Four tables were arranged in a square and stout boards placed around the edges to prevent the dice bouncing onto the floor. Wagers were laid on a side table, jealously guarded by the Boss, innkeeper, sometime impartial referee, ex-thief and occasional mentor to Mylo, Davidov Jermays.

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The game had lasted an hour. Now only three players remained. A villager named Hetza, a merchant Jefber Rebec of Imer who had arrived with the battle-scarred caravan, and Mylo, the inn's errand boy and servant.

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Mylo had won a few rounds and had built up his funds from a few coppers to several silvers. He couldn't match the gold coins he had seen Rebec throw into the pot but the boy knew Hetza was onto his last few pennies and the village's laziest carpenter wouldn't last the next round.

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He was right. Hetza rolled snake-eyes and stormed out of the inn to the howls of laughter from the assembled as Jermays greedily counted the loser's coins.

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“Well, gents,” the innkeeper said to the remaining players. “Shall we play one last round? Winner takes all?”

 

“Less the cut the Boss takes!” yelled some wag from the crowd.

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Jermays feigned wounded pride. “I'll have you know, Mack Taft, I only take what's due to the House.” The ex-thief lowered his voice, but still everyone could hear: “plus an extra ten percent.”

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More uproarious laughter followed this comment.

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“Gentlemen?” said the thief.  

 

Rebec looked at the pile of coins on the side table. For these villagers, such a sum would be almost princely, certainly it would take the work of several years to amass so much money. For him, though, the money was not important. He was playing against the upstart Boy brat, who he had seen romancing young Kally, a fine girl with a good and rich family. She was even clinging to the Boy's arm as the commoner thought over his choice. The Boy should be taught a lesson not to go above his station.

 

“I will take that challenge,” said the merchant. “Boy?”

 

Mylo counted the coins in his hand and looked at the pile on the Boss's table. Even less Jermays' cut, that money would set Mylo on a different path, one which would take him away from Hesard's Ford. “Alright, Boss.”

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“Lay your stakes, then.”

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Mylo placed the last of his coins on the table. Rebec matched it with two Imerian gold crowns, raising a gasp from the crowd.

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The dice were tossed. Mylo made a spirited throw, the bone-carved cubes bouncing and clattering across the table. His throw was good but not unbeatable.

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Mylo watched intently as Rebec took up the dice and cast a critical eye across the table. He could see where the joined tables were scratched and pitted, each blemish on the surface making the fall of the dice riskier. Rebec could beat the Boy's throw on a good table and with a practiced flick of the wrist. But not here.

 

“I've played on better, smoother tables, landlord,” the merchant said. 

 

“It's been a fair old game so far, sir,” replied the innkeeper. “If you don't like the table, you can forfeit to the Boy and cut your losses.” 

 

Rebec smiled as two dice fell gently from the cuff of his jacket into the palm of his hand. He used the momentary distraction to employ his own dice. “You are right, of course, landlord.”

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He tossed the dice and they came up doubles! Rebec had won. The crowd erupted into a storm of laughter, claps and cheers.

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Mylo's heart sank into his boots. His dreams of a life away from Hesard's Ford evaporated. Even the warmth of Kally's hand as she gripped his arm tightly meant little to him as he realised the truth. Rebec had won.

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“Double or quits!” Kally's high, clear voice rang out over the tumult of the crowd.

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“What?” the Boss shouted.

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“Double or quits,” Kally repeated firmly as the crowd became subdued. “Common gambling like this is beneath a man of your station, Mr. Rebec, and Alora knows it's beneath mine, too. But I know the rules. I watched our men playing these dice games around our campfires.” She paused as looks of guilt seeped over the faces of the Imerians. “I saw one man win back all his losses with this stupid rule.”

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“But I have nothing to double, Kally,” Mylo protested. “Mr. Rebec cleaned me out.” His eyes widened as he watched Kally remove a ring from her right little finger.

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She held up a silver ring, set with two sapphires, each as blue as her eyes. “Pure Imerian silver,” she said, “and set with sapphires from south of the Sea of Rhyn. I shall loan this to you, Mylo, to play double or quits against Mr. Rebec.”

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“You can't do that, Kally!” her father roared from behind her. “That ring is priceless, girl. Think of what you are doing.”

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“I have thought, Father,” Kally replied. “This ring is mine. I bargained for this ring and bought it for an extremely good price. You know I did because you were there, when I was nine years old. And you still remember the look of defeat on the jeweller's face when I bargained his price down.” The girl paused and watched her father's face change from clouded anger, to pride in his daughter. “I know the law as it stands in our land. This ring is mine and I can do with it whatever I please.”

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Mylo looked from the ring to Kally's eyes. “And what if I lose? What do I lose then? It's not as if I have anything else to trade. If the ring goes, everything goes.”

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Kally straightened. “Then you lose your freedom, Mylo. You will take a year of indentured service to me and my family. That is the law of our land, if not yours, for those who default on debts.” She dropped the ring into Mylo's open palm. “Win it back for me, Mylo,” she whispered.

​

Rebec looked at the ring and his mouth was suddenly dry. It was a thing of beauty which would have fitted the younger Kally's index finger when she was nine and now perfectly fit her little finger. He realised that nothing he had would exceed the value of that ring. Rebec reached for his dice.

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“You first, sir,” said Mylo with a confidence he did not feel.

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Rebec tossed the dice. On a normal, flat table, his loaded dice would have come up doubles but as one landed true, the second bounced out of a knife cut on the surface and turned up a one. His score was still fair, however, and would take some luck for the Boy to beat.

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“May I?” Mylo borrowed the accent and manners of Kally as he asked to use Mr. Rebec's dice for his throw. He saw Rebec flinch nervously and knew the man had cheated in the last round. Only Kally's recklessness had given him a second chance to beat this cheat.

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Rebec saw he was trapped. He could not refuse the Boy at this point. To do so would arouse suspicion and perhaps even inspection of his loaded dice. If that happened he would surely be caught. He handed the cubes to the Boy.

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Mylo weighed the dice in his right hand, then deftly tossed them to his left. As they clicked together, he knew. One of the dice was weighted on one face. That was enough. He cast his gaze over the table and spotted the bumps and grooves he wanted. With the correct speed and spin ...

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Kally held her breath. She liked Mylo, she really did. But she knew that what she had done, while legal in her own country, was almost unconscionably stupid. If he lost this throw, her most prized possession would fall into Rebec's slimy fingers and with it, her pride, her father's respect. She closed her eyes as Mylo flicked his wrist and sent the dice tumbling across the table.

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The dice ricocheted around the table, bouncing off the sides and off the grooves Mylo had aimed at. Double sixes landed face up. 

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“The Winner!” roared the Boss. The crowd broke into thunderous applause.