11.01 Death of a Hero Read Online Free PDF

and scrub rubbish bins and cook pots for the rest of the day. That might remind you next time to do as I tell you!”
    “Yes, sar’major,” the small man said. His eyes were down, not meeting the temporary commander’s. But as Griff stalked out of the room, Arratay made an insulting gesture toward his back. Then he turned, shrugging, to Jerrel and Kord. “Sorry about that,” he said.
    They exchanged a look, then Jerrel stood and took Arratay’s pack, placing it on an empty bunk.
    “Can’t be helped. Griff can be a real pain. Better get along to the cookhouse or he’ll be at you again.” He caught Kord’s eye. As soon as Arratay had gone, they’d go through his kit to see if there was anything worth stealing. Kord nodded unobtrusively. The same thought was going through his mind.
    Arratay sighed and turned to go. As he reached the entrance, Kord called after him, “When you’ve finished your work detail, maybe you’d like a little game of dice?”
    Arratay smiled at them. “That sounds like fun,” he said.
    Kord threw up his hands in mock exasperation.
    “Another winning throw! Where does your luck come from, Arratay?”
    The small trooper grinned happily as he raked in his earnings. He’d thrown three winning scores in a row and now there was a respectable pile of coins on the low table where the three of them were seated.
    “Just my lucky day, I suppose,” he said, pushing forward a new wager and shaking the dice in their cup. The bone cubes rattled together, then he cast them onto the table.
    “Double six again!” Jerrel said. “I don’t believe it!” He looked at Kord. “I think we’ve got a professional in the tent.” Kord nodded gloomily, but Arratay merely laughed.
    “Not me, boys. It’s just clean living and a clear conscience. Want to raise the stakes?” He said it casually, but he noticed the quick, furtive look that passed between the two men.
    Kord agreed, after a brief show of reluctance. “Well, I might be crazy, but why not? It’ll give us a chance to win some of our money back.”
    “Or I’ll clean you out sooner.” Arratay smiled. He put another bet forward, waited till they matched it, then rolled again. Eleven this time, but still an automatic winner.
    “Can’t you roll anything but fives and sixes?” Jerrel said.
    “Not when I’m running hot.” Arratay smiled again, but his eyes narrowed as this time, instead of letting him reclaim the dice, Kord picked them up and handed them to him. He’s made the switch, Halt thought. He took the dice, placed them in the cup, shook them and rolled.
    The other two gave an ironic cheer as the dice turned faceup to show a two and a one.
    “Three!” said Jerrel. “And about time!”
    It was a simple game. Eleven and twelve were automatic winners. Two and three were losers. Any other score didn’t count. The gambler simply threw again until he won or lost. Halt grimaced as the others scooped in the money he’d bet. The dice passed to Jerrel and he threw a six. Then a four, then a two. Halt won back a small fraction of what he had lost on his last throw. Kord took the dice and fumbled as he placed them in the cup.
    He’s switched them again, Halt thought. And sure enough, Kord threw an eleven, then a twelve, winning two small hands, before switching the dice once more so that he lost, then handing the dice on to Halt. In the process of handing them over, he switched them again for the winning dice. The two cheats didn’t want Arratay, as they thought he was called, losing enthusiasm too soon. The game went on, Halt winning some hands, losing others, but generally staying just ahead of breaking even.
    The two cheats kept plying him with wine, which he surreptitiously managed to empty into an old boot when they weren’t watching. But he pretended to become more and more affected by the drink, slurring his words and laughing foolishly when he won.
    “Big day tomorrow,” he said after they had been playing for some time.