"And me." A pale youngster followed his example. "Varinia?"

"Stays," said Lam, then, softening his tone, added with a smile, "We need her to make up the number and to add a touch of beauty to the company. And I don't think she'll regret it. See?" The cards riffled in his hands, falling to lie face upward. "Four Lords-could you hope for better? Your luck is about to change, my dear."

"It had better." Her eyes met his in mutual understanding. "But who else will join us?"

"Our friends." Lam lifted his voice as he made the appeal. "Please, you two, accommodate us. A small game to while away the time." Then, as the younger of the pair turned toward him, "Angado Nossak, isn't it? I think we have met before."

"On the Provost," agreed Nossak. "You taught me a hard lesson. Maybe now's the time to put it to use."

He took a chair, gesturing for his companion to take another. A hard man, decided the gambler, looking at him. A brief glance but enough to take in the shape and build. Faded garments spoke of hard times and the shiny patches on the fabric showed where straps could have hung or accoutrements rested. A mercenary, he guessed, a professional guard or a hunter-now down on his luck and hoping to improve it.

A forlorn hope, as was Nossak's intention to use what he had learned. Both prime fodder for the gambler's art and he riffled the cards, the rubbed-down skin of index fingers and thumbs reading the tiny marks a nail had impressed into the edges.

"Well, my lords and lady-" he inclined his head toward Varinia-"let us begin."

The game was starburn; a variation of poker with a seven-card deal and a double discard dropping the hand to the normal five cards. Lissek sucked in his breath as he scooped up his hand, a thin stream of purple running from the corner of his mouth. Saliva stained by the weed he chewed to ease his cough and steady his nerves.