"Jack Dann - Blind Shemmy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

near the edge then . . . and could fall.
The dealer combined two decks of cards and placed them in a shoe, a box from which the cards could
be slid out one by one. He discarded three cards: the traditional burning of the deck.
Then he dealt a card to Pfeiffer and one to his opponent. Both cards landed face up. A queen of
hearts for Pfeiffer. A nine of hearts for his opponent.
So Pfeiffer lost the right to call the wager.
Just as the object of black jack was to draw cards that add up to twenty-one, or as near to that
figure as possible,
the object of blind shemmy was to draw cards that add up to nine. Thus, face cards, which would
normally be counted as ten, were counted as zero. Aces, normally counted as eleven, became one;
and all other cards had their normal pip (or face) value, with the exception of tens, which, like
aces, were counted as one.
"Monsieur Deux wins, nine over zero," said the dealer, looking now at Pfeiffer's opponent.
Pfeiffer was Monsieur Un and his opponent Monsieur Deux only because of their positions at the
table.
A hell of a way to start, Pfeiffer said.
Keep yourself closed, Joan said, turning into mist, then dark rain, pure sunlight and rainbows, a
perceptual kaleidoscope to conceal Pfeiffer from his enemies. Look now, he'll be more vulnerable
when he speaks. I'll cover you.
Your choice, said the gamesmaster. The thought was directed to Pfeiffer's opponent, who was
staring intently at Pfeiffer.
Look now, Joan said to Pfeiffer.
"Since we both turned up hearts, perhaps that is where we should begin," Pfeiffer's opponent said,
speaking for the benefit of the dealer. His words felt like shards of glass to Pfeiffer. "They're
the seats of our emotions; so we'd best dispose of them quickly." Pfeiffer felt the man smile. "Do
you assent?"
"It's your choice," Pfeiffer said to the dealer tonelessly.
Don't let anything out, Joan said.
Pfeiffer couldn't pick up anything from his opponent and the woman with him; they were both empty
doppelgangers of himself and Joan. Pretend that nothing matters, she said. If you expect to see
his cards and look inside him for weakness, you must be removed.
She's right, Pfeiffer thought. He tried to relax, smooth himself down; he thought innocuous white
thoughts and
ignored the knot of anxiety that seemed to be pulling at his groin.
"Cartes," said the dealer, dealing two cards from the shoe, facedown, one for Pfeiffer, the other
for his opponent. Another two cards, and then a palpable silence; not even thoughts seemed to cut
the air. It was an unnatural waiting ....
Pfeiffer had a natural nine, a winning hand (a queen and a nine of diamonds), and he looked up,
about to turn over his cards, when he saw the furry boy sitting across the table from him.
What the hell -
Call your hand. Joan said, feeling his glands open up, a warm waterfall of fear. But before
Pfeiffer could speak, his opponent said, "My friend across the table has a natural nine. A queen
and a nine, both diamonds. Since I called his hand-and I believe I am correct, then . . ."
The dealer turned Pfeiffer's cards over and said, "Monsieur Deux is correct, and wins by call." If
Pfeiffer's opponent had been mistaken about the hand, Pfeiffer would have won automatically, even
if his opponent held better cards.
The dealer then dealt two more cards from the shoe.
You're supposed to be covering my thoughts, Pfeiffer said, but he was composed, thinking white
thoughts again.
I'm trying, Joan said. But you won't trust me; you're trying to cover yourself from me as well as