The Big Black Mark - A. Bertram Chandler [31]
Grimes hesitated, then accepted. Irish whiskey was not among his favorite tipples, but he wanted to keep Flannery in a good mood. He wondered how, long it was since the glass into which his drink was poured had been washed.
"Thank you, Mr. Flannery. Mind if I sit down?"
"Not at all, not at all, Captain. This is Liberty Hall. Ye can spit on the mat an'—"
"Call Ned a bastard? He mightn't like it."
"He wouldn't be mindin' at all, at all. T'is a term o' endearment where he comes from. An' it was about Ballchin 1716 and 1717 ye were wantin' to see me, wasn't it?"
"You've been . .. snooping," accused Grimes.
"Snoopin', Captain? There was no need to. I'd have to blank me mind off entoirely not to pick up your broadcasts on that subject! An' if ye're askin' me now, I've picked up nary a whisper yet from the planets o' those two suns. But I'm listenin'. An' Ned—bless the sweet soul o' him—is listenin'."
"Thank you. Mphm. Oh, and there was something else."
"Ye're not after askin' me that, Captain, are ye? To pry on me mates?"
"Well, it is done, you know," said Grimes defensively. "When justified by the circumstances, that is."
"Niver by me it isn't, Captain. The Rhine Institute licensed me, an' I abide by its rules."
When it suits you, thought Grimes.
Flannery grinned, showing his mottled teeth. Grimes might just as well have spoken aloud. "I'll tell ye what," said the telepath cheerfully. "I'll tell ye what . . . I'll give ye a readin'. On the house, as the wee dog said." His grubby hands swept the cards into an untidy pile, stacked them. "Seein' as how we're aboard a starship I'll be usin' the Mystic Star."
"Mphm?" grunted Grimes dubiously.
Flannery riffled through the cards, selected one, laid it face upward on the dirty tabletop. "The King of Clubs," he announced. "That's you. Our leader, no less."
"Why the King of Clubs?"
"An' why not, Captain? Ye're a decent enough boyo, under the gold braid an' brass buttons. The King o' Grave-diggers, standin' for the military leader, is not for the likes o' you. Ye're not a bad enough bastard."
"Thank you."
"An' now take the pack. Shuffle it. Let the—the essence o' ye seep through yer hands into the Devil's Prayerbook."
Grimes felt that the reverse was taking place, that the uncleanliness of the cards was seeping through his skin into him, but he did as he was told.
"An' now, with yer left hand, put the cards down. Face down. Cut the pack. An' again, so we have three piles."
Grimes obeyed.
"An' now, the Indicator."
Flannery turned over the first stack, revealing the nine of diamonds, then the second, to show the eight of the same suit, then the third, exposing the two of spades.
"Ah, an' what have we here? The unexpected gift, an' the journey that's made possible. The cards don't lie, Captain. Didn't the man Davinas give ye that star chart? An' the eight o' sparklers—a lucky card for the explorer. But what's this mean? The deuce o' gravediggers. Could it be that yer famous luck is goin' to turn sour on ye? Change, disruption, an' voyages to far places. What are ye runnin' from, Captain? Are ye runnin' away, or are ye bein' thrown out from somethin'? Good luck, an' bad luck, an' isn't that the way with ivery mother's son of us? But with you—the good outweighin' the bad."
Rubbish, thought Grimes, not quite convincing himself. "Go on," he said.
"Ye're in this too." Flannery swept the cards, with the exception of the King of Clubs, back into one pack. "Take 'em, Captain. Shuffle again. Now give 'em back to me." Working widdershins, Flannery placed eight cards around the King in the form of an eight-pointed star. Then he gave the pack back to Grimes, telling him to put two more cards on each of the eight points.
"An' now," he said, "we shall see what we shall see." He turned up the three cards at the top of the star. "Aha! The King o' Sparklers, the four o' blackberries, an' the seven o' gravediggers. Someone's workin' against ye, Captain. A military man, a soldier, an' there's the warnin' o' danger ahead, an' another warnin',