“If you’re new here, welcome. If you’re not… Well…” He wagged a finger in the air. “You know exactly what to expect! Tonight, the owners of this pub are pleased to host a tournament. The finest players of the finest entertainments in the realm will compete. The rules are simple. The winner of each game pays the house a quarter penny—regardless of how large the winnings at the table are. That means, friends, you can win three silvers on a game and pay the house just a simple quarter penny. Why? I’ll tell you why! You should spend hours in this beautiful tavern, eating and drinking your fill, of course, and gambling away your precious coins because…” He stopped and bowed dramatically to no one in particular. “At the end of the night, the house will match every cent it collects from the winnings. And one lucky player will go home with the whole lot of it.”
The players started stomping their feet and bellowing cheers.
“All right, all right, friends. Let me have your attention again.” He waited for the crowd to fall silent.
I resisted the urge to look back at Syndrian. I could see Biko straight ahead, his long curls and tall stature making him easy to spot over the heads of the other players.
“Now, in years past…” The man walked from one edge of the table to the other, his voice carrying over the waiting faces of people of all ages. People who, for their own private reasons, sought quick access to a full purse. “In years past we’ve awarded the pot to one lucky winner based on the complexity of the game and the total wins for the night.” He made a face at the people standing by the throwing game. “Sorry, friends, but axes and knives may be played and bet on yet will not be eligible for the final purse.”
A chorus of complaints rose around Biko, and I had to suppress a smile at Biko’s feigned outrage.
“Dice and card games only, and not the bluff games. Only games of skill and chance.” The finely dressed man waved a hand over the crowd. “Now, let the games begin!”
As soon as he said those words, the crowd immediately broke into groups organized by game. There were still plenty of people playing games that were ineligible for the pot and plenty of games being bet on by nonplayers, but what interested me was the intensity of the board games. I watched a card game, a chess game, and a strategy game involving cards I’d never seen before until I finally wandered over to a game of backgammon.
A man and a woman were just starting their game. I watched them play and couldn’t help shaking my head. The man committed a serious blunder by splitting his checkers halfway through the game, when the woman had half the points closed in her home space. By splitting his checkers the way he did, he opened himself up to having both taken with just the right—or lucky—roll.
The woman was indeed lucky, and she took both his pieces on the next roll, sending two of his checkers to the center of the board to sit out the penalty. While he was trapped, she made another point in her home spaces, making it nearly impossible for the man to leave the penalty bar in one roll. It was painful to watch. He’d made one slightly overconfident move, and it cost him the game. But he lost gracefully, paying up what he had wagered and excusing himself from the table.
The enforcers posted by the doors were now roaming the floor with buckets in their hands. They monitored the games and collected the buy-in each time someone won. This went on for the next hour: Biko made friends and played games that were not connected to the pot. Syndrian nursed the same ale for the entire hour, watching the games with interest. And I studied the backgammon boards, watching and waiting.
When there finally seemed to be a break in players queued up for backgammon, I stepped up to the table. The woman who’d been playing for an hour had accumulated a nice pot of winnings. She nodded at me.
“Fancy a game, friend?” she asked. She wore a simple belted kirtle like the women who worked in my parents’ manor and wore a cap over her hair. She looked old enough to be my mother, and I worried whether she would bet her entire winnings to play me.
“I’d like to,” I said. “What buy-in do you prefer?” I knew from watching the last few games that as the winner, she could determine the buy-in for any opponent to challenge her. If no one was willing to bet enough, she’d maintain the seat at the board. That meant that when the house picked a winner from the players left in games at the end of the night, she’d be guaranteed a chance at the final purse.
She looked me over and then eyed her pile of coins. “Two silvers,” she said without hesitating.
I winced. That meant if I wanted to play her, I’d have to put in two silvers. But if I won the game, I’d take back mine and two silvers of hers. I nodded and took the seat opposite her.
Right away the spectators around us began betting among themselves.
“My money’s on the girl in the breeches.”
“I saw her play earlier—she’s got no strategy!”
“Mine coin’s on the fresh blood.”
At the wordblood, I tensed a bit and peeked toward the bar. Syndrian’s body was turned away from me, but I could tell his piercing eyes took in every move I made. I reached into my pouch and grabbed two silvers, then set them on the table.
“Two on the table!” a man cried out.
The woman who’d been winning set her two coins beside mine.
“Bets are placed!”
All throughout the tavern the same cry rang out as wagers were made and called in. The woman raised her hand, and the finely dressed man made his way through the crowd to our table. He had a sack in one hand and a small wooden bowl filled with ash in the other.
“Dice change,” the woman told him.
He took the pair of dice she’d used with her last opponent and placed them into a leather sack. Then he shook the sack and rolled it between his hands.
“You each choose just one,” he instructed us. “Challenger first.” He held the bag out to me, and I reached inside. I closed my eyes and let my fingers find a die, smooth and perfectly formed by Syndrian’s hands. Then my opponent picked one. “Are you satisfied with your choice?”
I looked my die over. It didn’t appear to have been played yet, as each of the pips was smooth and colorless, matching the wood they were etched into. “Mine is new,” I said.
“Mine as well.” The woman opposite me held out the die to the man, and I mimicked her movement.