BY THE TIME KAL REACHED the clubhouse level, the track lighting was well on its way to being fully restored—another testament to the efficiency that ruled Canto Bight. The Lucky Three were already inside, celebrating.

“Did you see him?” Wodi asked, nearly stepping on Kal’s shoeless foot as he enveloped him in a warm embrace. “Our big pal did it!”

“You did it,” Kal said.

“Did what?”

“Never mind.” It didn’t surprise Kal that Wodi was oblivious to his role in events. Kal was just glad to have won. Overjoyed, in fact. Enough that he shared a similar hug with Thodi, whose self-assured imagined expertise had made him the hardest for Kal to like.

“Slowest time ever for this distance,” Thodi said. “If only there’d been a way to bet that!”

“You sure bet everything else.”

The boys had their vouchers out and waiting, but the race displays in the clubhouse remained blank. Outside, preparations were under way for the final race of the red-eye card—yet the thirteenth remained under review.

Kal calmed their nerves for a change. “Guys, I heard back in the box from someone who knows. The race will be official.”

Dodi smiled—and then his expression grew a shade more serious. “I thought I saw you up there with some strange people. Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine.” He didn’t know what Dodi thought he’d seen, but Kal’s mood was the best it had been all day. When a waiter passed with a tray of drinks, the four seized upon glasses and toasted their victory. “Time for Flatcakes!”

From behind, a familiar voice. “You’re back!”

Kal turned to see Joris, who had just left the betting window with her voucher for the final race. “Hey,” he said with delight. “My guru!”

The brothers cheered her. She shook her head, bewildered. “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“You should have bet him,” Thodi said. “We’ll win big.”

“Don’t spend it until it’s on the tote.” Still, she chuckled. “How much did you have riding on it?”

“Them, lots,” Kal said. “Me, nothing. But it doesn’t matter. I win the purse.” Kal grinned. He only needed to double up again—and with the brothers on his side, that seemed possible. He’d get out of debt and get his life back, with new shoes for every day of the week. “What coins do they use to pay out four hundred thousand?”

Joris looked at him with horror. She shook her head. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t know, do you?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you look at your contract?”

Kal barely remembered it. He put down his drink and found it, from where one of the Wookiees had shoved it into his pocket. At first glance, it was a lot of legal folderol. On second glance, too.

“You don’t have to look. Everyone who plays knows,” she said, putting her hand on his. “One of the basic rules of claiming races. You can buy the fathier—but the previous owner gets any earnings from the race.”

Kal’s mouth went dry. “What? Why?”

“Because it’s not a livestock auction.” She pointed outside, where the fathiers for the final race were parading. “The owners pay to train these animals for a race. They get anything the fathier earns from it. Buyers start earning on the animal’s next race.”

No. Kal’s shoulders sank. “That…won’t be before sunrise, will it?”

“No, baby.”

Kal thought back. Surely Mosep must have understood he wouldn’t receive the purse, which was why he’d called the purchase peculiar. But he’d assumed Kal had also bet money on the fathier, which is why he’d let the card player go, not knowing all he had was title to the animal.

“On the bright side,” Joris said as she released his hand, “your friends will still make out.” She folded the voucher she’d gotten and put it into her bag. “I’ll have to cash this tomorrow, if I win. I’ll see you sometime, maybe.”

The quartet nodded to her as she departed.

For several moments, nobody said anything. Kal had faced death mere minutes earlier, only to be saved—and now his world was falling apart again. Worse—it had already collapsed. He’d never had a chance.

Fire filled his eyes as he looked at the contract. Crumpling it in his hands, he turned on the brothers. “You see? You see? You actually have to know…stuff!”

“Hey,” Thodi said, “I think we did pretty well.”

“You did well. I win nothing.” Kal threw the balled-up contract at Thodi’s and Wodi’s feet. “Did you hear Joris? You idiots spent all my money on a fathier that won a purse for someone else!”

Wodi stepped back, a little wounded. “How were we supposed to know any of that?”

“The way anybody knows,” Kal said, uncaring that he was creating a scene. “Smart people don’t just plop thousands down and hope. Smart people learn the ins and the outs of the game. This is why I didn’t want to come here. I’m a card player!”

“Didn’t help you much yesterday,” Thodi said.

“Thodi, back off.” He jabbed a finger at him. “You’re the worst. You think you know what you’re doing, but everything you know about every game is completely wrong.” Kal got in Thodi’s face. “Dice do not remember what they landed on before. Slot machines do not hit better if you rub the coin in your hands before putting it in. Jubilee wheels do not favor certain colors because of the redshift effect. And there is no benefit in zinbiddle in sitting at the table in alphabetical order!”

Thodi’s upper lip trembled. “Well, I’m not giving you a loan.”

“You weren’t going to before!” Kal stepped back—and saw Dodi watching him in stunned silence. He felt he could not stop, especially when he saw the winning vouchers stuffed in their hands. “I’ve worked my whole life learning to forget superstition, forget luck. You guys?” His hands shook in the air—and then he shook his head. “You’re amazing.”

He turned away and looked down, feeling drained. He was ashamed of what he’d said, but it had also been there, simmering. He shook his head. “I’ve actually had a good time with you guys tonight,” he admitted. “But I’m broke—and that means I’m dead.”

Silence for a moment, and then another announcement: “Kaljach Sonmi to the trackside stable, please.”

He looked around, confused. He appealed to the information clerk. “Do you know what this is about?”

“No, sir,” she said. “But I can lead you there.”

He looked at the brothers. “I guess I’ve got to go.”

“Yeah,” Thodi said. “Guess you do.” He turned and walked away—as did Wodi, without a word. Dodi simply watched Kal go.

When Dodi found Kal again, it was twenty minutes later, in one of the stalls in the veterinary facility off the trackside stable. The Heptooinian barely noticed his arrival. His attention was on Time for Flatcakes, whose head rested on his lap as Kal sat on the straw-covered floor.

“He died as soon as he got off the track,” Kal said, stroking the pale spot on the fathier’s head. “He gave it all he had.”

“I know,” Dodi said, approaching from outside the pen.

“I suppose you heard.”

“Yes, they put the report out when they took the race final,” Dodi said. “The track vet said he’d been getting injections of an illegal performance enhancer by his previous owner.”

“And he nearly came in last anyway,” Kal said, shaking his head. The drug plus the effort had caused the fathier to expire. “Poor guy.” He looked back. “Who else is poor?”

“Well, we lost everything,” Dodi said. “Flatcakes was disqualified, so the other three finishers wound up one-two-three.”

Kal considered the news and shook his head. “So Vermilion wound up third after all, like Joris said.”

“That’s true.” Dodi looked over the short wall into the pen at him. “Back there in the clubhouse, Kal—that was bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Dodi shook his head. “That’s how you were when we met you yesterday. I thought you’d relaxed since then.”

“How can I relax?” Kal eased out from under the corpse’s head and started brushing the straw off his clothes. “You don’t understand, Dodi. That was all my money!”

“I gathered that. But you’ll get more.”

Kal stood and stared at Dodi. “How?”

“What do you mean, how? You’ll just get more—like we will.”

“When? From where?”

Dodi shook his head, befuddled. “Where everybody gets it.”

“I’m not you, Dodi.” He gestured to his feet, his socks now ragged and covered with debris. “I don’t walk everywhere on a cushion of gold dust!”

Dodi shrugged. “You could.”

“I can’t. I get blisters, Dodi. So does everyone else who doesn’t have your luck. You don’t know where it comes from—and you don’t care.” Kal shook his head. “I’m not sure I could accept getting everything in life handed to me like that.”

Dodi took a deep breath—and turned away. He had only gotten a few steps when he returned. “I almost forgot,” he said, lifting something into the pen. “On the way over here, I found your shoes.”

Expressionless, Kal took them. “Lucky they were still there, I guess.”

“Good night, Kal. It’s been fun…mostly.”