Swords: 08 - The Fifth Book Of Lost Swords - Coinspinner’s Story (25 page)

      
Marland entered limping, presenting this as a silent explanation for his preference in seating. He also adopted the look of a man who had slightly too much to drink.

      
Adrian considered that this was putting things on too thick, and liable to draw more attention than it diverted. But the ploy seemed to work, and it was hard to argue with success.

      
Once the master was established at his table, where he sat growling for more drink, Adrian and the bodyguard who called himself Elgar stood by him awaiting orders, while Amelia made her way into the throng at the far end of the room, close to the big wheel.

      
For this evening’s practice session, Adrian had garbed himself in what he considered the least embarrassing of the several page liveries that had by now been purchased for him.

      
Play at the table beneath the wheel was of course already in progress, with players joining in or dropping out continually. Amelia, who was no stranger to casinos, took an empty spot, and placed a modest bet or two, without having any particular luck.

      
Leaning his head back as if in thought, Marland made direct contact between his body and Coinspinner’s hilt. Then he decided on his bet, and, beckoning Adrian to lean close, whispered it in his ear.

      
The boy worked his way forward through the throng until he reached Amelia’s side. So far there had been but little change in the modest stack of chips before her, but she looked uncomfortable. And worried. And glad to see Adrian arrive.

      
Elgar, their newly hired bodyguard, had in accordance with good professional practice taken his stand toward the rear of the room where he could supposedly keep an eye on everything. Since being hired, the man had purchased a good sword, but he still did not impress the Prince as being especially formidable. Still, as experienced fighters kept warning him, appearances could be very deceptive in such matters.

      
Looking around when he had the chance, the Prince, following Marland’s teaching, thought that he could pick out one or two of the ubiquitous house magicians. These people looked somewhat bored, but still faithfully on duty to make sure that no would-be cheaters had any success against the house.

      
Marland, in sending Amelia his first chosen category—odd—of this practice run, also ordered Adrian to remind her to keep on mixing up her bets—that is, not always to use the winning, Sword-guaranteed number or category immediately, but to save it for later, so that no careful observer of the process could immediately be sure that the bets sent in by the man were invariably winners.

      
Adrian faithfully passed on the bets he was given. But it occurred to him how easy it ought to be for him to cross up Marland, by simply passing the wrong information to Amy. By the time the man found out, it would be too late for him to do anything about it—not too late for the Sword to do something, of course.

      
Murat, having followed his quarry to this casino, kept himself in the background and continued to observe. But what he saw only left him more puzzled than ever. Some kind of gambling scheme, evidently; but why should the heir apparent of Tasavalta choose to take part in it?

      
The Crown Prince still refrained from any effort to contact Adrian or anyone else in the party, to which Kebbi, of all people, had now somehow managed to attach himself.

* * *

      
Marland played for less than an hour, staking only small amounts, and then signaled his people he was ready to quit for the night. His theory of how to beat the house had been, as he considered, gloriously vindicated.

      
When he broke off the game he was a few thousand pieces ahead—not winnings enough to draw very much attention in a place like this. But he now had enough in his purse to stake himself solidly in the big game, day after tomorrow.

      
That night, in the inn, Marland was quietly jubilant. Once Elgar was safely out of earshot he announced to his two confederates that he had decided to make only a few minor changes in technique as a result of this preliminary study.

      
Amelia told him that was good. But she still looked as worried as ever.

Chapter Nineteen

      
Talking to Marland and Amelia, Adrian learned that the big casino in the Red Temple of Bihari was widely known as Sha’s, after its legendary founder, not surprisingly a Red Temple priest. Sha’s, or at least the inner rooms of that establishment, where the biggest games took place, had an expensive membership requirement, meant to keep out the riffraff.

      
The gambler had not been surprised by the requirement. As far as the Prince with his lack of experience could judge, he possessed a good familiarity with all important phases of the gambling business.

      
Not that he explained everything to his associates. On the day before he planned to break the bank, Marland, with Sword and scabbard strapped to his back, visited the Red Temple alone. When he rejoined his confederates he had little to say. The Prince wondered whether Marland, as an expert in the bottom line, might have been able to bypass some of the more expensive membership requirements by means of a little judicious bribery.

      
In any case, Marland in this environment hardly seemed like the same man who in other circumstances had often seemed clumsy and unable to cope very well.

      
Amy, who according to her own testimony had been in a great many gambling establishments, including this one, also seemed at home here, though she continued to worry.

      
She did a fairly good job of concealing her anxiety. But the Prince could tell that it was still growing.

      
Meanwhile Kebbi was keeping his eye on Marland’s Sword, waiting for the man to get careless. The more he watched Marland, the more he realized that he might be in for a long wait. Also Kebbi continued to puzzle over why Adrian, a prince in his own land, was content to act as a servant to this gambler, who obviously had no idea of his page’s true identity. Prince Adrian, as far as Kebbi could tell, was in full possession of his faculties, though he was calling himself Cham. Simply taking the opportunity to run away from home? That wouldn’t be unheard of, even among royalty.

      
The Culmian defector bided his time, waiting to learn more.

* * *

      
Murat, from his room in the same inn, also maintained his observation. He also wondered about Adrian’s purpose in remaining here.

      
When the Crown Prince of Culm, who had recently used the Sword of Chance himself, was able to identify it as the odd-looking weapon now carried by the gambler on his back, he considered that he had made real progress.

      
Murat remained obstinately determined to restore the young Prince to his mother, as an important means of making amends to the Princess Kristin. But, if he were later able to hand Coinspinner back to his own Queen, what a coup that would be!

* * *

      
Rostov, Karel, and the four surviving troopers eventually arrived in Bihari, a full day after the Culmian fugitives. The Tasavaltans’ arrival in the resort city had been delayed by their difficulty with demons.

* * *

      
Early on the evening of the day he had chosen to consummate his revenge, Sir Marland and his two helpers, accompanied by their sturdy bodyguard Elgar, took a short walk through the streets of the resort city, made their approach to the great Red Temple of Bihari, and entered, heading directly though unhurriedly for Sha’s.

Marland, as on the day of his preliminary effort, had chosen this hour deliberately, knowing that the gambling tables would be already busy, but with their busiest time still a few hours in the future.

      
On approaching the Red Temple complex, the young Prince was impressed. This was by far the biggest such edifice that he had ever seen; indeed he wasn’t sure that any building in Sarykam was quite this large.

      
On entering it, Adrian was inevitably reminded of the Twisted Temple of the City of Wizards, though his visit there seemed much further in the past than the two weeks or so that it actually was. Still, there were great differences between that Red Temple and this one, besides the circumstance that this one was crowded with mundane humans and that one had long been deserted by such creatures. For one thing, there was music, live and real and mundane, almost everywhere inside this Temple, whereas that one had been haunted with ghostly sounds.

      
Kebbi, closely accompanying his new employer, was also inevitably reminded of his recent narrow escape from the Twisted Temple, and of the differences and similarities between that Temple and this one.

      
Murat, on seeing Adrian and the others leave their inn again, had followed them. The Crown Prince kept well in the background, patiently observing.

* * *

      
Marland at last had plenty of faces around him that he could recognize, faces whose presence would have made him indeed uneasy if he had not possessed the security of the Sword. These familiar countenances were those of Red Temple priests and other employees who had been intimately involved in his downfall only a few months previously.

      
One gaze in particular, tonight, caused Marland to hold his breath briefly. But the functionary, who Marland supposed might be somewhat nearsighted, looked right through him, and gave no sign of recognizing either him or Amelia.

      
Moments later the gambler was smiling at his own foolishness. If the Sword could extract him unharmed—as it had—from a condemned cell, a mere casino would pose no problem. With the Sword on his back now, he might have known that he was safe.

      
But Amelia, infinitely less sanguine, tugged urgently at his sleeve as soon as they entered the next room, and whispered that she was afraid they had been spotted.

      
“What makes you think so?” He hardly bothered to lower his voice.

      
“The croupier in the room we just left. The way he looked at us. I remember him from last time.”

      
Marland had seen the same glance pass over them, and he was ready to assure her categorically that no recognition had occurred. On the contrary, they were practically home free already. Luck was his. He patted his woman’s hand reassuringly. “I remember him too. But it’s nothing. Forget it. Keep walking.”

      
It was only natural that a good many of the dealers, clerks, croupiers, lookouts, and house magicians who had been working in Sha’s then were still here now. Marland and Amelia could have called a number of them by name. But none of them were going to recognize the pair now. Marland could just feel it.

* * *

      
The Red Temple of Bihari, justly famous for its size and complexity, seemed to go on forever. Adrian had ceased having to play the country yokel and was beginning to gawk in earnest.

      
There was a strong taste of magic in the air as well. The Prince, to his own surprise, began to sense that he was no longer very far from the City of Wizards.

* * * * * *

      
Marland himself had never really paid that much attention to where he was, in any physical, geographical sense. Ordinarily it made very little difference to him. The tables and games, the dice and cards, winning and losing, the risk-taking, were all he really cared about.

      
He, like many another gambler, had heard stories about the fabulous big game room in Sha’s. Until now he had never been able to afford to enter that room, but he had determined that it would be there—though he might have been able to accomplish his goal elsewhere—that he would make his all-out effort to break the bank.

* * *

      
As the opulent rooms, filled with gaming tables, entertainers, customers, and food and drink, flowed by them one after another, Adrian could feel a growing sense of impending danger. There was nothing rational or logical about the apprehension, but he could not help considering, one last time, his option of abandoning the gambler and his scheme and getting away. After all, the Emperor hadn’t really ordered him to stay with the gambler, or to try to take control of the Sword of Chance. That had been all his own idea.

      
The Prince now had a small supply of money in his pocket. He knew where he was—at least in a general way—in relation to his home, though Tasavalta was far away. And, as always, he was equipped with his own magical abilities.

      
But a sense of adventure held him here, and a sense that the Emperor though advising caution had somehow approved of what Adrian was doing, or what he was trying to do. Well, he still had time to decide. The sense of impending danger was not so immediate as all that.

* * *

      
Kebbi, meanwhile, was not having much success in formulating a plan to get his hands on Coinspinner. About all he had decided was that he had better grab the Sword as soon as he got a chance. Once he had that blade in hand, kidnapping Adrian—or anything else he decided to do—ought to be easy.

* * *

      
Marland, on actually arriving at the big game room, and being admitted with his party, promptly established himself in the box he had reserved. This was one of eight luxurious balconies in the rear of the huge room. All were about three meters above the floor, and Marland’s was near the center, fourth from the left.

      
A turbaned attendant, bowing, escorted Sir Marland and his party to their box by way of a passage that ran behind all eight balconies, and was set off from them by doors and curtains. Elgar the bodyguard, at a word from his employer, assumed his station in this passage, just outside the sole entrance to Marland’s box.

      
The enclosure in which Adrian, Amelia, and Marland found themselves was as big as a small room, containing a couch, a few small tables, and several chairs. Rich tapestries decorated the three closed walls, and a couple of candles on side tables shed a creamy light. Marland, with a sigh, pulled the most comfortable-looking chair forward to the rail and settled himself. From this position he could overlook almost the entire huge room of games, but his face and form were largely concealed by the draperies that partially covered the front of the box.

      
Safe from the observation of most of the room at least, and feeling ever more confident in his tremendous luck, the gambler drew his Sword. He held Coinspinner point down on the floor, its whitened hilt clutched tight in both his hands.

      
Amelia had gone to one of the side tables. Several varieties of wine were provided there, courtesy of the house.

      
“Let’s have a toast,” said Marland.

      
Looking at him, then at Adrian, she righted three of the sparkling glasses. Opening a bottle seemingly at random, she poured the glasses full, and handed two of them to her companions.

      
“To victory,” said Marland solemnly.

      
Adrian sipped from his glass. He thought he had tasted better, once or twice, in the palace at Sarykam. Marland sipped at his. Amelia hesitated briefly, then gulped her wine down.

      
A few moments later she was on her way to the gaming table, where Marland and Adrian silently watched her vanish into the crowd.

      
The great vertical wheel on the front wall spun twice, after her disappearance, before Marland dispatched Adrian with his first bet of the night: a single chip upon the category black.

* * *

      
The wizard Karel was at that moment entering the Red Temple of Bihari with Rostov at his side. The four troopers had been left outside, watching hired animals, including a mount for Adrian, ready to move out on a moment’s notice. On entering the Temple, Karel paused for a moment. It took an effort to make himself move forward once again. His magical sense had just warned him that Wood was somewhere in the vicinity.

      
“Heavy magic ahead,” he commented in a whisper to Rostov, who walked at his side, bearing Sightblinder muffled in a sheath but ready.

      
“And the Prince?” asked the General.

      
“He’s somewhere ahead also. Ah, this way for Adrian. To our right, toward the casino.”

      
“That way too for the heavy magic?”

      
“That’s to our left.” Karel allowed himself a brief and mirthless smile. “Not needed to augment the thrills of Sha’s Casino. Gambling provides its own magic, my friend. Trimbak Rao tells me that it’s an especially abominable vice.”

* * *

      
Marland had not been alone in his box for long when Elgar put his red head in through the curtains. His eyes, as they often did, focused on the Sword in Marland’s hands before rising to his employer’s face.

      
“There’s someone here says he knows you, sir.”

      
“Really? Well, send him in. It’s all right, you can stay out in the corridor.”

      
The bodyguard stepped out again. And Marland recognized the face that appeared next, though out of habit he was careful to keep his own countenance from displaying any recognition. The newcomer was Thurso, a small man with slicked-back black hair and an artificial-looking mustache; a hanger-on in Sha’s and sometimes in less opulent casinos, a sometime gambler, a doer of difficult or unpleasant tasks—for hefty fees, of course—and from time to time a blackmailer.

      
The heavy curtain sagged shut behind Thurso. Marland supposed that enigmatic Elgar would be doing his best to eavesdrop outside. Well, let him. It was Marland who had the Sword of Luck.