earlier in each hand. Marius suppressed a smile. Sangk was a damn good player but was renowned for his short fuse. A great player against the mediocre, and mediocre against the greats, and he was beginning to become unsettled. Marius loosened his play up a little, throwing bluffs and picking up cheap pots. His image was so established now that the other players were afraid to match his bets in case they were throwing good money after bad. One of the nameless players was low on coins, and Marius held back for a couple of hands, letting him pick up a couple of small pots to re-establish his confidence. Sangk regained his good cheer almost immediately.
“The luck is flowing in a different direction now, my friend,” he said. “Enkie looks ready to reclaim all the chips you stole from him earlier.”
“Indeed he does,” Marius replied, with a nod of respect towards the silent Enkie. Then he slow-played an unbeatable combination – no king, queen, two princesses, bishop, three soldiers, the rest peasants, a perfect representation of the current House of Scorby – drew Sangk into throwing his entire stack into the pot, and sent him from the table, broke. Sangk exploded.
“Gods damn!” he lurched up out of his chair, stormed around the room grabbing at his hair. “Outplayed by a northern Scorban idiot!” He appealed to his bouncer, standing silent and immobile at the foot of the stairs. “Slow playing the nuts. Gods damn. Beaten by a guy who can’t even
“I’m buying back in.”
“Is that allowed?” Marius asked, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. This was exactly what he had wanted. There wasn’t enough money on the table to match Bomthe’s price. He needed Sangk to dip into his pockets, to make a rash gesture out of frustration, and the Tallian had complied.
“My house.” Sangk thumped the table as he sat back down. “My discretion.”
“Of course.” Marius nodded his acquiescence. “May we have a count, please?”
Grimacing, Sangk counted out his new stack. Forty riner. Not enough to match Bomthe’s price, Marius thought, but it would go a long way towards it. Once he’d taken it all away from Sangk, and beaten the other two players he’d still be thirty riner short. Not to worry. There were other tables, and even if Sangk took umbrage and sent him on his way, there was one more game down the Bellish Quarter he could try. Harder to get into, but a hundred-plus riner was a good way to get through the door. The dealer dealt the next hand, and Marius bent back to his task.
Enkie was the first to go. Marius caught him in a bluff, enticed him all-in, and beat him with a miserable Bishop-high combination that beat his wastrel-burdened hand. He made a point of shaking the man’s hand as he stood. He’d played well, and Marius might come across him again in some den of the future, in which case, he’d want the man to remember his courtesy, not the way Marius had controlled his game and busted him. Only three players remained, and Marius hoped another might be called across to make up the numbers, bringing his stack with him. He was disappointed. Sangk, bent low over his coins, merely motioned the dealer to burn two cards from each deal and keep going. Marius scowled. Three-handed Kingdom was substantially more difficult than four- handed, and luck played a much more central role. Sangk was scared, he realised, and limiting the table numbers went a long way towards tilting the odds in his favour.
Sure enough, the next two hands went Sangk’s way, until he and Marius had roughly equal stacks. Marius risked a peek at the fat Tallian, and saw him sitting back in his chair, arms folded. A smug smile spread across the lower half of his face. Marius responded by winning the next two, losing the following big pot to Sangk, and then knocking out their silent short-stacked companion. Then there was just he and Sangk. His host smiled.
“Equal or thereabouts,” he noted, nodding down at Marius’ pile. “I feel I have done well from your gift, my friend. You have my thanks. But,” he stretched back, yawned. “It has been a long night, and I am tired. I shall take my leave.”
“A shame,” Marius said, thinking quickly. “I’ve enjoyed our game. It feels like we are just starting. Still,” he shrugged, a gesture of dismissal. “If you are unable to continue…”
“Well now, well now,” Sangk had been gathering his winnings. Now he stopped. “It is not a matter of being incapable.”
“I am sure,” Marius answered, riffling his coins so they made a musical tinkling. “But perhaps it is for the best.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh,” Marius shrugged, continuing to play with his pile of gold. “It is late, as you say, and you have played well. Perhaps you are right. Best to cut out when you are ahead.”
Sangk was staring at Marius’ coins. Marius made to scoop them up. “I shall test somebody else’s stamina.”
Sangk laughed, and slapped the table. “Okay,” he said, motioning Marius to stop. “You’ve made your point.” He gestured to the dealer. Two-handed Kingdom was amongst the most difficult of card games. From now on, the majority of the deck would be discarded before they even started. No hand could be trusted. That, after all, was the point of the game. Now it was a test of the combatants’ ability to read their opponent, follow the cards, and display the biggest set of balls. “Let’s play.”
“Yes,” Marius nodded, grinning into his coins. “Let’s.”
Marius started slowly. Playing two-handed was a whole new card game: many more variables than five- handed, many more burnt cards, much more left to chance. It took a lot of patience, or a willingness to be reckless to the point of suicide, to make significant gains against a single opponent. He pecked away at his bets: a coin here; two there; slowly building up small pots and backing away if he was unsure of a win. Sangk splashed coins about like a reformed scrooge, making massive over-bets, chipping away at Marius’ stack until he held a lead of almost two to one. Marius didn’t mind. He was watching the cards, stringing together sequences, letting Sangk’s outrageous play disguise Marius’ manoeuvring. The dealer was dealing low-heavy hands: a lot of peasants and soldiers were surviving the burns. After a dozen hands, Marius had the read of the deck, and made his move.
The next hand, Marius opened with a bishop. A weak card, but a good start, one he could build on in a number of ways. Marius threw three coins into the pot. Sangk raised an eyebrow and matched his bet without glancing at his first card. Two peasants followed, and Marius bet the minimum each time. Sangk matched him, then, when Marius drew a queen on his fourth card and bet twelve coins, raised him another dozen. Marius stared at the Tallian under the edge of his hood. Sangk sat back and smiled. Marius switched his gaze to the fat man’s stack, and his own, then at the backs of the cards in Sangk’s grip. The third card along had a tiny, imperceptible split at the upper right corner. Marius kept his expression still. He’d picked out that mark two opponents ago. The wastrel. Nothing Sangk did would matter. With the wastrel in his hand he could not possibly win. Every card, every combination was invalidated. Marius rubbed his jaw as if confused.
“You have a big hand?” he asked, as if trying to elicit some response that might give him a clue.
“Oh, a big one,” Sangk replied, leaning back and rechecking his cards, as if reassuring himself of his decks value.
“Why such a big bet?” Marius mused, almost to himself. “Four cards in. What have you got? King queen? Two princesses?” He riffled a small pillar of coins. “So many cards left.”
“Confused?”
“Ahhhh.” Marius rubbed his face. I should get an award for this, he thought. The Queen of Muses herself should place a laurel around my ears. “Why so big? You could still lose so many cards.”
Sangk said nothing, simply crossed his hands and waited. Marius shook his head.
“Okay,” he said, voice full of uncertainty. “I call.”
Four more cards passed, each bet growing in size, until Marius had Sangk right where he wanted the fat man to think he had Marius – pot committed, with so many coins in the pot that when the second to last card was drawn he had no option but to throw the rest into the centre for fear of folding the hand and being crippled. Sure enough, as soon as he pulled the card from his deck, Sangk reached down and pushed his stack over, spilling his coins across the table.
“Everything,” Sangk said. “All of it.”
Marius laid his cards face down, placed his hands on top of it to signify that he was merely considering, not folding. He made a great show of examining the fallen money and comparing it against his own. To call Sangk’s bet would cost him everything. Exactly what he wanted. Once he won this hand he would have his opponent out-coined
