He turned to the nearest guard and ordered the camp broken down and moved. He ordered them to remove the tent over our heads, and if necessary the carpets and everything else. If the game was still in progress, they were to depart quietly, leaving only the small table we used, and we would catch up. Then, he turned his attention back to defeating me with renewed vigor.
They struck the tent. The carpets were removed, rolled and loaded on wagons. We moved only enough for the last one to be taken from beneath us. I ignored the slaves and guards, all of which were staring in fascination at the crazy pair of us, neither as much as looking up to see what was happening.
He was more than a good player. He was very good. He was prideful in his skill at the game. Aside from that pride, he had few detriments, and his pride was how I’d use him to get my way when the time was right. He also had a ‘tell’ when happy. Twice he had powerful hands that might have ended the game, but I forfeited the pots early and lost minimal amounts because of it. Watching for his left cheek to twitch was not cheating. He was free to do the same to me as part of the game.
Gradually, the stack of coins again shifted my way. Gradual because greed always loses at games of chance, so I had to play conservatively. We had both played cautiously early, protecting the coins we had rather than risking them on aggressive bets. He saw the subtle shift in my style and played a little more aggressively, which was a poor choice for him. Twice he lost hands he shouldn’t have played. The game reached a point where one good deal would allow me to take the remainder of his coins. His face grew redder as he realized the squeeze game I now played. I took no risks and bet only small amounts or folded my hand unless I had a sure winner. He won a few coins here and there, and I did the same. However, I took all the larger pots, or I didn’t play. He grew frustrated.
Near midday, he glanced at the only three remaining coins in front of him. His hand was probably marginal, but he lacked the coins to continue playing if he lost them. He slid all three to the center as a final challenge. A bluff. I saw no sign of the facial tic that indicated he held any power tiles, so I carefully matched his wager. When exposed, his hand was poor, mine worse. The pot was small. Instead of scooping up the winnings, he settled himself back and said, “Why?”
“Why?”
“You knew you would lose that hand. You held nothing but played, anyhow. That is not like you.”
I said, “Perhaps I misjudged.”
“What have I missed?” He settled back, pulling away from the table as he considered what happened. His voice was as cold as a mountain stream in spring. “You knew I’d win that miserable hand and yet you played anyhow, drawing my full attention at the prospect of a winning hand. Are you trying to delay the game by letting me win small amounts, so it continues forever? If it is your plan, that won’t work.”
“I admit that I did it to distract you, but not to delay the game,” I said.
“Why? That makes no sense.”
I placed my tiles in front of me, face down. “Your only bodyguard who remained here to protect you was taken prisoner at the point of an arrow while we played that hand. He is now tied with strong rope and is weaponless.”
The Slave-Master nodded once. He accepted my explanation without even glancing behind to see if it was true. He knew it was. “So, you were playing two games.”
I lowered my eyes to the table. “This one is not over. You are a good player.”
He didn’t turn as my sister advanced into the clearing with the massive guard hobbling in front of her. His hands, legs, and ankles were tied. She used my sword to prod him now and then and to remind him of who was in command.
“Are you ready to leave, Damon?” she asked.
“No,” I muttered. “I have a game to win.”
“If you lose?” the Slave-Master asked.
I looked at him, his dark skin glistening in the heat. “I gave you my word. The rules remain the same.”
He bent over the table and examined his new tiles. I watched for the tic but decided it could be from a good hand or from the respect I gave him in keeping to our rules. He ignored Kendra as if she was not there. I didn’t see or hear the girls but assumed they were close.
Kendra said to me in the tone equivalent to a sisterly eye-roll, “You’re going to sit there in the hot sun and play that silly game all day?”
“If that’s what it takes. If I lose, you will have to leave me here as his slave.” I saw the rebuke coming from her and shook my head. “Sorry, I gave my word.” Then, I turned my attention back to the game. He won several small pots; I won a few larger. The distribution of the coins remained the same until well into the afternoon when he adjusted his position, and I noticed the tell again. He had a strong hand and intended to play it hard. He stood a chance of earning back half the coins on the table in one hand.
However, as luck often provides, I had four fives. Only four sixes in his hand could defeat me, and I held one of those sixes along with my fives. In short, there was no hand that could defeat mine. His hand might be strong in normal circumstances, but mine was better. He wagered conservatively, hoping to draw me in so he could later increase the wager and take more of my money.
I did not know his hand, only that mine couldn’t be beaten, so his didn’t matter. I let him bet to match my wager while fighting to keep my face placid. Even the hint of a smile would warn him, and he would throw in his hand. He raised again, and I hesitated theatrically before finally and hopefully appearing reluctant to match his wager. As I wished, he pushed all of his remaining money to the center, nearly half of everything we played for was now there. I matched his bet. He displayed a very good hand with a confident smile. His tiles would win nine out of ten hands.
I showed mine. The blood drained from his face, He stood and stretched his legs. When his voice finally sounded, it was almost a reluctant grunt. “You are free.”
“Thank you,” I said while fighting the smile that threatened to fill my face. “Half the coins are yours to repay the generous loan. The rest are yours to buy my freedom. You are an honorable man, and I assume you will not attempt to capture me again.”
He scowled as his eyes fell to the bodyguard trussed up near the edge of the clearing, “Am I also free to leave?”
“Soon. We may keep you and your guard here for a short while, just to make sure there are no problems. And to ask a few friendly questions. Just conversation between old friends.”
The Slave-Master spat in the direction of his guard. “You can keep that worthless scum for yourself. He’s no good to me letting a slip of a girl like her to take him prisoner.”
The guard hung his head in shame. His eyes were damp.
I said, “Sir, there are two things you should know. First, is that my sister can probably defeat any two of your men in a fair fight, she can defeat any three of them in one unfair. Second, she has unseen help at hand when she requires it, which is not often. Kendra, will you call your backup?”
She smiled. I heard the sound of leather wings before the Slave-Master, but when he did, his head tilted upward, and he watched the dragon approach. It made a dainty landing at the other end of the clearing if the weight of ten cows smashing the earth can be dainty. The ground shook. The leaves and dust from the great wings took a while to settle. When it did, the dragon stood on all four legs peering at us. It sniffed, then snorted as if it didn’t like what it smelled. I didn’t like the smell of it, either.
“I stood no chance at winning, did I?” the Slave-Master asked dejectedly, while his eyes remained locked on the dragon. That was not a criticism, but just good sense. He’d never seen a dragon, probably didn’t believe in them, and to his credit, he hadn’t run off in panic at her appearance.