Abhorrent Practices - Book 1

Chapter 9.5 - Dicing with Death (Scene 5: Winner Takes Alyss)

Commander Priss won the second round of Teeth and Bones, but to Alyss's relief, Perrick won the third. With the score at two rounds to one, Farrer left Alyss's side. He needed to finalise the transfer of the new crew members to the Jennie Seaholme, he explained, and – with Perrick locked in the game of dice below – someone had to supervise the loading of the ship's supplies. As soon as he left, Alyss felt more alone than she had at any time since leaving Grielle.

"I want you to know, I do forgive you," said a friendly voice behind her. Maldon Grayne was an unassuming man, softly spoken and polite. "For the chamber pot," clarified Grayne, wincing as he touched his fingers to the back of his head. Apparently it was still sore.

If he was seeking an apology, Alyss felt no inclination to give him one. She'd only done what was necessary to escape. Grayne had wanted to take her back to Grielle.

"You can't run forever, you know." The little man polished his round-rimmed spectacles.

Alyss kept her eyes on the dais, where Perrick and Priss sat staring at each other.

"I have faith in Mister Perrick."

"And I have faith Commander Priss, but even if she loses, what then? Mister Brunlen will put you on a ship to ... where? Durhoun? It really doesn't matter; we'll follow you, and arrest you there. Or maybe we'll even catch up with you in international waters. The Sanctity is a very fast ship."

Alyss was trapped. In a moment of panic, she toyed with the idea of pushing Grayne from the ledge and running to the top of the Drum, but she dismissed it immediately. After all, where could she go? The city of Orrin's Rock was miles away, and on foot she wouldn't last more than an hour against the wind that tore across the barren plain outside. She cursed herself for having failed to notice where the Tharnish stable master had taken the mulkets. She tasted a little blood, and realised her teeth were biting into her lower lip.

Below her, Commander Priss was already shaking the cup, preparing to roll the dice. Alyss watched the ten tiny cubes tumble across the table, and felt a flutter of excitement as they came to a halt. She couldn't see the scores, but the spectators nearest the table quickly passed the results up the line. A jawbreaker! Priss had rolled another jawbone! Alyss caught her breath, as Perrick rolled a jawbone too, but her hope was short-lived. Once the teeth and bones on the other dice were counted, Priss had the higher score.

She watched helplessly, as Priss declined Brunlen's offer of taking her throw again.

"Why does she never re-roll?!"

"You only re-roll when you have to," Grayne advised her. "Or if your score is really bad. With a middling score, it's usually best to keep what you have. It unsettles your opponent."

Alyss kept her back to him. Perrrick would have to roll the dice again. She clenched her eyes shut, praying to Raya, the Griellean spirit of good fortune, to guide the merchant's hand. Her heart sank as a despairing groan rippled through the crowd. Perrick had failed to roll a single jawbone.

"The fourth round goes to Commander Priss of the Sanctity," declared Brunlen. "The Commander leads by three rounds to one!"

"If you like," Grayne suggested to Alyss, "I could start having your things transferred to my ship. You'll find our accommodations are quite comfortable."

Alyss glared at him frostily. His calm, civil tone angered her more than she wanted to admit.

"Mister Brunlen said it was best of seven."

"Exactly," replied Grayne. "Which means the Commander needs to win just one more round. Your friend, on the other hand, must win the next three rounds in a row. I'd say the odds are against him." There was no malice in Grayne's voice; no hint of a threat, not even a suggestion of gloating. He was simply stating facts.