Big Charlie shot out of his seat as Vic stood to leave. "You cheated, you little beggar," the large man bellowed.

The sound made Vic's stomach clench with apprehension. Damn it! Pushed it too far.

Vic shot a look to the exit, almost exactly opposite the gambling table. Too far to run just yet. Big Charlie had earned his name by being almost as round as he was tall, but his size belied his speed. Vic had seen the man in action, and he could move like a crocodile. There was no way to reach the door with him looming so close. Not smart, Vic Flash. Not smart at all.

Around them, the other patrons of the Red Dawn Tavern quieted. Those sitting close to the impending fight started to move to the opposite side of the commons; some patrons ducked out the door.

Vic took a deep breath, eyes trained on Charlie. Scold yourself later. Right now, it's time to leave. "Listen, Big Charlie," Vic began in a conciliatory tone, palms up and facing outward to halt the large man's steps, "I just had a lucky streak is all. Cards fall as they will." Just need to stall him. A few steps backward…

"No one gets three Devil's High in one night," Charlie boomed, grabbing Vic by the collar, effectively preventing any more of those few steps backward. Vic swallowed, the movement made difficult under Charlie's grip. Okay, so maybe the third Devil's High had been a mistake. Worry about it later, Flash! Because calming the situation wasn't working.

Vic stared at the raging man and tried to speak around his vice grip. Charlie shook Vic, suddenly and hard, addling brains and concentration with the jolt. Whatever the young gambler had intended to say was shaken loose and lost. It took several seconds for instinct to kick in.

Too long, Vic thought as the grip tightened, stealing much needed air. Way too long.

In a move too quick for the eye to follow, Vic pulled a dagger from a concealed spot and pressed it against Charlie's neck. Calming wasn't gonna work. Time for the straightforward approach. Threaten back. Charlie looked at the dagger against his neck, his grip easing enough for Vic to talk. "It was a lucky night for me, Big Charlie. Let it be." The gambler's voice was quiet, but each carefully enunciated word sounded loudly in the now silent commons.

Slowly, Charlie released the crumpled collar of Vic's tunic. For just an instant, Vic felt relief leak past the anxiety. Then without warning, he captured Vic's knife wrist in another vice grip, his big hand encompassing half of Vic's forearm. "You threaten me with this poker, boy," Charlie hissed. His breath stank of stale ale and bar smoke. Vic held back a gag and turned full focus on the hand caught in Charlie's grip. So much for threatening.

"Enough, Big Charlie," Riyack whispered harshly. "You'll break his wrist."

With a sadistic snarl, Charlie said, "Good," and twisted Vic's wrist just a little more. Exactly what Vic had been hoping for. A second concealed dagger appeared in Vic's left hand, slashing a shallow line along Charlie's huge, hairy forearm. The big man howled and let go.

It was all the young gambler needed.

Dashing past tables and startled patrons, Vic fled into the darkened city streets, heart pounding loudly with a rush of adrenaline. A furious roar erupted from the door of the Red Dawn, but Vic was already lost in the shadows of a nearby alley when Big Charlie charged into the street.

The heavy purse of gambling winnings hung at the thick black belt cinched around Vic's dark brown homespun tunic. It remained safely hidden beneath a black cloak, the hood of which was now pulled up over the young gambler's head. The weight of the money purse felt reassuring. Vic touched it, just to make sure it was secure. Not a bad night's work, if I do say so myself.

Lip sucked in between teeth, Vic had to acknowledge that the night's work could have gone better. That last hand had been a bad move. Charlie was right. No one got three Devil's High in one night. The winnings were worth it, though. Gip's cut would leave him happy and singing Vic Flash's praise. And Vic had enough money now to last a few months.

But best of all, Vic Flash had done the impossible. No one could cheat at a table with Joe Missek. The man saw everything. But Vic had done it. Fooled Joe Missek's eye. Three times! Few could claim that triumph. Next time, with a little more subtlety, a little more caution, not even Charlie would be able to shout cheat.

Smiling slightly, but not enough to show teeth, Vic watched from the dark alley as Big Charlie charged down the street a few yards. He was fast, but he didn't have the kind of stamina it took to catch Vic Flash in a flat out run-especially when there was no sign which direction the gambler might have gone. As far as Charlie knew, Vic was currently pounding the cobbles toward safety. He bellowed once more, then returned to the Red Dawn, cursing loudly as he disappeared back into the pub.

A quick glance around the quiet, empty street and Vic let out a slow breath. She'd made it. It was late, nearly three hours after midnight. Late enough to leave even this night-driven part of the city relatively still. Not a single witness to give Vic away.

Standing in the alley shadows for another few minutes confirmed that Big Charlie had given up any chase for the night. Vic inhaled deeply, feeling the excitement of the moment turning to satisfaction for the first time since Charlie had shouted cheat. The gambler turned to head back down the alley only to be stopped by a tall, dark figure leaning one shoulder against the alley wall.

Heart firmly in throat, Vic's knife flew to hand. Damn it, how had he gotten there? Adrenaline surged back. Second mistake of the night. Vic was gonna get into serious trouble at this rate. Being in the middle of trouble wasn't new to the gambler. But missing a stranger just standing there… That was bad. What if he'd been one of Big Charlie's men? Vic swallowed. I'm lucky the only knife on display is in my hand and not sticking out of my neck.

The stranger hadn't said a word while Big Charlie had bellowed up and down the street, though, so there was a good chance he wasn't one of Charlie's. And if he wasn't helping Big Charlie, then they could deal. Vic wasn't about to lose all that hard-won coin to another thief-even if this man was good enough to hide in the alley without alerting Vic's street-honed senses to his presence-but they could compromise. Vic hoped. Without letting the man out of sight, the gambler scanned the alley, listening intently for movement from behind.

"Did you cheat?" His voice was rich and deep. Not familiar.

Vic looked him over as he stepped away from the wall and the dim street lamps exposed his face. Definitely not one of Charlie's men. Too well kept for one thing. Dark hair hung to broad shoulders and surrounded a ruggedly handsome face. The man's dark eyes reflected the lamplight, and his full mouth turned up in a half grin. He stood a foot over Vic's five foot four. The dark tunic and trousers he wore were of a rich material, and a gold-hilted sword hung at his waist. The man didn't look like a thief. In fact, he looked out of place in this part of town.

Vic's heart began to thud loudly. The knife stayed firmly in hand. "You weren't playing. What do you care?"

"Just a question, boy." The man looked down at Vic with an expression between amusement and indifference. His gaze flashed to the knife, but he didn't seem bothered by the underlying threat. He did however, keep his distance. So he wasn't stupid. "Dangerous to cheat with those fellows. Kind of a rough lot for someone your age, isn't it?"

Vic couldn't help grinning, professional pride bursting through a suspicious mask. That "rough lot" had put a lot of money in that last pile. "I won. I'd say it was a lot rougher on them."

A chuckle rumbled from the man's chest. "What's your name?"

"Vic." There was something about the man, something in his expression. Or maybe it was the eyes. Out of place or not, he didn't seem likely to try stealing a person's gambling winnings. If Vic were being completely honest, there was enough gold in the hilt of his sword to more than cover the coin won that night. And he wasn't trying to get too close, wasn't making lewd comments or suggestive gestures. So he wasn't looking for a toy. Didn't look the type anyway. In fact, he looked… honest? Vic didn't come across that often, but there it was. Certain he could look dangerous if he tried, Vic got the feeling he was trying to look friendly, working not to intimidate.

Those impressions-and his distance-worked in his favor. Vic decided it would be okay to relax a little. Enough to be curious. The knife disappeared, but Vic's senses stayed trained on the alley gap to the rear as well as the man.

"Well Vic, if I were you, I'd stay out of the Red Dawn for a few weeks. Big Charlie's slow to forget."

Vic looked him up and down, once again taking in the high quality of his clothing and weapon. "You slumming it, rich man? How do you know Big Charlie?"

With another chuckle, he said, "I know everything about this city, boy."

Vic grinned again. Everything, huh? "Well, watch your neck. Thieves are about this time of night." Edging warily past the tall stranger and up the alley, Vic stopped just before the end of the building and looked back. "By the way, rich man, Vic is short for Victoria."

With an indolent grin, she shot around the building's edge and disappeared. The stunned expression on the rich man's face kept her chuckling all the way back to the Hole.

***

Jacob Marin stared down the alleyway for several minutes after the young gambler had disappeared. "Victoria," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Even inside the tavern, he hadn't guessed, though he couldn't claim he'd been paying that much attention. He'd come to this part of town for a quiet, relatively anonymous drink. The last thing he'd wanted was to be caught in a bar brawl. So when chairs had started scraping across the worn wooden floor and accusations had started to fly, Jacob had only taken a moment to notice those involved before he'd ducked out the door.

Imagine his surprise when not five minutes later, the young gambler had come flying out of the Red Dawn to take refuge in the very alleyway Jacob was using to make sure the city guards weren't needed. He had to admit to being impressed with Vic. He hadn't expected him-her-to be able to escape Big Charlie so quickly. The man could move like a crocodile over short distances. But there she'd been, safely crouched out of sight, while Charlie had pounded ineffectually up the street.

While the thug had been howling threats at the "boy", Jacob had had time to study the gambler a bit closer, but he still hadn't realized he'd been looking at a young woman. Her curly brown hair was cut roughly and hung just below her shoulders at its longest parts. Big dark eyes were surrounded by long lashes and set in a round, high cheek-boned face.

Remembering that face now, Jacob smiled ruefully. He, of all people, should have guessed. After all, Jacob knew women. It was unheard of that he could stand that close to a woman and not notice. But the features were just as easily those of an adolescent boy as a young woman, and the bulky, poorly cut tunic had hidden any signs of a female figure. Still, it was a bit humbling to realize he could be fooled so easily. She was good, that young woman. Very, very good.

Yawning, Jacob turned back to the street in front of the Red Dawn. With only three hours till sunrise, it was time for the King's Own General to head back to the royal castle. A pair of large brown eyes twinkled mischievously in the back of Jacob's mind as he walked through the quiet streets of Dareelia.

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