He watched as others placed their bets, then he shook the cup and released the wooden squares. They five cubes flew out of the cup, spinning and revealing their varied colors and symbols as they flew, then hit the table and each other and bounced against the restraining wall, before coming to settle in place. The others at the table gave a great whoop, and the man in the vest began to push forward coins to match several of the bets, including one of Kestrel’s.
The shouts attracted others to come over, and as Kestrel pulled his new pile of coins in and picked up the cubes, a buzz of chatter surrounded him as news of his luck was transmitted.
He placed a small pile of chips on a spot at random, and then watched as other coins quickly fell around it in a pattern he couldn’t figure out. All eyes went to his hands, and he began to shake the cup, listening to the wooden pieces within randomly clatter against each other, until he heard a peculiar chiming clack. He released his hand, and the stream of squares poured from the cup and onto the table top. Kestrel knew, as soon as the first wooden block hit the table, he knew he had somehow won again. When the cubes finished knocking each other against the table top and finally came to rest, there was another loud cry of triumph, as multiple hands thumped him on the back and hugged his shoulders, while a woman leaned in to kiss him.
The man in the vest looked at Kestrel with an unfathomable warning in his eyes, then began to push more coins towards the players’ bets. He raised a hand with two fingers extended, and another man in a vest carried over a heavy box of additional coins, and laid it down in front of the man who distributed the winnings. Kestrel saw the manager who had blocked his path walking over towards the table, and he took a look over at the enslaved elves. The two men were still working, he saw, so he reached for the cubes, and realized that more gamblers were arriving at his table to take advantage of his lucky streak.
Kestrel looked at the table top, placed another bet, and the whole process began again under the watchful eye of the new arrivals, both those who gambled, and those who worked in the gambling house. Kestrel’s bet and those of the other gamblers won again, and Kestrel belatedly realized that the money the gamblers won was money that the gambling hall lost. Another box of coins was carried to the table, and more gamblers surrounded the prime attraction. A glance at the elves showed that many other tables were emptied as Kestrel drew in people looking to ride his luck.
“How are you doing this?” the manager asked.
“I just listen to the cubes, and throw them when they sound right,” Kestrel answered.
There was a round of laughter at the table, then the others at the table grew silent, as the manager reached down and picked the cubes off the surface.
“I should have just let you go eat lunch, shouldn’t I?” he grinned. “It would have cost me much less money.
“Here,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out another set of cubes. “See what these sound like.”
There were immediate protests around the table from the other gamblers, but none from Kestrel. He knew that whatever was happening was the work of supernatural forces, and he didn’t think it could be stopped by the man’s mortal efforts. He held up his hand to silence the crowd, and, as if he was a prophet, they instantly quieted down. Kestrel placed a stack of coins at the random spot that looked right, and began to shake the new cubes in the cup. Others were putting down bets hurriedly, but not nearly as many as before, worried as they were that the change in the cubes had changed Kestrel’s luck.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wooden squares convulsing inside the shaking cup, and when he heard the musical tone, he released his hand, his eyes still closed, and listened to the silence of the people at the table as the colorful wooden cubes flew through the air, hit the table, and rattled towards their final resting spots.
Kestrel’s eyes popped open as he heard a thunderous round of applause. He looked down at the table and saw more stacks of coins being pushed away by the man in the vest, as someone who worked for the gambling hall came up and whispered in the manager’s ear.
“This table is closed,” the manager said. “All cube games are finished for the rest of the day.”
There were shouts and groans and complaints all around the table, and the two guards from the front door were suddenly on the scene to provide enforcement.
“One more throw,” Kestrel said suddenly. “Just give me one more throw.”
The manager looked at him, ready to deny his request, then seemed to suddenly change his mind. “I’ll give you one more throw on two conditions,” he answered.
“I accept,” Kestrel agreed immediately.
“Don’t you want to hear the conditions?” the manager asked with a grin.
“Very well,” Kestrel agreed. He knew it didn’t matter; his success was the work of a goddess, a guaranteed victory. He knew he was going to win, and he realized now what his winning would bring him, a more satisfying victory than any other victory the gambling hall had ever witnessed.
“The first condition is that you bet all your winnings on this roll — winner take all,” the manager said.
Kestrel had heard the phrase before, but hadn’t realized there was a literal meaning to it.
“Agreed,” he said. He took the topmost chip off his stack, and put it down at the far end of the color chart. “That represents everything I have here.”
“And you role only four cubes,” the manager added.
The crowd broke into screams of outrage.
“Agreed,” Kestrel said.
The crowd was silent with shock, and the manager’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed to slit of cynical wisdom. “It was your money for a little while,” he said.
Kestrel picked up four of the wooden squares, and handed the other to the man in the vest. He placed the squares in the cup, and waited momentarily to see if anyone else was going to bet on him. There were no other gamblers for this challenge, facing these odds. It was now a competition of one versus one.
Kestrel began to shake the cup, and listen to the wooden squares bounce around. He shook them for five seconds, then ten, then fifteen.
“Are you going to roll and lose, or just stand there all day?” the manager asked.
Kestrel closed his eyes in response, and listened. He listened for five more seconds, until he heard the magical tone again, the sound of Fortune calling the squares out of the cup. He released his hand, and heard the wooden pieces hit the table once, and then there was no other sound. The cubes were silent, the manager was silent, and even the crowd around him was profoundly silent, other than the sounds of shuffling feet and bodies as observers strained to see what the results on the table were.
Kestrel opened his eyes, and looked down on the table. The four dice were stacked atop one another, forming a column in the middle of the table surface.
“The gods are helping him,” someone muttered.
“I’ll take my winnings,” Kestrel said to the manager, looking over at the man.
The manager’s face was ashen, and his eyes were now the ones that were closed. He was facing an impossibility, and could not comprehend what had happened.
“I want to have my winnings. I’m ready to leave now,” Kestrel said more loudly, as a buzz began to build around them.
“I cannot pay. We do not have that much,” the manager answered.
“I have a proposal,” Kestrel instantly replied. “One that I’m sure you’ll accept.”
“What offer?” the manager’s eyes were open, and he was looking at Kestrel with new hope, frantically seeking some way to escape ruin.
“Give me two golds, and the two elven slaves — right now — and I will leave your gambling hall with the accounts paid off,” Kestrel answered.
“Two golds and two slaves?” the manager replied, incredulously repeating the offer.
“Yes, but I want it all right now,” Kestrel said. “Or I want ownership of the entire hall.”
The manager motioned to one of the bodyguards, then pointed at the elves as he spoke in a low tone. The guard immediately began to push through the crowd, as all those around tried to understand what was happening.
“This is what the goddess wants,” Kestrel told the manager, without revealing which goddess he meant.
The body guard came slowly back, leading the two elves by a chain attached to their waists.
