Martin Scott - Thraxas Under Siege (ARC)

"Beer!"

Makri looks at me strangely, clutches her brow, and falls to the floor.

"She's sick!" cries Dandelion. "She's got the malady!"

"But I want beer," I say, and start to feel that the world really is against me. Captain Rallee goes to help Dandelion carry Makri into the store room along with the other casualties. I ignore the commotion, and focus on the task in front of me. At a rough guess I'd say that Horm the Dead has around 2,000 gurans in front of him, and that's a lot of money to claw back. For most men, it would be an impossible task. Of course, most men haven't roamed the world with a sword in their hands and only their native wit to protect them. Most men haven't gambled their way around every card table in the west. You can't compare Thraxas the Investigator to most men; it's not a fair contest. I bang my fist on the table.

"Are we going to play cards or not? Moolifi, start dealing. And Dandelion, bring me a beer. Goddammit, do you expect me to sit here parched with thirst all night?"

The room goes quiet, Moolifi deals the cards, and I get on with the business of mounting one of the most heroic rearguard actions ever seen at the card table. With only sixty-four gurans to my name, I'm facing overwhelming odds, but I remain undismayed. Lisutaris needs more time to complete her spell. Fine. I'll get her some more time. I sip beer, study my cards, play with the utmost caution, refuse to be drawn, and even pick up a small win with three 4s. As the night wears on, I start to show the assembled mockers and doubters what a real genius at rak can do when he's backed into a corner. By the time Ravenius goes bust, unwisely believing that Casax is bluffing when he raises 500 gurans on one hand, I've built my stake up to ninety gurans and am exhibiting the sort of quiet determination that gets a man through a crisis when everyone around him is losing their heads.

Three hours later I'm still in the game. I call loudly for more beer, curse Moolifi for the bad cards she's been dealing me, and roar at Dandelion to bring me some more yams and make it quick.

Horm the Dead laughs. He's enjoying himself. He's still well ahead of me and he's no doubt expecting to be leaving the city with Makri in tow. I'll show him. By three in the morning there are only four people left at the table—Praetor Capatius, Horm the Dead, Casax, and me. Each of them has several thousand gurans in front of them. I have 180. Horm decides that it's time to force me off the table. When I raise a cautious ten gurans on a hand, he calmly looks over at the money in front of me, counts out 180 gurans, and pushes it into the centre of the table. If I cover his bet it will cost me everything I have, and I'll be out of the game if I lose.

I turn my head slightly, and notice Lisutaris shaking her head discreetly. A signal that she has not yet found a counter spell to attack Horm, and doesn't want me to risk losing yet. I turn back to my cards, and push all my money into the centre of the table.

"Let's see what you have."

Horm turns over two dragons and two kings. I turn over three 10s. My hand is superior. I scoop in the money and now I've got 360 gurans in front of me.

Cicerius appears at the table and says it's time we took another break. It brings complaints from the players. Praetor Capatius hasn't been doing so well for the past hour or so, and like any card player on a losing streak, he wants to carry on. Horm shrugs. He doesn't mind either way. I'd as soon carry on playing because I've got a strong suspicion that Cicerius is calling for a break so he can lecture me again, but we rise from the table anyway. I head for the bar but don't make it that far before I'm once more surrounded by the angry mob.

"That was very rash," says Lisutaris. "I told you not to risk everything before I'm ready."

"I knew what I was doing."

"I wish I knew what you've been doing," hisses Cicerius. "Did you really break into the church of St Volinius and rob a tomb?"

"Yes. But only as part of an ongoing investigation."

"You know you could be hanged for this?"

"For what? For saving the city? I had to do it. Tell the Bishop it was vital war work. You ought to be getting behind me, not giving me a hard time. Who's the one that's doing all the work here? Who's the one that's making Horm look foolish at the card table?"

Lisutaris purses her lips.

"Good question. He has five thousand gurans and you have three hundred and sixty."

"I got off to a bad start. Now excuse me, I have a beer to pick up."

I break free and head for the bar, where Dandelion is handing a glass of klee to Horm.

"I want to see Makri," says Horm.

"You can't," replies Dandelion, firmly. "She's sick and she needs to rest."

Horm shrugs.

"This filthy city would make anyone sick. In my mountain kingdom, Makri will be healthy."

Hanama approaches silently.

"Makri isn't going anywhere near your mountain kingdom," she says.

"You trust Thraxas to save her?" asks Horm.

"Not for a moment. I'll save her."

Horm gives a languid smile, then departs without responding.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say to Hanama.

"I have no confidence in you whatsoever," says Hanama. "And if you let Makri be taken by Horm I'll kill you myself."

Casax appears beside us. He's wondering what happened to Glixius Dragon Killer.

"Probably still trying to find the money he owes you," I tell him. From the look on Casax's face I can tell that he'll be wanting words with Glixius at the first opportunity. I'm pleased. Even if you're a powerful Sorcerer, it doesn't do to offend the Brotherhood.

Captain Rallee is looking rather weary. No doubt he'd rather be in bed, but with Moolifi dealing, he has to stick around. Moolifi is sitting beside him but her attention is taken by Tirini Snake Smiter who's at her side, talking about clothes.

"I adore your dress. The new Samsarina line is definitely you. And those shoes; I swear mine can't compete."

They both stretch out a foot, rather genteelly, to compare shoes.

"Such a beautiful pink," says Tirini.

"Thanks," says Moolifi. "But they're not quite perfect any more. I seem to have lost a few threads from the embroidery."

I glance at the shoes. It's hardly noticeable, but there are a few pink threads missing. Pink threads like the ones in my pocket. The ones I took from the place where Makri fought the Orcish Assassin. I don't quite know what that means, but I have a bad feeling as we sit down again to play.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Capatius, Horm, Casax and I resume the struggle. The air is thick with thazis smoke and the fire burns brightly in the huge hearth, kept alight by the occasional word from one of the Sorcerers. No one looking at Lisutaris, Coranius, Anumaris and Tirini would guess that at this moment they were busy working on a spell to defeat Horm, but I know they are. Three of them are anyway. Tirini is probably planning her outfit for the next reception at the Palace.

Deputy Consul Cicerius sits with Samanatius. I'm a little surprised to see that Cicerius apparently regards the philosopher as worthy of respect, as does Lisutaris. I wouldn't have guessed the practical Cicerius had much time for that sort of thing.

With 360 gurans I still can't afford to do anything rash. So far tonight I've rarely tried bluffing, though it's something I'm good at. But Praetor Capatius, being obscenely rich, likes trying to throw his weight around, and it goes wrong for him in spectacular fashion when he tries to bluff Horm out of a hand and Horm coolly stands up to him, and triumphs. The Praetor is left almost moneyless, and scowls mightily as he throws in his cards.

"I'm out," he grunts, and stands up, stretches his limbs, and heads for the bar to see if there's any stew still on offer. The praetor is a large man, and a healthy eater, and if he's used to more exotic fare that the Avenging Axe stew, it's not a bad meal for a man who's just been beaten at cards in the early hours of the morning.