Red Seas Under Red Skies Read Free Page A

probably be quick and efficient executioners. They had a very busy establishment to run.
    “Hold the cards,” said Madam Corvaleur to the attendant, interrupting Locke’s musings. “Mara, the gentlemen have indeed had several hands of unfortunate luck. Might we not allow them a recess?”
    Locke concealed his instant excitement; the pair of Carousel Hazard partners that held the lead could offer their opponents a short break from the game, but the courtesy was rarely extended, for the obvious reason that it allowed the losers precious time to shake the effects of their liquor. Was Corvaleur trying to cover for some distress of her own?
    “The gentlemen have seen a great deal of strenuous effort on our behalf, counting all those markers and pushing them over to us again and again.” Durenna drew smoke, expelled it. “You would honor us, gentlemen, if you would consent to a short pause to refresh and recover yourselves.”
    Ah. Locke smiled and folded his hands on the table before him. So that was the game—play to the crowd and show off how little regard the ladies truly had for their opponents, how inevitable they considered their own victory. This was etiquette fencing, and Durenna had performed the equivalent of a lunge for the throat. Outright refusal would be terrible form; Locke and Jean’s parry would have to be delicate.
    “How could anything be more refreshing,” said Jean, “than to continue our game against such an excellent partnership?”
    “You’re too kind, Master de Ferra,” said Madam Durenna. “But would you have it said that we were heartless? You’ve refused us neither of our comforts.” She used her cigar to gesture at Madam Corvaleur’s sweets. “Would you refuse us our desire to give a comfort in exchange?”
    “We would refuse you nothing, madam, and yet we would beg leave to answer your greater desire, for which you’ve troubled yourselves to come here tonight—the desire to play.”
    “There are many hands yet before us,” added Locke, “and it would wound Jerome and myself to inconvenience the ladies in any way.” He made eye contact with the dealer as he spoke.
    “You have thus far presented no inconvenience,” said Madam Corvaleur sweetly.
    Locke was uncomfortably aware that the attention of the crowd was indeed hanging on this exchange. He and Jean had challenged the two women widely regarded as the best Carousel Hazard players in Tal Verrar, and a substantial audience had packed all the other tables on the fifth floor of the Sinspire. Those tables should have been hosting games of their own, but by some unspoken understanding between the house and its patrons, other action in the parlor had ceased for the duration of the slaughter.
    “Very well,” said Durenna. “We’ve no objection to continuing, for our sakes. Perhaps your luck may even turn.”
    Locke’s relief that she had abandoned her conversational ploy was faint; she did, after all, have every expectation of continuing to thrash money out of him and Jean, like a cook might beat weevils from a bag of flour.
    “Sixth hand,” said the attendant. “Initial wager will be ten solari.” As each player pushed forward two wooden coins, the attendant tossed three cards down in front of them.
    Madam Corvaleur finished another chocolate-dusted cherry and sucked the sweet residue from her fingers. Before touching his cards, Jean slid the fingers of his left hand briefly under the lapel of his coat and moved them, as though scratching an itch. After a few seconds, Locke did the same. Locke caught Madam Durenna watching them, and saw her roll her eyes. Signals between players were perfectly acceptable, but a bit more subtlety was preferred.
    Durenna, Locke, and Jean peeked at their cards almost simultaneously; Corvaleur was a moment behind them, with her fingers still wet. She laughed quietly. Genuine good fortune or strat péti ? Durenna looked eminently satisfied, but Locke had no doubt she maintained that precise