"Fritz Leiber - Best of Fritz Leiber" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leiber Fritz)

of towards opposite corners, and of a five with the same red eyespots but a central red nose and two
spots close together below that to make teeth.

The long, skinny, white-gloved arm of the dice-girl snaked out like an albino cobra and scooped up the
dice and whisked them on to the rim of the table right in front of Joe. He inhaled silently, picked up a
single chip from his table and started to lay it beside the dice, then realized that wasnтАЩt the way things
were done here, and put it back. He would have liked to examine the chip more closely, though. It was
curiously lightweight and pale tan, about the colour of cream with a shot of coffee in it, and it had
embossed on its surface a symbol he could feel, though not see. He didnтАЩt know what the symbol was,


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 best of fritz leiber

that would have taken more feeling. Yet its touch had been very good, setting the power tingling full
blast in his shooting hand.

Joe looked casually yet swiftly at the faces around the table, not missing the Big Gambler across from
him, and said quietly, тАЬRoll a penny,тАЭ meaning of course one pale chip, or a dollar.

There was a hiss of indignation from all the Big Mushrooms and the moonface of big-bellied Mr. Bones
grew purple as he started forward to summon his bouncers.

The Big Gambler raised a black-satined forearm and sculptured hand, palm down. Instantly Mr. Bones
froze and the hissing stopped faster than that of a meteor prick in self-sealing space steel. Then in a
whispery, cultured voice, without the faintest hint of derision, the man in black said, тАЬGet on him,
gamblers.тАЭ

Here, Joe thought, was a final confirmation of his suspicion, had it been needed. The really great
gamblers were always perfect gentlemen and generous to the poor.

With only the tiny, respectful hint of a guffaw, one of the Big Mushrooms called to Joe, тАЬYouтАЩre faded.тАЭ

Joe picked up the ruby-featured dice.

Now ever since he had first caught two eggs on one plate, won all the marbles in Ironmine, and juggled
six alphabet blocks so they finally fell in a row on the rug spelling тАЬMother,тАЭ Joe Slattermill had been
almost incredibly deft at precision throwing. In the mine he could carom a rock off a wall of ore to crack
a ratтАЩs skull fifty feet away in the dark and he sometimes amused himself by tossing little fragments of
rock back into the holes from which they had fallen, so that they stuck there, perfectly fitted in, for at
least a second. Sometimes, by fast tossing, he could fit seven or eight fragments into the hole from
which they had fallen, like putting together a puzzle block.

If he could ever have got into space, Joe would undoubtedly have been able to pilot six Moon-skimmers
at once and do figure eights through SaturnтАЩs rings blind!olded.

Now the only real difference between precision-tossing rocks or alphabet blocks and dice is that you
have to bounce the latter off the end wall of a crap table, and that just made it a more interesting test of
skill for Joe.