Soothsayer (13 page)

The Mouse spotted the Forever Kid sitting by himself at a table that was midway between the tavern and casino areas, then turned to Penelope. “Go and sit with the Kid,” she said.

Penelope nodded, stopped by the bar to borrow a deck of cards, allowed the bartender to fill an elegant cocktail glass with fruit juice, then joined the Forever Kid at his table.

The Mouse turned to face the Iceman.

"What's your decision, Carlos?"

"If you insist on using the little girl, I'm withdrawing my protection."

"I've
got
to have more money,” said the Mouse. “I'll have to count on my other protector."

"
Him?
” said the Iceman, jerking his head in the Forever Kid's direction. “Forget about it. He couldn't protect you for five seconds in here."

"He's managed to protect people for more than two centuries,” said the Mouse.

The Iceman shook his head. “He's been
killing
people for more than two centuries. There's a difference. And the only reason he's still alive is because he protects himself first and his clients second.” The Iceman looked around the bar and the casino. “There are six men and three women here, each of whom is pretty damned good as his job. Any of them would kill you and steal the child the second my protection was lifted. Even the Forever Kid can't save you from all of them."

The Mouse surveyed the interior of the building, trying to spot the nine people in question. Two or three she knew from their holographs, another from his weapons ... but she realized that more than half of them were unknown to her.

"It's your decision,” said the Iceman. “You do what you think best.” He paused. “But remember what I said. If you use the little girl against King Tout, I'm—"

Just then a man and an alien entered the End of the Line, and the Iceman frowned.

"What is it?” asked the Mouse anxiously.

"Nothing,” said the Iceman.

"Don't tell
me
it's nothing, Carlos,” she admonished him. “I've seen that expression before."

He turned to her. “You know what I told you about not using the girl?"

"Yes."

"Forget it.” He nodded his head almost imperceptibly toward the two newcomers. “Your friend just evened the odds."

She turned until she could just see them out of the corner of her eye.

"Who are they?” she asked.

"The man is called the Golden Duke. Ever hear of him?"

She shook her head.

"Well, take a good look at him,” said the Iceman softly, “and if you ever see him anywhere but on Last Chance, run like hell."

"A killer?” she asked.

"A little bit of everything,” replied the Iceman, staring at the tall, almost skeletal human. The Golden Duke obviously possessed some Oriental ancestry, which was apparent in the shape of his eyes, the tint of his skin, the prominence of his cheekbones, his straight black hair. He moved with the smooth grace of an athlete, as if he was prepared to change directions and speeds instantly. He carried no weapons, but his right arm ended in a prosthetic hand made entirely of gold, a hand that hid four lethal, retractable knives, one in each long, lean, golden finger.

"He's been known to run drugs back in the Democracy,” continued the Iceman, “and he's also done a bit of arson."

The Golden Duke and his companion seated themselves at King Tout's table, and suddenly the other players all seemed to remember that they had pressing engagements elsewhere and made a mass exodus to neighboring tables or the long chrome bar.

"A gambler, too?” asked the Mouse.

"Not much of one,” replied the Iceman.

"Then why is he sitting at the card table?"

"I imagine that King Tout has invited him to play cards with you."

"But you just said—"

"I said he wasn't a gambler.” The Iceman paused. “If he helps King Tout cheat you, it isn't gambling, is it?"

"How do you think they'll try to cheat?” asked the Mouse.

"They'll probably whipsaw you,” replied the Iceman.

"Whipsaw?” she repeated, puzzled.

"They'll have some way of signaling each other which of them has the best hand. The other two will drop out early, so if you win, it's a much smaller pot, but if you lose, you're going to have to pay just as much to see the winning hand, because the one holding it will keep raising like there's no tomorrow."

"I see,” said the Mouse. She nodded to the alien. “Who's
that
one?"

"Her?” said the Iceman, looking at the humanoid alien with wideset orange eyes, broad nostrils, a reddish wig that barely covered her gaping earholes, and a body suit that kept recirculating a clear fluid across her torso and legs. “They call her September Morn. She
is
a gambler, and a damned good one. She's King Tout's shill on alien worlds.” He continued to stare at her. “She doesn't actually breathe the liquid through gills or anything like that, but she's got to keep her body moist. If that suit stops running water over her for more than a couple of minutes, she curls up and dies ... or at least goes into some kind of catatonic state that's just about the same as being dead."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen the suit malfunction on a member of her race,” answered the Iceman. “Not a pretty sight.” He paused. “Not a pretty smell, for that matter."

They were both silent for a moment, and then the Mouse turned to him.

"What would happen if King Tout tried to kill me at the table? You're not even carrying a weapon."

"This is
my
world: I don't need one. And he won't try anything."

"But
if
he did."

"Then he'd have eleven holes in him before he could aim his pistol."

"You have eleven men watching him?"

"Twelve,” answered the Iceman. “I assume one will miss."

"Where are they?"

"Around."

"They're very well-hidden,” said the Mouse, scanning the tavern and casino.

"They're supposed to be."

"How many are behind that mirror?” she continued, nodding her head toward the huge mirror behind the bar.

"A few."

"It's a one-way mirror, isn't it?"

The Iceman almost smiled. “They wouldn't be much use to me there if it wasn't, would they?"

"No, I suppose not,” she answered. “Well,” she added, looking across the room, “I suppose I'd better go over to the table and let King Tout and his friends do their worst."

"Just remember: they're not stupid."

She smiled with more confidence than she suddenly felt. “It's only money."

"You have something more valuable than money, and you're taking a chance on losing it,” said the Iceman, glancing across the room at Penelope. “King Tout and his friends don't know who or what she is yet, but if either of you screw up, he'll figure it out pretty damned quick."

"We're still under your protection,” she reminded him.

"I thought you were playing to raise money for a ship,” he replied. “Once you take off from Last Chance, you're on your own."

She stared at him for a moment, looking for some sign of emotion—annoyance, jealousy, anything—but finding none. Then she turned and walked rapidly across the tavern into the casino, approached King Tout's table, and seated herself where she could watch Penelope without making it too obvious.

"Good evening, ma'am,” said King Tout. “I trust you're ready to give me a chance to win some of my money back?"

"If you can,” said the Mouse.

"It looks like a small game tonight,” said King Tout. “Just the four of us."

"Suits me,” said the Mouse.

"Fine. This gentleman on my left is called the Duke"—she smiled politely at the Golden Duke, who stared impassively at her—"and this charming lady is September.” The alien called September Morn inclined her head slightly and briefly contorted her face into a smile.

"Same game as last night?” asked the Mouse.

"That'll be just fine, ma'am,” said King Tout.

The Mouse signaled to the banker, who opened the safe and brought a number of thousand-credit chips to the table, placing them down in three neat stacks directly in front of her.

"Shall we raise the ante to two thousand tonight?” suggested King Tout.

"It sounds like you're in a hurry to get your money back,” said the Mouse.

He shrugged. “If you'd rather not..."

She stared at him. “No, two thousand is fine—if you'll get an unopened deck from the bar."

"That's shows a serious lack of trust, ma'am,” said King Tout, though he looked unsurprised.

"We're playing for a serious amount of money,” she answered.

He shrugged, then called for a fresh deck. He had the Mouse open it, then shoved two chips to the center of the table and shuffled the cards with an easy precision while the other three players placed their chips atop his.

The Mouse won the first hand, then lost three small pots in a row. The Golden Duke seemed totally uninterested in the game, dropping out of each hand early and never taking his dark, piercing eyes from her. September Morn played her hands with more skill and more subtlety, and won two of the pots.

Then the Mouse hit big, winning sixty thousand credits when her four jacks beat King Tout's full house. After that the whipsawing began, with the Golden Duke, King Tout and September Morn began taking turns riding out each hand; the one with the poorer cards always folded early, leaving the other to bet against the Mouse. The Mouse couldn't quite tell how they were signaling each other, nor did she particularly care.

The game went on for another hour, the Mouse gradually accumulating more money, until at last, as the deal came around to King Tout once more, he stopped shuffling and stared at her for a long moment.

"You're a very lucky card player, ma'am,” he said at last.

"Maybe I'm just talented,” she replied.

He shook his head. “No, I'd have to say that you're lucky."

She shrugged. “Have it your way: I'm lucky."

"
Very
lucky."

"Are you accusing me of cheating?” asked the Mouse.

"I would never accuse you of cheating without knowing how you did it."

"You know, it doesn't sound any better that way."

"How could you be cheating?” asked King Tout with an expression that belied his words. “Why, if my friend the Duke thought for even a moment that you were cheating, he'd cut your heart out right here at the table. If there's one thing the Duke hates, it's a cheater."

"Yeah, well, your friend the Duke could use some lessons in poker,” said the Mouse.

"Poker's not really his specialty,” said King Tout meaningfully.

The Mouse looked briefly at the Golden Duke. “I can believe that.” She pushed her chair back. “This is becoming rather unpleasant,” she announced. “I think I've had enough for tonight."

"How much have you got in your pile there?” asked King Tout.

"I don't know,” said the Mouse.

King Tout stared at her chips. “Looks to be about two hundred thousand."

"If you say so."

"I'll tell you what, ma'am,” said King Tout. “I'll cut you for it."

"For the whole pot?"

He nodded.

The Mouse took a quick glance in Penelope's direction, but the little girl was seemingly involved in her solitaire game. Which makes sense, decided the Mouse; she can't tell me if I'll win or lose until I decide whether or not I'll even agree to play.

"What if I declined?” asked the Mouse. “Respectfully, of course."

"I think my friend the Duke would take it as a personal insult,” answered King Tout.

The Mouse returned his smile. “My friend the Iceman might not like that."

"Then let's leave our friends out of it,” said King Tout. “Let's make it just you and me. We'll cut for the whole pot.” He pulled an unopened deck out of his pocket. “And we'll use a fresh deck."

"I kind of liked the one we were playing with."

"For this kind of money, we should use a brand new deck."

The Mouse considered asking him to get a deck from the bar, but decided to look at Penelope first. She saw no negative signal, and she finally nodded her agreement.

"Okay,” she said. “You match what I've got here and we'll cut just once for it.” She paused. “If you lose, you lose. We don't go double or nothing. You could keep that up all night until you finally won."

"Agreed,” said King Tout. He broke open the deck and shuffled the cards, then placed them on the table.

"Be my guest,” he said.

"You go first,” she replied.

"I'd really prefer that you cut first."

She shook her head. “It's
my
money. If you want a chance at it, you cut first."

"As you wish,” he said. His hand reached out, caressed the deck swiftly, and then cut to a king.

The Mouse looked at Penelope, who seemed oblivious to anything but her solitaire game. Finally Mouse cleared her throat, reached out, paused hesitantly for a moment, and placed her fingers carefully on the sides of the deck.

And then Penelope spilled her glass of fruit juice, and made a distracting clatter as she jumped back from the table to avoid getting it on her clothes.

"Are you all right?” asked the Mouse, her hand once more poised above the deck.

"I'm sorry,” said Penelope, starting to wipe her table with a napkin. “I was just clumsy. Are you mad at me?"

"No, of course not,” said the Mouse.

"Ma'am,” said King Tout impatiently. “We're waiting on you."

The Mouse stared at the deck, then took a deep breath and cut the cards—and came away with an ace.

"My congratulations, ma'am,” said King Tout, getting to his feet and bowing deeply. “I guess tonight just wasn't my night."

September Morn also arose, but the Golden Duke remained seated, still staring impassively at her. Finally, when King Tout and the alien reached the door, he stood up and walked silently after them.

As she had the previous evening, Penelope walked over and joined the Mouse, while the Forever Kid remained at his table.

"Well, we did it!” whispered the Mouse, trying to control her excitement and elation. “What was that business with the spilled glass?"

"I saw that if you cut the cards, you'd draw a three, so I tried to see how to change it,” explained Penelope. “If I shrieked and you looked up, you'd draw a jack, and if I did other things you'd draw other cards ... but I saw that if I spilled the juice, you'd draw an ace. It all depended on how startled you were and how much you moved your hand."