“Two and four!” Bad Cast cried. He reached out and took two counters from the pile in front of him, tossed one apiece to his friends while they groused. Each of his friends removed two counters from their own piles, and tossed them to his.
Having made a winning throw, Bad Cast recovered the gaming pieces and dropped them back in the cup. He grinned as he rattled them teasingly. “You want to bet double?”
“No,” Spots growled. “The way you’ve been throwing, you’ll leave me with nothing.”
“Sure, but I’ll give it all back when we’re done.” He hesitated. “Well, maybe after you give me that abalone shell pendant you’ve got.”
“Toss the pieces.” Wrapped Wrist gestured for him to hurry up.
Bad Cast rattled the thin bits of bone and tossed them out on the hide. Three hatches accompanied three crosses.
“Finally!” Spots cried, taking the cup from Bad Cast. “Even up.” He rattled the bone pieces in the cup, cast, and groaned as two hatched and four crossed pieces landed faceup on the hide.
Bad Cast chuckled as he tossed a counter to Spots and received two more from the hunter’s dwindling pile. As Wrapped Wrist took the cup and scooped up the gaming pieces, Bad Cast added, “I really want that abalone shell pendant. Have you seen how the light gleams in all the colors of the rainbow? Half the valley is talking about it.”
“You don’t have that kind of luck,” Spots answered. His expression, however, was anything but confident.
Wrapped Wrist frowned at the piles of counters. Bad Cast had two-thirds more than either he or Spots. He set the cup down, cracked his knuckles, wiggled his fingers, and pressed the palms of his hands together, flexing his powerful muscles.
When he picked up the cup again, it seemed infinitely fragile between his thick fingers. With a cautious toss, he leaned forward to see the pieces land. He let out a loud whoop. “Six! Do you see that? Six! I doubled!”
All the pieces had landed with the hatched side up, automatically doubling whatever had been bid.
Bad Cast kept his smirk to himself. Spots howled mournfully as his pink-patched fingers counted out six of his little black stones and shoved them toward Wrapped Wrist.
Fortune would change. It always did. As Bad Cast thought that, he looked out at the valley he called home. Here, hidden away within the hills at the foot of the high mountains, his people lived in a paradise. They had water, good soil, and even though the land was gripped by drought, their crops would be good this year. Enough to see them through as well as pay the Blessed Sun’s cursed tribute.
He glanced up at the heights of First Moon Mountain. From this vantage high on Juniper Ridge, he could just see Pinnacle Great House where it perched atop the knife-backed ridge below the twin pillars of rock. There the First People hid in their high fortress, living like blood-sucking ticks on the hard work of the First Moon People.
“Can’t do much about it,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Spots asked, a gloomy tone to his voice as he fingered his remaining counters.
“The First People,” Bad Cast replied. “I was thinking how good the harvest is going to be this year, and how much of it they’re going to take.”
Wrapped Wrist shot him a sidelong glance. “The Traders say things are pretty grim out in the deserts. The First People just better hope they’ve got enough to go around.”
“Why is it always us?” Bad Cast asked. “Why are we the ones to feed the whole rest of the world?”
“You don’t think the Made People clans and the Deep Canyon folk and all the rest don’t send their tribute? Look at what happened at Lanceleaf Village. This new war chief, the one called Leather Hand, killed most of the clan leaders, and stripped the ones left alive of their ancestral lands. Just gave the fields and holdings to others … left the survivors with nothing but the ability to beg for an occasional handout.”
“Well, thank the gods we’re here where we don’t have to worry about food.”
“Unless the First People send their Red Shirts in and demand our whole harvest,” Spots muttered.
“They wouldn’t do that.” Bad Cast rubbed his nose.
“Oh, no?” Wrapped Wrist rattled the gaming pieces and cast. “Three and three.”
As Bad Cast took the cup and scooped up the gaming pieces, he said, “Our people wouldn’t just stand by and watch our winter food supply carted down the River of Stones and over to Flowing Waters Town.”
“Is that right?” Spots shifted, squatting on his haunches as he watched Bad Cast toss the gaming pieces and take two more of his counters. “You think the First People would just walk away if the clan elders told them to leave us alone?”