Jeff Inlo - Chain of Bargains

"Not looking at me!" the one goblin continued to object, but the others disagreed.

Like a grouping of the undead turning toward a human cry, the other six goblins glared at the protester with growing malice. They growled out their decisions without the slightest hint of sympathy.

"Looking at you!"

"You lose!"

"Pay half or quit game," a final goblin screeched out an ultimate ruling, "and won't be let back… ever!"

The creature that argued the initial verdict didn't wish to be banned, and with spit frothing at its mouth, reluctantly threw a coin to a goblin across the table.

With the bet finally paid off, yet another goblin snatched up the shag eyes and shook them in one clawed and disfigured hand. With one swift flick of the wrist, the pint-sized monster threw the two round objects into the air above the table. It was just a small toss, meant to lift the two orbs slightly toward the ceiling and then bring them down upon the center of the table in a random position

Every goblin watched the detached eyes with delight as the orbs twirled in the air, bounced upon the table top, and then rolled about before coming to a rest. The goblins themselves were very animated during the toss, twisting and turning in their seats as if trying to avoid the gaze of each eye. When Ryson began to understand the point of the ghoulish game, it became clear that this was exactly their intention.

As the eyes rolled to a halt, the goblins examined the directional view of each lifeless pupil. They gestured at each other, grunting and snorting with both delight and contempt. One eye had come to rest looking directly into the table top-a lost throw-and so there was no debate as to the outcome. The second eye, however, seemed to stare directly at the goblin that didn't wish to accept the outcome of the previous roll.

The other goblins shouted with glee

"Two in a row!" they roared.

The goblin being stared at by the one dead eye cursed, but did not argue the result of the toss. Refusal would be useless. Even from halfway across the room, the fateful direction of the shag eye was clear. The defeated goblin took two coins from his dwindling stack and flipped them to the goblin that made the roll.

The winner looked first at the coins, as if counting to two was a difficult procedure, then turned an angry glare at the loser.

"Two more!"

"Why two more?"

"Two in a row. You pay double this time."

While the losing goblin would not debate the direction of the gaze, it objected to the amount lost.

"I did pay double. I paid two! Everyone saw."

As the dispute grew in intensity, Ryson could not believe what he was hearing. He never knew goblins to concern themselves with rules of any sort, and yet here they were arguing about the betting rules of a twisted game in the back of a tavern filled with human patrons that seemed utterly oblivious to the ghoulish scene and the raucous debate. He almost wondered if he had lost his sanity.

Sane or not, the goblin that made the roll demanded greater payment.

"Double is four! You paid two. You pay two more!"

"Not four! Just two." The goblin then pointed to the eye that had rolled with its pupil down into the tabletop. "One eye staring down, not at me."

"But two in a row, so double!"

"Double one eye, not double two. One eye pays one. Two eyes pay two. One eye doubled is two."

The other goblins turned their heads in obvious confusion. Math was obviously not their strong suit, except for maybe one other.

"Two in a row is double full bet," a rebuttal voiced out. "Doesn't matter how many eyes. Full bet is two. Double is four."

The other goblins quickly agreed. They didn't understand the calculation or the logic behind it, but they certainly comprehended the conclusion.

"Pay four!" several of them shouted out in near unison-laughing and snorting.

The loser was not so eager to agree.

"But double half a bet, because it's only one eye. Double is two. I paid two. Won't pay more."

The declaration did not sit well with the goblin that cast the eyes. Two in a row was a rarity and the goblin wanted its just reward. It reached over to the coin stack of the loser and snatched two more.

The brazen move infuriated the goblin that was being stared at by one shag eye.

"Thief!" the loser accused, and it pulled the short sword from its belt as it stood up on the chair. "Cut off hands!"

Each goblin followed suit and in an instant they were all waving their weapons frantically about. Despite the fact the other goblins had unanimously agreed the loss should have totaled four coins, they did not all gang up on the loser. Snatching coins from another's pile was also apparently deemed inappropriate behavior, and the argument rose to another level of anger and accusation. The small monsters spit and cursed at each other, and threats of violence escalated.

Believing tensions were set to boil over into a wild riot, Ryson placed his hands upon the handles of his war blades, ready to pull them out in order to defend the crowd of bystanders from the likely brawl. He took three agile steps toward the back table, hoping to create a clear path to the goblins before the human patrons took to flight. To his absolute surprise, not one human rose, not one made any effort to leave.

The delver could not completely dismiss the reaction of the crowd even as he eyed the bickering dark creatures with raised alarm. Yes, the humans had been subdued in their previous attention toward the goblins in the corner, but that was before swords were drawn and threats exchanged. He expected the other patrons to leap for cover or make a hasty retreat to the exit.

Every one else in the tavern certainly noticed the escalation at the goblin table, and their faces revealed true concern, but they made no move for the exit. If anything, they looked more to the front door with alarm and shied away from it as if the true danger waited out in the streets as opposed to near the ruckus in the back of the tavern.

It didn't take long for the answer to become clear, which in itself was surprising. No one shouted out an alarm, no one called for help, but they showed up anyway, as if they sensed the disturbance in the air. Once they made their presence known, everyone-even the delver-understood that they were the true threat, not some pathetic goblin short sword.

Ryson felt them before he caught their scent, heard their footsteps, or watched them throw open the door. The inside of the tavern rose several degrees before they even entered. The room was already uncomfortably warm. Even during the night, temperatures of the high sun season seldom dropped to a point that might cool off a room full of people. When the heat of half-demons is added to the heavy humidity of sultry night air, a crowded tavern can feel like a brick oven, and inferns generated and radiated heat as if their core consisted of trapped lava.

Only three entered, though Ryson could sense several more outside the building. The three inferns marched into the center of the tavern with indifference to everything but their intended mission. Their pale faces exposed a total lack of feeling. Though they burned with some unnatural inner fire, their emotions lacked any such passion.

Despite their short stature, their very presence commanded attention across the entire room. Not everyone within the tavern could see their black armor covered bodies or their hairless ghost white faces, but none could ignore the sun-like glow that surrounded each infern or the reddish blaze of the metal javelins in their hands.

The goblins turned with a start and their previous argument became as important to them as a dust mite burrowed in some small hole underfoot. They forgot about the bet, disregarded the theft, and turned their focus to surviving. Every one of the monsters quickly sheathed their swords and dropped back down into their seats.