Pyramid Scheme by Dave Freer and Eric Flint

Or shouldn’t be. This place was weird. He couldn’t accept it. Except . . . that it would also mean not accepting Medea. And that woman was really getting to him. He dug out his poker dice, and began to toss them idly.

A pair of cool hands came to rest on his shoulders. Cruz felt a thrill jolt through his spine.

“How do you feel?” asked Medea.

He smiled up at her. “Just fine. Glad to be able to talk with you again.”

She looked down at him, thoughtfully. “I have decided to ask you to teach me to speak American. I might also find myself deprived of my powers when we get there. But I also need to get back to my children.”

Cruz sighed. “If Jerry can work out how to get back to the States, he can figure out how to get back to . . . to . . . the place you came from. And I guess learning to speak English could be pretty useful. But with this translation stuff . . . how could you do it?”

Medea shrugged. “We’ll just have to take the spells off. I have been learning some of the names and spells of power from Doc Jerry.”

Anibal grinned. “Given Jerry’s luck with spells so far . . . ”

Medea dimpled. “Ah. But I have more practice than he has. He has the knowledge, without an understanding of the rhythms and cadences.” She sat on the soft grass next to him. “What is that that you are fiddling with?”

“Poker dice. It’s a game.”

“Oh? How do you play?” She took the well-worn ivories from his hand.

“Well, I’ll show you, but I’m really not too sure of the rules.”

“Then we can be two amateurs together,” she said, smiling cheerfully.

“Well, this is a straight . . . ” He explained, and rapidly began to realize that the girl of his fancy was smart as well as gorgeous. “Here, let me hold your hand and show you how to throw.”

The dice landed on the grass, cocked.

“We need somewhere flat. There is a better spot back there in the thicket. Come, I will show you.” Medea took Cruz by the arm and led him back into the trees.

* * *

It was as secluded as you could get on a relatively small swamp island. There was still a view out over the water, through a gap in the trees, but it was a narrow window onto the world. Flattening a sand ring was easy enough, as the grass was thin and scattered under the spiky trees.

“A pair.” She leaned forward. Cruz found concentrating on the pair . . . of dice difficult.

“Now, I throw the other dice again . . . ” She threw a trey, and clapped in delight. She tilted her head and lifted her aristocratic nose. “Beat that!”

“I’ll do my best.” Old habits die hard. “Hmm. Shall we liven this game up with a small bet or two?”

“I don’t have any money,” she said demurely.

“We could play for other stakes,” he said idly, as if it was a totally unimportant suggestion.

She raised an eyebrow. “That sounds interesting. Are you not playing some sort of trick on me?”

“Me?” Butter would not only not have melted in Anibal Cruz’s mouth, it might actually have unchurned itself and gone back to being cream. “Never. Now what I suggest is that the loser takes off an item of clothing. Just to keep score.”

A small smile teased the edges of her mouth. “Very well. Just to keep score.”

* * *

The sun shone down through the angular branches onto Anibal’s bare back. His face was exceedingly red. And it wasn’t only his back that was bare.

He consoled himself with the thought that he’d learned a really valuable lesson: NEVER play strip poker with a sorceress. Even in the wrong universe. So far she’d only taken off her sandals. She had very pretty feet . . .

He was buck-naked.

“This is a fun game!” Medea’s smile was extremely wicked, as she examined the discomfited and naked paratrooper. It was not a brief examination. “Why are you so red in the face?” she asked innocently.