Giogi began drinking too much and losing lots of money, habits that also were familiar. With a roll of a pair of ivory dice on a felt-covered gaming table, Chancy Lluth had just vanquished all Shaver Cormaeril’s troops. In response, Shaver sacrificed all his leaders to protect a hidden card.
“Primary of flames—that’s a guarded assassin,” Giogi announced when Shaver revealed the card to Chancy. Giogi grinned. One could always count on Shaver to do something vindictive just before he lost.
With a scowl, Chancy tossed one of his knights into the discard pile. Shaver surrendered his unused cards to Chancy and signaled a servant to bring him a fresh drink.
Shaver drew a priest from Chancy’s unused cards to replace his murdered knight.
“How many cards do you want, Giogi?” Lambsie Danae asked. Lambsie had folded much earlier, as usual, unwilling to risk as much money as the others. Lambsie’s father, while one of the wealthiest farmers in Immersea, kept Lambsie on a strict gambling allowance, and Lambsie never exceeded his limit.
Giogi stared at the crystal chandelier hanging over the game table and tried to calculate the odds of his drawing a card he could use. His element was earth, and there weren’t too many stone cards left in the deck. Nor were there too many major cards he could use without the minor stone suit cards to act as armies to protect them. Each unused card he held doubled the price of a new card, but he could not afford to discard those he held—they were mostly wave cards, which Chancy, whose element was water, would snatch up and use against him.
“First card will cost you sixty-four, and if you can’t play it, the second one will cost a hundred twenty-eight,” Lambsie said.
“I can multiply by two, thank you, Lambsie,” Giogi said with an insulted sniff, though after the last brandy he’d downed, he probably couldn’t.
Giogi counted out sixty-four points’ worth of his yellow scoring sticks. Lambsie dealt him a card, a jester—nearly useless, but playable. Giogi turned it over and sifted it into his single army line.
“You’ve got a two-strength army stacked with a sorceress, a bard, and a jester, Giogi,” Chancy said. “Are they leading your troops or entertaining them?”
Ignoring Chancy’s taunt, Giogi paid another sixty-four points. “Another card, please,” he asked Lambsie.
Lambsie dealt him a four of winds, unplayable, but safe to discard, except, once he discarded, Giogi could buy no more cards. He slid the card into his unused pile. “One more,” he said sliding one hundred twenty-eight points’ worth of sticks across the table to Lambsie.
Lambsie dealt him a third card.
Giogi drew a priest out from his unused stack and played it with the new card.
“The moon!” Shaver exclaimed. “How lucky can you get?”
“You know what they say,” Lambsie said, “Tymora looks out for fools.”
“The tide goes out, wave troops retreat,” Giogi said.
Visibly annoyed, Chancy picked all his minor Talis cards off the table and slipped them into his unused stack of cards.
“I think my leaders will challenge yours to personal combat,” Giogi said. “My sorceress against your priest and my rogue against your warrior.”
“That doesn’t leave anyone to command your troops,” Chancy pointed out.
“Jesters can command troops when the moon is in play,” Giogi said.
“That’s right,” Lambsie agreed.
Confronted with the possibility of losing big, Chancy asked. “What kind of surrender terms are you offering?” he asked.
“Half your debt,” Giogi offered magnanimously.
“Accepted,” Chancy said, offering his knight and priest to Giogi.
“Earth wins,” Shaver declared. “You let him off too easy, Giogi.”
“It’s getting late,” Giogi said. “I have to be going.”
“So soon?”
Giogi nodded, signaling a servant for his check.
His friends counted up their scoring sticks. Lambsie paid out his eight silver pieces’ worth of debt while Shaver and Chancy wrote out IOUs. Shaver would be good for his before a day had passed. As head of the second noble family in Immersea, Shaver’s father was always keen to prove to any Wyvernspur that the Cormaerils had no problem meeting their obligations. It would take some time before he could wheedle Chancy’s money out of him, though. Chancy’s father, like Lambsie’s was a very wealthy farmer, as well as a successful merchant. He lavished his money on Chancy, but Chancy had more gambling debts than Cormyr had trees, or so people said.
Bottles, the inn’s owner, came up to their table and presented the tab without a word. People didn’t generally argue over a check presented by Bottles. The retired soldier’s massive physique discouraged the timid, and his gruff, unsophisticated manner indicated to his haughtiest customers that he was not a man one could intimidate.
Giogi glanced at the check for the total and reached for his purse. Then he began patting down his pockets frantically while Bottles cleared away their glasses.
Chancy smacked him on the back and asked, “Something wrong, Giogi?”
Giogi turned to his drinking buddies and muttered, “I seem to have mislaid my purse.”
“Oh, dear. We’ll have to call out the sheriff now,” Shaver announced in a deadpan voice. “Bottles doesn’t take anyone’s chits. Cash and carry only.”
Giogi swallowed hard. When Bottles had married the inn’s previous owner’s widow, the inn had been debt-ridden. The business thrived under Bottles’s management, not just because he kept the same staff as had his predecessor, but because he had a shrewd head for business—in other words—no credit. His policy was renowned throughout Immersea, as were the two youths he kept on retainer for dealing with deadbeats and other heavy lifting.
The young Wyvernspur rummaged through his pockets again, then checked his boots for good measure. He pulled out the yellow crystal, which glittered in the chandelier light.
It would be impossibly hard to let the stone out of his hand, let alone out of his sight, but he had announced he was hosting the evening’s revelries, and the humiliation of reneging on friends would be even more unbearable.
Giogi laid the crystal on the table. “Will you take this as collateral, Bottles? I haven’t had it appraised, but I’m sure it’s worth a great deal. It is to me, anyway. I’ll ransom it back tomorrow.”
“No, Bottles,” Lambsie cried, “hold out for those boots. They’re the most comfortable pair in the Realms.”
Giogi flushed. Why doesn’t anyone like these boots? he wondered. They’re so sensible.
“Already got a pair of them kind,” Bottles said.
Shaver, Lambsie, and Chancy broke into laughter.
Bottles eyed the three “gentlemen” with disdain. He pushed the yellow crystal away. “Keep your stone, milord. Your credit’s good here.”
“Whoa!” Shaver exclaimed. “Is that the breaking of a tradition I hear?”
“How come my credit isn’t good here?” Chancy demanded.
“ ’E feels bad about it. You don’t,” Bottles replied.
Giogi smiled gratefully. “Thanks, awfully, Bottles. I’ll have Thomas stop by to settle up first thing in the morning.”
“See that you do,” Bottles said, and walked off.
“First thing in the morning for Giogi, isn’t that somewhere around noon?” Shaver joked.
“For your information,” Giogi replied with a haughty tone, too inebriated to consider what he was saying, “I’ll be up before the crack of dawn tomorrow, crawling through the family crypt.”
“Whatever for?” Chancy asked.
“Someone’s stole the spur and he’s trapped down there,” Giogi explained in a conspiratorial whisper. “Or not,” he added, still confused by Uncle Drone’s mysterious confidence to the contrary.