THE THIEF OF KALIMAR (Graham Diamond's Arabian Nights Adventures) Read Free Page A

playing cards,” he demanded. The landlord snapped his fingers and the servant girl came running with a fresh deck which she spread in front of them and placed on the table before she withdrew.
    Ramagar took the cards in his hand and began to shuffle. His black eyes gazed into Vlashi’s. “I make you a proposition, my friend. One that can leave neither of us with hurt feelings.” He spread the cards evenly across the table, face down. “A single game of jackals and hounds. If you win, I pay seventy-five …”
    Vlashi grinned like a cat. Jackals and hounds was his game. No man, not even Ramagar, could beat him at it.
    The thief stopped him as he tried to draw a card. “But if I win,” Ramagar continued, “you sell the prize for forty.”
    “Forty!”
    Vlashi’s outraged scream caught the attention of others.
    “Hush, my impatient friend.”
    The pickpocket stuttered, trying to get the words out as fast as he could. “But moments ago you offered me sixty!”
    “Now it is you that hurt me, Vlashi. We are both men of the world, are we not? Men of the Jandari. Willing to risk our lives every day in the gamble of life. Play me this single game. Seventy-five is yours tonight if you win. Seventy-five! And even if you lose, you still walk away a man of wealth. Forty pieces of silver … Enough to keep your belly full for months. Women to share your bed, a new cloak, the finest wine available …”
    Vlashi smacked his lips and swallowed. He glanced at the green-haired whore, her full breasts taunting and tantalizing him. The roundness of her hips, her sensuous mouth perhaps upon his own later this night.
    “Make your offer fifty, Ramagar, and the bargain will be sealed.”
    Ramagar nodded. Fifty it would be.
    A new bottle of wine was called for and brought; each man poured a glass filled to the brim. Vlashi downed his nervously while Ramagar sipped. Then they each, in turn, drew three face-down cards, held them close, and eyed them carefully.
    “You first,” said the pickpocket.
    The thief was in no hurry. He studied his cards and after a long moment’s time, while Vlashi sweated, placed the first card face up on the table. It was a serpent. A red-eyed cobra.
    Vlashi chortled and put down his own. A bear.
    “My bear takes your serpent,” he wheezed triumphantly. And he scooped up both cards and placed them beside him. It was his turn to throw first.
    The card was a strong one. A hound.
    Ramagar kept his stare to Vlashi’s face and put his own second card beside it. The pickpocket winced. It was a fox. Both cards were of the same value and no one could claim them. The entire game would now rest on the final throw, the winner claiming all four, and taking the match.
    Tiny beads of sweat broke out across Vlashi’s forehead. He put down his third card, palm still covering it. Ramagar did the same. At last Vlashi ventured forth and showed his strength.
    “A jackal!” he cooed. “Only one card in the deck is stronger. The game is mine!”
    Vlashi’s face glowed when he saw the thief frown. He was certain he had won. Ramagar had only one chance in a hundred to beat him. And the thought of seventy-five pieces of silver in his pockets made Vlashi shake with laughter.
    “The game is not done yet, pickpocket,” growled Ramagar. And when Ramagar’s hand was removed, Vlashi’s jaw hung open wider than a street urchin’s.
    The card was a dragon—a wild card, and all-powerful. Even the mighty jackal fell to its presence.
    Vlashi slammed his fist onto the table, causing the bottles and glasses to quiver. Ramagar laughed loudly and held out his hand for the prize.
    Vlashi pouted but there was nothing he could do. Ramagar had won fairly; at least Vlashi knew that he could never prove that he hadn’t.
    “Not so fast,” said the pickpocket, offended at the waiting hand. “The agreed price was fifty. Where’s my money?”
    Ramagar quickly begun to empty his pockets, pieces of silver jingling on the table. Vlashi began