Benjamin Kirkeby
07-27-09, 09:42 PM
Closed to Ellen Kirkeby
The Lady danced, and it was Benjamin Kirekby’s hands that moved her.
Three cards were before him on the table, all face down, all moving faster than the eye could possibly see. Faster than hands could possibly move—yet they did. One of them was The Lady (the red Queen of Wands), the other two were the black Knave of Cups and the blue Knave of Stars. They danced.
Ben was flying. His eyes were lit up, almost eerily, as they always did when he was in the midst of a con. The mark’s eyes were only filled with uncertainty as he tried desparately to follow the dancing, moving cards, trying to find The Lady, but in reality he had lost track a long time ago. Not that it would have helped him one bit if he had kept track; none of the cards on the table were The Lady any more. She’d deigned to hide herself from sight, with the help of a twitch of Ben’s wrist and a quick card turnover.
Many men had come to Ben’s table and bet good money that they could find that blasted Lady (the Bitch, the Whore of the Cards, Lady Fortune, Luck’s Concubine) and many had failed. It was a small con, and the payoffs were small, but it was fun enough in its own simple way. It was one of the first that Ben had learned to execute. He’d moved on to better, more complicated things now, but sometimes it was nice to go back to basics. Right-left-center-left-left-right-center, and so on, and so on, and so on.
The cards suddenly stopped and lay flat in a row in front of Ben, looking exactly the same as when the mad, impossible shuffle had started. A crowd had formed around the table, and they collectively held their breath. The air smelled of alcohol and sweat, the light was dim and waxy. It was apotheosis of all little smelly taverns, perfect in its own way and representative of all the others. In some abstract way it was all the others. The same scene had occured at countless tables in countless towns. The same holding of the breath, the same crowd, the same feeling in Ben’s gut that if he’d jump off a cliff he’d keep falling and never hit the ground. In that moment all those scenes seemed to blend into one perfect instant. This was the second when all the cards were on the table, when his fast hands and quick wits would be pitted against another man’s greed and stupidity. The moment of anagnorisis, the discovery of success or failure, the gambit’s climax, the con’s peak. It was beautiful in a crystalline, fragile sort of way. Ben’s blood pumped, even though he was sure of his success. In another universe in another time it would be the same feeling experienced by junkies of certain drugs. Ben was a junkie in his own certain way, but he didn’t mind. He liked it that way.
Ben Kirkeby was flying.
Then the moment ended. The mark hesitated, then pointed at the middle card. He’d played this game five times so far, and lost every time. Now they were playing double or nothing. Ben’s smile remained placid and unmovable.
“Are you sure, sir? Really sure?” Ben asked, fully grinning now.
“I...uh, I think so. Wait! No! The left one!” The mark bit his lip nervously. The bet had mounted to a fair amount of money now. Ben almost felt bad for him, but as the old saying went, the only real crime was letting a fool and his money stay together.
“Very well, sir.” Ben flipped over the middle card. It was the Knave of Cups.
“I’m so sorry,” Ben said, and he almost sounded genuine. Almost. As if he would be sorry for the big brutish fool; a brute with a great sword who probably thought he was clever just be cause he could rescue princesses or some worthless drollop like that. Doubtless he had some sort of tortured past too: his childhood village burnt down, parents slaughtered by monsters. Something like that. Adventurers were so damn predictable. Ben sighed. At least he’d never end up in that line of business!
“What? I...you cheated!” The mark’s big brutish face was flushed red now. Some of the members of the crowd were snickering at them. How embarassing. Of course, those same people wouldn’t be snickering once Ben’s sister was done rifling through their wallets.
“You must have cheated,” the big man insisted. I” kept my eye on that bitch the whole time, swear I did.”
“I just lost twice as much money as I won from you to that fine lady over there.” Ben said, gesturing to his sister, who was standing in the crowd watching silently.
“She must be, uh, one of them ‘shell’ things.” the adventurer said.
“Shills, you mean? Are you accusing me of being a con man?” Ben said, sounding genuinely hurt.
“Maybe I am.”
“I assure you that I’ve never seen that fine young woman in my entire life. Though I might like to get to know her better later.” Ben gave a huge wink to the woman, and some of the men in the crowd laughed. That woman who he’d “never met before” happened to be his twin sister. They’d been running this same routine for years: she came up and “won” large amounts of money from Ben, up until some unlucky and probably drunk fellow decided to try his luck. Then the difficulty curve went up. Way up.
The mark was rubbing the hilt of his sword now, and Ben decided that it was time for him to leave. “Barkeep? I do believe that this man may be planning something rash. I think we’d be doing him a favor if someone showed him to the door, just in case.”
The barkeep nodded, and the mark suddenly found himself flanked by burly men with intimidating-looking truncheons. Both of them nudged the man hard in the ribs. The mark dropped a small pile of gold coins in Ben’s hands reluctantly. Sensing that the tides were changing, he left the inn. He gave Ben one last look of pure hatred and malice before he walked out the door into the warm summer night. Ben had bribed the barkeep earlier to make sure that he’d be...sensative...to this possible eventuality. It always was good to plan ahead.
“Next round’s on me, everyone!” he shouted. There was no small amount of cheering, and the crowd around Ben’s table dissipated. Only one woman remained, Ben’s sister, and she sat down in the chair across from him silently. Ben began to pack up his cards and spoke softly without looking up.
“So, how’d you make out?” he asked.
After all, they’d both been taking money in their own particular ways. Ben from his allegiance with The Lady; his sister from her familiarity with the bottoms of other people’s pockets.
The Lady danced, and it was Benjamin Kirekby’s hands that moved her.
Three cards were before him on the table, all face down, all moving faster than the eye could possibly see. Faster than hands could possibly move—yet they did. One of them was The Lady (the red Queen of Wands), the other two were the black Knave of Cups and the blue Knave of Stars. They danced.
Ben was flying. His eyes were lit up, almost eerily, as they always did when he was in the midst of a con. The mark’s eyes were only filled with uncertainty as he tried desparately to follow the dancing, moving cards, trying to find The Lady, but in reality he had lost track a long time ago. Not that it would have helped him one bit if he had kept track; none of the cards on the table were The Lady any more. She’d deigned to hide herself from sight, with the help of a twitch of Ben’s wrist and a quick card turnover.
Many men had come to Ben’s table and bet good money that they could find that blasted Lady (the Bitch, the Whore of the Cards, Lady Fortune, Luck’s Concubine) and many had failed. It was a small con, and the payoffs were small, but it was fun enough in its own simple way. It was one of the first that Ben had learned to execute. He’d moved on to better, more complicated things now, but sometimes it was nice to go back to basics. Right-left-center-left-left-right-center, and so on, and so on, and so on.
The cards suddenly stopped and lay flat in a row in front of Ben, looking exactly the same as when the mad, impossible shuffle had started. A crowd had formed around the table, and they collectively held their breath. The air smelled of alcohol and sweat, the light was dim and waxy. It was apotheosis of all little smelly taverns, perfect in its own way and representative of all the others. In some abstract way it was all the others. The same scene had occured at countless tables in countless towns. The same holding of the breath, the same crowd, the same feeling in Ben’s gut that if he’d jump off a cliff he’d keep falling and never hit the ground. In that moment all those scenes seemed to blend into one perfect instant. This was the second when all the cards were on the table, when his fast hands and quick wits would be pitted against another man’s greed and stupidity. The moment of anagnorisis, the discovery of success or failure, the gambit’s climax, the con’s peak. It was beautiful in a crystalline, fragile sort of way. Ben’s blood pumped, even though he was sure of his success. In another universe in another time it would be the same feeling experienced by junkies of certain drugs. Ben was a junkie in his own certain way, but he didn’t mind. He liked it that way.
Ben Kirkeby was flying.
Then the moment ended. The mark hesitated, then pointed at the middle card. He’d played this game five times so far, and lost every time. Now they were playing double or nothing. Ben’s smile remained placid and unmovable.
“Are you sure, sir? Really sure?” Ben asked, fully grinning now.
“I...uh, I think so. Wait! No! The left one!” The mark bit his lip nervously. The bet had mounted to a fair amount of money now. Ben almost felt bad for him, but as the old saying went, the only real crime was letting a fool and his money stay together.
“Very well, sir.” Ben flipped over the middle card. It was the Knave of Cups.
“I’m so sorry,” Ben said, and he almost sounded genuine. Almost. As if he would be sorry for the big brutish fool; a brute with a great sword who probably thought he was clever just be cause he could rescue princesses or some worthless drollop like that. Doubtless he had some sort of tortured past too: his childhood village burnt down, parents slaughtered by monsters. Something like that. Adventurers were so damn predictable. Ben sighed. At least he’d never end up in that line of business!
“What? I...you cheated!” The mark’s big brutish face was flushed red now. Some of the members of the crowd were snickering at them. How embarassing. Of course, those same people wouldn’t be snickering once Ben’s sister was done rifling through their wallets.
“You must have cheated,” the big man insisted. I” kept my eye on that bitch the whole time, swear I did.”
“I just lost twice as much money as I won from you to that fine lady over there.” Ben said, gesturing to his sister, who was standing in the crowd watching silently.
“She must be, uh, one of them ‘shell’ things.” the adventurer said.
“Shills, you mean? Are you accusing me of being a con man?” Ben said, sounding genuinely hurt.
“Maybe I am.”
“I assure you that I’ve never seen that fine young woman in my entire life. Though I might like to get to know her better later.” Ben gave a huge wink to the woman, and some of the men in the crowd laughed. That woman who he’d “never met before” happened to be his twin sister. They’d been running this same routine for years: she came up and “won” large amounts of money from Ben, up until some unlucky and probably drunk fellow decided to try his luck. Then the difficulty curve went up. Way up.
The mark was rubbing the hilt of his sword now, and Ben decided that it was time for him to leave. “Barkeep? I do believe that this man may be planning something rash. I think we’d be doing him a favor if someone showed him to the door, just in case.”
The barkeep nodded, and the mark suddenly found himself flanked by burly men with intimidating-looking truncheons. Both of them nudged the man hard in the ribs. The mark dropped a small pile of gold coins in Ben’s hands reluctantly. Sensing that the tides were changing, he left the inn. He gave Ben one last look of pure hatred and malice before he walked out the door into the warm summer night. Ben had bribed the barkeep earlier to make sure that he’d be...sensative...to this possible eventuality. It always was good to plan ahead.
“Next round’s on me, everyone!” he shouted. There was no small amount of cheering, and the crowd around Ben’s table dissipated. Only one woman remained, Ben’s sister, and she sat down in the chair across from him silently. Ben began to pack up his cards and spoke softly without looking up.
“So, how’d you make out?” he asked.
After all, they’d both been taking money in their own particular ways. Ben from his allegiance with The Lady; his sister from her familiarity with the bottoms of other people’s pockets.