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.
##
The play went on, Pass round, Claiming round, Pass and Claim for the four doubles of each Chapter. Rose went down badly on the first chapter, the dice were all right after the first round, but the combinations were miserable and nothing she could do during the Claimings was enough to make up for the weak Sets.
Barangkaly continued his expansive style and rode his luck to a win in the first Chapter, but went down and down on those that followed.
Second Chapter. Rose still had bad cards, but finessed a tie with Pulleet who she judged the second best player at the table.
Tayteknas was a steady though not brilliant player, Kahtik was tight, overly cautious, wasting opportunities. Rose relaxed. He was no threat. Uj was mostly cautious, but he had a propensity for wild chances that sometimes paid off and sometimes didn’t; he was unexpected, difficult to read-and she got a strong feeling from the others that it wasn’t a good idea to challenge him when his calls were questionable. Lice, she thought. One of the Papa Policer’s boys. Nikeldy was a plodding player. Negligible. He sweat a lot and lost consistently even with fair hands.
She won the third Chapter outright and after that could have won them all, she had the measure of the players and the rhythm of the game, but thought it wasn’t wise to clean them out, especially Uj. The fourth Chapter she split with Uj, the fifth she dropped out early.
They took a Nosh break between the fifth and sixth Chapters, the usual time. This was the time she’d come for, when the relaxation of the tension from the game also relaxed internal censors and a lot of good gossip got going.
The Shimmery had set up a Nosh table along the wall with local wines, teas, and a version of kaff which smelled to her like burnt toast. Rose filled a plate with fingerfood and a glass with the white varnish she was developing a taste for. It went well with the nibbles the Shimmery provided, cutting the force of the ghawang that the Rummer cooks seemed to put in everything. She sipped, chewed, circulated, mostly listening, contributing a nod of her head here, a murmur of agreement there, her ears stretched to catch anything remotely relevant to her search.
Kahtik signed a query, wondering if she might be free-tech also.
Effortlessly she returned an assent (aware of Uj watching both of them), stayed where she was as the freetech drifted over to her.
“Hunting?” His voice was high, flat; there was a scar on his throat from a wound that had almost decapitated him. With meatfarms available to anyone with an income like his had to be, she didn’t understand why he hadn’t had that scar fixed. Some kind of perverse pride in the narrowness of his escape?
“No, I just came off a job. Scratching an itchy foot. Anything around bigger than local?”
He grinned at her. “What’s the need if you’re not looking?”
She rubbed her thumb back and forth across her fingertips. “Never turn down a chance at cash.”
“I’m industrial design. What’re you?”
“Programs and systems.”
“Just as well you’re not in the market. Ain’t any, not here, not for that. Unless the Mimishay Foundation.” He ran his eyes over her, shook his head. “And they wouldn’t hire you.”
“Why not? I’m damn good, though it’s me who says it.”
“You’re female. They don’t hire women.”
“Their loss.”
“You play a helluva game.”
She winked at him. “Programs and systems. ’Tall helps.”
He glanced past her, flickered his fingers at her (in the twitter of the digits a take-care sign) and drifted off.
Uj moved around in front of her, sipping at a hot fruity drink. “New ’round here,” he said. He had a commonplace voice, under the paint an ordinary face; he was neither tall nor short, dark nor light, shadowman, his edges shifting with the shifts of the wind.
“Hmm,” she said. “Your ordinary tourist.” She inspected her plate, selected a small roll of meat wrapped round a piece of fruit and took a bite of it. “Um,” she chewed, swallowed. “This is good. What is it?”
Uj smiled, a grimace that bared his teeth and got nowhere near his eyes. “Babi slin,” he said. “Why our world?”
“No reason, just general wanderfoot.” She popped the rest of the babi slin into her mouth, chewed, and washed it down with a gulp of wine. “I finished a job here in the Callidara and decided to take a look round.”