"You shouldn't." Dumarest sipped at his drink. "She gave you fair warning."
"In case you took advantage of me." Carina smiled. "Now I begin to understand. Use it and we might hire a room. I suppose she gets a commission."
A certainty as was the fact that most operating in the hotel would have hired floor space. Dumarest looked at the decorations lining the alcove, all dusty with time and neglect, all needing attention the management couldn't afford to provide.
"Not bad." Carina set down her glass. "A little insipid but I suppose that's what the spices are for. How about food, Earl? Hungry?"
"I can wait."
"I can't. I haven't eaten all day. Shall we try the restaurant?"
"No." His tone ended the matter.
"What then?" Before he could answer she added, "Don't you think it's time you told me what all this is about?"
"You know what it's about. I want to find a man."
"Kelly?"
Probably not his own name; used for the occasion. Without a description he would be difficult to find. Dumarest finished his drink and rose. As Carina moved from the alcove to join him he said, "Move among the tables and check the gamblers. Those playing and those watching as well as the men running the games. Look for scratches on face and neck and hands."
"Jarl said he was running a table."
"Kelly could be acting as a shill. Placing bets and winning by arrangement to encourage the others to plunge. Just check. If you spot anything let me know." He caught her arm as she went to move away. "Don't make it obvious. Just act like a woman out for an evening's fun."
Dumarest watched as she pushed her way into the crowd. She didn't look back, which was good, but she had snatched free her arm as if his hand had burned her flesh. Maybe she just didn't like to be touched. Now he had other things to worry about.
A girl stood to one side selling wrapped portions of stimulating gum. Dumarest smiled as he met her eyes, moved toward her as she smiled in return. Jarl had carried a little money and he dropped some into her tray.
"How's business?"
"The usual."
"Which means it could be better." He selected a portion of gum and held it as he glanced over the salon. "Are all the gamblers here tonight? The regulars, I mean. Those running the tables."
"I think so."
"Could you be sure?" Dumarest added more money to the first. "Please."
She craned her neck then nodded, "As I said. None missing."
"And last night?"
Like the girl who had served the drinks her eyes were painted with dye and glitters. They hardened with sudden suspicion. "What is this, mister?"
"I'm running a check," said Dumarest casually. "If a table's left unworked there's a chance I could move in. If a substitute took over I'd like to know that too. It would help." His smile added to his meaning. "I'd appreciate anything you could tell me." He dropped the portion of gum back into her tray. "Help me now and there could be more later."
For a moment she hesitated, then: "Three tables were closed last night: the cage, the spectrum and the high-low-man-in-between. Lenny runs that one and I know for a fact he was sick. The poker table had a substitute. That's the lot, mister." She smiled as he dropped more coins into her tray. "Thanks-and good luck!"
Lenny was thin, frail, coughing as he called to the crowd. "Place your bets and pick up your winnings. Back high, low or man-in-between. One gets you two. Place your bets, you lucky people. Place your bets."
A simple game with a quick turnover, the odds, as always, with the house. But the thin hands were unscratched and the frail body could never have carried an eighty-pound pack through the brush.
The cage held dice and stood on a layout marked with various combinations and odds. The man running it was gaunt, hollow-chested, gasping for breath as he ran his game. It was poorly attended and Dumarest guessed he would soon be in need of a new pitch.
Spectrum was like poker; seven cards with a double discard, the object being to get one card of each color. Odds were placed on the value of various combinations. The game was favored by those who liked to extend their losses and was not preferred by professional gamblers. It was symptomatic of local conditions that the table was thronged.
The dealer was young and carried plaster on one cheek.
Dumarest looked at him, remembering the couple he had seen back in Jarl's hotel. The same man? If so, where was the woman?
He backed and moved with deliberate casualness among those watching the game. The woman had had dark hair set in tight curls, was as tall as her companion, her skin a soft brown. All he had gained at a fleeting glimpse but he remembered the tone of her voice, its curt harshness. If they had been lovers, why had she objected with such violence? A business association, then, the man her pimp.
Dumarest turned as the dealer looked in his direction. If the man was Kelly he would recognize Dumarest; an advantage Dumarest lacked. Yet if he was, why had he been in the hotel and why the charade to disguise his scratched face?
A trap?
Dumarest considered the possibility as he stood before a mirrored pillar, watching the dealer, the others clustered around the table. Jarl set with the gun loaded with its stunning charge-if he hadn't used the drugs he could have used it to paralyze Dumarest as he came through the door. Had Kelly seen him as he questioned the old woman? Dropped the bloodstained wad of tissue as bait? Hired the woman to talk at the right moment to provide a neat excuse for the wounded cheek?
Had he been scratched by her fingernails or by thorns?
Reflected in the mirror Dumarest saw the sheen of golden hair and the warm shimmer of a scarlet gown. As Carina joined him she said, "Nothing, Earl. Everyone I saw was clean."
Dumarest said, "The dealer on the spectrum table has a scratched face. Could you tell if it was done with thorns or nails?"
"Fingernails? Yes. A thorn would act as a claw and make a deep and narrow wound. Fingernails would yield a broader and more shallow wound." She added, "But how will you get the plaster off for me to see?"
A rip would do it but she would need time to make her examination. To pick a fight would be best. To knock the man down and bare the cheek and wait for Carina to make her decision.
"Trail me," he said. "Keep well back as if we were strangers. When he goes down come in fast-you know what to do."
Turning from the pillar, Dumarest moved back toward the spectrum table. The dealer, engrossed, had his eyes on the cards, the players hoping to win. A moment demanding full concentration as he gauged the strength of their hands, their willingness to bluff. A good time to move in.
"Earl!" Dumarest halted as a hand fell on his arm. "Man, it's good to see you!" It was Emil Zarse, who had traveled to Shard on the same ship. He was an entrepreneur interested in seeing what could be gained from the abandoned workings, a wisp of a man with a seamed and wrinkled face now expressing genuine regret. "Too bad what happened, Earl. I told you you'd be better off coming in with me. How long were you out there? Three weeks-and to lose it all."
Dumarest said, "How did you know I'd been robbed?"
"He told me." Zarse glanced toward the poker table, indicated the man who stood in the dealer's place. "Ca Lee."
Ca Lee was big and bland with slanted eyes and a thick mass of dark hair neatly arranged in a series of curls-a man with a decadent air; someone who would take pleasure in another's pain. His hands were deft as he dealt the cards, his voice a warmly feral purr as he droned the results.
"A lady, no help. A ten to make a pair. A deuce to match two others. A lord, no help. A seven, no help. Deuces to bet."
Seven-card stud and the holder of the three deuces, a woman, trembled in her eagerness to ride her luck. The last card had yet to be played but Dumarest guessed she had another pair hidden. Guessed too that Ca Lee would hold the better hand.