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Something about this frightened her. She knew deep in her heart that Shalmanezer was using her father, but there was nothing she could say. She simply sat there and listened while the others surrounded the old man and flattered him concerning his new raiment.
    â€œWell, I’m going out to win our fortune tonight.” From an inner pocket Makon pulled out a thick pouch. He rattled it, and the clink of coins was clear. “I’ve got a stake, and I intend to finish the game with enough money to do anything we please. Wish me luck.”
    Dutifully, most of the family wished him good luck—all except Rahab.
    Kadir had been watching Rahab. He had noticed that she showed no pleasure at her father’s new prosperity. “What’s wrong, Rahab? Aren’t you happy about your father’s winnings?”
    â€œThey’re letting him win.”
    Kadir blinked with surprise. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œThey’re letting him win. You know Father’s no gambler. Those men spend all their time at it. They’re smart and they’re wicked.”
    â€œBut Shalmanezer’s been so good to us,” Romar exclaimed. “He sent the doctor for Oman, and he’s been a friend to Father.”
    Rahab knew she could not keep the secret any longer. She lifted her head, and they all saw the despair in her eyes. “He runs a brothel, and he wants me to be a part of it,” she said bluntly.
    A dead silence filled the room, and Romar exclaimed, “You never told us that!”
    â€œI hoped he would leave us alone. He’s been after me for some time now. It angers him when I refuse to do what he asks.”
    â€œYou should have told your father this!” Kadir exclaimed. “He doesn’t need to be with a man who’s out to ruin his daughter.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t listen,” Rahab said in despair. She turned away and fled.
    After she had left the room, Kadir exclaimed, “What can we do about this, Wife?”
    â€œNothing. You know my father. He’s stubborn. He won’t listen to anything we say. The best we can hope for is that the man will give up and leave Rahab alone.”
    ****
    Four men—Makon, Shalmanezer, Joar, and a merchant named Magite—sat around the table playing a game with colored stones of different values. The players kept the stones they had won hidden in a box in front of them. The object of the game was to accrue the greatest value in stones. No player ever knew exactly how many stones the others had unless he was very sharp.
    Makon’s face was flushed—not only because he was half drunk, but also because his box was filled with stones. He had tried to keep track of what the others had in their boxes, but they had been playing now for a long time and the varied-colored stones had been exchanged many times. The game also involved a bone-white die that helped a player win when he threw the highest number.
    â€œHere, Makon, my friend, have some more wine,” Shalmanezer said smoothly. He himself had not drunk very much, and neither had the others. He smiled as Makon accepted the goblet and drank deeply. “You’re lucky tonight,” he said.
    â€œYes, I am, and it’s about time!” Makon exclaimed. He always grew reckless when he won, and although he knew he could cash out now and go home with more money than he had ever seen at one time in his life, he still gazed avidly at the stones and the boxes of the other three players. “I feel like I’m going to make you all sorry you let me in this game.”
    â€œOh, you’re a gambler, you are!” Joar laughed. “Never seen better.”
    The man called Magite was tall and thin with glittering eyes. He shook his box, then said sadly, “You just about cleaned me out, but I’ve still got hopes of beating you, my friend.”
    â€œYou can’t beat me—not tonight. I feel it,” Makon cried out.