Shadowkill

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The play was slow at first, the Players feeling each other out, setting down their personal minimums.

Black feathers brushed around Autumn Rose, black scales glittered over her head. Her cards were good, her throws brought fine combinations. Gaagi was her Luck, though she didn’t know it. Kikun could feel her confidence growing, but she kept her caution until she knew the other Players and had a feel for the flow of the game, then held back still until the Break.

Kikun squatted in his corner, bored to stupor. He didn’t play gambling games, he liked watching them even less. There was no talking, no witty or even unwitty exchanges to distract him from the soporific slap-click of the play.

His NO-SEE-ME ratcheted as high as it would go, he dozed, confident no one could discover him. He knew the man now, the target. Now all they had to do was take him. All I have to do, he dreamed, yes, Rose is out of it. I will take him. When the time comes.

He shifted from the squat until he was sitting with his back against the wall, let his eyes droop, and slept.