The hardest part was going to be not to learn too quickly. She didn’t try a thing, just tried to play the way a silly little socialite would play. The game soon absorbed her though, and though it had been years, she counted cards from the start. She had to let a good hand go unplayed to keep up the act of a neophyte, but she counseled herself to have patience.
She lost the first three hands.
“Oh, hard luck!” Mirandine said. “But really, you’re doing very well.”
The man to her right smiled at her and threw a coin into her dwindling pile. Tesara gave him a chilly smile in return. He just leered alarmingly and muttered something she couldn’t make out. The other men snorted a laugh, though.
In a flash, Jone was off his stool. He said nothing, but the man’s leer faded. He glanced at the ringleader, but the ringleader just scratched a match and lit another cheroot. The offending man looked down and rearranged his cards, holding them close to his vest, and Jone sat back on his stool. It felt rather nice to be defended, Tesara admitted.
The next hand was dealt. Tesara could see she had something. It was a good hand and she knew how to play it. But in the long game she was playing, she knew she couldn’t win, not yet. She rearranged the cards and then, as if she suddenly saw what she had, she said, “Ooh!” She threw in big and sat back.
The other players seized to a halt at the size of her bet. Then one after another, they folded.
“Wait!” Crushed, she turned to Jone and Mirandine. “But that’s not fair. I could have won a lot more.” Jone and Mirandine were laughing at her, and so were the hard men.
“I’m sorry, Tesara,” Jone said, still laughing. “But now you know not to do that.”
“And you’ll never do it again,” the ringleader said. “Not that there ain’t just a bit more to learn. Loosen the reins, you two – she’ll never figure it out with you holding on so tight.” He gave an avuncular smile. It was rather frightening.
“Oh, no no no,” Tesara said, just as Mirandine said, “He’s right. Tesara, we’re holding you back. It’s just a bit of money, nothing serious – you play for however long it takes, then come find us.”
Tesara half bolted to her feet. “Wait, no!” she said, but they walked away laughing, Jone saying, “It’ll be all right. We’ll be in the gallery and we’ll check on you later.”
She fumbled back into her seat, her heart pounding. This was it. The men waited for her with expressions ranging from amusement to hard disinterest. Indeed, one fellow snorted, “Are we going to play or keep on with this babysitting?”
Tesara said, “It’s not as if I’ll keep you that long, sir. Perhaps another hand at most.”
They all laughed, and she relaxed a small bit. She stripped her gloves and set them next to her on the table. There was a silence as they all looked at her crooked fingers. The man Terk glanced down at her hands and then up at her face. There was something in his eyes – recognition perhaps, or pity. She kept her gaze level, and after a moment he looked away.
“There,” she said lightly, flexing her fingers and settling down to business, and again the gentlemen laughed at her. Good; let them laugh. It would make them underestimate her that much more. The less they thought of her, the more likely they would believe in luck, rather than card counting, as the reason for her success. And it would be a good thing, too; cheating against these fellows would be more than just a lark. She remembered Uncle’s lurid stories of the docks. Tesara kept her smile fixed on her face as she took up her new hand and arranged her cards.
She folded her next two hands and then threw in for the next one. If the men thought anything strange about her sudden change in skill, no one remarked on it. She lost, but it didn’t unsettle her. She glanced at Mirandine’s dwindling stake. She had to win soon and she had to win big, because once she did, the jig would be up for sure.
She folded her next hand, and then she got the hand she knew she would win with. Tesara settled in. Her focus narrowed to the table. She was mindful of nothing but the cards and the clink of coins, the whisper of bills, the smell of tobacco and spirits. One by one the gentlemen dropped out except for the ringleader. She glanced up once at him and he was scowling at her over his cards. The other gentlemen sat down watching.
He made his decision and threw in a couple of silver coins. “Call,” he said.
She laid out her cards.
There was silence, and then the other gentlemen began to curse in low-voiced astonishment. “Beginner’s luck,” said one with disgust, but the ringleader silenced him with a look.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think we’ve been played.”
“Nonsense,” she said, stumbling a little. “Nonsense,” she said more loudly. “What are you accusing me of, sir?” She wondered nervously where Jone and Mirandine were. The gaming tables were still as busy with diehard gamesters among the well-dressed guests. Would any of them come to her help if the men got dangerous? “I don’t like what you are insinuating, sir. I won, fair and square.”
It was lovely, the pile of money on the table that was all hers. Food, firewood, rent, new clothes. No, she knew she was lying to herself. It was the fun of it, the sheer fun. She had to thank Uncle Samwell when she got home. She stood, swaying a little after sitting for so long, and the man grabbed her wrist.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.
Her
