Night Arrant

by Gary Gygax

  Gord drank to that, of course, and bought the next round. Those drinks, too, were history a few minutes later, and Gord was soon starting to fidget. "Where is this Twistbuck? Are you sure he'll be here?"

  "Relax. This round is on me, old chum. I'm not willing to stake my life on it, but he said he would be likely to stop in here when we parted company yesterday. Let's kick back and enjoy the evening!"

  After a couple of hours, Gord began to suspect that he was being had. But the fact that Chert was buying the majority of the drinks was at least a saving grace, so the young thief decided to take it as it came, enjoy the moment, and see what happened. Let Chert have his fun, Gord thought to himself. He probably thinks he's getting me back for last night.

  Then, when it was close to eleven o'clock, the hillman reached over and nudged Gord. "There, you see? The man who just came in is Twistbuck. But now I’m wondering, Gord. Maybe it's unfair to get him in a game against you. . . ."

  "Oh, no, you don't! You're not getting me to back out of this now!" the nearly salivating rogue cried. "This is too good an opportunity to pass up."

  Chert shook his head in mock sorrow. "I really do feel bad about this, Gord. We aren't in the habit of stealing from honorable men."

  "If he desires it of us, what can we do?" Gord asked with mock sincerity. "C'mon, Chert if bringing me here and getting me all excited about the prospect of adding to my holdings and then letting me down is your idea of a joke, then the joke's on you! I insist on being introduced to this gamester, or I'll make my own introductions!" The tone in the young thief s voice left no room for doubt.

  "Very well. You are forcing me into this, Gord. I can see that you have no intention of sparing the fellow, so I’ll go fetch him. You get another round — he usually drinks a decoction of lingonbeny spirits and barkwater, by the way." With that Chert stood up and went over to where Twistbuck was involved in conversation with several other scholars.

  After signaling the barmaid to take a fresh order, Gord eased back in hits chair and waited. The drinks arrived, and a moment later so did the barbarian and the professor. Chert introduced Gord to him, and soon the two were chatting.

  "Chert tells me you once attended the university," Twistbuck said with an inquiring smile.

  The young thief nodded. "Yes, I did manage to spend some time studying at Ganz, but I didn't stay long enough to be graduated."

  "What courses did you pursue?"

  "Some of this, a bit of that," Gord said impatiently. But the scholar pressed him, so Gord mentioned the more interesting classes. There followed some banter concerning the instructors and relative merits of the various colleges. Eventually the young adventurer managed to steer the conversation onto the subject of betting and games. "Is it true that you have devised an amusing game, professor?"

  "Oh, you must be referring to "Legs'. It's a silly little pastime, really, nothing more. I can't understand why it seems to have piqued anyone's interest, and calling it Twistbuck's Game' is annoying! It is beneath my dignity and station, after all, to have so foolish a thing bearing one's name."

  "On the contrary! Chert says it sounds quite exciting and very sporting, too," Gord said ingratiatingly and then he leaned close to the professor and said in a low tone of voice. "In fact, my barbarian pal was so intrigued by the game that he was considering placing a wager on his ability to best you at your own creation! I told him it would be an insult for someone in your position to be challenged at your own game by someone with Chert's, ah, shall we say, low standing in the community of scholars? So he dragged me in here to do his dirty work for I him. I'm going along with this just to humor him." Gord put away the rest of his drink and issued a self-satisfied belch. Then he loudly prompted the professor, "Do be so kind as to explain this 'silly little pastime' to me."

  Twistbuck concealed his fury, all the while consoling himself with how much fun it was going to be helping Chert get even with this arrogant rogue. With an airy wave of his hand, Twistbuck explained, "It is so simple a child can play. Why, I think even you could catch on in a matter of minutes." Gord ignored the insult, and the professor continued. "One simply notes the name or depiction, or both, on the sign above an inn, tavern or drinking house. If legs are implied in the name, then one counts them, modifying the count upward if the depiction on the establishment's sign should show a greater number." Gord looked puzzled, so Twistbuck further explained, in as condescending a tone as possible. "Let's suppose there is a tavern called the Fox and Hounds. A fox has four legs and hounds, being plural, implies two dogs and eight legs. Therefore, the minimum score of legs for such a place would be twelve. Am I clear so for?"

  "Yes, I can see the game scoring clearly now," the young thief said enthusiastically.

  "That's not quite all there is to it. Suppose the sign showed a single hound?" Before Gord could answer, the fellow went on impatiently. "It wouldn't matter a whit! 'Hounds' is plural, so that calls for a score of eight legs. However, should it happen that the sign showed three or four hounds, then the score would be twelve or sixteen for the canines, plus the fox, naturally."

  "That's all well and good, sir, but knowing how to count legs doesn't actually tell me how to play your game."

  "It is a matter of alternate occurrence — mere child's play. Two individuals engage in a contest Each alternately counts the legs, if any, on the sign encountered during his turn. There is usually a time or distance limitation so that the game lasts a reasonable period and has a conclusion. Of course, the player with the highest leg count wins." Twistbuck paused to finish his drink, and Gord immediately ordered a fresh one to replace it. Thanking him for his generous consideration, the professor decided that an example of the game might serve to illustrate the whole thing clearly and completely.

  "Chert and I might, for instance, decide to play a game." Twistbuck paused, looked at Chert for effect, and shook his head in disbelief. The barbarian cast him a menacing look, and Gord found the little interlude amusing and made no attempt to hide his reaction. The professor continued. "So anyway, we decide that we will walk outside, move randomly, and alternately count the legs which appear on signs along our path. Each of us gets one sign, legs or not appearing on it, the occurrence of a sign ending one player's turn and beginning the other's.

  "Suppose we walk out the door now, and Chert is given the first sign encountered after leaving, but I choose what direction we take. Now, after an inn, tavern, or drinking establishment is encountered, legs are counted and scored, and a running total maintained on paper. The person awaiting his turn can select the next direction of the route of the game, as long as it does not go back over territory already covered. After some set limit — say an hour's time, five signs each, or whatever — the total scores are compared. The person having the higher total of legs wins. Simple. To add zest, the loser might have to buy drinks or perhaps pay a small sum for each leg his opponent had counted above his lesser score."

  Despite the somewhat convoluted explanation, Gord grasped the game easily. "What a delightful pastime indeed!" he said with admiration oozing from his voice. "Do you ever actually wager on the play?"

  "Certainly," Twistbuck replied. "Didn't your gigantic comrade here tell you that? However, I don't waste my time playing for small stakes."

  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 re
st. 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 wh
istled 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.