Saga of the Old City by Gary Gygax Page B

lazily reached for his next plaque and tipped it. “Hmmm …”he ruminated, eyes now fixed upon the baron. A bet was again demanded by the rules of the game, for Sir Margus had but two tiles remaining face down. It was evident from the facial expressions of the other players that they did not envy him his position. Already in deep, he had but little chance to defeat the cleric’s Host, while the Baron Dolph had some considerable opportunity.
    “Let us be restrained-a lucky,” offered the young knight.
    As the electrum disc went into the center of the table, Lord Dolph was already shoving two coins in. “And an orb,” he said with menacing flatness in his voice. Margus had but a few pieces of currency before him on the table, and the baron thought it time to force the upstart youngster out of the play.
    Each of the others at the table saw the wager. Sir Margus stared at the glitter of gold, silver, platinum, and electrum in the pot, shook his head, and stared at the baron. As Dolph smiled condescendingly at him, a gold coin appeared in the young man’s hand, and he said, “I’ll see the wager also.”
    Now everyone at the table was watching with enhanced interest-this hand was becoming a personal matter of pride between two noblemen. And by this time, the game had attracted the attention of a small crowd of onlookers. They kept a respectful distance, and after each play the ones in the front ranks would turn and whisper the latest happenings to those behind them.
    Sir Margus glanced toward the spectators and smiled faintly, as if amused by a secret joke. Then he revealed his sixth plaque. Madame Belldray gasped and clutched at the golden brocade of her gown with a plump hand when she saw a white sigil.
    Sir Margus fixed Lord Dolph with a piercing gaze, holding the baron’s eyes as the young Velunese knight slowly displayed his next plaque. Several of the onlookers voiced subdued cheers when the second dragon in the stack appeared-that could stand for the green sigil exposed in Madame Belldray’s tableau. Now, the young nobleman had completed the Mage, a nearly unbeatable display!
    “I believe it is your play, baron,” Sir Margus said laconically, without looking down.
    Livid, Lord Dolph reached for his next tile. It was the elf-no help. Hurriedly, he turned the next, another tower, and it was time to consider the stakes. “A plate, I say, and be damned!” His hand shook as the paunchy baron put the coin into the pot with an angry toss. Madame Belldray yielded her tableau; she could no longer hope luck would save her. The cleric and the Velunese knight put platinum lozenges into the pot without ado. Guildmaster Arentol observed the whole affair with fascination.
    “Istus! That’s
five
towers you now face!” roared the baron as his sixth plaque turned out to be another of the castle symbols. Lord Dolph’s tableau was now supreme on the board. His florid countenance was wreathed in smugness as he looked from High Priest Vronstein to Sir Margus, his pale eyes red-rimmed but gloating.
    “Calmly, dear baron, calmly,” admonished the haughty-faced cleric as he carefully exposed his fifth tile. The blue horse’s head was some help, but not much, especially in the face of five towers. “I must trust in the divine direction I now require,” he stated. He flipped an orb into the air and let it fall on the table before him. It showed a throne. “Tops, so I am to go on. Consider the gold piece my fresh wager,” he said.
    Neither of the other players increased this sum, so the cleric continued his play. His sixth tile was yet another war-piece, a black sword. After a moment of hesitation, perhaps for silent prayer, Vronstein revealed his seventh and last plaque. It was, incredibly, a red horsehead-cavalry.
    “I offer you the Allied Host,” the cleric said with a casual gesture toward the green infantry pieces and trio of horses. “Is it not the superior of five towers?” Now it was High Priest Vronstein’s