eyes of his opponents with an unblinking gaze.
Next to Arentol was Sir Margus, a very young, effete-looking Velunese. His age combined with his title indicated that he was undoubtedly the son of a great noble and thus had gained his knighthood through means other than bold deeds.
Adjacent to the Velunese knight was Madame Belldray.
The widow of Degol Belldray was certainly one of the richest commoners in the city-so wealthy that she could move in noble circles without question. She was plump and soft and covered with jewels. In a pudgy, middle-aged way, Madame Belldray was attractive, so she was much sought after by men whose fortunes were in flux, so to speak. This night she was clad in brocaded silk of ivory and golden hues that nearly matched the colors of her fading blonde tresses.
Just after Lord Dolph, the Baron of Cairnway, spoke triumphantly regarding his newly displayed tableau, Madame Belldray smiled vacuously at the man to her left, Vronstein, a High Priest of Zilchus, and said, “Oh, my goodness! Can you imagine such luck? Do you suppose you can beat Lord Dolph’s three towers? What will you do?”
Without comment, the richly dressed priest seated between the lady and Lord Dolph turned over the ivory plaque before him, his long, pale fingers seeming to move contemptuously. He smiled as a green horsehead was revealed on the reverse side. “That makes a Host of four, I believe, Lord Baron.”
The sour expression that came over Lord Dolph’s face as he viewed the emerald depictions of bow, sword, and spear capped by the horse showed that it was indeed a Host, a powerful tableau. All of the men now turned to watch as Madame Belldray took her turn.
“That’s no good at all,” the plump dowager said in a tone of disappointment as her bejeweled hand exposed a plaque with the green magic sigil on it. Now, His Reverence The High Priest Vronstein could gain no all-conquering Host, at least, but the Madame still had but a pair of coffers showing. She turned over two more of the ivory tiles, revealing the dwarf and a crown. The crown could build to a winning hand, but only if her two remaining plaques were likewise coffers-and those were long odds. With only two plays remaining for her, Madame Belldray must either wager or yield.
“I feel dreadfully lucky this evening!” she stated enthusiastically. “So, I shall increase the stake by another orb-no, by another plate!” She pushed a platinum lozenge into the pile of coins in the center of the table.
There was some surprise among the players when Sir Margus not only met the stake but increased it by an orb. He had lost rather heavily this night, and now seemed bent on bankrupting himself by attempting to recoup it all in one losing hand. He showed three tiles up, a red sigil and two gates.
Arentol likewise had three up and four plaques down, with three spears showing. “It seems that playing with a blessed cleric is unwise,” said the guildmaster. He too had lost considerable sums. “I am caught between towers, His Reverence, a lady who feels Ralishaz smiles upon her, and a risk-taker extraordinaire,” he observed. “And, worse, I think I can garner no fifth spear, even should the fourth be here,” he added as he tapped his tiles, “so I must yield.” He quietly turned over his exposed plaques and sat back.
Lord Dolph placed his platinum and gold coins into the pot, and then His Reverence Vronstein increased the wager by yet another plate. Reluctantly, Madame Belldray met it, Sir Margus did likewise only after going to his purse, and then Lord Dolph also saw the bet. The action passed to the young knight.
“Let us see with whom fortune actually plays,” Sir Margus said as he casually flipped his next flat ivory rectangle so as to show its face: a black sigil.
“Cities and magic don’t mix, sir!” urged Lord Dolph. “Let’s get on with it!”
Without any indication that he took offense at the mustachioed baron’s rudeness, the young man
Next to Arentol was Sir Margus, a very young, effete-looking Velunese. His age combined with his title indicated that he was undoubtedly the son of a great noble and thus had gained his knighthood through means other than bold deeds.
Adjacent to the Velunese knight was Madame Belldray.
The widow of Degol Belldray was certainly one of the richest commoners in the city-so wealthy that she could move in noble circles without question. She was plump and soft and covered with jewels. In a pudgy, middle-aged way, Madame Belldray was attractive, so she was much sought after by men whose fortunes were in flux, so to speak. This night she was clad in brocaded silk of ivory and golden hues that nearly matched the colors of her fading blonde tresses.
Just after Lord Dolph, the Baron of Cairnway, spoke triumphantly regarding his newly displayed tableau, Madame Belldray smiled vacuously at the man to her left, Vronstein, a High Priest of Zilchus, and said, “Oh, my goodness! Can you imagine such luck? Do you suppose you can beat Lord Dolph’s three towers? What will you do?”
Without comment, the richly dressed priest seated between the lady and Lord Dolph turned over the ivory plaque before him, his long, pale fingers seeming to move contemptuously. He smiled as a green horsehead was revealed on the reverse side. “That makes a Host of four, I believe, Lord Baron.”
The sour expression that came over Lord Dolph’s face as he viewed the emerald depictions of bow, sword, and spear capped by the horse showed that it was indeed a Host, a powerful tableau. All of the men now turned to watch as Madame Belldray took her turn.
“That’s no good at all,” the plump dowager said in a tone of disappointment as her bejeweled hand exposed a plaque with the green magic sigil on it. Now, His Reverence The High Priest Vronstein could gain no all-conquering Host, at least, but the Madame still had but a pair of coffers showing. She turned over two more of the ivory tiles, revealing the dwarf and a crown. The crown could build to a winning hand, but only if her two remaining plaques were likewise coffers-and those were long odds. With only two plays remaining for her, Madame Belldray must either wager or yield.
“I feel dreadfully lucky this evening!” she stated enthusiastically. “So, I shall increase the stake by another orb-no, by another plate!” She pushed a platinum lozenge into the pile of coins in the center of the table.
There was some surprise among the players when Sir Margus not only met the stake but increased it by an orb. He had lost rather heavily this night, and now seemed bent on bankrupting himself by attempting to recoup it all in one losing hand. He showed three tiles up, a red sigil and two gates.
Arentol likewise had three up and four plaques down, with three spears showing. “It seems that playing with a blessed cleric is unwise,” said the guildmaster. He too had lost considerable sums. “I am caught between towers, His Reverence, a lady who feels Ralishaz smiles upon her, and a risk-taker extraordinaire,” he observed. “And, worse, I think I can garner no fifth spear, even should the fourth be here,” he added as he tapped his tiles, “so I must yield.” He quietly turned over his exposed plaques and sat back.
Lord Dolph placed his platinum and gold coins into the pot, and then His Reverence Vronstein increased the wager by yet another plate. Reluctantly, Madame Belldray met it, Sir Margus did likewise only after going to his purse, and then Lord Dolph also saw the bet. The action passed to the young knight.
“Let us see with whom fortune actually plays,” Sir Margus said as he casually flipped his next flat ivory rectangle so as to show its face: a black sigil.
“Cities and magic don’t mix, sir!” urged Lord Dolph. “Let’s get on with it!”
Without any indication that he took offense at the mustachioed baron’s rudeness, the young man
Similar Books
