* * *
Skandik’s son’s pride in his father’s gaming prowess was not shared by every member of his family. He once made the mistake of asking his wife Sooki, who has excellent penmanship, to write down the rules so he could teach his son. If you decide to skip ahead, it would make Skandik happy.
The Game of Hornskoffle
as recorded by Sooki, a Suffering Wife
Hornskoffle is a game, as I often remind my husband. It’s played by sliding unicoins (which I could’ve used to buy a bolt of fabric or a new quagga harness) on a rectangular, polished wooden board around a central obstacle into the farther of two pockets in the center. There is a ridge along all four edges for ricochets. This ridge keeps coins from flying off the board, which the players appreciate, so why do they gnash their teeth and roll their eyes when we set reasonable boundaries like COME HOME BEFORE DAWN and DON’T BET THE FARM? There are eight entry slots along opposite sides for smacking coins into play. Kindly restrict your smacking to coins as I have other uses for – never you mind what. A diamond-shaped pen sits in the middle with two unicorn horn tips on the ends of the diamond closest to each seat. If your man adopts this pastime, the pen may be the only diamond you ever see. One pocket is in front of each horn, outside the pen. Players must sink unicoins into the sack on the other side of the pen from their seat.
Play.
You hit coins into holes. Do I have to spell it out? Fine. Turns alternate, with an extra turn for sinking a pockee. The coin must be inserted into the slot and stick out a quarter of its diameter and may be struck with the palm or thwacked with a flick of the finger and if I ever hear a man complain his wedding ring fouled the shot he can give it back. Any coin coming to rest in a player’s snarrel becomes theirs and is immediately removed from the board. Any player whose face lands in their snarrel better have kept back enough unicoins to pay his tab and hire a carriage home.
Games last a half hour, but after a few pints, players forget they’re not supposed to sink coins in the sack right in front of their seat and play goes much faster.
The Equipment.
Unicoins. These coins are made by slicing disks from a unicorn horn and filling the center cavities with silver or gold. Hornskoffle is a coin game, and if you are broke, you can’t play. Honey, we’re broke. Don’t you walk out the door. I don’t care if Cally lets you pay him back after harvest. No soup for you.
Skoffleboard. The rectangular wooden game board. The size? I never measured it, so why ask me? Skoffleboards may also be used by suffering wives to play a different game whose object is to make black and blue parts of the male anatomy.
Sack. Goal beneath the hole where coins drop to score. Unicoins love to play, and are known to refuse to enter the sack, defying gravity and the pathetic pleadings of their owners.
Throat. Hole leading to a sack. Last week, did you really think complimenting me on how pretty my throat was could make up for – you know what you did!
Pen. Diamond-shaped obstacle in the middle enclosing the horns. What? You think it’s an analogy? Oh, I can make it real.
Horns. Two wooden posts with the tip of a unicorn horn screwed onto the top. Each player affixes his own horn to the post in front of their opponent’s seat. They attract or repel coins. It is important to select coins compatible with your horn. Why am I laughing? You really think you can pick things that are compatible, don’t you.
Spinlet. One of three vertical slots on each end of the board used to launch rollers and dancers, coins moving upright on edge. Pointless. I don’t need a spinlet to set you on edge, so why do you – of course Salisa overheard you and your mates.
Skofflet. One of five horizontal slots on each end of the board used to slide (or “skoffle“) a coin into play. Sliding comes as naturally to unicoins as to husbands, no?
Snarrel. Zone within two finger-widths of either side, in front of the slots. Yes, I suppose if you stuff your face every night your fingers will get fat, your snarrel will get bigger and you might snare a few more coins. Go ahead. You do the extra cooking and scrub the pots.
Jargon.
Skoffle. One game of hornskoffle, but don’t you believe that. Last month I remember hearing “just one skoffle” and my husband barely skoffled in before dawn.
Skeven. A match of seven skoffles. Every seven years the migration eats all our food. A skeven does the same to my husband’s purse.
Ricky. Make pockee with a single ricochet.
Ricky-doo. Make pockee with two ricochets.
Ricky-dee. Really, do you have to count how many times coins bounce off the walls? Just get it over and come home already, or things will bounce off you when you enter the door.
Shove-in. One coin pushes another into the sack. With them out playing all night and us slaving away, no one needs to push us into the sack.
Jiggy-snap. Two coins spin about each other three times and push away in opposite directions. Sad, those coins dance better than you.
Jiggy-snap-drop. One of the coins in a jiggy-snap drops into the sack.
Wed. Two coins stick together. Question is, why?
Rider. One coin lands atop another and both move together.
Rope-trick. Line of coins all pulled into the sack by the lead coin. A trick? Hardly. If my husband jumped off a cliff and his worthless friends followed, that would be a trick.
Floater. Coin hovering over the sack. Real problem. Unicoins like to stay out and play and hate getting shoved into a dark bag. They need to be convinced to come home. What will it take?
Rukhed. A floater pulls coins out of the sack, like my neighbor’s husband. He floats over every week and next I know the storm is here and the ladder is in the rain and the rain is in the house, but not my husband.
Dancer. Coin spinning on edge. Unicoins love to spin and drift around the board. Some guy from Earth told me about conservation of angular momentum. I have no idea what that is, but those coins never get dizzy and can keep it up all night if they want to. Spinning coins can hypnotize you, which I suppose is a better excuse than the one I heard last week.
Spin-runner. Send a dancer to pull the other dancers along. Hint: My slippers are polished and my skirt ironed.
Kite the floater. Pull a floating coin back from over the sack with another coin. Sister, are you about to take the plunge? Let me kite you before you drop into marriage.
Spikee. A unicoin that left the board to stick to the horn. Coins used to be part of a larger horn before getting sliced off. They love to be reunited. It’s called togetherness. Yes, togetherness makes you win at Hornskoffle. How about we celebrate togetherness – together.
Crowner. Spikee that climbs to the top of the spike (horn). It’s amazing to watch those little guys climb to the top. How are we getting to the top, honey? Not by playing HornSkoffle!
Pockee. Coin in the bag. Please, after one skoffle, just leave them in the bag.
Kisser. The coin the horn likes the most, which is drawn most powerfully to it. Girls, remind your man that you are his kisser, not a shiny, slippery disk.
Perfume. Any fragrant oil used to polish the horn to make it more attractive to the coins. Usually oil of spearmint. It works for unicoins. What are we girls doing wrong?
Skurry. When unicoins get scared they scurry to the nearest sack. This makes the game end quickly. I learned, however, that it’s easier to scare my husband than it is to scare his pocket change.
Handicapping.
In a handicapped game, a washer-like disk called a gloat with a hole in it is placed over the pocket of the stronger player to shrink the aperture and make pockees harder. The player using the gloat either wins double share, or gets the right to trade coins after a loss. Can’t lose that kisser!
Scoring.
One spikee is worth three pockees, but your spikees only count if you get at least five pockees. A crowner is worth seven pockees. The second and subsequent coins in a rope-trick count as two. Please, please do not repeat the rules of scoring around the unicoins! They�
��re the vainest creatures on the planet, and if they find out climbing the spike makes them count for more, they’ll all want to do it and the skoffle will never end.
A game ends when one player reaches twenty-one. The winner gets the opponent’s spikees and crowners. Stranded pieces are added to the stakes for the next game, or forfeited if it is the last game.
History of the Game.
Nobody knows who invented the game of Hornskoffle. Unicorns aren’t stupid, you know. Would you admit to creating a game out of unicorn horns? I don’t think so.
* * *
“I’ll stake you,” said Melissa. “I’ve got a hundred unicoins. How many do you have to win to keep your place?”
“Five thousand,” said Skandik. “But I doubt anyone in this camp has a–”
A shout erupted nearby. “Oho! I just kited your floater with my dancer and rukhed three coins from your sack. One little kiss and my sack is full. Twenty-one, here I come!”
“And without a hot kisser, there’s no way–” said Skandik.
“What do you need to win?” said Melissa.
Skandik snatched the purse, sat, undid the drawstring, and poured the coins onto the grass. He took his old horn and held it between his stubby right thumb and forefinger. With his free hand he pulled a vial out of his pocket and sprinkled drops onto the horn. The pungency of spearmint wafted about the tree. One by one, he picked up each coin, rolled it into his left palm and held it near the horn. Most coins sat still. A few jiggled in place. One sat up halfway, to a forty-five degree angle, before laying back down. Then… “Smackers! That’s a strong one!” His eyes opened wide as a unicoin stood at attention, backed up, rolled across his palm and up his inclined fingers, gathering speed until it jumped clear through the air to latch onto the horn like a refrigerator magnet. Skandik slapped his forehead. “We have a deal.” He stuck his hand out to shake and Melissa reciprocated with her paw. For the first time that day there was a grin on his face.
When the match concluded, they rented the skoffleboard from its owner for two coins. On this board, the two spikes holding the horns extended below the board for several feet, so they could be sunk into the ground to make the board level during play.
The next two hours initiated Melissa into the art of the skoffle. She marveled as Skandik set his coin in a skofflet, whacked it onto the board, off the right side wall, the back wall, and into the middle of the space behind the pen in front of his opponent. As the unicoin slowed, it was clear it would halt nowhere near the throat. But Skandik had chosen his coins well. It started to wobble and skidded slowly across the board, closing the distance, until it was halfway over the edge of the throat. Then, snap! It leapt from the board and latched onto the horn. It couldn’t keep its grip and slid down, struck the rim of the pen, and fell into the sack.
“Pockee!” Skandik’s son jumped up and down. “It was almost a floater, then it was a spikee, but then it turned into a ricky-doo! My darda’s gonna win everything!”
Four skevens later, Skandik had quadrupled his purse – and run out of willing opponents. He offered to cram a gloat in the throat, but even with a handicap had no takers. Having the open backing of an olissair and a rabid cheering section was no way to play the shark. The owner of the board stepped over to reclaim his property, when the crowd parted before a man in a crimson button-down shirt, long black coat and black trousers, and a belt with a glitzy buckle. His shoulder-length black hair was tied back in a ponytail and his long, drooping mustache and goatee completed the picture. The flickering of the campfires illuminated his face and made his almond shaped eyes sparkle. Ren Fa, why are you showing yourself now?
“Jason, R.J., and now you,” said Ren Fa. “How is it four acquaintances should each be swept off to this world from different corners of Earth?”
“You weren’t at Jason’s lab when you were sent?” said Melissa.
“I was continuing Jason’s work back in Hong Kong.”
“And R.J.?”
“Changing planes in Frankfurt, flying to meet me with lab supplies. I hear you were in Africa. Four travelers, four continents, one destination. But not the same form. I must say, you travel in style.” Ren Fa put his hands behind him and clasped them while he made a slow circle about Melissa. “Your handiwork is discussed in every corner of Kibota. In three weeks you’ve achieved greater prominence than Jason has in seven, and he has been a very busy man.”
“Have you been busy as well?” Melissa fought to control her accusatorial impulses.
“You know me. Always looking for a stiff drink and diverting games to play while I sip it.” He put his hands on the shoulder of the man holding his Hornskoffle board. “Can I trouble you to set it up again? I believe someone owes me a good contest.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a handful of coins, which the man eagerly accepted.
Melissa looked at Skandik, who nodded. So that’s whom he owes his money. “A few moments, please.” She walked over to the water’s edge and waded out to a rock two lisstai from shore. Skandik followed, accompanied by his son, hopping stone to stone until they joined her. “Have you played him before?” said Melissa.
“No,” said Skandik. “Hear he’s a fair player. I’m better. I’ve been playing since I was younger than little Andok here. This Renifaw, he’s played two years? Three? I’ll win my farm back from him tonight, and celebrate the sunrise for the first time in many days.”
Melissa bared her teeth. “Do not underestimate him! He paid half his student loans from his gambling winnings, especially playing coin games. He was a champion at Shove Ha’penny; picked it up in a few months his first year at school.”
“Shall I return your stake?” Skandik held up his sack and shoved it in her face. “I’ll count it for you. No need for you to risk anymore for me.”
She pushed the sack away. “It’s not money I care about! It’s your family.”
“You think I don’t care?” He pounded his chest with his fist, then held the bag up again. “This’ll buy food and supplies for the journey to Futility Manor and keep us through harvest, no more. Nine more bags like it, now that’s caring for my family. And nine bags is what I’m going to win from Renifaw.” He turned and splashed his way back to shore, followed by little Andok.
Skandik and a slyly smiling Ren Fa shook hands and the contest began.
Chapter 33: The Hornskoffler's Apprentice
Late night, April 23rd. The banks of the Silverthorn River.
Ren Fa graciously allowed Skandik the first skoffle. They oiled their horns with spearmint, then Skandik whacked his first coin. Nothing fancy, just a ricky-doo off the right and back walls and down the throat. “Pockee for Skandik.” He was entitled to another turn. His aim was true and he repeated four more times before stranding a coin an inch from the throat.
Ren Fa followed, showing some skill. He scored two pockees, but his third shot went wide and slow and only made it to midboard, halfway between the wall and the pen. After a few more turns, the center lines on both sides began to fill with stranded coins, blocking easy shots, and the score stood at Skandik: eight, Ren Fa: four. Skandik attempted to squeeze one last coin through, but it came too close to one of Ren Fa’s. The stopped enemy coin locked onto Skandik’s. Without touching, the two began to orbit each other, revolved three times, before they burst apart.
“Jiggy-snap!” said Andok.
This provoked a chain reaction, sending coins rebounding in every direction. When everything settled, five coins stalled in Ren Fa’s snarrel and were credited to his purse, a boon for their opponent. The score was the same, but the pot of stranded coins now consisted lopsidedly of Skandik’s coins. On his next turn, Skandik shifted to launching a roller through his right spinlet, hoping to squeeze it safely past the blockage, but as it passed near one of Ren Fa’s remaining coins, it started dancing, pulled the opposing coin upright and dragged it along, then a third and a fourth.
“Spin-runner!” said Andok. “Go on, run to the throat!”
&nbs
p; The spinning coins made a slow, drunkard’s walk around the far side of the pen, before being irresistibly drawn to the horn. They neared the throat, then leaped from the board one after the other and clung to Skandik’s horn.
“Four spikees?” said Andok. “You’re awesome, Darda! Twenty to four! One more pockee and you win!”
It was now Ren’s turn. He pulled out a coin from his other pocket, kissed it, and placed it in his spinlet.
This provoked puzzled looks from the crowd. “He’ll lose his kisser for sure,” said one. “Should save it for the next game.”
Ren Fa thumped the coin with his finger and launched a spinner. It danced about and every coin it neared stood up and joined it. It bounced off the right wall, then the pen and turned back toward Ren’s side, never crossing midboard. It rounded up almost all the stranded coins on his side, hit the near wall, came to a stop and fell flat in the snarrel, followed by most of the other dancers. Ren Fa pocketed the coins.
With a clear far side, Skandik made an easy shot his next turn and won the first skoffle of the first skiven, twenty-one to four. “Good game, Renifaw. Spotless defense.”
Skandik had won, but only the four coins in the sack. The pot, which would go to the winner of the skiven, had twenty coins, but most were coins stranded by him. And so it continued throughout the whole skiven. Skandik reclaimed his own money from the pot, and won only thirty coins from his opponent. Ren Fa requested a break and walked off.
“What’s wrong?” said Melissa. “You won.”
“I’ve never won a skiven worth less than a hundred-twenty unicoins,” said Skandik. “That game was against the champion of Four Rivers. This man watched me like a rukh. Renifaw wasn’t playing, he was studying. Defense every time. Never tried to win, kept his losses low.”
“What did I say?” said Melissa.
A Most Refined Dragon Page 34