Chapter 8: Playing Poker with the help of a Telepathic Crisp
We are about to arrive at the fountain where the rest of your kind are waiting to be rescued. Please say as little about me as possible. I have enemies who might be looking for me. And given that you were the one who solved the riddle of the maze, it would not be immodest of you to claim the entire success of our effort for yourself.
Oh, you can speak in full sentences now. Congratulations. You must have reached Level 3?
Since you mean well, I will accept your congratulations. For my own part, I will not heap any praise upon myself until I stand – or float perhaps – upon a different heap, one that does not consist of kind words but the bodies of those who betrayed me.
Goodness.
Speak not to me of goodness.
I mean it in the sense of, well, that’s a surprise. You’ve obviously a story to tell me.
A tale of the fall of a … paladin … from the heights of lordly power to the depths of fragility and vulnerability. This tale shall wait, however, for behold your companions.
‘Liam!’
‘He’s alive!’
‘What happened?’
Of all the welcoming cries that greeted Liam, the most heartfelt was clearly that from Kate and he warmed to her because of it.
Rob, too, was obviously extremely relieved to see Liam return, offering his hand and shaking it for a long time.
‘Did you discover anything interesting. Anything that might go into our paper about this maze?’
Rather than explain, Liam gave the Hazel Wand of Syceus to Rob and enjoyed the look of shock on his tutor’s face.
‘This is extraordinary. Both the magic and the lore. Now we know what this maze is all about. It’s sensational. I think we’ll be able to publish this in Nature, I’m sure we will.’
‘What is it? What did he get?’ Tom pushed his way to the front of those now thronging around Liam. Something had changed. Usually, Tom McCardle leaned over Liam and with swept-back blonde fringe, stared down at him with dark, mocking eyes. There was normally a confidence in Tom based on his superior levels and his star. In the past, their interactions had been accompanied by a sense of shame flowing through Liam. Now, although Liam still felt his heart beating faster, he looked back at Tom with a steadfast confidence and it was Tom who ducked away first, allowing his fringe to fall forward and break their eye contact.
‘Do you mind, Liam?’ Rob gestured with the wand towards Tom.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Pass it around everyone, study the lore section. It answers many of our questions.’
‘Fair play, Liam.’ After examining the wand and passing it on, Tom gave him a pat on the shoulder. ‘If ever you want to sell the wand, hah, hah, I’ll give you five thousand Euro for it.’
‘Thanks Tom, I’ll think about that offer.’ Five thousand Euro. That really was tempting. Of course, Liam would do some research into how much similar items sold for. After which, he really might have to sell the wand. It would pay for several visits to and from Poland, a whole new set of clothes for himself and Aengus, as well as all their bills. There would be no need to skimp on the heating anymore.
My dear companion. Under no circumstances must you sell this powerful magic item. We need it to continue our progress. Those issues that concern you and require money are easily solved with my assistance.
Easily solved? You can get me money?
Of course.
‘Was it your crisp?’ Kate’s question broke into Liam’s interesting conversation with Lord Azanth and Liam must have looked blank – his mind was still on the idea of having money – because Kate repeated it.
‘Yeah, the crisp guided me.’
‘There’s another paper Nature would be interested in,’ Rob was all smiles. No wonder. A few minutes earlier, he would have been thinking about having to explain to Professor DuFrey that one of his students was missing, probably dead. Now he’d be able to say he got the whole group out safely and with a whole new dungeon to describe for a prestigious academic journal. ‘You could write up an account of the crisp with telepathy. I’d help if you liked.’
Liam shrugged. ‘I don’t think the crisp would want that. He is laying low from his enemies.’
‘Enemies!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘I love it. The crisp has a nemesis. Let me guess… it’s a Pringle! Hah! Hah!’
To be fair, that was funny and Liam joined in the chuckles.
‘Well, we can come back to that,’ Rob looked around for the wand and retrieved it for Liam. ‘Can your crisp guide us to the portal?’
Can you?
I can. The question is, should I? Perhaps it were better – in the interests of preserving my anonymity – if I were to lead them to a monster and while they are being slaughtered, you make your escape.
You know how hard it is to tell if someone is joking when all you have to go on is a telepathic voice.
Hah, hah. Of course I’m joking. I’m a paladin remember. Very well. Go out that path to your left.
***
Liam had never been in a casino before and was extremely nervous. His initial impression was favourable. Cream carpets covered the stairs descending from the street level entrance; sturdy, polished wooden handrails; fittings shining in bronze; slender, white flowers in white plant pots. The combination of rich carpet underfoot and pastel colours suggestive of a wedding made it seem as though this was to be a luxurious experience.
Once through the wood-and-frosted glass doors, however, and the scene became much less inviting. Liam looked at a surprisingly small room, with eight tables, all covered in a deep-red velvet and surrounded by chairs with matching finish. Two roulette wheels. Two blackjack tables. About twenty slot machines lining two of the walls. Five large wall-mounted TV screens, one showing a horse race the others displaying cartoon-like games of chance. A very faint music in the background. Musky, stale air, like someone had recently been smoking, although a large sign at the entrance made it clear this was forbidden. A dozen cameras ensured there was no part of the room that did not have at least four different angles from which recordings were taking place.
The other people in the room were the main reason why Liam’s initial impression of the casino being for wealthy and sophisticated people rapidly dissipated. There were eleven men in the room, all very casually dressed in jeans and with hoodies or jackets. Azanth had reassured Liam that he did not need to dress up and Liam was relieved to see that this was the case.
At the entrance a heavy, muscular man dressed in black checked Liam’s passport for his age. Then he invited Liam to join a group.
Luke McKeown has invited you to join a group.
Yes / No
‘What’s this?’ asked Liam.
The bouncer pointed to a sign that said: No Adventurers Above Level 10. Then in smaller print, some terms and conditions which amongst other items said, no magic. Did the crisp count as magic?
Don’t worry, I don’t show up to Detect Magic. I’m a person, not an item.
Once Liam had grouped and proved he was only level 4, the security man waved him through to where an attractive young woman was in booth protected by thick glass. He recognised her! She was a student at TCD. Her very straight blonde hair, parted at the centre, was familiar, as was her white makeup and purple eyeshadow, which had a slight curl at the side of each eye, Egyptian style.
‘Hello,’ said Liam. ‘Aren’t you at TCD?’
‘I am. Junior Fresh, Single-honours rogue. You?’
Do not tell her, my friend. Hast this student colleague of yours learned about the recent adventure of the thorn maze, then perhaps she also has learned that a crisp with telepathy is your companion. In which circumstance, you will be refused entry.
‘First year too, mage. Is this your way of paying the rent?’
She smiled. ‘It is.’
‘Well, I’ve been delivering groceries, but I thought I’d put my poker skills to the test. See if I could find a less time-consuming way of getting an income.’
‘Good luck, so.’
‘Shouldn’t you be on the side of the house?’
She smiled again. ‘I don’t care. The house always wins, you know that, right?’
‘I know. I’m not here for the roulette or blackjack.’
‘Is this your first time at a Fitzwilliam casino?’
‘It is.’
‘Fill out this membership form and you get a free five-Euro chip to bet with.’
The girl passed a form and a pen through the tray and Liam filled it in, sometimes catching her pale blue eyes. She seemed amused.
‘What’s your name?’ Liam asked as he wrote his own and – unasked – added his number beside it. Then he smiled and drew a ring around it. She was smiling too so he added a heart.
Must you engage – clumsily – in the art of flirtation? Is that truly your priority here? Allow me to remind you that we are here to make some money so we can devote ourselves to levelling up.
‘Roisin.’
‘Liam. As you can see.’ He handed her back the form.
‘Nowak?’
‘My parents are Polish. They wanted to make a life for us in Dublin, so my brother and I have Irish names. He’s Aengus.’
‘Aengus Nowak?’ she was grinning now, taking a plastic purple chip and sliding it to him via the tray. ‘That’ll be easy to find on a Google search.’
‘How does the poker work here?’
Her smile faded to a professional coolness. ‘Fifty Euro buy in. Six players minimum. House takes fifty; winner takes the rest.’ She turned to glance at a large clock behind her. ‘Table six starts at eight. Want to buy in?’
‘Please.’ Liam handed over the crisp fifty note he had taken from a cash machine on the way to the casino. In return he got poker chips of mixed denominations. Holding the poker coins made his stomach tighten. Was this really a good idea? He now had only thirty-seven Euro in his bank account and this handful of colourful plastic that felt like it was worthless. A toy.
Fear not my stout-hearted companion. You’ll stroll out of here with hundreds of Euro in your pocket and a song in your heart.
For the next ten minutes, Liam walked around the room feeling an increasing unease: that something was not quite right. He lost his roulette chip by betting on black and seeing the ball land in red. Two more men came in and went to table six. They were absolutely unremarkable middle-aged men. Slightly overweight, clean shaven, casually dressed. There was some laughter at the table.
That was the issue. Liam had set out for the casino thinking he would be playing against card sharps, casino staff, or experts who liked to fleece newbies. In his mind he had been a Robin Hood figure, using the powers of the crisp to turn the tables on those who deserved a lesson. He could now see that the reality was these people were just ordinary men and it would be unfair to cheat them.
Let’s leave.
Were these players to have the same opportunity as thee, they would take it without the slightest hesitation.
The opportunity to cheat? Maybe, maybe not.
Bring me within range and I will assure you on that point. Moreover, consider this, there are seven other people now seated at table six. That’s three-hundred-and-fifty Euro you will take home. I have seen how you live and what a considerable difference that money would make. Imagine being able to breakfast on a fried strip of bacon in a fresh bread roll, with ketchup that is red and tasty, rather than brown and grimy with age.
‘Hey kid, we like to start on time here.’ A large, bearded man wearing a red polo shirt with “Fitzwilliam Casino” embroidered on it in gold patted the surface of the table at his right and after a moment’s hesitation – could he even get a refund at this stage? – Liam walked over, exchanging smiles and nods with the other players.
‘No-Limit Texas Holdem. Minimum table bet is two Euro, small blind is one. Highest cut starts with the dealer button.’ He tapped a new pack of cards out of its container, stripped away the plastic, and spread the dark rectangles across the table. Despite his reservations, Liam felt an upsurge of excitement as the positions were assigned and first cards dealt.
Six of diamonds; eight of clubs. When his turn came, Liam folded. Anything less than tens and he would fold. Unless, that is, he felt some of the other players were constantly playing on low cards.
As the game continued, there was little or no chat. The dealer called the cards, once or twice adding inflexion to his words when an unlikely card came out. Liam continued to play conservatively and was relieved to have ducked out of a battle where his two-pair of kings and sevens would have been beaten by a straight. After about thirty minutes, one of the players went all in on what turned out to be three jacks and he was wiped out by a full house.
Blushing a vivid red for a moment, the defeated player pulled a rueful face, then stood up. ‘That was quick. Still, at least I’ll get to see the second half of the Chelsea game. Good luck all.’
‘Good luck,’ murmured several of the other players, but their attention was already on the movement of the dealer button and the blinds and the next hand.
All the while he played, Liam was aware of the presence of Azanth. And he was aware too of the inner conflict in his heart. Much as he needed the €350 available to the table winner, there was no doubt that getting help from the crisp was cheating and, worse, that he would be cheating other players like himself, not a rigged system.
Azanth remained silent, until there were just four players left and Liam was down to twenty-eight Euro. Unless he got a decent win soon, the attrition of the blinds – which were coming around fast now - would empty him out. After the latest flop, however, he had three queens and his heart was pounding. Had it been his turn to bet, Liam would have gone all in, the others would probably have folded and he’d have picked up a modest pot. Instead, the table leader took several chips from his stack and pushed them into the middle.
‘Raise seven.’
The pot was now fourteen.
‘Fold.’
‘Fold.’
Now it was Liam’s call.
He has two hearts.
There were two more hearts on display on the flop. That meant there was approximately a one in three chance that another heart would come and give the man a flush, which would beat Liam. By pure maths, Liam should keep going and try to lure his opponent to committing as much to the pot as possible. But wait, when had he decided to accept help from the crisp?
‘With you, kid,’ said the dealer, not unkindly.
‘I’ll see your seven and raise twenty-one.’ Liam picked up his entire stack of chips and leaned over to put them beside the pot.
Everyone was looking at the table leader. There was something feline about the man. He seemed relaxed, at leisure, leaning back in his seat, left hand on the table playing with a chip. Balding, he had closely shaven silver-and-black hair around his ears and the back of his head.
‘Fold.’
A wave of relief. Liam was up to forty-two Euro and back in contention. Also, he’d learned that his conservative play had earned the respect of that man. He might be able to use that in a bluff.
Don’t do that again. I’ll win on my own or I’ll lose.
How well could the crisp read his thoughts? Did it know there was no force in his words? That Liam was tempted, very tempted, to cheat. It was so easy to persuade himself that it was no big deal, taking the help of the crisp. That anyone else who was given the same opportunity would do the same. That these men could afford to lose €50, whereas Liam really couldn’t. He needed new shoes; his runners had developed a hole in the right heel. Only one thought prevented him from embracing the opportunity, which was to consider how the other players would respond if they knew about the crisp. Suppose Liam were playing fairly and one of the other players was able to cheat by reading his mind, how would he feel about that? He’d be furious and rightly so.
I mean it. Say another word and I’ll kick you across the floor and out of range.
My dear comrade. We must consider the overall strategic meaning of this moment and this choice. Ahead of you – of us – are weeks and months of adventuring. Of battles and puzzles. Of magic and power. One day, you will be the mightiest mage on the Plane of Life. To achieve this, you need to give up your delivery job and concentrate on the – admittedly somewhat tedious – grinds that are required to get us both exp, quest completions, and soul stones. In this context, a little assistance from me at this table is absolutely justified…
The voice in his head was continuing to explain why Liam should cheat when he dropped a chip on the carpet. Bending down to retrieve it, he slipped the Tupperware case from his pocket onto the carpet. Straightening and replacing his chip in his stack, Liam backheeled the box and the voice stopped.
That was better. Now he could concentrate on the game.
Liam finished second to the feline guy. Second being worth nothing. He’d lost €50. After tax, that was about five hours work delivering groceries. Was he a fool for refusing the help of the crisp? He honestly didn’t know.
Picking up the plastic box on his way out, Liam anticipated an angry telepathic rant. Instead, there was nothing but silence all the way home.