The Omashu nobleman smirks at his cards. He's a poor liar - his foot isn't tapping like it has been every time earlier when he had a good hand. Still, he's driving the betting up and driving the rest of the players out. They'll be ruined if the pot gets much richer.

So will Jun, but she'll take that chance.

"Running out of cash," the nobleman says, then beckons his slavegirl over. She's a pale shadow made of jewels - jet hair, electrum eyes, ivory skin. Rich. A little too stern to be pretty, a little too young to be Jun's type. But she can see why the nobleman keeps her close and personal-like.

He reaches up and unlatches her jade collar, setting it in the center of the pot.

Jun wets her lips. "Just to be clear, you upping the ante with the girl or the collar?"

"The girl."

The other man still in the game swears and folds.

Jun is much too good of a gambler to smile. She studies her cards, then the girl, then her cards again. She lays her cards facedown on the table. "I'll meet and match then. My shirshu."

The nobleman swallows. "Second time you've matched without raising, bounty hunter."

"Yes." Now she does smile. "It's time to show our cards."

He has three knights, one trump, a pair of queens, and two useless cards. She has a full four set of trumps, three kings, and the five of swords.

"The Tower," she says slyly as she sweeps up the pot. "Good one. You should have listened when you drew the card for catastrophe."