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Only one of five landed on the ground, the remainder lay captured on the back of his hand. A murmur ran through the crowd, and another round of bets exchanged hands.

Sully picked one as he declared, “Here’s my taw.”

He tossed the taw in the air, scooped the last bone off the floor, and caught the taw.

“Twos.”

Sully held the taw in one hand and tossed the other four. They fell into a close grouping again, making for another easy turn of collecting two bones with each throw.

“Threes,” the sailor said before tossing the four bones into the air.

Three bones landed in a clump while the fourth bounced two feet away. Sully tossed his taw upward, scooped up the cluster of three bones, and caught the taw. He followed by effortlessly collecting the last bone with his next toss.

“Fours,” Sully said with a grin.

Lyra glanced about, appearing nervous as the sailor gauged her reaction.

The man tossed the four bones and they landed to settle in a circle about a foot in diameter. Sully took a deep breath and tossed his taw up, higher than prior turns. He scooped one, two, three, but missed the fourth bone before snatching the taw just inches from the floor.

“Ooo,” the crowd responded.

Judging by their reactions, Lyra knew they believed Sully had the game won.

Sully stood, not attempting to restrain his grin. “I made it to fours, with three collected cleanly. You’ll have to step up your game if you plan to win, laddie.”

Lyra pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the man. He’s cocksure of himself, she thought. Getting knocked down a peg might do him a favor.

She squatted and tossed five bones in the air, her eyes tracking each as her hand shifted rapidly beneath them as they fell. The crowd released another “Ooo” when none hit the ground.

“I go straight to twos.” She picked one of the bones from her hand and held it up. “Here’s my taw.”

Sully frowned, and he gave a brief nod. With four bones still on the back of her hand, Lyra tossed them into the air. When they settled in the dirt, the bones rested in two nestled pairs. She grabbed her taw with her right hand, tossed it into the air, and scooped up two bones before catching the taw. With the tight grouping, she handily repeated the process for the last two bones.

“Threes,” Lyra tossed four bones to the floor.

The grouping was not as tight as the last, which was fine since she needed to avoid bumping the bone she wasn’t trying to capture. Lyra tossed her taw a bit higher, scooped up three bones, and caught the taw in the same hand. Gathering the final bone was as simple as breathing.

“Fours,” her gaze flicked toward Sully to find his expression had darkened.

Lyra tossed the four bones to the floor, but two of them collided, launching both away from the others in opposite directions.

Sully laughed. “You’d better say a prayer to Yanetta. You’ll be needing a fair bit of her luck for that toss.”

Lyra ignored the sailor as she stared at the bones, noting the location of each. Leaning forward, she placed her left palm on the ground and pressed her lips together in determination. The surrounding crowd fell still, each man’s gaze focused on the bones.

Her taw flew toward the ceiling, far higher than earlier throws. Lyra scooped the two tightly nestled bones before she stretched toward the third. After quickly grabbing the bone, she pivoted her body around her left hand, spinning and stretching to grab the fourth bone. Her eyes flicked up to locate the falling taw, and her hand flashed out to snatch it from the air, just inches from the floor. With her fist squeezed tight, she closed her eyes in a moment of relief.

Lyra stood and opened her palm, holding it out to reveal the five bones resting within. The stunned crowd erupted with cheers and exclamations of disbelief. Surrounding men patted Lyra on the shoulders as she slipped the bones into her pocket. She bent to claim her winnings, the metal coins feeling cool in her grip. As she stood, a hand flashed out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to wince at the man’s tight grip.

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave with my gold, you little runt.” Sully threatened.

Lyra’s lips pressed together as she stared up at the man, his bloodshot eyes growing wide. Sully released his grip on her wrist and eased himself backward, his eyes flicking down toward the dagger pressed against his groin.

“Careful, now,” Lyra said. “You don’t want to lose anything important, Sully.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he replied.

“Just let him go, Sully.” Roland said, stepping between Lyra and the sailor. “The boy won fairly. It was quite the show and required more than a bit of luck, but it was still a fair win.”

“Let’s keep our heads straight here, Sully,” another sailor said, placing his hand on Sully’s shoulder.

Sully frowned and glanced about at a crowd consisting mainly of Vingarri locals. With only three fellow sailors behind him, it wouldn’t be a fair fight even if she weren’t threatening him with a knife.

“Fine,” Sully glared at Lyra. “I best not be seeing you again, boy. If I do, you’ll not walk away so happy.”

Sully backed away from her knife and slid into the crowd with the other sailors close behind. The moment they were gone, hands clapped her shoulders and patted her head as the bystanders offered words of thanks and congratulations.

Lyra opened her pouch and dumped the two gold coins and bones inside before slipping it into her pocket.

As the crowd dispersed, Roland put an arm about her. “Good show, Lyra. You got him for a full gold piece after only one game.”

“Thanks, Roland,” Lyra gave him a weak smile.

Roland walked her toward the bar. “Not to mention, I made two silvers betting against you the first round and another four betting for you on the second.” He stopped at the bar and slammed two coppers down. “I’ll buy you a drink. Is it apple cider again, or can I convince you to try something a bit stronger?”

2

With a furtive glance down the dark street, Lyra inserted her key into the lock. The deadbolt clicked open, and she pocketed the key while turning the knob. Dim starlight bled into the open doorway, rapidly giving way to shadow – dark and forbidding. Her fingers fumbled about until she found the reed, gripping it before closing and locking the door.

Lyra shuffled toward the fireplace with her free hand held before her as she sought the fire iron that waited on the stone hearth. Her fingers found the handle, lifting it and sticking it into the black maw of the dormant fire. She poked and stirred the coals, blowing into it until an orange glow appeared. When she pressed the tip of the reed against the brightest coals, it began to smolder. Lyra blew long, slow breaths, using them to bring the coals to life until the wick caught fire, its orange light flickering within the arched opening.

Biting her lip, Lyra stepped from the fireplace and navigated to the table, her eyes never leaving the dancing flame. She held the burning reed to a candle that sat upon the table, the flame licking the wick for a moment before it, too, flared to life. After extinguishing the reed, she placed it on the shelf beside the door.

A tug loosened the drawstring on her coin purse and she poured the contents into her palm. The two gold coins and five silver marks shimmered in the candlelight and brought a smile to her face. While she had been able to tease the sailor into betting gold, the remainder of the night had yielded only a few silvers. Still, it was a fair amount of wealth for someone her age.

After replacing the coins in the purse, she headed to the stairwell. Her surroundings grew darker when she turned the corner at the landing. As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard a noise.

Lyra froze, her ears straining as she held her breath. Another noise arose from downstairs, one she recognized as the sound of the deadbolt, followed by the door opening. Her heart pounded, her eyes flicking back and forth, as she listened. Her father had arrived home earlier than normal...unless it was someone else.

The door closed, but rather than hearing the lock again, she heard it burst open.

“What?” her father exclaimed amid the scuffle of boots on the wood floor. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve come for our payment, Tascalli.” A rough voice replied.

More scuffling sounded from below, chairs hitting the floor.

“Please, Rainer. You need to tell Berrilon that I…I can’t do it,” her father’s voice sound strained. “I can’t betray my Queen.”

“Tsk, Tsk.” The rough voice replied. “After everything we’ve done for you, now you go back on your word.”

The unmistakable sound of a fist hitting a body followed.

“Oof,” her father groaned.

“You were basically begging for coin, playing your piece of junk lute in seedy taverns.” The

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