Oh, I thought. Clever boy. He's carrying out the strategy.
"Ouch," said Snelz. "Looks like I better up my stakes to recover my loss. Two hundred credits all right with you for this next bet?" Of course it was really Heller's turn, as he didn't have the first throw, to set the stake for the first bet. But he shrugged, overlooking the irregularity, looking as tolerant as you would look at an amateur who didn't quite know the rules.
Snelz threw. It was a 50. Any dice player can add up the points at a glance if he is expert and I thought Snelz made an error by calling "Fifty!" instantly in a loud voice. I guessed Snelz was too excited to mask his expertise. "Fifty credits to fifty credits says you can't top it." Heller was in the swing of it now. He blew upon the dice. He shook to the right and shook to the left and as he did it, he sang: Money for my honey, Booze for my cruise, Fly them over fifty And don't let this spacer lose.
He threw and cried, "Fifty-five!" after the dice stopped rolling. He picked up the money with an easy sweep.
Snelz said, "You certainly are lucky. I know I am just a beginner at this, but I am afraid I will have to double my bet again. Four hundred credits all right with you?
"Actually," said Heller, "doubling is a Devil's game. I advise against it."
"I'm afraid I'll have to insist," said Snelz.
Heller shrugged. He picked up the dice. He blew on them quite a long time. Then he sang: Don't reimburse the purse, Of the loser we won't nurse.
Fly a winning number And win the universe.
His shake had been extremely hard. The roll was expert with a back spin. "Forty! Try and beat it. Ten credits to three hundred and seventy-five says you won't." Snelz put the dice very carefully in his palm, blew on them, pretended to shake them. He sang: Dicies balm and calm, Don't cramp the champ.
Better up the forty And put money in my camp!
He threw. "Thirty-five!" Heller raked in the money.
Good. Snelz was following the strategy. Any moment now, he would turn the game around and start to win. And that would be the end of Officer Heller's ability to buy favors, and off to Earth we'd go.
There was a knock on the door. A guard tiptoed in and whispered to me: "Doctor Crobe just sent up word that if you didn't see him at once, you'd be real sorry." Well, I should have expected it. I was supposed to take Heller back to him, and what was it now, seven days? and we hadn't gone near him. I didn't want to leave this game. But Snelz would bring it off. How could he lose with those dice? I left.
But the second I started to go down the tube, I also started to get sick at my stomach. A bad feeling of pain with a bit of nausea.
I found Crobe in his foul office. He left off scraping some cells from a severed foot. He raised his head and levelled his scummy eyes down his beak nose.
"You," he said, "are up to something. You have not brought that special agent back here for bugging." I felt very ill. "I've been busy."
"I have a direct order from Lombar Hisst to fix up this special agent. You have not brought him back. You are up to something." I had to sit down. I really was feeling ill. Maybe it was that severed foot. It looked green in the green glowplates. It was putrefying.
"Officer Gris," said Crobe, "do you know of any way to prevent me from reporting this to Lombar Hisst?" My stomach gave a new turn. I could hardly lift my head. But in my field of view, there lay his filthy hand, palm up. It was unmistakable.
Feebly I reached into my tunic and got out my wallet. I only had about thirty-five credits in it. I pulled out a ten.
Crobe took the ten, then reached over and took the rest of the money out of the wallet. "Thirty-five credits." he counted. "Won't do." He threw them aside.
It was a lot of money. For the dungeons of Spiteos. They never had any money down here. But I realized that I would shortly have thousands. "Make it a hundred. I'll pay the rest later." Crobe picked up his gummy scraping knife and pointed it at me. "You're really up to something, Officer Gris. Do you realize the danger to me personally if I don't follow out Lombar Hisst's orders?" I was too sick to think straight. The pains were like dagger stabs!
"Two hundred," said Crobe.
Oh, no! But I was about to be rich. I hurt. I wanted out. I nodded numbly.
Crobe picked up the thirty-five credits and counted them again. "Then you'll owe me a hundred and sixty-five and you'll pay me tomorrow or up to Hisst I go!" I managed to say, "All right," and then I got out of there. When I got into the tube and started going up I suddenly felt completely well! Mysterious. What was this odd illness?
Reasoning that my recovery was probably an anticipation of Snelz's winnings, I got back into the room.
Heller was just finishing a song. He threw the dice expertly. "Sixty-five!" And he scooped up the bet money.
It took me a moment to register the scene. Snelz was sitting there tense. Beads of sweat were standing out on his forehead. The pile of money in front of Heller was huge!
I glared at Snelz. He was carrying this losing streak too far! He had better turn this tide around and quick!
Snelz said, "I bet a thousand!" Heller put the dice in his palm, cupped his hands, blew into them long and hard. He sang: Conserve your nerve, You made the parade, Roll a high number And complete the ambuscade!
He was shaking those dice so hard I couldn't really find any shape in his hands. He knocked his knuckles on the table. "Seventy!" Snelz looked stunned. He stammered, "I decline to make a second bet."
"Wise boy," said Heller.
Snelz picked up the dice for his throw. Who could beat 70? He looked at each die very carefully. He was looking for the spots.
"You don't think I switched dice on you, do you?" said Heller.
"No," said Snelz in a little tiny voice. "These are the same dice." Heller laughed. He said, "I'm so glad. Duels can get so final and as an ex-marine, you're probably a good shot." Snelz looked like somebody in torment. The joke Heller had made was far too near home for him. He probably couldn't win a duel with Heller if he had the odds of a blastcannon. Snelz placed the dice very carefully in his palm. I knew what he was doing. He was taking an awful chance but he was covertly arranging the dice to shoot a 72!