"Patrick Welch - The Hidden Princess" - читать интересную книгу автора (Welch Patrick)

Before I could react he darted forward and upturned all three shells. There was a gasp from
the crowd followed by angry curses as not one, not two, but three small pebbles were
revealed. I won't go into the ensuing details except to say that all my customers received full
refunds...and some more...and I was forced from Fremound in disgrace.
The scent of rotting fish trailed me as I made my forlorn voyage out of the village to the
sanctuary of the surrounding woods. I spent a good hour cleaning fish parts from my wagon
and myself, then made a small campfire and planned. The stranger, whoever he was, was
doubtless following me. Why I had no idea. His continual interference in my commerce was
unacceptable, however. I needed to learn more.

When I reentered Fremound later that evening I was dressed not in the gold and sequined
regalia that was Dr. Forturo but in a simple brown jerkin and phony beard. I was confident
the townspeople would be feting their savior somewhere, and it did not take me long to find
them. The third seaside inn I entered was particularly full; in one corner a large crowd was
gathered at a table by the hearth. A voice I now recognized, feared and hated rose above
the rest. "Quite simple, really. As you can see, I merely palm the pebble like so as I set down
the cup. And now it is as empty as the rest!" A burst of applause followed immediately.
I ordered a cup of local wine and approached to get a better view of the proceedings. My
enemy sat smugly at the table, three gold cups in front of him. As I suspected, he had been
demonstrating the secrets of the Hidden Princess to his fawning entourage. "It's a very easy
game for deceit," he continued. "I feel most fortunate I was passing by your village lest Dr.
Forturo steal all your hard-earned fortune."
The crowd cheered lustily and tankards were raised. Seething, I joined in and took a hefty
swig of wine...which I immediately regretted. Apparently the villagers used fish in their
wine-making as well.

"Are there any legitimate games of chance?" one foolish villager asked.
"Indeed there are," their benefactor smiled. "The only truly fair competition involving sight
and skill is the game of the Three Kings."

Someone had to ask it so I did. "And what is that?" I called from the back, making sure to
adopt a deeper voice as disguise.
"One of startling simplicity and infinite challenge," he said smoothly. "We begin with a
simple deck of cards, which, it so happens, I have on me." He withdrew them and spread
them on the table. "We only require three; the King of Spades," he separated it with a
flourish, "the King of Clubs and the King of Hearts." He held them up so the sheep could
see. "Three kings, good folk of Fremound." He turned them face down on the table and
rearranged them slowly. "Two of these kings are impostors, pretenders to the throne if you
will," he intoned as he continued rearranging them. "Your challenge is to select the King of
Hearts, the only true ruler, from the three. Would anyone care to try?"
A chorus of eager voices rang out, pointing and calling out the various cards. "The one on
the left you say?" he asked, then turned it over as several agreed. The King of Hearts did
indeed appear. "Most excellent. As you all can see, a fair challenge of skill and luck. Shall
we try again?"

The flock agreed. I watched as he rapidly mixed the cards, rapidly turned over the losing
kings and just as rapidly took in their money. I noticed how he repeatedly ignored correct
answers while choosing players who were wrong. I noticed how several times he palmed the
King of Hearts only to replace it after a suitable interval. I noticed how he let small bettors
occasionally win while the larger wagerers continually lost.