Ice Country

She sighs, seems to resign herself to thefact that I’m not going away without some information. “Most ofour…customers…are high rollers. They play for big stakes andthey don’t back down. You think they carry hundreds of sickles intheir pockets? Forget about it. They come here empty handed, and wekeep a tally of their balance. We can also advance you silver solong as you’re good for it. We can do up to a thousand sickles thefirst time, until you’ve proven you’ll pay it back. Then we can goas high as ten thousand.”

A thousand sickles? Ten thousand? I haven’tever seen that kind of wealth in my life. “You’ll give me silver?”I say slowly.

She laughs, which comes out as nasally as hervoice. “Not give—loan. Each day you don’t pay it back, the balancegoes up by ten-hundredths of the amount you owe.”

Buff and I look at each other. The green ofhis eyes almost looks silver, as if he’s been staring so hard atthe piles of coins that they’ve gotten stuck there. “What do wedo?” he asks.

I shrug, trying to think. If we keep doublingour thirty sickles each time we play, we won’t really need anythingelse. But we could also lose it all in the first round.

I lean in, so only she’ll be able to hear me.“How far will thirty sickles get us?”

“Thirty sickles each?” she says, tapping herchin with a long, white finger.

“Uh. Thirty sickles total,” I admit.

Her nostril-heightened laugh is back. “You’rejoking, right? Didn’t Ham tell you the buy-in’s twe

Decision time. Take the money now, or one ofus has to walk out the door. Or we could both leave. But then wherewill we be? No money, no jobs, no pub. I steel myself and go forit. “We’ll take thirty sickles,” I say.

“Minimum advance is one hundred,” she saysflatly.

“Make it two hundred,” I blurt out before Ican stop myself.

Buff nudges me, his eyes wide and greenagain. I shrug. Just go with it, I mouth.

Nostril-voice counts out the coins and handsthem to me. “Welcome to the Hole. May you have bad luck,” she says,smirking. I hope she says that to all the customers, but I have afeeling she brought it out special just for us.

I lead the way, skating between the tableslike I belong, even though inside of me Looza’s stew is sloshingand churning, like even it knows we’re doing something weshouldn’t. The slap of cards is like a hammer to the back of myhead, which starts to ache again.

Every table appears to be full, except one,which has two chairs pulled out at an angle, as if whoever vacatedthem left in a hurry. One of them was probably the nervous-lookingbald guy’s. They’re still playing, but the game almost seemsfriendly, as if they’re just having a bit of fun, without care asto whether they win or lose. Seems like our kind of table.

I approach, ducking my head to draw one ofthe gambler’s eyes. A round-faced guy with double-pierced earslooks up at me with a smile broader than Looza’s hips. His eyes areblue and twinkling with red flecks under the lantern light. “Hey,kid. You want in?” His tone is light and friendly. We’re just hereto enjoy each other’s company, it seems to say.

“Sure, thanks,” I say, feeling more and moreat ease. It almost feels like the cards we normally play back inthe Brown District. Only we’ve got a hundred sickles each thataren’t ours to play with. “Mind if my buddy joins, too?” I ask,motioning to Buff.

“The more the merrier,” he says.

I give Buff a hundred sickles from theadvance, and keep the same for myself. That should be ple

A friendly game amongst friends. The othersat the table appear equally easygoing. On my left is the guy whoinvited us to play, and on my right is a thin, clean-shaven guywith a long face that almost touches the table. He’s got at leasttwo hundred sickles piled up in front of him, perhaps double whatI’ve got. On either side of Buff are twins, each with jet-blackhair and knit caps that they’ve kept on despite the relative heatof the crowded cellar. They’re all quick to smile and don’t seem tomind parting with their silver if it means one of their buddieswins.

“Ante’s five sickles,” Pierced-Earsa

Buff and I grab a five-sickle piece each andtoss it in the center of the table. The other four do the same.Excitement builds in my chest at the prospect of wi

I peek at my cards. Twin boulders! Whatare the chances? I think. I do my best to hide my excitementbehind a blank stare, but my heart’s beating so hard I swear theothers can hear it. Pierced-Ears takes a look at his cards androlls his eyes, tosses them in the middle. “I’m out,” he says. Asmall stone and a minor tree branch. He was smart to fold. Nochance of wi

Twin-Number-One dealt, so it’s Buff’s turn tobet. He glances at me but I can’t read him. Glances back at hiscards. “Five sickles,” he says, tossing in another coin. There’s noway he’s got my hand beat, but it doesn’t really matter. Me takinghis money is as good as him keeping it. We’ll split all thewi

My bet. I’ve got to play this one slow, orthey’ll know right away I’ve got something good. I toss in theminimum required to stay in the hand, five sickles. We skipPierced-Ears since he’s out. Twin-Number-One throws his cards inthe middle, facedown. Another one out.

It’s time to show the first of the drawcards. An arrow. No impact on my hand, which is already verystrong. Unless someone else has twin arrows, I’m probably stillwi

Back to Buff. He passes, lets the bet go tothe twin on his left. The twin places his cards on the table,stretches his arms over his head, and then throws in two largecoins. Twe

Without even a sideways glance, Long-Facethrows in the required coins, along with two more, both ten sicklepieces! The bet for this round alone is up to forty sicks, morethan we came with. If I keep playing and lose this hand, I’llalready be broke and owe Nasal-Voice silver. Sweat beginsbeading under my arms and below my knees. Feeling somewhat faint, Iwriggle out of my heavy coat and drape it over the chair behind me.It helps, but my mind is still spi

I throw in forty, trying to breatheevenly.

Buff stares at me like I’m crazy. He’s gottathrow in forty to stay in it. He throws his cards in instead, faceup. Twin medium stones. Not a bad hand, but not good enoughconsidering how fast the pot’s growing. It’s all up to me now.

Twin-Two throws his cards as well, unwillingto match Long-Face’s raise. Down to me and Long. Twin-One flipsover another draw card. A boulder! Chill freezin’ yah! Iscream silently. I think the edge of my lip twitches, but that’s asmuch celebration as I’ll allow myself outwardly. There’s stillmoney to be made, and there’s no doubt I’ve got the best handnow.