Soothsayer (12 page)

The Mouse walked slowly through the mass of human and alien bodies, holding Penelope by the hand. The little girl drew some curious stares from brilliantly-clad gamblers, some disapproving glances from provocatively-dressed whores, some avaricious looks from the bounty hunters, but the Iceman's word had gone out, and nobody said a word or made a motion in their direction.

The Mouse was uncomfortably aware of the lean and hungry faces of the bounty hunters, and was almost awed by the power the Iceman seemed to wield. These were cold, hard men, men who backed down from no one—and yet a single command from the Iceman had gone out on the grapevine, and none of them seemed willing to cross the line he had drawn.

"You going to be drinking or gambling?” asked a soft voice behind her, and she turned to find herself facing the Forever Kid.

"Gambling,” she answered.

"You sure? There are a lot of pros here tonight."

"I'll be all right,” she assured him. “And besides, if I'm going to be able to hire you for another week, I need to raise some money."

He shrugged. “That's up to you. Once you settle down at a table, I'll move to where I can keep an eye on you."

"Thanks,” she said. “The Iceman has passed the word that no one is to bother us while we're on Last Chance, but there's always a chance that not everyone has heard.” She felt a sudden surge of bitterness. “Besides, I counted on him once before and he failed me."

She walked past some of the alien games and the dice tables, and finally came to a hexagonal table where three men, two women and a Lodinite were playing poker. The dealer stood out even in this crowd of bejeweled gamblers: the prismatic cloth of his garments changed colors with every motion he made, his fingers were covered with rings of bloodnight and sheerstone, his boots were made from the glowing skin of some alien reptile. He wore a monocle of plain glass, attached to his tunic by a gold chain, and on his shoulder perched a tiny alien bird, its orange eyes staring intently at his shining rings, as if it might leap to his hand and gobble them up at any instant.

The Mouse stood behind the player with the smallest pile of chips, a woman dressed in such worn, plain leather that she actually stood out more in this crowd of gamblers and gadflys than the dealer did. After a few moments the woman rose from her chair, gathered up her few remaining chips, and walked off.

"Is this a private game?” inquired the Mouse.

"No,” replied the dealer. “But it's an expensive one."

"How much?"

"Ten thousand to buy in. A thousand is the minimum bet."

"Fine,” said the Mouse, seating herself opposite the dealer and placing thirty thousand credits on the table. Once her money was on the table, the Forever Kid seated himself at an adjoining table that was not currently in use.

"I see you've come to play,” said the dealer approvingly. “Banker!” he called out. “Get the lady some chips!"

The casino banker walked over, picked up her money, and replaced it with thirty elegant chips carved from the pink-hued bone of some alien animal.

"What about the child?” asked the dealer as the banker answered a call at another table.

"She doesn't play,” replied the Mouse.

"She also doesn't walk around looking at anyone's cards,” explained the dealer.

"Are you accusing me of cheating before I've even played a hand?"

"Not at all,” said the dealer. “I'm just making sure I won't have to accuse you later."

The Mouse turned to the little girl. “Penelope, go sit over there"—she pointed to the Forever Kid's table, which she could see without having to turn her head—"and wait for me."

"Can I have a deck of cards?” asked the girl. “So I can play solitaire?"

The dealer withdrew a sealed deck from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Give her these."

"Thank you,” said the Mouse, picking up the deck and handing it to Penelope. “Now go over there and wait for me."

Penelope thanked the dealer for the cards and walked over to the table.

"Got a name, ma'am?” asked the dealer.

"Lots of them,” replied the Mouse.

"Any particular one I should call you?"

"Whatever you like."

The dealer smiled. “I've always been partial to Melisande, myself."

The Mouse considered it, then frowned. “My name is Mouse."

The dealer shrugged.

"What's yours?” she asked as she picked up her cards and studied them.

"Well, when I'm passing through Customs back in the Democracy, it's Valente, ma'am, Riccardo Valente. But out here, where I make my living by courting the goddess of chance, it's King Tout."

"Do I call you King or Tout?” asked the Mouse.

"Call me anything that suits your fancy, ma'am,” replied King Tout.

"How about if we play some poker while I think about it?” said the Mouse, pushing two chips to the center of the table.

The Lodinite and the two men matched her bet, the woman dropped out, and King Tout surveyed his cards again.

"See you and raise you a thousand,” he said, picking up three chips and placing them next to the others at the table's center.

The Mouse held her cards up, appeared to be studying them, and took a quick peek over the top of them at Penelope. The little girl rubbed her nose once, the sign that the Mouse was going to lose the hand, then went back to deciding which card to play in her solitaire game.

The Mouse considered tossing in her cards and minimizing her losses, but decided against it: having opened, it would look strange if she folded immediately, so she regretfully met King Tout's bet, drew two cards, and then refused to match the five thousand dollars he bet after drawing a single card.

"Poor luck, ma'am,” he said with a smile as he reached out and collected the pile of chips. He passed the deck to her. “I believe it's your deal."

"Same game,” said the Mouse, pushing another chip to the center of the table.

She dealt out the cards, then picked up her hand. She had three queens, a five, and a four, and when none of the others chose to open, she was about to bet five thousand credits ... but first she glanced at Penelope, whose hand seemed inadvertently to brush by her nose again as she looked down at the cards that were spread out before her.

The Mouse sighed, studied her cards for another moment, and then regretfully tossed her hand onto the table.

She won two small pots, dropped out of another one early on, and then it was King Tout's turn to deal again. As the Mouse picked up her hand, she took a quick peek at Penelope, who seemed to be paying absolutely no attention to her at all.

The Mouse held a deuce, a five, a six, a nine and a queen, three of them red, two of them black, and she opened with a single chip. So did the next four players. King Tout pushed five chips to the center of the table.

The Mouse frowned and pretended to study her cards, again glancing surreptitiously at Penelope. As before, the child seemed immersed in her game of solitaire, and sat rigid and motionless.

"I'll see you,” said the Mouse, matching King Tout's bet and hoping that Penelope's lack of a negative sign was purposeful and not merely neglectful.

"I'm out,” said the Lodinite into its translating mechanism.

"Me too,” chimed in one of the men.

The remaining man stared at his hand for a long time, finally sighed and pushed a little pile of chips next to King Tout's.

"How many cards, ma'am?” asked King Tout pleasantly.

"Three,” said the Mouse, tossing in the deuce, the five and the six.

"One for me,” said the man.

"Dealer stands pat,” announced King Tout.

The Mouse slowly picked up her cards, and found that she had drawn two nines and a queen.

"Check,” she said.

"Same,” said the other woman.

"Well,” announced King Tout, “I'm afraid it's going to cost you five thousand credits to see what I've got."

The Mouse stared at him and resisted the urge to grin.

"I'll see you,” she said at last, “and raise you five."

The man dropped out, and King Tout stared at his cards, fanning them so that he could see the edge of each in turn.

"You took three cards, right?"

"That's right,” said the Mouse.

He look at his hand once more and sighed deeply, as if he'd finally made his decision.

"See your five thousand,” he said, pushing a large pile of chips to the center, “and raise you another five."

My God
, thought the Mouse.
When I think of the walls I've climbed and the ventilation shafts I've wriggled through for a twentieth of this amount!

"Right back at you,” she said aloud, pushing ten chips of her own up against the rapidly-growing pile between them.

Deep in his heart, King Tout had a feeling that he was beaten, that no one bluffed a pat hand to the tune of twenty thousand credits—but he'd invested so much money already that he felt he had to at least pay to see what the Mouse was holding, and so he did, tossing five more chips onto the table but declining to raise her again.

She laid out her full house—three nines and a pair of queens—and he folded his flush, tossed it face down on the table, and with a nod indicated that she had won the hand.

"That was very bold of you, matching my opening bet while you were sitting there with just a pair of nines ... or was it queens?” remarked King Tout.

The Mouse allowed herself the luxury of a smile. “Nice try, King Tout,” she said. “But if you want to know what I bet with, it'll cost you another twenty thousand."

He matched her smile with his own grin. “I think I can live in ignorance."

She purposely lost five and seven thousand credits on the next two hands, then struck again and won a fifty thousand credit pot, most of the money coming from King Tout.

That set the pattern for the next ninety minutes. Within an hour the other players had all quit, and it was just her against King Tout. She never folded a poor hand at the beginning, but always lost just enough to encourage him to keep trying her ... and then, when Penelope stared at her solitaire game, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world, the Mouse would invariably win the larger pots.

Finally King Tout pushed his chair back.

"You're quitting?” asked the Mouse politely.

"I know when the cards are running against me,” he said. “Will you be back here again tomorrow night?"

"I imagine so,” she answered, deciding that whether she bought a ship or an extension of the Forever Kid's services or both, she was going to need more money.

"I'll be back,” he promised, getting to his feet, offering her a low, courtly bow, and walking out the door.

"It won't do him much good, will it?” said a low voice at her side.

She turned and found herself staring at the Iceman, who had seated himself next to her. “I don't know what you mean."

"I mean that my protection doesn't extend to people who cheat my customers—not even you."

"It's hardly
my
fault if he doesn't know how to bet his cards,” said the Mouse defensively.

"Would he have known how to bet them if the little girl had stayed in her room?” replied the Iceman. He paused. “You may not know it, but you've made yourself a powerful enemy tonight."

"I've had enemies before."

"Your courage does you no credit,” said the Iceman. “It's the result of ignorance.” He paused. “If I were you, I'd quit while I was ahead."

"I need the money, if I'm ever going to get off this dirtball."

"If I were you, I'd find some other way to make it."

"I can get what I need in one more night,” she said. “Will you extend your protection for forty more hours?"

He paused, considering her request.

"I'll let you know,” he said, getting up and walking away.

As soon as he left the table, Penelope got up and approached the Mouse.

"Did I do good?” whispered the little girl.

"You did great,” the Mouse assured her. “Do you think you can do it again tomorrow?"

"I suppose so,” said Penelope.

"You
suppose
so?” repeated the Mouse. “What does that mean?"

"Just that I can't see that far ahead."

The Mouse relaxed. “You'll be just fine, partner,” she said, tousling Penelope's blonde hair. “Now let me cash in my chips, and then let's go to bed."

She summoned the banker, converted her chips into cash, and then, taking Penelope by the hand, she began winding her way in and out of the tables and walking to the door, with the Forever Kid following a few paces behind.

"Had a good night, I see,” said the Kid when they were out in the street.

"Yes, I did."

"Got enough money to leave now, or are we going to stick around?"

"I want to play one more night,” answered the Mouse.

"Good."

She stopped and looked at him curiously. “Why should you care one way or the other?"

"Because that was King Tout you beat tonight,” said the Forever Kid. “He'll be back."

"With more money, I hope,” she said, trying to ignore a growing feeling of uneasiness.

"If you're lucky."

"And if I'm not?” asked the Mouse.

The Forever Kid's eyes brightened with anticipation.

"Then I've got a feeling
I'll
be lucky,” he said.

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The Mouse slept late the next morning, and spent most of the day loafing in her room and watching the holovision with Penelope, who was willing to watch the umpteenth rerun of anything as long as she didn't have to do it alone.

She had their meals sent to their room, and at sunset she took a long shower, dressed in a new outfit she had bought during a brief tour of End of the Line's shops (and which was still dull in comparison to those she knew she would see at the casino), and spent a few minutes brushing Penelope's ragged hair and giving her some last-second instructions. Then accompanied by the little girl, she descended to the street and walked the short distance to the tavern and casino.

The Iceman was waiting for her, as she had suspected he would be. He stopped her before she could walk across to the table where King Tout, dressed even more splendidly that the previous evening, his tiny alien bird again perched on his shoulder, was dealing cards to a trio of men whose blue-tinted skin proclaimed them to be some of the mutated colonists from Kakkab Kastu IV.