And what's that got to do with this one?' A skitter, ending up in the middle, opposite both Kalam and Quick Ben – 'Herald of High House Death. A distinctly inactive and out-of-date card in this field, but I see a Rusty Gauntlet-'
'A what?' demanded Kalam Mekhar.
'Right here before me. A new drink that Bottle in his inebriated state just invented. Rum and wine – half and half, soldier, fill us up – you too, that's what you get for making that face.'
Keneb rubbed at his own face. He'd taken but a single mouthful of the wine, but he felt drunk. Hot in here. He started as four cards appeared in a row in front of the one already before him.
'Spinner of Death, Queen of Dark, Queen of Life and, ho, the King in Chains. Like hopping stones across a stream, isn't it? Expecting to see your wife any time soon, Fist? Forget it. She's set you aside for an Untan noble, and my, if it isn't Exent Hadar – I bet he kept his gaze averted back then, probably ignored you outright, that's both guilt and smugness, you know. Must have been the weak chin that stole her heart – but look at you, sir, you look damned relieved and that's a hand that tops us all and even though you were out when it comes to winning you're back in when it comes to losing, but in this case you win when you lose, so relax.'
'Well,' muttered Bottle, 'hope I nev'win one a theez'ands.'
'No,' Fiddler said to him, 'you got it easy. She plays and she takes, and so-' A card clattered before the owl-eyed soldier. 'Deathslayer.
You can sleep now, Bottle, you're done as done for the night.'
The man's eyes promptly closed and he slid down from his chair, the piece of furniture scraping back. Keneb heard the man's head thump on the boards, once.
Yes, that'd be nice. Exent Hadar. Gods, woman, really! 'So how does Kalam get from Herald Death to Obelisk? Let's see. Ah, King of High House Shadows! That shifty slime bung, oh, doesn't he look smug! Despite the sweat on his upper lip – who's gone all chilled in here? Hands up, please.'
Reluctantly… Kalam, T'amber, then Apsalar all lifted hands.
'Well, that's ugly as ugly gets – you've got the bottles now, Apsalar, now that Bottle's corked. This one's for you, T'amber. Virgin of Death, as far as you go. You're out, so relax. Kalam's cold, but he don't get another card 'cause he don't need one and now I know who gets pushed and who gets pulled and I'll add the name to the dirge to come. Now for the hot bloods. Quick Ben gets the Consort in Chains but he's from Seven Cities and he just saved his sister's life so it's not as bad as it could've been. Anyway, that's it for you. And so, who does that leave?'
Silence for a moment. Keneb managed to lift his leaden head, frowning confusedly at the scatter of cards all over the table.
'That would be me and you, Sergeant,' the Adjunct said in a low voice.
'You cold?' Fiddler asked her, drinking down yet another cup of Rusty Gauntlet.