The cards flew around the poker table as the Wizards silently reveled in their minds, darkened by years of maltreatment and oppression. Nobody talked. Nobody wanted to. But the cards were dealt, and they were ready to play poker.
Violeta was first. She glanced at her cards, but before she could bet, Thor gave her a double push. He had pocket aces, could she really have better? She didn’t; she had a 2 and a 7 of different suits: not good enough for a shield, and Violeta was a 29, not strong enough
for a bluff like that.
She folded.
Thor was next. His pocket aces gave him a double shield: not even Rei’s two spades could get him to fold, but he would wait for the flop to raise. Gerhardt had a 3 and an 8 but enough brute strength to bluff, and foolishly, he did. Elia hardly used any shield or push
with her king and queen of hearts, but despite Thor’s pocket aces and Gerhardt’s unrefined bluff, she called Gerhardt’s raise and made it to the flop. As she dealt the flop, Gerhardt shook his head.
“I could really use a smoke,” he remarked. Elia laughed.
“Shit, Gerhardt, only rich people smoke.” He shrugged.
“I’m rich enough.” The poker table lapsed into a stony, cavernous silence. The words in every downcast eye seemed to scream, don’t make me say it! But Gerhardt foolishly waited for an answer. Elia smoothed over the silence with a rough compromise.
“But you’re a wizard,” she answered, yet the dreaded words still rung in the
cavernous silence: You’re not a person.