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"I'm good at games," says Merlyn. "I'll be the one to try."

You nod. "Okay, Merlyn, give it your best shot!" you say. You step aside for her to pass, and then follow her toward the dartboard.

A tall man with a shaven head and a leather vest peers down at Merlyn. Then he looks up and asks Rochibal a little incredulously, "You're gonna stake your money on this kid?"

Rochibal nods confidently, so the man shrugs and hands her a dart. Then he points to a messy line painted on the floor, about ten feet behind where she's standing. Merlyn still appears confident, but to you the target suddenly looks very, very far away.

She walks to the back of the line, and you watch the attempts of the other contestants. None hit the bullseye, but all score high. When it's Merlyn's turn, you hold your breath, holding to the thought of a hot meal. She throws the dart as hard as she can!

You don't remember which game it was that Merlyn had mentioned she was good at, but you're now certain that it wasn't darts. "Aaah!" a waitress shrieks as the dart grazes her dress, and several customers dive out of the way. Luckily no one is injured, but unluckily the dart has hit the back wall five feet away from the dartboard. Your vision of dinner evaporates.

The shaven-headed man laughs and shakes his head at Rochibal. "Lousy bet, man," he says, and your party hurry out of the bar before the indignant crowd can discover the source of the errant dart.

Turn to page 142.