Shadowkill

3

Autumn Rose hurried along the jagged semi-street, heading for the market. She needed to pick up something she could wear without binding herself into so much material she’d be hampered if she had to fight and something she wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in. And something that was neither so expensive it was a temptation, nor so cheap and flimsy she lost “face” with the players.

She plunged across a dark sideway, flinched as a group of Angatines came out of the shadows and began to wail at her. Cursing, she turned down the next opening, turned again and yet again, losing them finally, almost losing herself before she stopped her flight and began working her way back to the market, This was what… the tenth, eleventh time they’d ambushed her? They were getting to be more than a nuisance, jumping out at her everywhere with the same accusing plaint, she was a demon come to do harm to the people. No one seemed to pay much attention to them, but you could never tell what spark would set the locals off.

When she followed Hadluk into one of the back rooms, there were already half a dozen men seated at the Vagnag table.

She settled into the empty chair. “Rose,” she said, nodded at Hadluk. He went out.

The man at her right gathered up the eight-sided dice, handed them to her. He was an offworlder, probably a free-trader, big, burly, blue-black with a noble nose like a hawk’s beak jutting from the gray fur on his face. He wore a long robe, earth colors in a violent design. Heavy gold earrings dangled from long lobes, brushing against his massive neck. “Tayteknas,” he rumbled at her. “He tell you?”

She took the dice, remembering with pleasure the feel of the crisp points against her palm, the cool facets. She hefted them, judging the weight, the feel, the sound as they clicked together. Yes, she thought. “Yes,” she said aloud; she dropped the dice on the table and watched them dance then settle. She reached into one of the large pockets the skirt came equipped with, took out the sack and laid out three gold emas on the ledge in front of her. Next to these she lined up five piles of four silver peras each. She took one ema and flipped it into the Holse, the circle drawn in the center of the dark blue felt. “Who’s marker?”

Tayteknas tapped a blue black finger against the front of his robe. “Me.”

“What’s high so far?”

“Double eight plus three.”

“Hmp. Vakkar. All gone?”

“You’re the last.”

“I see.” She gathered the three dice, held them a moment warming in her hand, feeling for the rhythm-the beginnings of the rhythm. It wasn’t there yet, but it would come. The smell of the table came up around her, a subtle aroma rising from the felt, the paint on it, the coins, the blend of odors drifting from the men-a smell that brought memories rushing back. Some places, the game rules wouldn’t let you handle the dice, you had to use a cup to throw them and a scoop to pick them up; this wasn’t that big a game. Just as well.

She rattled the dice, rolled them out, watched them dance across the felt. There was tumult in her then, a vigor she’d lost for years, a joy she’d made herself forget. The yellow dice flickered over the dark blue felt, then slowed and rocked to rest. “Skotsker,” she said with satisfaction. Six and eight and five.

Tayteknas grunted. “Vakkar rules Skotsker,” he said. “Pulleet first. Rose second. Barangkaly third. Tayteknas fourth. Kahtik fifth. Uj sixth. Nikeldy seventh.” He broke the seal on a deck of Vagnag cards, peeled off the wrappings. “All entries in the Holse.” He reached down, brought the rake from where it was hanging on the table, cleared the seven gold coins from the painted circle to a painted half-circle nuzzling against the side of the table. “Entries in the Sump. Open, one pera. Raise limit, fifty ema.” He took a silver coin, tossed it into the Holse, set the deck on the felt, and used the rake to push it across to Pulleet.

Pulleet was a small dark man with pale splotches on his face, irregular pink, yellow, tan areas breaking up the chocolate brown over the rest of him, pigment deficit, the result of disease or birth defect. Offworlder, probably freetrader. He had small hands, the skin on them blotchy like his face. He handled the cards with a deftness and dedication she could appreciate and dealt them out in packets of three to each of the players in the order given, matching names to faces for Rose.

Nikeldy was another offworlder. Freetrader most likely. Quiet little man. Forgettable.

Kahtik wore a University ring, engineer’s compass laid into the jewel. Freetech, no Companies on this world. Some freetechs were erratic but brilliant, some were merely adequate. Kahtik looked middlish, reasonably prosperous, but not flying the highwire. Vagnag was a game of combinations and probabilities; as a University-trained engineer, he’d be high on math skills; if his game sense was as good, he’d be a formidable player.

Barangkaly was a Rummer, a local merchant, she’d seen him in the market; he had several booths selling cloth and herbs.

Uj was a local, too. The paint on his face said he was one of the Vaarmanta; whatever else he was was not immediately apparent, though she had her suspicions and wasn’t happy about them.

Second seat. She didn’t like being second. In the first seat she could influence the flow of play, in the last seat she’d have the advantage of seeing the styles of all the other players. Here she had neither advantage; she had to give before she got. She picked up her first set. Hanged man, Runner and four diamond. Two picture cards. Not bad. Not great either. She folded the set together and laid it down, waiting until the dealing was finished.

The sets landed neatly in front of each the players, three more small piles face down on the felt. Pulleet placed the remaining cards in the Sump by his Pen (a rectangle painted on the felt), tossed the opener into the Holse. He looked at his first set, folded them and placed them face down on the ledge before him, all his moves quick and neat and precise. He scooped up the dice, clacked them vigorously, and threw them out.

Three twos. A triple Blakkro. Without visible reaction, he swept up his cards, chose two, and set the third face down on the ledge. He laid the two cards face up in the Pen, seven triangle, three diamond, contemplated the backs of the other three sets and chose another card from the middle pile. He looked at it a moment, still without expression, laid it face up in the Pen, a three spot beside the three diamond.

It was a strong opening. The Lady had kissed both cards and dice. He looked thoughtfully at the coins on the ledge, took a gold ema and added it to the silver already in the Holse, took another ema, set it in the Pen, challenging table in a second level stake, moved an ema and two peras onto the number grid-table wager on the probable gap between his count and any other, high/low.

Tayteknas raked the dice over to Rose. She scooped them up, rattled and threw them and swore under her breath. One, six and seven. A Koetta. Bust. She couldn’t turn a card or put one down. Tick-tock, what to do? Shayss damn, think I have to count this Chapter a loser, still, let’s see what we can finesse. Get the rhythm back and not go down too bad. There’s still the Claiming round. More Vags have been pulled from the Sump than won straight out. Besides, I’m here for information, not prizes. She smiled with sweet confidence, took a pera and an ema and tossed them to the Holse. “Stay as,” she said and laid the set on the ledge.

Barangkaly scooped up the dice, flung them out with an expansive curl of his arm. Three Three nine. Bijjet. One of the highest throws possible.

Z’ Toyff, she thought, this how it’s going to go, everybody but me?

He beamed at the dice, flipped his cards over with an extravagant exuberance, dropped them into the Pen without bothering to look at them, danced his fingers over the other three sets, chose a card, flipped it over, shifted it to the Pen, chose another, started a second line in the Pen. Two Dancers, a clown, a Lancer and a seven sword. Takabul. Only a step from a sudden win. If his luck held through the Claiming round, he had this Chapter sewn. He tossed the ante pera and a push Ema in the Holse, lay down another two emas in the Pen, and spread a scatter of Peras about the Grid.