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the manager of what had been the top casino in the city before Sirens opened. Nathrach must have made the elf one hell of an offer. Karst was also a mage, and rarely did anything happen in a casino where he worked that he couldn’t control—one way or another.
    Tamnais Nathrach had restored the crumbling palazzo to its luxurious glory, its stonework gleaming, and its windows filled with the finest glass the master artisans of Laerin could produce, transforming Sirens into the jewel at the heart of the city’s entertainment district.
    Once we were inside, Phaelan stopped at the cashier’s booth to get chips. The stunning human woman favored him with a dazzling smile, the kind that said she either knew what he looked like naked, or wanted to find out. I stifled a snort. My cousin had that effect on some women, regardless of race and occasionally even species.
    He crossed the floor to where I waited, casually tossing in his hand the silk pouch in which Sirens issued its chips. I turned toward the wooden doors leading upstairs to the casino and stopped dead in my tracks.
    Oh my.
    Phaelan chuckled at my reaction. “The artist is a local. I’ve been tempted to commission a panel or two for my cabin. Get some fine art to add a little class to the place.”
    While what was depicted on the doors was well-crafted enough to be called “fine,” “art” was in the eye of the beholder, and only Phaelan would think it was classy. The two massive wood doors were covered in panels carved with people engaged in. . . uh, activities of the adult kind. Closer inspection expanded the heck out of my sexual horizons. I didn’t know how some of those positions were possible.
    Phaelan and I went through the doors, up the stairs, and into the casino, which was light enough to see the tables, dim enough to keep goblins comfortable. Most casinos liked to keep their clientele in the dark—literally and figuratively. By not being able to see the sky, gamblers wouldn’t know when the sun was up or down. The better casinos, like Sirens, made sure that their guests were pampered enough that they wouldn’t care what the sun was doing. Naturally the level of pampering depended on the amount you were known to be able to bet. 
    Phaelan and I started across the casino floor toward the cordoned-off area with the high-stakes card tables. Some casinos put their card tables in a separate room. Nathrach had the business savvy to merely block off the area with velvet ropes and beefy uniformed staff to ensure that players only were allowed past the ropes. Not only did Sirens make money from the card players themselves, but people loved to watch rich people lose money—and occasionally win money. The entertainment value of fortunes won and lost at the turn of a single card was irresistible. And while they waited for the games to get exciting, they gambled and drank. More money for the house.
    As we got closer, I sensed them—wards, both ocular and aural. Tamnais Nathrach had been a busy boy. I discreetly gripped Phaelan’s arm and guided him to the nearest bar. He waved to the hobgoblin bartender for a pair of ales.  
    “I presume you have a reason for this,” he said, putting his head close to mine so we could at least hear our own conversation over the din of voices.
    “I thought you should know that Nathrach’s added a few tricks to his card area. You know about the oracle crystals to keep magic from being used; now he’s added wards.”
    “Wards?”
    “Ocular and aural. He’s taking extra precautions to ensure that the players stay honest and that any watchers keep their opinions and verbal cues to themselves, or at least from the players. The velvet ropes are a physical barrier for people out here, the ocular and aural wards keep the players from getting any help from either signals or verbal cues.”
    “So no partner-to-player cheating.”
    “Right.”
    “This Nathrach guy’s determined to suck the fun right out of