When he blocked five of my checkers on his side of the board, I was certain I could not win. I grimaced and rolled hard, tossing the dice against the board with a clang. I could feel the touch of his boot against my foot, and I struggled to slow the breaths that came faster in my chest.
Whether he was attempting to distract me or send me a message, I was losing the game. I cursed myself for playing so poorly. I’d not made any mistakes, but in slowing our turns so it didn’t appear that we knew each other, I’d played a distracted game. A few lucky dice rolls, and Biko soundly beat me.
Through the cheers and the swapping of coins, he nodded. I noticed a momentary look of worry cross his features. “Thank you, miss. I quite enjoyed the friendly game.”
As I opened my mouth to reply, a commotion across the pub drew my attention.
“Yer a motherless son of a goat, ya is!” A woman stood from the game she was playing, pointing a trembling hand at a man. “Yer nothing but a cheat! Cheater!”
The accused man stumbled away from her, his eyes wide with fear. “No, friend… No, yer mistaken.”
Through the distraction of yet another fight, Biko met my eyes. “Outside,” he mouthed.
But I shook my head, a slight movement that I hoped no one else would see. I would not be dragged about Kyruna like a child. I had played well today—well enough, at least, to feel ready to play in the tournament. I’d hoped to make a quiet impression, appealing to players so I’d be accepted into many, many games. If I ran at the first sign of trouble, all our plans—not to mention my hopes—would disappear like coins after a losing game.
The well-dressed man walked over to the quarrel and spread his hands out as though trying to settle the tempers flaring like small fires between the players. “Friends,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “Do we have a disagreement?”
The accused man broke into a sweat. I could see him blotting his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “No, sir. I believe there’s just been a misunderstandin’, is all.”
The woman was having none of it. “Check him,” she screeched. “I swear I saw him tip a card up his sleeve. Somebody check him!”
The well-dressed man looked between them, while Biko pushed back from his seat. “Thank you, miss,” he rasped, a look of raw desperation in his eyes. “I believe I’ve run through my luck tonight.” He strode away from the table but didn’t leave. He took up an empty seat at the bar and motioned to the barkeep.
But the barkeep’s attention was on the finely dressed man, and him alone. The pub fell silent as the man’s hand went into the air, calling for silence and a pause in the games being played.
My heartbeat quickened as a hush fell over Knuckles & Bones. The fire crackled in the fireplace, and the lamps danced long shadows along the walls. I held perfectly still and looked away from the fire, hoping that my nerves wouldn’t influence the flames in some way. I flicked a glance at Biko’s back, which was rigid where he sat at the bar. His head was bowed, and it seemed as though he was intentionally refusing to look up.
I, however, could not help looking, staring, actually, like the rest of the players, all of whom seemed to know what was coming.
“Friend,” the well-dressed man said. “You understand that an accusation of cheating is most serious?”
The man grabbed a cap off his head and blotted his drenched face with it. “Sir, I know the rules o’ this here place. I been a loyal player here for years now.”
The woman began hollering again, insisting that she’d been swindled. I noticed Biko slip off his chair by the bar, and without even a look back at me, he headed toward the rear door. He pushed a shoulder against the wood and slipped out into the night.
While the rest of the players around my table stared at the argument, I gathered my checkers and dice and secured them in my pouch. Then I took up my board and stood from my seat but was prevented from moving too far by the thick crowd of watchers.
“Miss.” The well-dressed man smoothed his hair back from his face and motioned for her to step back. “Allow me to handle this.”
She grumbled and complained but stepped back into the crowd, leaving just the two men face-to-face.
“Are you new to the shire, friend?” The man I’d beat at backgammon paced a slow circle around the accused.
“I…I am not, sir. Ask anyone. I play these parts often and ain’t never had trouble. Not ’fore now.” The man’s voice shook, and the sour stench of piss filled the air.
One harsh laugh barked against my ears, but whoever found the man’s accident funny quickly composed himself. The pub stayed silent and eerily still. Barmaids stopped delivering drinks and food, and a few players gathered their things and headed for the doors.
“I see,” the fancily dressed man said. “So if you’ve been here, you’re aware that basic decency is a part of the business we’re running. Or did you simply leave your honor at home?”
I noticed the barkeep who’d served me earlier cross his arms over his chest, waiting, it seemed, for a signal.
“N…no, sir,” the accused man sputtered. “My honor is right here. Keep it with me all the time.”
“Excellent.” The well-dressed man waved a hand, and the barkeep disappeared into the back. He reappeared just a moment later with someone dressed completely in black, like the riders Syndrian and I tried to hide from the other night. But worse… The man in black was holding an axe.
The man I played nodded at the accused, his eyes gleaming with lethal anticipation. “Then you’ll have no trouble showing me your sleeves.”
ChapterFifteen