Death of a Hero by John Flanagan

Author:John Flanagan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2012-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

5

PRIVATE JERREL OF THE BLACK BADGER COMPANY WAS WORKING on a pair of dice. He’d finished the first one and he was almost done with the second. He was filing off two of the sharp corners on the die, rounding them slightly so that they would tend to roll to a preselected point, showing a score of six more often than sheer chance would allow. It wasn’t as reliable as his alternative method of fixing a pair of dice. That involved carefully inserting weights to make it fall with the selected side faceup. But sanding the corners increased his chance of a winning roll.

In his pocket, he had a pair of counterweighted dice, carefully doctored to show scores of one and two. But weighting dice was a tricky business. It took a long time to remove all signs that something had been inserted in the little cubes. His other pair had been confiscated some days previously by a passing officer. Now he had to resort to rounding the corners to replace them. You needed two pairs of doctored dice to fleece a new victim. You used one pair to get him interested, letting him win the first few rolls. Then, when he thought his luck was in, you suggested raising the stakes. And when he agreed, you switched the dice so he’d roll a losing number.

A shadow fell across the entrance to the tent and Jerrel hastily shoved the die and the small file under a blanket. The entrance to the tent was blocked for a moment as a man entered. Jerrel looked up, frowning. The newcomer carried a kit bag and a sheathed sword and sword belt. He was wearing a soldier’s uniform with a black badger on the left breast. He looked around the interior of the tent, saw an empty bunk and dropped his belongings on it.

“Who the devil are you?” Kord asked. He’d been lying back on his own bunk on the opposite side of the tent and the displeasure was obvious in his voice. He and Jerrel had enjoyed having the tent to themselves. Their four tent mates had been killed or wounded in the battle. Now, it seemed, they had a new man joining them.

“Name’s Arratay,” the newcomer said. “I’ve been transferred from second squad. Sergeant major said for me to bunk in here.”

He was a short man, slightly built but with powerful shoulders and a deep chest. His beard and hair were ragged and unkempt. He had a grubby bandage wound around his head. Above it, the hair was black and the eyes were dark and piercing. Like a bird of prey, Jerrel thought. Then he smirked at the idea. It was more likely that the stranger would become prey for him and Kord—once he had a chance to finish working on that pair of dice. Even so, he didn’t want the stranger in the tent with them.

“Find somewhere else to bunk,” Jerrel said shortly. “We’re full here.”

“There’s only two of you,” Arratay said reasonably, looking around the tent.

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