Young Writers Society

Tarr suppressed a smile. "No more than twenty thousand, then. A nice even number, divisible by six. That's lucky, right?" He'd guessed Aleth would ask for a high number. He'd said as much to Loquitur and the others.
That may be true, but that doesn't mean we're going to pay a ridiculous sum for a bit of information, Tomhas had said. Tarr had met the man before the war, and back then he was sure the man would have been more willing to pay much more money. He looked tired, now; he smiled less. Even Tarr saw that, and he'd only seen the man in passing.

"Really?" Aleth raised an eyebrow. "I'm beginning to feel insulted, Lord Tarr."

"What is the lowest you're willing to go, then?" Tarr asked irritably.

"Seventy," Aleth lied, knowing fully well that Tarr would continue to try to talk him down, no matter what number he gave.

Tarr grimaced; he was perfectly willing to pay that sum, but he knew the amount he would receive from Loquitur at the end of the war would dwarf that, and that meant he had to do as the man said. "I can go to fifty," he replied patiently. "Fifty thousand clappers, no more."

Now they were actually getting into reasonable territory for negotiations.

"I am willing to go as low as sixty, and not a clapper less," Aleth countered. "And of course, this is for now. If this ends up being a long-term affair, we'll need to revisit the matter. But I'm willing to give you a sample of my quality in the present. For sixty."

"Fifty," Tarr said firmly. "We may raise it to sixty if it's deemed necessary. You know that's going to happen anyway."

"If by 'deemed necessary' you mean you need to consult Lord Loquitur before agreeing to the price, then I'm happy to revisit this matter when he arrives," Aleth answered. "But sixty is my hard minimum. I won't go lower."

"We'll settle there, then. For now." Tarr rose and paced to the fireplace. That had gone fairly well; only ten thousand over for now. "Dinner should be ready in an hour or so and I have nothing else to discuss with you. Unless you have something you wish to bring up, might I interest you in a game of Tafl?"

"Sounds lovely!" Aleth answered brightly, glad that he'd gotten his way. "I'm afraid I don't know what that is, though. What are the rules?"

"It's very simple." He returned to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a folded cloth and a heavy leather pouch. Moving a few skulls and trinkets out of the way, Tarr unfolded the cloth to reveal it was a game board, then dumped out the pouch and began to arrange stones of two colors.
"The king is trying to escape through the edges." He pointed to the single white stone in the middle. "The black stones are warriors trying to stop that from happening. They can move straight vertically or horizontally. A piece is captured when it's caught between two pieces of the opposite color." He moved the pieces around so a gray stone was sandwiched between two black ones. "The gray stones serve the king and are trying to help him get away, see?"

"Seems fun," Aleth answered, surprisingly, genuinely. Games of strategy kept him sharp. "Will you play the king?"

"Naturally." Tarr smiled broadly. "Enemy warriors have the first move." General Utrid had seated himself in the third chair and was watching quietly, making a cat's cradle with a frayed string.

Aleth considered the board for a moment, assessing his options, but mostly trying to predict Tarr. Would he make an attempt to escape? Or double down and try to knock out Aleth's forces? Only time would tell.

"Wonderful." Aleth reached forward and deliberately moved one of the pieces, even though he really wasn't sure of his move at all. But, then, that wasn't entirely unlike his life, either. Confidence in the face of uncertainty.

Tarr knew this game well. His father's old General had played it with him for years until he'd mastered every strategy and move. Within a few moves he would have everything planned out perfectly so he could succeed.
He paused, pretending to think over his next move before sliding out one of the pieces closest to the king stone. "I'm surprised you've never played," he said conversationally.