Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [89]
Wait a second, Riker thought, alarmed. If we start accepting credit, who knows how high the stakes could get? “I would prefer not to take money that isn’t on the floor.”
“But we always permit this!” Lord Li Po said indignantly. “One seldom carries enough gold to play for long.”
“You gamble like this all the time?” Riker asked. As far as he knew, this was the first poker game in the history of the Dragon Empire.
“We wager on horses, dice, the favors of unattached courtesans,” Li Po explained. “Naturally, we accept each other’s credit. It is the only honorable thing to do.”
“Even my dissolute brother is allowed to tender notes of obligation,” Chuan-chi said, “although it is doubtful that he will ever be able to repay what he already owes.” The Heir fixed Riker with an icy stare. “Do you mean to imply that we would not honor our debts?”
“No, of course not!” Riker said.
“Then we will proceed,” the Heir declared. “The honorable Meng Chiao has pledged a further fifty cycee to this hand. Will you raise or call?”
Riker stared gloomily at his hand. Over the course of play, he had drawn yet another jack, leaving him with an even stronger hand. Now what am I going to do? he thought. I can’t take everything they own. The captain would never forgive me. He called Meng Chiao’s bet. Please, he prayed desperately, don’t be bluffing.
Meng Chiao’s face fell as he laid down his cards. A pair of aces. “The eagle flies over the wayward shark, the shark swims under the forbidden grotto.”
You can say that again, Riker thought glumly. He reached out to claim his winnings.
The hidden stairway led to a maze of subterranean tunnels running beneath the Imperial Palace. Worf navigated through the tunnels by the sickly green glow of bioluminescent tiles embedded along the center of the walkways, much like the emergency lights on most Starfleet spacecraft. The tunnels smelled musty and old, and looked as though they had not been used for decades, if not centuries. Cobwebs hung like sticky gray curtains across every archway, while a thick layer of dust covered every exposed surface. Worf heard water falling slowly, drop by drop, somewhere in the distance. Rats squeaked and insects chittered behind the walls and beneath his path; sometimes small creatures scurried out of sight moments before he caught a glimpse of them. Vermin, he thought disdainfully. He was tracking bigger prey.
If not for the years of neglect and disrepair, it might have been easy to get lost in this byzantine underground labyrinth, but Worf easily discerned the route the thieves had taken. They had left a trail even a human could follow: torn webbing, footprints in the dust, and scratches alongside the walls of the tunnels where the outlaws must have scraped some of the larger items they were carrying. Worf suspected the jade elephant must have smashed against the tunnel walls a few times. A little while later, he discovered fragments of broken porcelain lying on the floor of the tunnel, where a clumsy thief must have dropped one of his prizes.
At an intersection where two tunnels met, he came upon a more provocative clues. Two pairs of footsteps, one pair small and delicate, came down the left-hand tunnel, eventually merging with the route taken by the caravan of thieves. Worf could not know for certain, but he would have been willing to bet a hundred Huch in Klingon currency that the left-hand tunnel eventually led to the harem of Lord Lu Tung, the last known location of the coveted Green Pearl. Judging from the footprints in the dust, before they disappeared entirely in the disorderly trail of the thieves, the Pearl appeared to be traveling of her own free will. Worf grunted. The tracks supported Dr. Crusher’s theories regarding a secret lover and possible assignation. Worf did not know whether to condemn the girl for her disobedience or applaud her for her spirit. In the end, it didn’t matter; his own duty compelled Worf to return her to her father in time for the wedding.