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Strijdkaart and Brakja
The Naglan took the card game and sat down at a table next to the minstrel. He turned his back at the minstrel, afraid to be recognised. Another Naglan stood next to the table and watched the cards being shuffled. He took a thoughtful sip from his tankard. The Naglani (who had used their own language earlier) now used the common language, in a very loud way. Moriz could hear parts of the conversation from where he was hidden, which was quite a distance. “I had the eight of stars, so I will start,” Edelhart said. He took a card from the deck and placed the ten of swords on the table. “You are lucky, brother,” the man next to him said. This Naglan wore a headband, but he wore it over his blind right eye. He took a card from the deck and frowned. “Useless swords...” “We continue,” the man opposite Edelhart said. He took a card and placed it in front of him with two other cards from his hand. He smiled triumphantly. “Five, six and seven cups. Double value! Now I will play my page.” He placed another card on the table. Relaxed, like he was sure of his victory, he made himself a pipe with spicy herbs. “By Alls,” the last man said, looking at the card he just took from the deck. “What was it we played for? Well then, here I go, the two of clubs and the chariot for One Eye.” “The chariot? He has to have the Way of Stars before he can play the chariot!” the standing Naglan said. Edelhart took another card from the deck and grinned a broad grin when he placed the King of Swords in front of him. Then he raised the value by putting the nine of swords next to it. “The King orders truth, I want to see you cards, ‘Mosje.” He showed the Truth to the man opposite him, who showed his cards unwillingly to Edelhart. “He peeks! He is looking at my cards!” screamed ‘Mosje and gestured at One Eye. “What? With my one eye I am half deaf!” The standing Naglan burst out in laughter. “But playing dirty doesn’t give you your senses back!” “I did not peek!” One Eye said again, “Alright, maybe half, but I did not see anything.” “Go ahead, One Eye, it is your turn,” the man on Edelharts right said. The people standing near looked at the game, but the minstrel and his party did not seem to notice the nearby brawl. One Eye took a card and placed it in front of him. “One star. Well then, I now can play this one.” He took a card from his hand and showed it to the man on the other end of the table. “Sobriety. Get lost with your clubs and your chariot.” “You are not allowed to play Sobriety! You got the Chariot on your cards!” “Hey, One Eye, have you ever played this game before?” ‘Mosje asked with an evil grin. “You have five skilliggs at stake, break the rules one more time and you have lost them all.” He breathed the sweet smoke from his pipe and let the smoke rise up to the ceiling in circles. The herbs smelled stronger now. “We always played like this in Topomeir,” he said, angry now. “Well well, you are not even from the Taycha, are you?” Edelhart said and grinned like it was the best joke he has heard so far. “Shut up,” One Eye snapped. “Yes, stop mocking the poor man,” one of the standers by said. “Would you please mind you own business?” ‘Mosje asked irritated and took another card from the deck. “Ah, the eight of cups, and my squire. Plus, a magician over the swords of ‘Hartje, that gives me power. What is this? My knight. I will play that one too, and then I attack your clubs. With ‘Hartjes king and my little army, you can go, Schittersteen.” “I don’t think it is allowed to play a magician with only half the armoury,” the standing Naglan said. “You play foul, ‘Mosje”, Edelhart said and pointed at the three and four of cups which had appeared as from thin air in front on ‘Mosje. “And you? You have cards up your sleeve and play them in such a way that One Eye and Schit’ cannot see it,” ‘Mosje said mocking. One Eye stood up, and doing so, his chair fell over and hit the ground. “I want my money back!” he yelled, almost crying. Walking towards the standing Naglan, he tripped over his chair. “You wanted to play,” he answered. He took his pouch and let it swing in front of the eyes of the angry Naglan. One Eye made a move to catch the money, but missed and fell against Edelhart. Edelhart seized him. “Listen carefully, you misbaked bastard, this is a game for men and not for eggs. Will you keep playing?” “No!” squeaked One Eye, still in the firm grip of Edelhart, “You play foul!” Edelhart hit him in the face with a fist. “Say that again?” he said, his voice cold as Taycha ice. The standers by watched exited. Finally, something would happen on the dull plains of Overveer. “You play foul!” cried One Eye. “Wintergold, you must have seen it too! These Taycha barbarians play foul!” Edelhart hit him again - twice. One Eye lost consciousness and Edelhart threw him inattentive on the minstrels table. But he did not look around to see how the minstrel saved his carafe of wine from the falling Naglan. Wintergold, who took care of the money, shrugged his shoulders. “This is the end of the game, I guess?” “Wait a bit, you cannot beat up the poor man just like that? There is no reason to treat him that rough,” one of the standers by complained. He moved towards One Eye, who was still unconscious on the other table. “Don’t interfere,” Wintergold said and he pushed the man upon the table, across the cards. Edelhart saved some cards and his tankard of beer. The man lay flat on his back on the table and looked terrified in the faces of the four Naglani who had seen their game destroyed. He lost control of his bladder and fainted. “Hey Wintje, now you have crippled our game. I want my money back,” ordered ‘Mosje. He took a hold of Wintergolds pouch. But Wintergold snatched the pouch back and soon after, they fought for the money on the floor of the inn. Edelhart emptied his tankard and hit ‘Mosje on the head with it. ‘Mosje must have had a hard head, because he got up and waved his strong arms at Edelhart. Edelhart took a few steps back until his back hit the minstrels table. ‘Mosje jumped at him, and Edelhart took one step to the side. ‘Mosje slid on his stomach over the minstrels party’s table, and on his passage he took the carafe of wine with him. “Be cursed!” the minstrel screamed as he got to his feet, in a last and unhappy attempt to save his wine. “Cursed be the Naglani!” Related topics: |