“Aquillas over the Rift, the lady wins!”


The croupier in the green on gold livery of the Amaletha Zephyr called. He was a handsome man in a generic sort of way but too professional to flirt with me when my ‘husband’ was sitting beside me. He drew a pile of the tsorak ivory chips from the center of the velvet covered table with a long jade handled crop, made the house stake vanish with a flick of his wrist and pushed the rest into my zone. I smiled and slid my cards into the center to be reshuffled by the bejeweled fingers of the dealer. 


We were in the Montleo Car of the Zephyr as it glided along the coast of the Amaranthine Sea. The gorgeous sunset had given way to the glittering brilliance of the night sky, free of light pollution from hives or habs. The sea glittered with with phosphor bright wavelets that glowed faintly purple with bioluminescence. The Montelo Car was fifty feet long and had crystal clear armorcrys on floor and ceiling allowing stunning views of the ocean. Dozens of tables, each a master piece of polished and carved wood, were arrayed along its length, each providing various games for the passengers to gamble upon. There were three bars, one on a slightly lower tier to each side and a central one in the middle, from which liveried wait staff provided drinks and food for their well to do passengers.  Roulette wheels clattered and gamblers cheered or groaned as their luck dictated. I was playing Cardinals, a complicated trick taking game that had been popular on Bonaventure before I left. Like many such games luck played a role, but bluffing and deception were the true key. Hadrian was sitting beside me giving me a jaundiced look but for once I could claim to be perfectly innocent. One of the amenities of the Montelo Car was that it had powerful psy-bafflers that prevented the use of any mental powers to seize an advantage. It was a necessary precaution in a place where high stakes games might involve the winning and losing of starships or noble titles. Hadrian was sitting beside me, though he hadn’t been playing the last few hands. His attention was on a game of Gothic, a stylized game of starship command on the adjoining table.


“It is a pleasure to lose to the lady, but there is such a thing as too much pleasure,” General Aranson said as he puffed on an elaborately carved pipe. He wore a coat in a military cut with the gold flashes of an Astra Millitarum general, though he had retired a decade ago. He stroked his mutton chops before tossing a chip into my zone. As the previous winner I was the most expensive partner. Dame Aranson, woman with the slightly glossy look of extensive rejuv work and very hard eyes, sniffed but placed a chip in her own zone, indicating that she would play alone this round.


“You two can’t run forever,” Goldwyn, an androgynous looking older man with half moon spectacles replied. He placed a chip in my zone also, paying to break up my potential partnership with the general. He was a Magos Biotechnica with extensive interests in pharmaceutical manufacture. It must have been a tremendously lucrative field for him to spend money like he did, for all he looked like a slightly run down scholam teacher.


“I’ll take my chances with you Regina,” Corbin Lazaro declared with a lazy grin. Lazaro was a well to do lothario whose father had made a fortune in the timber trade. He had made a shameless attempt to flirt with me when he had first sat down but a single look from Hadrian and a thrashing in the subsequent three hands had convinced him that Dame Aranson was safer prey. I had a suspicion that the General did not feel at all threatened and perhaps didn’t care, though he was happy to take advantage of the young gallant’s distraction. 


I was about to ask for the cards to be dealt, another prerogative of having won the previous round, when the croupier held up a hand. A tall man in a dark storm coat stepped to an open seat and sat down. He slid a card over to the croupier and tapped a button to establish his credit. The newcomer was axe faced and had eyes like flint.


“A new player, High Count Larac Vidar of Tollery,” the croupier announced. He snapped his heels together and bowed before introducing the other players.

“General and Dame Aranson, Sier Robero Goldwyn, Rear Admiral Blasius Deckard, Lady Mathilde Deckard, Sieur Lazaro,” the croupier declared completing the introductions.

“Lady Deckard holds the ground.” 


“I don’t need a woman to win,” Larac sneered and checked his chip to play alone. I knocked the edge of the table with my knuckles for the deal and cards were fanned out to all players. I consulted the cards and paid the penalty to accept General Aranson as a partner. Larac sneered again and I kept the frown from my face. Normally I found the psy-bafflers comforting but something about the man, perhaps just his manners, irritated me.

“Let’s play.”