Rogues

XIV. The Pact

That night, Fedor practised card tricks with Yorik, Onwyth, and Lev, manipulating the deck and using sleight of hand to move cards where he wanted them.

His frustration grew with each attempt as the others watched, calling out when they spotted him trying to cheat.

"You must be more fluid." Yorik took the cards from Fedor, split the deck, shuffled them, and turned Fedor's target card over. "Remember, it is all about misdirection."

Onwyth leaned forward and showed Fedor the same trick. "It took me so long to learn this. It's super difficult to get right. I remember, I used to keep making the card obvious. But you're always the one in control. Not the marks. You just need everyone else in the game to think you're playing fair. You can distract them with inane conversation or pointing things out in the room, asking questions. Ooh, I like your drapes—are they real velvet? That works better with women. For men, you could ask if they heard about the latest fight, blah, blah, blah. Hasn't the weather been good, bad, or indifferent?"

"The weather's always indifferent," Lev said. "It's the bloody weather."

"You can have indifferent weather," Onwyth said, handing the deck back to Fedor. "It's like when the weather's fine. Not hot. Not cold. Not too windy. Not too cloudy. It's just fine."

Yorik shook his head. "Weather has no value. There is no good weather. There is no bad weather. There is only bad clothes."

Fedor glanced at the door and tried the card trick again, this time keeping track of the ace of swords as he slid it along his palm and down to the bottom of the deck.

"You alright?" Lev asked.

"I'm fine." Fedor dealt.

"You seem distracted, mate."

"I'm fine. Just wondering where Melita's at."

The room dropped quiet.

"Gavril wants her working," Onwyth said.

"Oh." Fedor sucked in his bottom lip. "Right."

Onwyth clapped her hands. "You did the trick. I knew you were going to do it, but I didn't see it. You did it. That is very good. It took me so long to learn this one."

Glancing down at the cards, Fedor forced a smile. "Thanks."

"It was fine," Yorik said. "Still not good enough."

"Looked fine to me," Onwyth said, folding her arms. "Don't listen to Yorik. You did very well."

"Yes." Yorik steepled his fingers and arched an eyebrow at Onwyth. "But you do not look for these things. If Fedor took his trick to gambling house, someone would smash his nose and break many fingers."

Fedor cringed and pushed the deck away. "I'm not sure cards are for me."

Yorik shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. They are good way to make money if you can tip the game in your favour. It's about tilting odds to your advantage without them knowing."

Lev patted Fedor's back. "I wouldn't bother trying to rip off gambling dens just yet. Some unsavoury types run those things."

"It is same with most things," Yorik said. "Whatever job you do, there is always chance you will piss wrong person off."

"Yeah, but gamblers..." Lev curled his lip. "They're already in a grubby game and they're on the lookout to screw over good folk like us."

Onwyth spluttered a laugh. "Good folk? Like you?" She smacked the table and laughed again. "If you go to a gambling den, you're a mark. That is the beginning and end. The houses are running a con and they never lose." She raised a finger. "I would suggest using tricks like this in something like a private game, or even better as a distraction for something else."