Undertow — Philip's Background
Philip, Son of Julian
© 2004 Jack Gulick
Philip watched the cards with studied disinterest. He was getting bored with the game they played here already, too like too many others, and all too familiar stakes. Money, for all it could do, all it could buy, became prosaic after a while. Even a new game, new players, new distractions to spend winnings on, all the things moving to another Shadow offered, got stale all too quickly.
He wasn't 'getting' at all, he realized suddenly. He was bored. Already. He'd only been here a month, only really learned the local variations on the familiar games three weeks ago, only just discovered their best smokables and drinkables, and already he was bored. The flop came down good for him, and he calmly checked along to set the trap. Routine, familiar, dull.
He'd heard that, back before becoming King of Amber, Random had spent time doing this sort of thing, gambling through Shadow. That had inspired him, early on. If you could start here and end up sitting on the throne, then there was something to win. Since then, he'd figured out that there wasn't any real movement, any real changes, at the top, and that this wasn't the way to prove yourself. But, by then, it was what he knew and he kept to it. Two players at the table bit, a casual check-raise and he saw one flinch, so slightly. As if he needed a tell to know he had this won.
So, what now? Maybe give up the tables for a while, apply himself to something else. His swordplay was slipping a bit, with all the guns one came to know anyplace the games were sophisticated enough to be interesting. Magic? Never interesting at all, beyond the basic lessons it provided in self-awareness and discipline. No, not a self-improvement phase. Something
different. One checked through, the other had no choice at the amount he was already strung for but bet it all. Calmly consider, as if weighing the decision.Yeah, the game is done here. Maybe at last to Amber proper, learn what's happened of late, re-engage with the family. They aren't all dull, even if everything there was mired in habit and form. It isn't like this game wasn't almost the same, lockstep repeating of too familiar patterns. Patterns. Hmm. Might mean something, that coming to mind. Call back, leave the stranded player to steam over his decision. He wasn't even supposed to be here, just fell into the trap by mistake.
He signaled the pretty girl to bring him another drink, knowing this game was almost done. The only interesting thing to see now was if he'd humiliated his target enough there'd be a fight. Probably not. Probably a more subtle effort to murder him and recover the winnings later, overnight. After all, there was time. Where could Phil go on a boat in the midst of a river? Folded out, leaving just two, a winner and a victim, drawing dead. It just wasn't fun when you knew.
A sigh from the winner, even before the cards fell and proved it. He didn't like the decision he was forced to, but it seemed right. Find Julian, appeal for another invitation to Amber, at least for a time, once tonight's winnings are collected. Perhaps he could stay long enough for the attempt on his life. Those were sometimes cleverly inventive, at least.
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other writings: Background, Quiz, Undertow log, Ebb Tide diary