All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.
![]()
18-02-01: Dice
Various clusters of apprentices are huddled around the sofas and workbenches, some valiantly attempting their homework, others tweaking newly-made instruments,...
Various clusters of apprentices are huddled around the sofas and workbenches, some valiantly attempting their homework, others tweaking newly-made instruments, and still more simply slumped against a mate, dozing already. But from one particular group, there arises a quiet buzz of excitement, followed by the clatter of what sounds distinctly like dice on a bench top. Hearing Trula's hail, Julen pokes his head up and murmurs, "Ssshhhhhh."
The dubious nature of Hanneke's own comprehension of the game is displayed upon her face: brow furrows, as lips bring bright grin to the world. "Yes, shhh!" The words resonate, echo, and she has the dignity to blush, then, in a stagewhisper, "We're playing dice!"
An odd looking skinny boy hisses crossly at Hanneke."Don't tell her." He gives Trula a dirty look.she's too old..she'll tell on us!!"
Julen nudges the skinny boy, trying at the same time not to lose his spot in the huddle. "Trula's okay. She sleeps in class sometimes," he offers as proof of the older apprentice's credibility. "D'you know how to dice, Trula?"
"Leave Hanneke alone," insists a curvacious girl of older turns herself, protectively. "She's not doing anything wrong." Hanneke squirms, putting her nose in the air for effect.
The skinny boy sticks out his tongue and glares."Stupid girls," he mutters sulkily,"Ruining everything.....deadglows.."
Trula rolls her eyes."Shut up Sefro," she groans recognising the annoying little boy from her dinner table."What dice game are you playing?" she turns to ask Julen.
The senior apprentice who's running the game shushes all the objections. "Haven't got all night to talk -- it'll be lights out in a while and we'll have to pack up before then." Then he begins collecting bets for the next round. The more affluent apprentices offer small mark pieces but they'll take anything: keepsakes from home, offers to do homework for each other, chore-exchanges, etc.
Julen tries to make room for Trula, but it's something of a squeeze up here. "Somethin' about numbers coming up in pairs and things," he mutters to the older apprentice. "Hanneke, d'you understand it?" For all that Julen's watched Clanfolk dice night after night, his grasp of the game's variations remains rudimentary.
Hanneke proffers a length of wine-red ribbon, looking at it almost dolefully. "I'll bet this!" Bubbliness never went far astray. Head shakes slightly at Julen, "Not really. But I'm *sure* I'm good at it." Another apprentice titters, eyeing Hanneke's offering with a smirk.
Trula makes a thoughtful face."Is it the one where you pick 2 numbers, say 7 and 11, and everyone takes turns throwing, and the first person to throw either number wins the pot?" she asks after a few minutes.
That would explain why the person throwing keeps changing and Julen keeps getting confused. "Maybe," he says, glancing at the senior apprentice for confirmation. The latter nods, just once, briskly, as seniors do. "I guess so. You played it before?" He volunteers a leather patch with the Enlander insignia for his bet.
Hanneke leans forward, crossing her eyes in bubbly insistance, "Oh, this is fun!" Does she have any idea what's going on? No. It's still fun. Another apprentice nudges her, "Put your ribbon down with the other things. C'mon, let's keep it going."
Trula squats down."Us weyrbrats used to play this back at Telgar." She fishes around in her tunic pocket for something to gamble with.
The senior apprentice calls the game to order and gestures at someone to his left to throw. Julen tries to lean forward, to see better each roll of the dice, but he's one of the smallest and by no means the skinniest, which means lots of other elbows and shoulders get in the way. "Can you see any better, Hanneke? How's it -- ow!" A bony elbow dives into his chest -- not the most pleasant of introductions, even if the elbow's owner is a fairly attractive Benden apprentice.
"How's it ow?" Hanneke, the ever perplexed, strains forward with a giddy motion--"There's numbers, on dice! That's got to mean something, doesn't it? Does it maen that I won? Does it?" She eyes Trula. "Oh. That's nice." Beam, bounce--and she knocks into another apprentice as she attempts to lean right *on* to the table for a better view. "Sorry!"
The senior apprentice is getting a bit irritable, especially after yet another small boy jabs him in the stomach. "This round's numbers are 8 and 10," he calls crossly, fighting to be heard over all the incessant chatter.
Hanneke leans forward again, complaining, "I don't know what we do with them! What does 8 and 10 mean?" She glances back towards Julen, as if seeking his advice, adding brilliantly, "This is so much fun!"
Hanneke leans forward again, complaining, "I don't know what we do with them! What does 8 and 10 mean?" She glances back towards Julen, as if seeking his advice, adding brilliantly, "This is so much fun!"
Julen knows better than to point out the contradictions in Hanneke's comments, particularly when an explanation is likely to hold up the game. "Uh huh," he murmurs, extending his hand for the dice. It's his turn to throw, but it comes up a 7. Good thing he didn't really want his leather patch anymore.
Hanneke reaches out for the dice as Julen finishes, raising it above her head, waving it around (while cupped tightly within her hand), and then drops it onto the table. It rolls, half heartedly, eventually landing in someone's lap. "Come on, Hanneke--you should know better than to do that. You're wasting time. Just roll it." Without being sulky, the apprentice does so--"Three!"
Julen shrugs at Hanneke, commiserating in the loss -- if she even registers that it's a loss?
Sefro, the horrible skinny child, snatches the dice, smirking nastily at Hanneke. "Told you girls were deadglows," he crows. He throws a 2. Snake eyes.
Hanneke doesn't appear to--she simply bounces in her seat, "Ooh, a 2!" Julen's shrug is noted, and ignored. If you don't understand it, don't question it. "I am *not* a deadglow. Just because you're jealous."
"Yeah, jealous," Julen chimes, glaring at Sefro, even though he's wondering if 'deadglow' ought to apply to him too. Meanwhile, the senior apprentice governing the game barks, "Keep it going, keep it going -- "
"I should get another go," the sullen Sefro complains and looks pointedly at Julen, "Heeeee pushed me when I threw..it's not fair." His voice starts to sound whiney.
All of which is quelled by the senior apprentice's even firmer stare. And the game moves on.
Hanneke sticks her tongue out at Sefro: "Dry up!" Yes, Hanneke is the absolute epitome of wit and sarcasm. "Who won? Has someone won? Did I win?"
Julen nudges Hanneke, encouraging a little more surreptitiousness. Journeymen do pass through this room every so often. "Not yet. Had to throw a 8 or a 10 last round to win," he attempts to explain, insofar as his own feeble mind understands the game. How's Trula doing?
Trula places a small bone hair comb on the pile. She gathers up the dice in her hands, blows on them for luck and throws. The first lands on a 5: the second balances precariously on an edge, and falls finally....on a 2. Trula groans, audibly.
"Wonder if those dice are loaded," an older apprentice wonders, off Julen's right. There's a bit of murmuring in that corner, before two or three of them decide to exit the game. Julen pokes Hanneke again. "What's it mean if dice are loaded?"
Hanneke takes the nudge as encouragement--and only gets louder, "Oh! An 8 or a 10. Oh, sorry, Trula. Guess you don't win, either." A perplexed visage becomes her, shrug issued, "Dunno. Weighed down, maybe?"
The senior apprentice frowns and says solemnly. "It means the dice might be fixed..it's cheating."
"I'm sure no one would even dream of it," Trula says soothingly, trying to smooth things over.
"I didn't do it!" So Hanneke chimes in, appalled.
Julen just tries to squish himself a little smaller, easy enough a few minutes ago, but now that some of the players have left, he feels oddly conspicuous. "I didn't say anybody did," he mumbles, looking down at his lap.
Hanneke ohs, and doesn't even have the dignity to blush. "Whose go is it?"
"Mine, mine, mine!!" screeches Sefro in Julen's ear, "It's my go!!"
Julen winces, almost falling over and into Hanneke's lap. Aren't they supposed to be keeping things hush-hush?
A blonde girl grabs the dice, quickly. "It's my go actually," she says softly but firmly.
Hanneke backs away--Julen is not her idea of the perfect man in her lap, agreeing in a loud, squeaky tone, "They are! Why is everyone so loud?" Welcome to every day life in the dorms.
An adjacent group -- bravely struggling with homework despite the ruckus -- casts a stern "Ssshhhhh" at the dice players. Julen steadies himself and stammers apologies to Hanneke, then tries to follow the game once more. It looked so easy when the Enlander adults played, but being part of the game is another matter altogether, as he's discovering.
The senior apprentice is becoming red and flustered with all this squabbling. "Shards, will you all just shut up and play the game properly," he orders irritably.
Hanneke beams towards Julen, a clear indication that absolutely no harm has come from his action, and gives her ribbon a mournful glance. "Is it my turn, now? Is it?" Playing the game properly isn't, evidently, an option.
Trula nods, "I think so," while the senior apprentice growls impatiantly.
Julen is reduced to just watching. The senior apprentice's glare scares him -- especially since that's the senior in charge of his corner of the dorms -- and he's run out of things to bet anyhow.
[Monitor] Disconnected: Chandelle (#16231) at Sat Feb 17 21:09:00 2001 CST - 24 on.
Hanneke crosses her arms, complaining, "I don't understand! You're all being silly, and I'm going to bed." She gives a glance to her ribbon, attempting to grab it back--her hand being batted away. "It's not yours any more, Hanneke. You bet it, and you lost it." The apprentice stares at him, and announces, "I'm never going to gamble again!" And yet, she skips off.