Free The Two of Swords: Part 10 by K. J. Parker

of taking the bait when he was supposed to, namely right away, before Senza got smart and changed his mind, he was deliberately biding his time. He’d guessed or learned that Senza had brought all his provisions with him, instead of depending on a traditional line of supply; he was waiting till Senza had eaten his very last biscuit and had no option but to give up and go home, and then he’d strike.
    “Which is where he’s gone wrong, of course,” Frontizo went on. “Thanks to everybody in the West being scared stiff of us, the countryside’s deserted for miles around, we can send out our foragers and help ourselves to the standing corn. We’ve got two thousand men out right now, harvesting wheat. Also, the local peasantry bolted so quick, they neglected to empty their larders first. We can sit here in comfort till Forza’s realised he’s made a mistake, and by then Rasch will be starving and he’ll have to do something; or else we actually take Rasch, and then Forza won’t be a general any more.”
    Oida looked at him. “You don’t suppose Forza really is dead, do you?”
    Frontizo shook his head. “He’s alive,” he said. “Trust me.” He yawned, and lifted the lid off the teapot. “That’s enough shop talk for one day,” he said. “How about a game of cards?”
    “If you like.”
    “Do you know a game called Cartwheels?”
    Oida thought quickly. Ever since he’d given away all his money, only to find he probably wasn’t going to die after all, he’d been wondering how to raise his travelling expenses back to civilisation without having to beg or steal. The way Frontizo dressed when off duty had tagged him as a viable mark, but Oida hadn’t wanted to make the suggestion himself for fear of looking predatory. “I used to play it when I was a kid,” he said truthfully. “But that was many years ago.”
    “It’ll come back to you,” Frontizo said cheerfully, producing a worn-looking pack painted on thin lime board. “Basically it’s just Catch-Me, but prides beat straights and sevens are wild.”
    Oida did his apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t got any money,” he said. “But we can play for olives or something.”
    “I think I can risk taking your marker,” Frontizo said. “I’ll deal, shall I?”
    Oida played it classical, losing the first four hands and exhibiting a weakness for over-cautious bidding. Frontizo, he observed, was a twitcher, but it seemed certain he hadn’t realised. Oida did a quick calculation of how much a senior staff officer could afford to lose without feeling aggrieved.
    Frontizo dealt the fifth hand, and Oida frowned. Almost too good to be true. He played cautiously to start with, until all four sevens were accounted for and there remained nothing at all that could beat his pride of red kings and jacks. “Double that,” he said. “It is all right to double now, isn’t it?”
    Frontizo laughed. “You can if you like,” he said. “I’m sure you’re good for the money.”
    Oida was enormously tempted to enjoy himself for a bit, but decided not to. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll double and raise ten.”
    “Fifty.”
    Twitch, twitch. Much more of this and the fool would wipe himself out, which could lead to bad feeling. “I think I’ll see you,” he said, and turned over his last covered card. “King of Spears.”
    But Frontizo nodded, as though they’d rehearsed all this before, and flipped his card over.
    It was the Seven of Swords.
    There is no suit of Swords in the regulation pack.
    Frontizo grinned. “And sevens are wild, so that’s my trick, making five, so I win. You owe me one hundred and sixty-one angels.”
    Oida stared at the card, then at the fool sitting opposite. “You’re Lodge,” he said.
    Frontizo flipped the seven face downwards, then tucked it up his sleeve. “Don’t want to leave something like that lying about,” he said, “just in case. Yes, I am.”
    “You bastard. Why didn’t you—?”
    Frontizo