“What happens if several people get the same score?” asked Sorak.
“Then the pot is divided equally by the number of winners who tie for the highest score,” Krysta replied. “The sixth and final pass opens up Hawke’s Gambit, where the players can wager not only on the outcome of the sixth pass, but on the final tally of the entire round. The house only takes a small percentage of the winning pot at the end of every round. And that is all there is to it. Simple.”
“Simple enough to lose your shirt,” said Eyron. “Four ceramics to begin the game, ten for the second pass, eighteen for the third, twenty-eight for the fourth, forty for the fifth, and sixty for the final pass. That’s one hundred and sixty ceramics for each round, or sixteen silver pieces. That amounts to almost two gold pieces per round. Small wonder this female can afford to make a belt of them. She strips the breeches off her customers.”
“Perhaps,” said Sorak, answering Eyron in his mind, “but not all her customers have the ability to control how the dice may fall. This is not all that different from the psionic exercises we had in the villichi convent.” Aloud, he said to Krysta, “And one may withdraw from a round at any time?”
“Once the wager has been made, a player is committed to the pass,” she said, “but a player is free to withdraw from the round prior to the wagering for any subsequent pass.”
“It would seem that a wise player would risk wagering only on the first pass, and unless he wins, withdraw until the beginning of the next round,” the Guardian said. “To continue wagering after a loss would only increase the risk.”
“Either way, the house stands to lose nothing, and wins on every round by taking a percentage,” Eyron said. “Running a gaming house appears to be a very lucrative profession.”
The game lord announced that a new round was about to begin.
“Would you care to try your luck?” asked Krysta. “Why not?” said Sorak, and he stepped up to the table.
There were four players, including himself, who elected to game on this round. Krysta stood by his side, watching and holding on to his arm. The game lord cast an uneasy glance at Tigra, lying on the floor at Sorak’s feet, but Krysta gave him a nod, and he moistened his lips nervously, then commenced the game.
“Four ceramics to open on the first pass,” he announced. “Four ceramics. Ante up into the pot.”
Each of the players tossed down four ceramic pieces. The game lord used his scoop to rake them up and then dropped them into the small black cauldron set in front of him.
“First pass, Player One,” he said, pushing the pyramid-shaped die toward a tall, thin, intense-looking human male across from Sorak. He had the look of a merchant, for he was very finely dressed and wore heavy gold and silver rings on several fingers of both hands. He picked up the die and blew on it lightly as he shook it in a loosely clasped fist, then rolled. It came up a three.
“Player One rolls three,” the game lord said, scooping up the die. “First pass, Player Two.”
Player Two, a young human female with a hungry look about her, rolled the die between both palms while she whispered, “Come on, come on,” under her breath, then cast with a flourish.
“Player Two rolls one,” the game lord said, as the woman winced and made a grimace. “First pass, Player Three.”
Player Three, a heavyset and balding man who perspired freely, picked up the die and stared at it intently, as if willing it to do his bidding. He took a deep breath and then rolled.
“Player Three rolls two,” the game-lord announced. The balding man swore softly. “First pass, Player Four.”
Krysta picked up the die and handed it to Sorak. “Good luck,” she said.
“Best not to make it look too easy,” Sorak said, as he slipped back and allowed the Guardian to come to the fore. Casually, she rolled the die.
“Player Four rolls three, for a tie,” the game lord said. “First pass winnings, sixteen ceramics, split two ways, eight to Players One and Four. Second pass, ten ceramics to open, ante up, please.”
“You see? You have doubled your money,” Krysta said with a knowing smile. “Your luck is good tonight Why not stay in?”
“Why not?” said Sorak. He put down ten ceramics. The other three players all stayed in, as well.
On the second pass, Player One rolled a four. Player Two beat him with a six, then Player Three topped them both with a ten. The dice came to Sorak. “Second pass, Player Four,” the game lord said. “You need a ten to tie.” “Roll nine,” said Sorak.
“Nine?” said Kivara. “But we can do no better than a tie on this pass, and nine will lose!”
“Roll nine,” Sorak said again. “It will keep the score up for the final tally, but still give us a loss to allay any suspicion.”
“Very clever,” Eyron said. “But we shall have to watch the tally closely.”
“I intend to,” Sorak said.
The Guardian rolled nine.
“Player Four rolls nine,” the game lord announced. “Not enough to tie, the win goes to Player Three, forty ceramics. Third pass, eighteen to open, ante up, please.”
“What a shame,” said Krysta. “But you were only one point away from a tie, which would have brought you winnings. Try again.”
On the third pass, the thin, dark merchant rolled an eleven. The anxious young woman rolled an eight, for her third loss. She bit her lower lip and clenched her fists. The heavyset man also rolled an eight, which gave him two losses and one win. The three dice were passed to Sorak.
“Roll ten,” said Sorak.
“No!” Kivara protested. “We need a win!”
“Not yet,” said Sorak. “Trust me.”
The Guardian rolled ten.
“Player Four rolls ten,” the game lord called out. “Not enough, the win goes to Player One, seventy-two ceramics. Fourth pass, twenty-eight ceramics to open, ante up, please.”
“My luck does not seem to be holding,” Sorak said. “But you were still only one point away,” said Krysta. “You are not doing badly. But you may quit now, if you wish.”
“Not when I am down twenty-four ceramics,” Sorak said tensely.
On the fourth pass, Player One rolled sixteen. Player Two rolled ten, for her fourth loss in a row, and she was beginning to look frantic. Player Three rolled a nineteen and looked well pleased with himself.