Short Story – “Towers”
In its hundred-year history, the ramshackle tavern had never known such a crowd. Not since the great Marlin Mandrovi played his sleepy song for an eager audience, nor since the famed folk hero Raddagan Brave showed off his impressive talent for drinking mead. There was no doubt as to why they had gathered, either. It was the twins that drew in the keen eyes of the patrons. Two tenderfeet, short human-like creatures with cherubic faces and particularly red noses, who were as talented at throwing dice and playing cards as an elderly wizard was at casting spells. The pair of jovial travellers had been draining the town dry of gold since they had arrived in Petty’s Nest that morning. A fact that had drawn in even more challengers throughout the day.
Darynell Morran was perhaps the twenty-fifth challenger of the audacious pair. The husky human sat, hunched over, with five dice concealed behind his palm. Looking over the top of the meagre pile of gold crowns in the centre of the table, the twins were doing the same. They were giggling and whispering to one another. Darynell figured it was probably about him. As a local of Petty’s Nest, the guard had not taken too kindly to strangers sweeping the well-earned savings of his fellow Petty Nesters. Resolute, he had stepped up with his wages for the month, whiskers brimming with pride, and was now down to a paltry day’s pay.
It had taken him three rounds to figure out that the tenderfeet were swindling him.
‘How many?’ One of the two asked.
The pair looked similar, but there were some key differences between them. The one on the left with a missing ear was the talker. Tol, he had called himself when they introduced themselves. The other was more reserved but had a habit of breaking into giggles. Not that it did anything to reveal his rolls. Bil, he was called.
Darynell looked down at his dice. A pathetic roll for this late in the game. Two ones, three twos, and a fretful three. The game was known as Bad Manners. It was a quite popular pastime that could be found in any tavern up and down the Avanni Coast. The guard didn’t know why it was called Bad Manners, unless, of course, the game was referring to how people tended to behave when they lost. The game itself was rather simple. Darynell had played it many times before in the cold absence of other evening entertainment. You roll six dice, each six-sided, and try to get as many of a different number as you can. The player with the most dice of a different number at the end of the round was the winner; but before that came the bluffing.
You could bluff a higher number in Bad Manners, but if you were called out on it and found to be lying, you would be forced out of the game with your bet forfeited. The same was true the other way around too. If you called someone out that was being truthful about how many of a different number the player possessed, you were out.
The ideal number to get was six, a full manner, with each of the six dice showing a different side.
‘Well?’ Tol pushed.
‘Four,’ Darynell lied. Bil giggled. It was clear by their faces that they knew he was lying. With a one, a two, and a three, that meant he had half a manner. Not a very good roll. This was, however, a game of bluffs, so lying could mean the difference if you were good at it. The guard raised his eyebrow. ‘You?’
It didn’t help that the town had decided to crowd all around them, taking up every seat in the tavern, and electing to stand where there was a short supply of chairs. Fifty people, most of whom rarely saw any kind of excitement around here, crammed into the small establishment with old swill in their tankards, clothes worn from the day’s work, and a collectively held breath.
‘Six!’ Tol exclaimed, eliciting a disappointed moan from the crowd.
‘Five,’ Bil tittered, holding his hands to his mouth to keep the giggles at bay.
This was one of the problems, Darynell knew. It was late in the day now, the sun was shying away, and they had swindled just about everyone. In the beginning, five or six people sat around this circular table. Now it was just him. That meant they could team up against him. Not at all in the spirit of Bad Manners, which was more favourable to a larger group. If Darynell called out one as a liar, the other would call him out in turn. Darynell sighed. There wasn’t really much of a choice in that, unless he could roll a really good hand.
‘You’re a liar.’ Darynell pointed to Tol’s palm. The tenderfoot revealed his hidden hand. Six dice, precisely in order. A one, two, three, four, five, and six. A full manner. Darynell slunk back in his seat as Bil conceded, and the pair threw their hands excitedly upon the pile of gold. Weighted dice, most likely, Darynell thought. It was amazing how often that roll had appeared throughout the day.
‘Another round?’ Tol asked eagerly.
Darynell sucked at his gums, as he did when he was thinking, taking pleasure in the beefy stew flavour that had stuck around since lunchtime. The guard looked first to the disappointed faces of the townsfolk, then to the meagre bag of coins that sat on his side of the table. If he quit now, he’d have enough to live like a pauper until payday. There was something in him, though. Maybe it was honour, stubbornness, or just plain stupidity that made him want to play on.
‘I’m up for another round.’
The twins squealed. Despite their acquired wealth, they had been eyeing up his bag the entire last round. They must do this often, Darynell thought. Travelling about from town to town, prying purses from their victims and leaving before anyone thought to ask to see their dice. Darynell could do that now as a guard — he’d been considering it. That wouldn’t be satisfying though, and it could lead to some harsh reprimand from the townsfolk if he were wrong. No, Darynell wanted to beat them at their own game.
Or his.
‘I want to play Towers,’ he said plainly.
The pair looked at each other, eyebrows raised. ‘Never heard of it,’ Tol said confidently. ‘We only play Bad Manners.’
‘Towers isn’t much different.’ Darynell shrugged. ‘You still roll dice, bluff the outcomes.’ He needed to seal the deal. He licked his lips. ‘Unless, of course, there’s a reason you only want to play Bad Manners?’
The pair swallowed their breath. They were in a tricky situation, Darynell knew. They were surrounded by the townsfolk, most of which they had cheated. A tricky predicament to be caught within inside of a town known for its quick love to riot. Fifty people could make short work of two tenderfeet. After a few shaky moments, they nodded their heads and began to ask after the rules.
Now, that was a challenge.
Darynell thought back to the last time he had been gambling in the Pidg Inn. A lousy gambler, he’d spent most of the round watching and idly playing with his dice, stacking them up, one after the other, until they had collapsed. He had nothing of a talent in it or anything. There was no genius behind the stacking, but back then, as his thoughts wandered, he began to think of a game that could be played with the stacking of spare dice.
Now he had to create the whole thing in the whims of the moment.
‘We each have five dice.’ He decided on it then, the crowd leaning in. None of them had heard of the game before because it hadn’t existed until this very second. ‘Five rounds. We each roll our dice and count the numbers for the total.’ The pair was uneasy at that, as he guessed they would be. If they were using weighted dice, their totals would always be the same. By counting the totals, he had a greater chance of winning with a standard set of dice. ‘Then we place our bets, improving or equalling the coins thrown in the centre. After that, we announce our numbers to the table. If we think someone is lying, we can call them out, and they have to prove it. If they’re lying, they lose a die and must stack it in the centre of the table. If they’re being truthful, however, the accuser must do it instead. The winner is the player at the end of the round with the highest number. The player at the game’s end with the most dice is the final winner and takes all the gold.’
‘Seems simple enough.’ Some of the bravado had gone out of the tenderfoot’s voice. ‘Five rounds?’
‘Yeah.’ Darynell smiled, clicking his tongue. Then he gave his final idea. ‘If the tower should fall at any point, the person who did the falling is out of the game. Their contributed gold forfeited.’
Darynell could see them whispering as they hovered, wondering where it had come from. The guard realised there would be problems with it, but he’d have to come up with solutions as they crossed those bridges. For now, these basic rules would suffice.
The guard placed a single die in the centre of the table to act as a base, and then the three of them rolled and hid their results. In total, Darynell had managed to get twenty-three. Not bad for a roll of five dice. If one of the pair were using crooked dice, designed for Bad Manners alone, their total should be no more than twenty. Given that they would have lost one of their dice.
Throwing a gold coin in, Darynell got things started.
As he expected, Tol raised the bet quite considerably, hoping to drive him out. At the same time, Bil kept equalling the bet. Once Darynell’s gold had run dry, it was time to devise another rule. The tenderfeet smiled, but that soon turned sour when the guard spoke. ‘I’ve gone all in, meaning you must match my bet and reveal your numbers.’
The pair did not like that. Suddenly, every golden coin that had once belonged to the town was sitting pretty in the centre of the table. Darynell didn’t miss the exchange of concerned glances and afforded himself a small smile.
‘Twenty-seven,’ Tol said squeakily.
‘Fifteen,’ Bil replied.
Interesting numbers. The fifteen meant that Bil was playing it straight, so he guessed that Tol was the one rolling the crooked dice. The guard cleared his throat, ‘Twenty-three.’
‘Ha!’ said Tol happily. ‘I guess that means I—’
‘I challenge,’ Darynell called out. Tol had evidently forgotten about that part of the game. The tenderfoot revealed his dice. Twenty in all. Just as Darynell had known. The crowd went wild. It was the first hand they had won all day. ‘It’s a shame,’ he said, nodding at the dice. ‘That would have been a winning roll in Bad Manners.’
‘I challenge!’ Bil shouted, perhaps a little louder and more eager than he had wanted.
Darynell was happy to oblige and showed his dice to be truthful. With uneasy stares, the pair took one die apiece and placed it on the first die in the centre of the table—the tower.
At some point in the game, Tol and Bil had switched out their crooked sets for regular sets. Their numbers became more flexible. It was already too late, though. With the first-round victory, Darynell had moved ahead with the advantage of having more dice. With every subsequent round, they lost more and more dice, adding them to the tower until Bil was the one to bring it down in the fourth round. It collapsed, spreading dice across the table, and Bil grunted a word in a language Darynell didn’t know. It had been a sewer word, though. That was obvious enough.
That left Tol and Darynell.
‘What happens to these dice?’ Tol gestured to the scattered remains of the tower. The tenderfoot was standing on his chair now, leaning over to inspect the play area. That left a problem, though. Darynell had absolutely no idea what happened to these dice now.
‘Uh,’ he stuttered. The thought hadn’t even crossed him. ‘You…’ he struggled, scratching idly at his forehead, and wincing slightly. ‘You…give the dice to the player who won the round.’ The crowd sighed. It was through fortune, or good lying, that the winner of the last round had just so happened to be him.
The tenderfoot grunted as he collapsed back into the chair.
It was the final round. Both of them had rolled and observed their dice. There was no going back now as both of their gold lay in the centre of the table around the tower. That’s what Darynell liked about gambling games that had rounds. You couldn’t back out when things were good for you. You had to keep playing it through.
They announced their numbers—Darynell’s fifteen versus Tol’s eighteen. Naturally, Tol challenged, and Darynell revealed himself to be a liar. The guard had chosen to go lower, mostly for the spectacle at the end of the game, where he could unveil the higher number. There was no rule that discouraged sticking to your lie at the end of the game. How could there be? The winner was the player who had the highest number at the end of the round.
Tol jumped out of his seat to see the lie and watched excitedly as Darynell gave up one of his dice to the tower hoping, no doubt, that it would fall. It didn’t. The tenderfoot screamed in joy as he reached over for his gold. Darynell slapped his hand as the crowd grunted their dissatisfaction. Smiling, he said, ‘How many dice do you have?’
The tenderfoot’s eyes went wild. He looked down at the four dice left on his side. ‘Four,’ he gulped.
Darynell revealed his own. ‘Ten dice, thanks to Bil knocking over the tower earlier.’
A chorus of fifty palms came down on his back to congratulate and shake him as he reached over to take his well-earned gold coins. Explosive cheers and hoots went up straight after, threatening to break the tavern apart under the stamping of feet and shaking of windows. They might as well have been blowing raid horns for how loud the crowd cheered. Darynell laughed and smiled through it all, revelling in the tenderfoot’s defeat as he was thrown from side to side by the excited hands.
At the end of it, though, Tol and Bil shrugged and smiled. ‘Good game!’ They said in unison, shaking his hand in turn. ‘We’ll have to remember this one. Towers, was it?’
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