Sicarius stepped up to the table, cutting in front of a man who had been in line.
“I’m next.” The fellow puffed out his chest and curled a lip.
Sicarius responded with silence and an icy stare. The man stared back, but was the first to lower his eyes.
He licked his lips and backed from the table. “Never mind. I’m still sorting my money.”
Sicarius placed a coin on the table. “Begin.”
The three table masters smiled and nodded to each other.
Amaranthe leaned her back against the edge. As much as she wanted to watch Sicarius play, she meant to take her task seriously. Still, she could not help but glance at the action from time to time.
The shell men were spaced far enough apart that one could not observe each directly. Sicarius studied the middle table master and presumably watched the other two with his peripheral vision. As soon as the shuffling ended, he promptly pointed to each of the shells holding the tokens. The first time, the table masters shrugged and congratulated him. As he continued to win, the congratulatory comments grew less frequent. He never said a word, simply pointing to the correct shells. His one coin turned into a stack, and then several stacks of coins and ranmya bills, both of which he kept tidy and even.
A buzz grew amongst the onlookers. More people drifted over, blocking Amaranthe’s view of the surrounding area. She wished she were taller. With so many bodies pressing close, it would be hard to pick out onlookers with malignant intent.
Maldynado ambled by with a woman on his arm. He asked the lady if she might be inclined to fetch a couple of drinks, then strolled close enough to speak to Amaranthe.
“How come I’m working and he’s playing games?” Maldynado tilted his chin toward Sicarius, who remained focused on the table.
“Is that what you were doing with that woman?” Amaranthe asked, continuing to watch the crowd. “Working?”
“Of course. She’s my cover. It’d be unnatural for such a fine looking fellow as myself to be here without a woman.”
“Uh huh. Find anyone who recognizes that man yet?”
“Nope, but those fobs are everywhere,” he said.
“I noticed. Keep asking about the man, please.”
Maldynado shrugged and ambled off to accept a drink from his lady. They disappeared into the crowd.
A gorgeous woman in a low-cut dress slithered up to Sicarius’s other side. “You’re doing well, aren’t you?” she purred, leaning against him.
“Oh, please,” Amaranthe muttered.
Sicarius, eyes focused on the game, did not acknowledge the woman. Amaranthe wondered if she worked for the house. A pretty lady to distract male customers earning too much money?
“How would you like to take your winnings and go off to have some fun?” The woman started to reach an arm around Sicarius’s waist, not daunted by the number of weapons sheathed there.
Without looking at her, he caught her wrist. “Leave.”
In the next breath, he pointed at the appropriate shells. The table masters revealed his correct choices and shared sighs with each other.
Sicarius pushed the woman away. She was smart enough to go.
Someone two rows back grunted and tipped forward, as if bumped hard from behind.
Amaranthe smacked Sicarius’s arm. “Might be-”
A pair of swordsmen shoved people aside and launched themselves at Sicarius’s back. Amaranthe had no time to draw a weapon. She threw herself into a roll at the men’s legs, hoping to distract them long enough for Sicarius to take action.
A boot slammed into her ribs. One of the men toppled, landing on her. She grunted and managed to jab her elbow into his jaw as she squirmed away. He dropped his sword, and, ignoring her, jumped to his feet and lunged toward Sicarius…in time to receive a dagger in the chest.
The other man was already dead on the floor, a throwing knife protruding from his eye.
The crowd fell silent, staring at Sicarius.
Hand pressed to her side, Amaranthe climbed to her feet. Sicarius raised his eyebrows slightly. She nodded. Her ribs would hurt tomorrow, but she would be fine.
He collected his weapons and cleaned them with unhurried precision. A couple of his coin stacks had toppled. He fixed them, straightened the bills, and told the table masters, “Begin.”
Bouncers came to collect the bodies. A new buzz started up in the crowd, though the people continuing to watch Sicarius play stood farther back. Good. More space made it easier to see attackers coming up.
One of the table masters flagged a bouncer down and whispered something in his ear. Also good. That ought to be the message to the boss. In the meantime, Sicarius’s stacks continued to grow.
“Why have you been assassinating people all your life,” Amaranthe whispered, “when you can earn this kind of money in a single night?”
Sicarius pointed out another series of winners. “Gambling houses exist to profit; they quickly get rid of people who win too much. But your plan implies you already know that.”
Amaranthe smiled and put her back to the table again, wincing as she bumped her ribs. She hoped the blood staining the rug would deter further bounty hunters.
“Next time just warn me,” Sicarius added. “I can handle two men without you emulating a footstool.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. It had been a thoughtless move. She had martial arts and swordsmanship training; she ought not end up in a tangled jumble on the floor.
She groped for a face-saving comment. “So, I should wait until there are six men before trying to help you?”
She must have sounded stung, because he looked away from the game to meet her eyes. She thought he might say something apologetic, or at least conciliatory, but a table master called for bets-others were cashing in on his success now too-and he returned his attention to play. Amaranthe went back to standing watch.
Soon more bouncers showed up, the two from the hallway and two new ones. The one who had been most talkative gave her a why-am-I-not-surprised-this-is-about-you head shake.
“Will you come with us, sir?” he asked Sicarius, his tone far more placating than earlier.
Sicarius removed his winnings from the table. He lacked space for it all and handed half to Amaranthe. She ogled the stack of ranmyas before stuffing them into pockets and her shirt. If the house let them walk out the door with it all, she could think of a lot of gear and supplies she could purchase for the team. Sicarius might even get his steam carriage.
The bouncers led them into the rear hallway, and Amaranthe forced her thoughts back to the present. The owner would be scheming to keep Sicarius from escaping with his earnings.
The hall spawned several other halls, and they turned and turned again. Closed doors lined the walls, all with locks. She fingered the key in her pocket. Maybe she should have taken the time to go outside and talk with Akstyr.
A shirtless young man walked out of the door at the end of the hallway, his hair tousled and bite marks on his neck. He ducked his head as he passed the bouncers and hastened through a doorway.
“Guess we know why the owner is too busy to talk to folks without an appointment,” Amaranthe muttered.
The talkative bouncer grunted in what might have been agreement. He knocked at the door.
“Send him in,” a woman said.
Him. Guess that meant Amaranthe was going to be reduced to furniture in the conversation again.
A pair of bouncers strode in ahead of Sicarius and Amaranthe, and the two others crowded after. The office inside was spacious, but not that spacious. Elbows bumped her, and someone trod on her foot. The scent of musk oil thickened the air.
Responding to some gesture Amaranthe could not see, the four bouncers lined up against the wall, two on either side of the door. Sicarius stood so he could watch them and the woman behind the desk without putting his back to anyone. Amaranthe stepped onto a rug in the center of the office.
The woman sat in a chair, posture perfect, graying hair in a bun, and not a wrinkle marring her khaki dress. She had plucked her eyebrows out and drawn precise thin lines in their place. She was…not what Amaranthe expected, and she glanced about, wondering if someone else-someone younger-might be in the room. Maybe her assumptions about what the shirtless man had been doing in here were incorrect.