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→Chapter Twenty

→I doubt if the music-hall singer would be Cicerius's first choice, but he's keen to get things underway. He nods, and asks if anyone has any objections. No one has, so Moolifi takes a seat at the table and picks up the cards. We're finally ready to play.

→"I'll do it," she says. "I've dealt a lot of cards in my time."

→Moolifi rises to her feet.

→"Who will deal?" says Cicerius, looking round.

→There seem to be a lot of eyes turned in my direction. I get the impression they're judging how many men it will take to throw me from the city walls. Quite a few, probably, though I have lost a pound or two since the yam shortage began.

→"Gentlemen, stop this," roars Cicerius. "The game must proceed. Try and act like civilised Turanians. Glixius, I assure you that Thraxas's continual involvement with Horm the Dead is nothing more than coincidence."

→"I wouldn't dream of it," says Glixius. "Although it has struck me as odd before now how every time Horm the Dead troubles our city, you're involved in it somehow."

→"Are you calling me a cheat!" I roar, rising to my feet.

→"Yes," says Glixius, also looking in my direction. "A dealer might be better. There are some players whom one can never trust not to manipulate the cards in their favour."

→"I wasn't referring to you," growls the General, and looks straight in my direction.

→"I assure you, I have no intention of cheating," says Horm, smoothly.

→"I think a dealer might be better, in the circumstances," says the General.

→"We usually just deal ourselves," says Grax.

→We don't have a designated dealer at our games at the Axe.

→"Who is dealing the cards?"

→There's a long pause, and a few uneasy expressions around the table. Finally General Acarius speaks.

→"Are we ready to begin?" he asks.

→I can sense the Sorcerers at the nearby table expending all their energies in checking around them for unexpected Orcish sorcery, probing the air for spells, and all the while wondering if there is some way of removing the Ocean Storm from Horm. Horm no doubt senses it too, but remains calm. He greets everyone at the table quite politely, and sits in the vacant chair.

→Cicerius is slightly troubled. He hesitates, and naturally everyone notices. By the time I reach the card table it's firmly fixed in every mind that I've brought Horm the Dead to the Avenging Axe for reasons of my own, no doubt as the first part of a traitorous attempt to sell out the city.