A short excerpt from The Last Gambler, Book One of the Fall of Fate Duology.
Colm stood outside the shop, the murky fog settling around him, slightly obscuring the simple wooden sign. Below the shop’s name, in small type, was written, Proprietor, Mr. Wynn Liddl. Colm wasn’t sure what daserii meant, but it piqued his curiosity. The shop wasn’t large, perhaps just a quarter of the size of the Anvil. He peeked through the open door and saw several elegant mahogany display cases, and the walls were exquisitely paneled to match. A warm light reminiscent of a flickering fire filled the shop and spilled out onto the sidewalk in a welcoming sort of way. He glanced back up at the sign, straightening his backpack as a noise from inside the mysterious shop captured his attention. Looking deeper within, he saw a dwarfish man standing with his back to the door, cleaning the glass on the display cases. Curious, Colm stepped through the door.
A subtle chime echoed through the shop, announcing his presence. The man in the back of the shop spun around, his head on a swivel. A pair of eyes the color of a restless ocean peered out from a rotund face with a closely clipped beard and mustache greying with age. He puffed on a finely carved pipe that dangled from his mouth as thin wisps of smoke escaped from it, dispersing a pleasant aroma of sweet thyme. He was dressed rather formally in slacks and a matching tweed jacket, with patches on the elbows, like Colm’s poetry professor had worn. His tanned skin was wrinkled with age, and his face lit up with a big smile as he took the pipe from his mouth.
“Welcome, friend! I’m thrilled to announce that you’re my very first customer! Tonight’s the grand opening. Now, please, come in,” he said with a heavy accent, never dropping his smile as he ushered Colm into the shop. Colm wasn’t good at placing accents, but he guessed that the man was from somewhere in England or nearby.
“Uh, thanks. I work down the street at the pawnshop,” Colm said, pointing toward the Anvil. He carefully removed his backpack, not wanting to bump anything. “I hadn’t noticed a new shop coming in.”
The man’s eyes twinkled as he took a small step toward Colm, his tiny feet shuffling on the wide-planked floor. It was made of the same wood that lined the walls, giving the elegant yet cozy impression of being inside a tree—a deeply polished, nicely appointed tree. “Just signed the lease last week, and with a little luck, I found an artisan to get the shop all shipshape for opening. The crew just finished these last display cases this afternoon,” he said, pointing to the mahogany display cases.
Through the glass, Colm saw a variety of dice in all different shapes, sizes, and designs, some with the traditional six sides, some with more. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it was definitely not this.
“The Daserii… That’s a strange name for a shop,” Colm ventured.
“Not so much,” the man said with a chuckle. “Daserii just means ‘dice-maker.’ That’s me.” He patted himself proudly on the chest, reaching his hand out. “Name’s Wynn.”
Colm smiled as they shook hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Colm. Welcome to the neighborhood. You’ve got yourself a nice place here.”
“Thanks. It’s taken many years for me to pull the coin together to open this place, but here I am.” Wynn took a short drag on his pipe, noticing the sour look on Colm’s face. “Something got you down, my friend?”
Was it that obvious? It hadn’t even been half an hour since Tabitha dumped him. Clearly, it was bothering him. Ordinarily, he kept things to himself, but there was something warm and inviting about this place and this funny little man in the tweed jacket. What could it hurt? Maybe he just needed to say a few things out loud to let go of them. With that thought, Colm opened up, recapping the derailed dinner with her. Wynn nodded, a look of compassion on his face.
“I just wish things could have gone differently,” Colm finished lamely.
“Don’t we all, don’t we all…” Wynn puffed on his pipe, his eyes distant, as if his thoughts were somewhere far away. The next instant, he reached behind the counter, grabbing two glasses and a crystal decanter full of a ruby liquid. He slowly poured two stout glasses of it, handing one to Colm. “That’s a real bit of bad luck, my friend. Calls for a drink, in my book.” Without another word, he tossed the contents of his glass into the back of his throat, placing it on the display case with a satisfying thud, and Colm followed suit. The only difference was that Wynn remained unaffected, but Colm was now bent over coughing, the burn of the liquor leaving a trail of tears streaming from his eyes.
“Always hits you that way the first time.” Wynn snickered and slapped his knee as he poured them both another glass. His eyes locked with Colm’s as his laughter subsided. “I propose a toast to new beginnings! Plus, the second one’s always a bit smoother.” He winked at Colm, holding the glass out to him.
The toast strangely resonated with Colm, and he took the glass, clinking it against Wynn’s. As promised, it went down smoothly, leaving a warmth within him. He thought of leaving, but something was nagging at him about this shop.
“So, you just sell dice here?” Colm said, confused.
“Yep, just dice.”
“Like, for what? Yahtzee? Craps? Dungeons and Dragons?” Colm asked, his voice thick with mockery.
Brushing the jibe aside, Wynn’s response came smoothly—melodically almost, as if he’d responded to this question a thousand times. “Yes, those, and others—gambling games and such. You know, all the things people use them for.”
“And you can sell enough to support a place like this?” Colm asked, gesturing to their surroundings. But he held his tongue a breath short of telling Wynn he was doing something stupid and inadvisable.
To Wynn’s credit, he again shrugged off the implication. “You’d be amazed at what some people would spend for a reliable, balanced set of dice. It’s a craft, an art, and I have a bit of a reputation for it.” He leaned in closer to Colm, whispering quietly as if telling a secret. “Some people even think my dice are lucky.”
Want to keep reading?
Continue Colm's story in The Last Gambler.