“I’d take a whiskey,” Step declared as he studied his cards. “And I’ll raise five.”

Falise, with sudden understanding, smiled wickedly. “Ednund. I need those two coins.”

When he handed them, she studied them. Tossed out the five, saying, “If your plan is to embarrass me for a lack of physical SDRs—”

“I’ll stake you,” Dek told her. “That means I’ll advance you what you need to play. I think everyone in the room knows that Taglionis don’t welch on debts.”

A murmur went around the room. Falise noting it with a flicker of her eyes.

Falise won with two pair.

And then the game began in earnest.

Falise won enough hands to prove herself competent. Step, turning cautious too late, dropped out after a half an hour, having bled nine hundred, most of which had gone to Falise.

The crowd had grown, news having traveled around that Dek was playing his sister. Seemed that—but for Falise—the entire town knew.

None of this was lost on Falise, of course. She had to be achingly aware that people didn’t flock to The Jewel just to watch a poker game.

Time to end it. On Falise’s deal, Dek lost a good-sized pot. Falise, ever more confident now, had that old familiar glint. The one she got when she was about to triumph.

Of course, she had the same implant he did. Top of the line. Unlike him, she was relying on the skills and card memory it provided. Dek had been playing for a decade on Ashanti, and then running his weekly game on Donovan. His ante was a nugget the size of a robin’s egg. Falise’s eyes widened. She hesitated, pushed out part of her pile of coins.

Dek controlled the shuffle, dealt, checked his cards, to find them exactly as he’d planned. Falise should have two jacks. He had three spades.

He raised with a pigeon-blood ruby. Let his stare burn into hers. For a second, she fixed on his eyes, then shook it off, as if seeing things. “What’s that worth here?”

“About six hundred. Which is about all that you’ve got on the table.”

She considered her two jacks, pushed the pile in. Took three, which he’d anticipated. If his deal was as good as he hoped, she was staring at three jacks, backed by an AK.

Dek discarded and took two. He reached into his belt pouch, tossed out a bar of silver metal.

“What’s that?” Falise asked.

“A two-pound bar of rhodium, but if you don’t think it’s enough, I’ll back it with another eight pounds. Just didn’t want to carry it around with me.”

A mumbling went up from the crowd.

“As a new arrival, I don’t have anything of nearly equal—”