Little Myth Marker By Robert Asprin

The Kid just shook his head and pushed the appropriate number of chips into the pot without a word.

The crowd lapsed into silence and craned their necks to see the next cards.

The dragon of spades to me, and the ogre of hearts to the Kid.

No apparent help for either hand .. . except that now the Kid had three hearts face up.

We both studied each other’s cards for a few moments.

“I’ll admit I can’t figure out what you’re betting, Skeeve,” my opponent sighed. “But this hand’s worth fifty.”

“…And up fifty.”

Instead of responding, the Kid leaned back in his chair and stared at me.

“Check me on this,” he said. “Either I’ve missed it completely, or you haven’t looked at your hole cards yet.”

“That’s right.”

The crowd started muttering again. At least some of them had missed that point.

“So you’re betting blind?”

“Right.”

“… And raising into me to boot.”

I nodded.

“I don’t get it. How do you expect to win?”

I regarded him for a moment before I answered. To say the least, I had the room’s undivided attention.

“Kid, you’re the best there is at dragon poker. You’ve spent years honing your skills to be the best, and nothing that happens here tonight is going to change that. Me, I’m lucky … if you can call it that. I got lucky one night, and that somehow earned me the chance to play this game with you tonight. That’s why I’m betting the way I am.”

The Kid shook his head. “Maybe I’m slow, but I still don’t get it.”

“In the long run, your skill would beat my luck. It always does. I figure the only chance I’ve got is to juice the betting on this one hand … go for broke. All the skill in the dimensions can’t change the outcome of one hand. That’s luck . . . which puts us on an equal footing.”