Тим Пауэрс - Bugs and Known Problems

Whatever Asher’s source of water, the trail of spills he’d left were big enough to be seen in the moonlight, she could follow along and find it herself. The thugs wouldn’t be but a few steps behind. As soon as they rounded the corner, they’d have a clear shot at her.

Just as another shot exploded, she saw it, and it was better than she could’ve hoped for. A watering trough. Jane didn’t slow one tick before diving in head-first. The warm water stank of horse hair. She snorted it up her nose, hoping to take in just enough to clear her nostrils. Jane gagged and choked, but the burn left her skin as the salt washed clear.

Bullets thunked into the side of the trough, one after another. It was too late. The trough shattered with a crack like thunder. Jane exploded up into dragon form, waves of water and shards of wood scattering a score of paces in every direction.

If the thugs had any salt left, they’d lost the nerve to give it another try. They turned tail and ran. Jane spit a burst of fire after them to make sure they knew what they’d get if they somehow found that nerve again.

Jane let her dragon body unform. The sensation of her tail whipping behind her faded into a ghost of itself, then disappeared completely. Bit by bit she lost any sense of touch in her wings and claws, until she dropped into a human body and her mind almost couldn’t imagine the feel of any other.

Dripping wet, she sagged with exhaustion. Only rage kept her on her feet.

Damn those bastards. That was supposed to have been her Opportunity. She’d won the luck, and Sorte cards never failed to deliver luck to the winner.

Pain stabbing her ribs with every movement, Jane pulled the duster off the thug she’d smashed against the wall and tugged it on. She had neither the time nor inclination to check if he was still breathing.

“Who are you?” she demanded, glaring at Asher. “Why’d you try to save me?”

Asher curled in on himself, shoulders hunched and head down, like a dog with a cruel master who expected another blow to come at any second.

“I’m nobody,” he said. He turned to walk away.

Jane caught his arm and spun him around.

“How come roping me didn’t work out for Gideon?” she asked.

“It weren’t him doing the deed,” Asher said. “His luck falls off sharply when it ain’t him actually doing the endeavoring.”

An alarm bell clanged and folks rushed from their homes to see the bright blaze crawling up the side of Gideon’s saloon. Jane slapped her gaucho hat back on her head. She stared at Asher, a deep frown pulling down her mouth.

“This weren’t no business of yours,” she said. “Why’d you go risking your life to help a stranger?”

Dancing firelight lit up one side of Asher’s trembling face. “What’s it matter?” he sputtered in a burst that was a bark of laughter and a cry of anguish both at the same time. “My life ain’t worth living. Only hope I got left is that Gideon’ll get angry enough to shoot me dead.”

Jane stared at him a moment longer while the gears in her mind clicked into place.

“You were on the losing side, weren’t you?” she said. “When Gideon won that Endeavor luck, he won it from you. Now anything you try to do fails. Even when all you’re trying to do is end your own life.”

Asher said nothing, just stood there fighting to hold back tears. And like everything else the man aspired to do, he failed.

For a flash, his eyes were those of another man. A man Jane had left to die in a cage.

Pomogi mne.

They’d been the only words he’d uttered, almost too weak to hear. Though she didn’t speak a word of Russian, there was no mistaking when a man was begging for his life.

Jane turned from Asher and set out walking with purpose. The voice of the Russian followed her.

Pomogi mne.

They’d shipped him across the Atlantic in an iron cage, to sell to the highest bidder. It had been darn near impossible to believe he could turn himself into one of those fearsome dragons they say terrorized the Ural Mountains so many years ago. Frail as a water reed and halfway starved to death, dragging him along would have slowed her down too much. She’d had to leave him behind. Her daughter needed her.

Why’d you leave him to die, Momma?

I only did what I had to, sweet girl. It won’t matter once we’re together again. You’ll never know the horrible things I had to do to get to you.

The townspeople all stood lined up on either side of the road, gawking like Jane was lead horse in a circus caravan parading itself through town. She met the stare of a tall fellow still dressed in his nightclothes.

“Gideon,” she growled.

The man pointed down the road to a castle of a house, so tall and wide it seemed to be pushing the neighboring buildings aside. Jane marched for it. She’d pull her Opportunity right out of Gideon’s hide if that’s what it took.

“Gideon!” she bellowed up at the balcony jutting out from the second floor of Gideon’s mansion. “Come face me yourself, you coward!”

A moment later, Gideon stormed out onto the balcony. He stared into the distance, where men ran in circles around his saloon, shouting and throwing water on the dwindling flames. Gideon’s eyes shifted, glaring down at her as if he couldn’t believe she had the nerve to still be alive.

“You want a real game of cards?” she called out. “I got some Opportunity luck I need to use up before sunrise. Come face me in a game of thirteen-card Sorte.” Jane turned, then shouted back over her shoulder. “That is, if your place ain’t burnt up, yet.”

It must have been the whole town that packed in Gideon’s saloon, crowded around the playing table, come to see the woman crazy enough to play Gideon in a hand of thirteen-card Sorte. The stakes were higher than seven-card by a mile. And then some. That was the point. Jane was going to use her Opportunity to win enough luck that she couldn’t help but find what remained of her tribe. She could only pray her daughter was still alive and with them.

Lingering smoke filled the room, the scent of charred wood thick enough to give Jane a headache. She sat wearing nothing save her hat and the oversized duster, dirt rubbing in the cracks between her bare toes. Gideon stared at her as he lit a cigarillo and blew a cloud of sweet tobacco smoke across the table. He didn’t smile, but his eyes shone, wild and alive. The soldier and the other thugs who attacked her stood behind Gideon like he was their shield. Asher hid among the crowd, where Jane wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for him.

The dealer fanned out twenty-six cards into two rows representing the thirteen realms of luck and the thirteen ranks of luck. They were simple, single-color icons, but once the dealer flipped them face down and started shuffling, they mixed like shades of paint. Hidden from every eye in the room, each became a unique combination of realm and rank, 169 different possibilities. Somewhere during the shuffling, it was impossible to watch close enough to say exactly when, the number of cards changed, so the deck wound up with exactly enough cards for everyone at the table.

The dealer flicked three cards to each of them and Jane scooped hers up. The Dancing Madman. Skeleton Knife. Candle of Memory. They didn’t add up to much. Skeleton Knife was easily the highest rank, so she played it face-down on the table in front of her. Gideon looked up at her and frowned. Annoyed by how fast she made her decision, she had to guess. What did he expect? She wasn’t going to beat him with strategic thinking. Her Opportunity luck was either strong enough to give his Endeavor luck a run for his money or it wasn’t.