“If you’d done what I said, you’d’ve won. I’d’ve won.”
“Next time you’ll know not to bet on me, then.” He pulled a loose-fitting silk shirt over his head. Bits of it stuck to his sweaty skin; other bits ballooned out, free-floating in the lack of gravity. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Where you from, boy?” the man demanded.
“Around,” Hjalmar answered.
“I know where he’s from,” Omesh said. Hjalmar fixed his dark eyes on him.
“Do I know you?”
“We’ve met.”
“Have we?” There was no recognition in his eyes at all.
“This boy owes me. Look at his clothes; I know he has it. Tell me where he lives and I’ll give you a finder’s fee, yeah?” the loud man said to Omesh.
“Oh, for the love of—” Hjalmar dug into the pocket of his pants and came up with a fistful of gold coins. Freshly minted, they g
