Blind God's Bluff A Billy Fox Novel - By Richard Lee Byers Page 0,83
the rack. Since I was more used to pool cues, the shorter, lighter stick felt a little funny in my hands. I chalked it and lined up a shot.
“Did all of Timon’s servants survive the encounter?” the Pharaoh asked.
“Everybody’s fine,” I said. I shot, then smiled when my cue ball clacked into his and the red ball, too. Maybe I wasn’t as rusty as I thought.
“That’s all for the best,” the Pharaoh said. “I don’t suppose I’d look like an especially gracious guest if I were getting my host’s subjects slaughtered willy-nilly.”
“Probably not.” I used some outside English to make another shot.
“Where exactly did they catch up with you?”
I grinned as I bent back down over the table. “What you really want to know is why I left the hotel.”
“True. Can you blame me? I know Timon must have explained that you’re safer here, yet you persist in slipping off anyway. You decamped with the little horned nymph again today even though rumor has it that she played you false yesterday. To say the least, it’s curious.”
“Oh, not really. I like fresh air, and she’s hot.” I hit his cue ball but missed the red ball by a quarter of an inch. “Your turn.”
His stick floated around the table, then swung down and lined itself up for the stroke. “You realize,” he said, “I can simply ask Epunamlin or Sylvester where you went.”
“Sure,” I said. “Good luck with that.”
He tried a kick shot. He clipped the red ball but missed my cue.
I had a tough leave, but I made my shot anyway, just barely grazing the second ball.
As I straightened up, the Pharaoh said, “We could start a real game, and play for the answer to a question. You already know what I’d ask, and I daresay you can think of something to ask me.”
“I can think of a bunch of things,” I said. “But I figure that a guy who can move a cue with his mind can move the balls, too, and that just might explain this little hot streak I’ve been on. But I like the way you let me miss one shot, and just barely make another. You didn’t oversell it.”
He laughed. “You continue to impress me.”
“And just think, I’m saving all my best stuff for the poker table.”
“I have every confidence. But seriously, have you thought about the future? More specifically, have you thought about the implications of what happened after I caught your astral body in my snare?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The cleaving into five. I suspect that it marked you, and that whenever you work magic now, particularly when you’re improvising, you tend to achieve your effects by drawing one of the five souls to the forefront.”
Just like I’d told Timon. Jesus, this guy was sharp. “Okay. So what?”
“So nothing bad, I assure you. You’ve set your feet on a noble path. But it is your path now, and Timon, powerful though he is, can’t teach you to walk it all the way to the end.”
“But you could.”
“Yes. Unlike anyone else you’re ever likely to meet.”
“So I need to throw the tournament to buddy up to you.”
The Pharaoh stubbed out the butt of his smoke in a cut-glass ashtray. “You have an unfortunate tendency to put things crudely. But yes, of course, that is what I’m proposing.”
“Sorry,” I said. “If you want to win, you’ll have to knock me out the old-fashioned way.” I leaned my cue against the wall and went back out into the hall.
Where I needed to fix my expression and body language. I’d wanted to look tough for the Pharaoh’s benefit, but now it was time for something different.
So I imagined myself back in Georgie’s coffin. Back running with Epunamlin’s Lugers cracking behind me. Back reeling through the dark, endless house with the floating skull snapping at my back.
Either I’ve got a good imagination or I’d just gone through too much shit in too short a time, because it almost worked too well. I started panting, and a shudder ran through me. I even felt like I might start crying.
But I made myself take slow, deep breaths, and after a few seconds, I managed to dial it back. Then I only looked like a guy suffering from panic attacks, or at least I hoped I did.
I climbed the marble stairs to the mezzanine. Gaspar was outside the door to Timon’s hideout. When he saw me coming, he said, “Here he is!”