“PICK a card. Any card.”
With fumbling fingers and furrowed brow, the stable hand plucks a card out of the deck and stares at it.
“Now memorise that card.”
Face twisted into an expression of intense concentration, the man examines the card.
“Put it back in the deck and shuffle.”
He slots the card into the centre of the deck and shuffles, fumbling several times. He has good money on this, and he’s not going to let it go easy.
"Pass them back to me."
Somewhat reluctantly, the man hands the cards back in a messy pile. The girl accepts them, quickly pushing them together to form even edges, and holds the deck above her head. For a precious moment she examines the deck – then in a flash, reaches up, and plucks a card from the centre of the pack.
Without hesitating she shows it to the man, who frowns at it.
"How did ya do that?" he cries, gruff voice loud and tinted with anger.
"Remember, you solve the puzzle, you win the bet." A smile plays on her lips. His face is screwed into an animalistic snarl.
"But ya said…"
"I was merely following our agreement. Hand over the money."
The man grudgingly hands her ten tarnished copper coins, grinding his teeth in frustration. The whickering of horses and the calls of other workers drift through the dusty stable yards, and he hesitates for a moment. But she’s far out of reach by the time he’s readied his fist. As she retreats, he calls out to her.
"Mark my words, Rane, ya little rat. One day, ya’ll be sorry that ya ever stole them gold from me."
Stifling a laugh, she shuffles the cards and slides them into her pocket.
She couldn’t imagine ever feeling sorry for anything.