The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [96]
“Why have you brought me to this room?”
“I know your heart and I know your mind,” said the creature. “You will be the one who finds me, but you cannot use me to my full power—yet.”
“Yet?”
“I can make a true believer of you.” Its clumsy hands pushed a deck of cards to the middle of the table. “Cut the deck, Lara Croft.”
“You’re going to convert me with card tricks?” she said sardonically.
“Cut the deck.”
She cut to a three of spades.
The sand creature reached out and cut to the king of hearts.
“You win,” said Lara. “For whatever it’s worth.”
“I lose. Observe your card.”
She looked at the card, and somehow it had turned into an ace of diamonds.
“Good trick. So what?”
“These are not mere tricks, Lara Croft. This is the power you can have over your fellow man. You will never lose, not in battle, not in finance, not in anything.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I know what Omar gave you when you left Khartoum. I know you have the power to destroy me. I tell you, Lara Croft, that I will not allow myself to be destroyed. Of all those who have sought me, you are the brightest. Apply that wisdom to use me as I should be used and I shall willingly serve your ends as you will serve mine. But try to utter those eight words, and you will learn the true extent of my power.”
And as the words left the sand creature’s mouth, the ace of diamonds she was holding instantly metamorphosed into the living skeleton of a huge snake, growing bigger and bigger until it was larger than the black mamba she had killed.
Use me against your enemies, Lara Croft, said the snake silently, its words entering her brain, or you yourself will become my enemy.
She leaped out of the chair, pulled out the Scalpel of Isis, and swung it at an angle that would sever the snake’s head—but when the blade reached it, the snake was gone.
“Are my skills and powers impressing you?” whispered the sand creature. “We could be effective partners, you and I.”
Lara glared at it. “I’m impressed.”
“You still have more foes to vanquish,” it said. “And I see that you have intuited what is awaiting you on Praslin. I will not help you, but if you overcome the final obstacles, I am yours, and together we will rule the world. Strong men will tremble at the mention of your name, and we will carve a path of blood to the thrones of the world.”
And then, suddenly, she was not looking at a humanoid sand demon, but at a tiny pile of sand on the floor, barely enough to fill a small hourglass.
She examined the empty room, and finally opened the door and walked back out into the casino. She went over to where Oliver was standing at a craps table and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Ready to call it a night?” she asked.
“I suppose so,” he said. “I looked for you a couple of minutes ago. Where were you?”
“I had an interesting experience in that little side room,” she said, pointing.
“What little side room?” he asked.
“That one,” she said, and suddenly realized that she was pointing at an unbroken stretch of wall, with no sign that there had ever been a door there.
“Never mind,” she muttered, and walked out of the casino.
She knew something was wrong as she approached her room. The door was wide open, and there were agonized moans coming from inside. She ran the last hundred feet, followed by Oliver, and found Ibraham lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
“What happened?” she asked, kneeling down next to him.
“A man,” he gasped. “He was searching your room. I tried to stop him, but I was too clumsy. He knocked me down, and before I could get to my feet, he shot me. He had a silencer on his gun, so no one heard.”
She opened his robe to stanch the bleeding.
“You haven’t been shot,” she said, surprised. “You’ve been stabbed.”
“That came later. The Silent Ones also came looking for you. They were very . . . methodical,” whispered Ibraham. “I refused to speak for as long as I could endure it, but finally I could not help myself.”
“The