Night Arrant (24 page)

Gord could hardly conceal his enthusiasm. "Let's play a game now! It would be quite exciting to learn from the one who invented it, you know — quite a feather in my cap!"

"Well. . ."

"Of course I'd be willing to place a small stake on each leg. Would a zee be too little for a man of your talents?"

The professor slowly nodded. "Too little by far. A common is the least i'd be interested in wagering."

"A man after my own heart! If you're going to wager, you might as well make the stakes worth winning. What say you to a silver noble a leg, then?" Gord asked, brimming with uncontained eagerness.

"Done, young man. It is nearing the witching hour even now, and I must repair to my chambers for study and rest. Tomorrow is a day of classwork, you know. May I suggest that we play at noon on Starday?"

Gord was delighted at the stakes and the time, for the delay would enable him to do some scouting beforehand. "That seems satisfactory, although I'd hoped to play sooner." he told the professor, allowing false disappointment to enter his voice as he did so. "No matter, I defer to your wishes, sir. May I select the starting point?"

"Of course, my boy," Twistbuck agreed heartily, "but it must be somewhere within the southern half of the city, and it must also be at an intersection with three or more possible directions to choose from."

That sounded reasonable. "I agree," Gord said, his mind racing. "But who shall go first? And what length of game will we play?"

Twistbuck considered the questions for a moment, then suggested. "You take the first sign, and we'll just alternate back and forth from then on. In the case of two signs on either side of the route, the one on the left shall be taken first, the one on the right considered second. As you shall have first count, you will also pick what direction we go from the starting intersection. I'll pick the next direction, and so forth. Alternating choice prevents any pre-selection of a route — that would be cheating, now, wouldn't it? Signs off the direct route are not allowed as proper for either contestant, even if the sign is clearly visible from the artery being traveled. That is all, save for us to set the limit on play."

"Time could allow one or the other player to gain an advantage by having one or more sign than the other fellow, as would distance traveled. I suggest that we each be allowed a set number of signs," Gord said thoughtfully.

"Of course! Now do be so good as to set the number, and I'll bid you good night!"

Gord arose as Twistbuck did, shook his hand, and said, "A noble a leg to the winner, game to commence on Starday noon, each counting a dozen signs before total score wins."

"Indeed, and I look forward with pleasure to the amusement my little game will provide to such a bright, enterprising fellow as yourself. Good rest to you all!" So saying, the don took his leave, and Gord and Chert left the tavern soon thereafter.

Chert was sound asleep when Gord went out the next morning. He had much to accomplish in the little more than twenty-four hours left before the game would begin. The young thief was suspicious. Twistbuck seemed too casual about the stakes involved, too willing to let Gord determine the details of the arrangement. Gord was going to carefully go over the area he would choose for the game to start in. familiarize himself with the signs around it. and be fully prepared when they began. Perhaps this was unfair, but the verbal rules set down by the game's creator held no provisions for or against such conduct. Planning and preparation were smart steps, and Twistbuck himself had set the day and time. If that gave Gord an edge, it would be foolish not to utilize it! What worried him most was the possibility of some variation of the rules that the professor had neglected to mention.

"Where have you been?" Chert asked as his comrade returned to their domicile near sundown.

"Taking care of some business and walking a bit. Nothing important," Gord replied carelessly.

Turning away to hide his smile, the giant hillman asked Gord if he should fix something for them to eat.

"No, let's go out for a bite - my treat. How about the Toad again?"

"Sure pal, whatever you say if you're buying, but the food there isn't very good. What about— "

"Hey! I'm buying, so we go where I choose!"

"Okay, if it means that much to you. I just thought you might like a good meal," Chert wasn't about to argue when the ride was free.

"Well, in all honesty, I'm hoping your professor friend will be there. I need to ask a couple of questions about our game tomorrow."

"Oh," said Chert, dropping the subject.

They had eaten and were sipping drinks when Twistbuck came in. As soon as he saw the two, he came over to their comer and sat down. After pleasant greetings were exchanged and Chert had ordered and paid for the professor's refreshment, Gord began to grill the fellow.

"If I were playing this 'Legs' game of yours, and I came upon a place called The Boot, would I count a leg?"

"Hardly, old chap." Twistbuck replied with disdain. "It is a game of legs, after all, not footwear."

"Doesn't a boot imply a leg to go into?"

"Pish! Does a horseshoe impry the leg and hoof of a horse?"

"Well, then, how about an octopus? Does that merit a score of eight?"

"Never!" Twistbuck cried in mock horror. Tentacles are also referred to as arms. Must I constantly remind you that the game is legs'?"

"A table has legs."

"Of course."

"And a chair or stool likewise?"

"Certainly. The legs need not be those of a living thing."

Now Gord smiled triumphantly. "What of a wine bottle? It is said that wine has 'legs', you know!"

Twistbuck's reply was dished out with a large helping of scorn. "You are reaching for very silly meanings to this straightforward game, young sir. A wine bottle has no legs, and the name of the establishment, or its sign's proper designation by name, demarks the limits which are allowed."

"What?" Gord asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Should a sign state the establishment is known as Zygfg's Arms, and should the arms thus displayed show various things with legs upon them, there would be no counting of said legs. The proper name of the establishment mentions a person or thing with arms, not legs. Furthermore, should the sign not bear writing, the picture displayed would still have an implied name; that of Zyglg’s Arms in my example. Ergo, other things shown would not allow the scoring of legs."

"But what if a place called The Ship showed several crewmembers aboard the vessel painted on the sign?"

"That, Gord, would absolutely be irrelevant to the game. No score!"

"Hmmm ..." said the young thief, feeling a bit foolish but still highly suspicious that he was being duped. "How about a game or a race? Either can have legs as part of them."

"A point I can concede. I shall leave it up to you whether or not to score legs for the occurrence of such signs — providing, naturally, that nothing indicating the contrary appears on the sign in question. If a tavern was called Chequers and showed a game of that sort, or The Game and showed chess, chequers, or some other game having no legs of play, then no score, obviously. In other cases I would allow scoring of two legs. If you wish."

"I do wish it," said Gord, feeling any point was a victory after the rude handling Twistbuck had given him in this matter. That concluded their discussion and the evening.

It was high noon on Starday. Gord and Twistbuck were at a six-point intersection in the Low Quarter. Chert was there to assist in keeping count tn case of disagreement, although the university don also had a bit of parchment and quill to mark totals. Gord was pleased that his comrade was there, for marks could be added or forgotten in the excitement of play. The young thief had selected the site with care. He knew the drinking places for a mile in any direction, and when turns were made he would be aware of what lay ahead. He would then have several choices of direction and would choose the route that promised him the highest gain. It looked to be a solid win, and Gord was wondering if Twistbuck's earnings would be sufficient to pay the losses he would incur when the total was discovered.

"You count first, and what route would you like to take?" the professor asked Gord.

"I believe we should follow that route," he replied, pointing to the northeast. They walked up Tosspot Lane and almost immediately came to a small tavern.

"The Blue Elf. I score two." Gord said with artificial disappointment. It was one of the least desirable shops around, but he knew what came next, in any of the optional directions.

"Let's continue along this route for now," the professor said. They followed the curve of the lane uphill and soon came upon another sign.

The Castle. Pity. I don’t have any legs at all, and it's now your turn again, Gord."

The young thief whistled as they walked along. Two signs down, two and twenty to go, and an intersection lay ahead. "I say we go right along Uskbarrel Road," he informed the others, and headed off due east thereon. Soon he came to the place he knew was there. "What luck!" Gord called happily to the pair trailing him. "Here's the Stag & Wolves, and I note that there are fully four of the latter painted on the sign too! Twenty legs for me then, plus the two before. I lead two and twenty to naught, I believe."

Twistbuck nodded glumly, but then pointed to a narrow opening to the left. "There is a new intersection, and I choose to follow it" He peered nearsightedly at a small, filthy plaque high above the brick wall of the building whose shoulder stood next to the passage. "Rag Alley. It says. Let us see what lies along this way."

Gord was disconcerted, for he'd missed this narrow place. No help for it now. There was a dingy drinking house there too, but it didn't help the professor at all.

"It is a place called The Crock," he lamented, holding his head. "I seem to be most unfortunate this day!"

"Cheer up, good don." Gord said with merriment oozing from his every pore, "for such ill luck must surely change." He still led the way, and very soon the alley debouched on a broader thoroughfare, a street named Felbo Close. Gord had never seen or heard of it, but it didn't matter. It ended to the left, so he had no real option but to turn right, and they were walking eastward again. "Does that count as a choice?" he inquired.

"Yes, any intersection is counted, but what matter? It is now my choice at the next joining, but your sign comes next"

It turned out that the next place was a tavern named Rose in Ice. It was irritating for he had hoped to build his lead further, but twenty-two was still commanding.

"I say! My turn, and what do I have but The Hungry Bear! Four, and your lead is cut to only eighteen legs, my boy!"

There was a very little triumph, even though the place stood on a corner, and Twistbuck opted to continue along toward the east. Gord was up again in both sign and intersection direction, and he knew this area now. "A crossroads!" he said as happily as the don had exclaimed when he scored the four count. "Let us turn to the right here, and see what lies southward along Hothand Street." He knew very well and soon added eight legs for coming upon the inn of the Double Dragon. He led by six and twenty now. Chert was beginning to get a little agitated. Gord was not supposed to be enjoying this little exercise.

A mile farther, and seven signs passed, Gord had scored a total of ten more legs to the professor's two. That gave him a round six and thirty, less Twistbuck's mere six, for a lead of fully thirty legs! The poor professor was going to lose the equivalent of six hundred bronze zees, thirty silver nobles, at this rate! Even the fact that they had passed out of the Low Quarter and into the Halls District didn't trouble Gord now. Chance dictated a win of from twenty to forty legs in his favor. Chert was not at all pleased.

The Avenue of Fountains was not a place for drinking, and Twistbuck had the option of direction at the next intersection. He selected Scrivener's Crescent, which curved off southeastward. The professor did not add to his score when they came upon Iggy's inn. Gord was pleased to see that there was a tavern a little farther along with a sign showing a wispy maiden in green and brown garb. "I score another two for The Dryad," he noted reflectively, not bothering to name the lead he now held.

"What miserable luck I am having today," Twist-buck lamented in earnest. "Now you are up by thirty-two legs, I have no idea what direction to take," he added miserably, indicating the lane that ran into the crescent at an odd angle. "Well," he said in a resigned manner, "I don’t wish to go back to the fountain area again, so I guess I choose Haven Lane for my next route." They walked some distance, and then Twistbuck clapped his hands in glee.

"My luck is changing!" he caroled. "This is my sign and I count two legs!"

"How so, Twistbuck?" Gord demanded. The tavern had only a piece of metal above its door, a chime to be struck to indicate meals or some like event.

"Surely that is an iron triangle, is it not?" When the young thief concurred, the professor nodded and said firmly. Triangles are figures composed of two legs!"

"How do you figure that, or are you beginning to grasp at straws here, professor?" Gord was more than a little perplexed.

Twistbuck grinned. "In my lexicon the legs of a triangle are the two sides, as distinguished from the base or the hypotenuse. Therefore I score two, and your lead is cut to thirty!"

Gord shrugged and let the new totals stand. After all, he was still incredibly ahead. They zigged and zagged and passed two more establishments that had permissible signs. Gord's was Web and Spiders for twenty-four, since the signs depicted three of the arachnids; Twistbuck's was the Xorn and Gems. Since that creature had three legs, the total lead now enjoyed by the young thief was fifty-one.

Gord began to feel a bit sorry for the unfortunate professor, for he could never afford to pay over such a sum as that Chert had long since begun to trudge along in a dejected manner. He was, of course, feeling sorry for himself, but Gord took his demeanor as an indication that Chert felt the same way he did about taking such great advantage of the professor. But Gord shrugged off his pity abruptly; after all, a game was a game, and old Twistbuck was responsible for his own decisions.