Tweesly was sleeping peacefully in his hammock despite the growing whispers around him.

“Shake him,” one said, to which another replied, “No, you shake him. It was your idea.”

Mischievous fingers played with the spines of the books on the walls. Trevor had completed the night’s navigation early and was napping before his morning report. A shuffling and whispered argument led to stifled yelps as it devolved into a physical dispute. Still Trevor slept on.

“Ow! You want one?”

“Oof! You always gotta-“

“Hey! Not there! I’ll get you for that!”

“Yeah! One of these days I’ll learn ya-ow ow ow!”

“Choke on that!”

And so forth. The two hushed combatants only slightly disturbed the peace of Trevor’s room while the third visitor inspected the room’s contents. Sensitive eyes in the almost extinguished light of the room probed the collection of knowledge. Submitting to curiosity, the figure unlatched the anchor clasp, which kept the books in place when secured. This small noise tweaked a very receptive part of Trevor’s brain and did the equivalent of a one-man band in stirring him from sleep.

“Wha? Huh? Who’s there?” He scrambled for the matches to light his desk candle, easily in reach of the hammock.

The fighting stopped and a squeaky little “oops” came from the top shelf on the ship-resistant book case.

“It’s just us, mate,” said one of the previously fighting voices. “Yeah,” said the other, “calm down, alright?”

When the light ignited, Trevor saw two featureless fuzzy blobs staring inquisitively at him. After equipping his glasses, the blobs graciously took on a higher level of clarity. It was James and Yggril, two of the halfling deckhands. They wore similar clothing, each in a doublet with breeches, but Yggril wore a brown leather vest. “What are you doing in my bunk? This is navigation.”

“Nice place, Tweesly,” one of the twins said. “A hammock and a desk.” He emphasized the and.

“I need it to work,” he said lamely. He was awake, but his brain wasn’t.

“How’d you like,” one of the twins said, “to play a game with us?” His voice belied some expectation.

“A…game?” This made bells go off in his head. The last game he played was with a couple of street thugs. They didn’t tell him was it was called, but he would have bet it was something like Pin The Theft On The Twerp. It hadn’t been a good day for him.

“Yeah, a game,” the other one said excitedly. “Cookie’s got the swabbie on pot duty, so we’re down a player.”

“You need four to play Plucky’s Got No Legs.”

“Four…? Got…Legs?” Maybe it was a good thing they woke him up. He was starting to wonder if the nap he took had been misidentified and he’d accidentally set out on a full day’s journey through dreamland. It was feeling a lot heavier than it should have.

On the bookshelf, seen over one of the twins’ shoulders, Trevor could make out a shape trying to latch the book lock back in place. It looked like a small pile of clothes propped up inside by an animated stick. There was a cloth cap on top of a robe, both a base purple, though faded in color, with square spiral designs in yellow around the base of the cap and robe and at the ends of the sleeves. When the latch took, it nodded, then turned around and floated down to the floor to join the conversation.

“We’ll teach you the rules,” one of the halflings said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about nothin’,” said the other.

“You’ll partner with Tris. Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s play.” The first halfling indicated the pile of miniature clothes with two bright blue points of lights where eyes should be. It looked at him, but didn’t say anything.

Before he knew it, Trevor was in the ship's hold and seated on an upturned spool at a box acting like a table.

“We could have just used my desk,” Trevor said accusingly.

“Nah, we don’t wanna do that,” said James. Yggril added, “It’s too close to above decks.”

“Wait,” said Trevor. His brain had rubbed the sleep from its eyes by now. It was capable of making him suspicious. “Should we be doing this?”

The halflings looked pensive. Tris just looked.

“Will this get us in trouble? Yes or no?”

Yggril said, “No.” James added, “Not if the captain doesn’t find out.”

“Guys, I don’t know if I want to be caught doing this,” Trevor said, standing up.

“Don’t worry so much, Tweesly.”

“Yeah. The captain just doesn’t like us doing it because he thinks games turn crewmates against each other.” Yggril stood up. He only came up to Trevor’s waist. Regardless, no doubt having had practice in wheedling the taller folk, he put a friendly arm around the back of Trevor’s legs, like one would do around another’s shoulders. “But he ain’t gonna find out because no one’s gonna tell him.”

“And we ain’t gonna get caught,” James added.

While it was true they were nestled among the supplies and containers in the hold, the light from the candle on the box-turned-table was visible from the stairs. A clattering stole Trevor’s attention from the exit. James had spilled a bag of runed dice on the table and had pulled out two mugs.

He gently tried to pry himself out from Yggril’s hold. “While I’m sorry I can’t fill out your game, I do appreciate the thought. I really feel included. But I think I’m going to go back to my bunk because I only have a few hours until I give my report, ok?” He tried to back out towards the exit.

James sighed. “I didn’t think it would come to this,” he said in mock regret, “but you’ll play even if we hafta force you. Tris?”

Trevor's brow furrowed and he stopped his retreat.

Tris quietly pulled a binder out from his robe.

“Hey! That’s-!”

“It’s the navigational ledger, isn’t it Yggril?” James said in mock surprise.

“I believe it is, James.” They both grinned at Trevor.

Trevor bounded over to the…whatever Tris was…and made a grab for the book. Tris floated an inch off the ground, dodging Trevor like butter on a hot griddle. “Give it back! Are you nuts?”

“Play a game with us,” James said, “and Tris will give it back. How does that sound?”

“We’ll be lost at sea if you don’t give it here!”

“Not so loud, Tweesly,” Yggril said tauntingly, “you wouldn’t want to spook Tris into…I dunno…throwing it overboard.”

“But we’re below decks,” Trevor started, distracted from his unfruitful chase.

“Stranger things have happened at sea.”

Trevor, bent over to catch his breath chasing Tris, frowned at the twins. “Fine,” he said after a moment.

He sat down heavily at the makeshift table. “I don’t have to win? I just have to play?”

The James hemmed while Yggril hawwed.

James said, “It’s a deal. Eh, Tris?” He called that last bit at the mischievous bundle of clothes. It squeaked and made for the chair across from Trevor.

Thus, Trevor learned to play Plucky’s Got No Legs. It was a short game, played in several bouts. Teammates sat cross-ways from one another and took turns shaking the cup of runed dice to face off against alternating members of the opposing team. There were two of each kind of die, and a set was given to each team. There was a ten sided die with unique markings on exactly half the faces, two six sided dice, a twelve sided die with a unique pattern on each face, and a three sided die with two blank faces and one with a rune on it. The two six sided dice were different. One had sequential numbers of pips, which was used to keep score between bouts, and the other had one, two, and three of three different runes on it. All but the six sided die with pips were added to each cup.

After explaining to Trevor what each symbol meant and what he could do with the dice, the game began.

“So where are you from, Trevor?” James asked while Yggril went against Tris. Yggril kept the Marley on his re-roll, earning him a full Bushel when he rolled Flint and Parsley. Tris folded.

“My dad owns a patch of land in the harbor,” he said, taking the cup and dice from a dejected Tris. It was his turn against Yggril, and he got to roll first.

Trevor actually meant a patch of land which was now several hundred feet below the surface of the sea. The family farmed aquatic now. This was the norm for the people who lived in what was now the harbor. It was bordered on two sides by mountains and on the other by dense forest.

“What’s this one, James?” he said pointing at one of the dice he had rolled.

James barely had to look at it. He’d winced when he saw the roll. “That one? It means we score another bout on you two,” James said, taking the unused cup from Yggril. Trevor scooped the dice and passed the cup back to Tris.

Trevor continued. “He always hoped I’d have inherited the farm. Even when I started to show that I was different, he hoped against hope.”

Tris trilled with joy. He had managed a Triple Flip Set, beating out James’ shot at a Cobbler’s Happy Home. She? It? He couldn't tell what to think of the little bundle of rags.

“I think it was mom who first realized I’d have a chance in academia. He would still give me the regular chores while I was studying, so I don’t think he fully grasped the concept.” The thought almost made him chuckle.

James’ turn with the mug. He said, “The flood must have devastated your folks. Are you Gharians or Naatlians?” He rolled, revealing a tricky spread. Tris just had to avoid rolling a-…

James and Yggril grinned at Tris’ Heavy Stone. Another bout to the twins, but it was anyone’s game.

It was Trevor’s turn with the mug. He took it gently from a raging Tris.

There were two main cities in the harbor: Naatli and Ghar. Humans, being inventive and stubborn, didn’t flee the incoming tide. They embraced it. Both cities were now, by their own methods, sealed from the now rather deep water. Ghar did so in hopes that one day the gods would intercede and the waters would recede. Naatli simply adapted to a changing market environment.

“I know you can’t normally hold between exchanging hands, but is that still true for-" Trevor inquired before being cut off.

"Nope. Sorry. It’s Tris’ Pony.”

“Ah. I see. I just thought it would be an exception because-“

“Unfortunately no.”

“Unfortunate indeed.” He rolled.

Six pairs of eyes stared at the results on the table. “That’s…”

“Yeah…”

Tris burbled confusedly.

“What? What’d I roll? It’s just a Quail, an Olive, and two blanks,” Trevor said amusingly.

“You got the Quolive,” Yggril said in wonder. “James, you better roll good.”

Horseshoe and three blanks. Sighs came up. “That one would have been…” James started.

“…confusing to say the least,” Yggril finished.

Trevor looked between them. “Who gets the bout?”

“Tie,” they both said in unison.

Trevor’s forehead wrinkled. “Then why all the fuss about the Quolive?”

Yggril said, knowingly, “Consider if James had gotten any two parts of a Triple Flip Set, how they’d interact.”

“Oh yeah…” Trevor said as realization set in. “We’re Naatlians, to answer your question.” Trevor scooped up the dice.

“You definitely don’t seem like a Gharian to me,” James said. “But you can never tell. Did your parents take well to the undersea life?”

“Dad was skeptical at the new magic tools for farming kelp and anchovies, but with city subsidies like what he was offered, he couldn’t refuse.”

“Buncha stiff religious types,” Yggril grumbled, “Gharians.”

“You sound like you know a few,” Trevor said with what passed for tact among academics.

“We ran the Fleetfeet circuit between Naatli and Ghar growing up,” James said.

“After the flood,” Yggril specified.

Halflings, being nomadic, didn’t take up with the humans in their sea-floor cities. They crafted rafts and simple boats to continue living in the sun and keeping from being tied down. Some raft communities got large indeed, but would ultimately spawn small excursion groups eager to see the world. As much as it as would fit into a regular route around the harbor, any way.

“I’ve never had dealings with any halflings after the flood, I’m afraid,” Trevor said apologetically.

“Oh. Fair enough, you’re only human. Our orbit crossed paths with the city’s surface patrol.”

“Lots of contraband checks,” James added.

Trevor thought for a second. “Nothing to hide, nothing to fear, right?”

The two halflings looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. Trevor felt left out of the joke.

“Just wait until you’re pushing a hundred, boyo,” James said wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s not all straight laces out here in the real word.”

Another roll.

“Should you be keeping that Heavy Stone, Tris?” Trevor asked bemusedly. He earned a blank stare.

Yggril stepped in. “He’s got a chance at a Blacksmith’s Garden,” and turning to Tris added pleadingly, “but that’s a far shot, Tris.”

Tris said something back at Yggril and Trevor got the sense he…she…it was mocking the halfling. “Whatever. Your dice,” The halfling said, shrugging it off.

Trevor decided to go for it. He’d been Tris’ partner all night, and they were keeping pace with the twins, score-wise.

“Tris, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he started, hands up and ready to take back anything he said, “but what are you?”

The other players were intent on what was going on in the game. Yggril’s dice scattered, causing the players to tense.

“This could make the game, Tris,” James said ominously. “If you don’t complete that Garden…” He trailed off. The dice rolled.

“Aww!” Their cries of frustration mingled in the air.

“What? Did Tris get the…Blacksmith….uhh…”

“No, it was a stupid tie again! Right at the end of the game,” Yggril said angrily. “You and I gotta break it.”

Trevor looked at the pips on the score dice and did some quick calculations. “Couldn’t there be another tie?”

The halfling took both mugs and removed the two twelve sided dice, the two three sided dice, and one ten sided die.

“No," Yggril said, handing him his mug. "But you guys get advantage.” There was a six sided die and a ten sided die in his cup. Yggril would only have the remaining six sided die.

The halfling stared at him intensely while he rattled his one die in the cup. Trevor just looked at him incredulously. These guys take their games seriously, he thought.

“Gentlemen,” James said to the active players, “this makes the game.” Tris edged up against the table in anticipation.

“On the count of three, throw your dice.” He held up a fist.

“One.” He shook his fist and a finger came up. Yggril’s stare solidified.

“Two.” A thumb popped out. Trevor could feel the stare going through the back of his head.

“Three!” A third digit appeared. Yggril didn’t miss a beat. Trevor wasted half a second realizing it was time. He threw as well.

Tris’ chair clattered as he…it stood up. Both halflings were wide-eyed.

“Did we win?” Trevor asked dreadfully.

“Look at the dice, you loony,” one of them said. Trevor did.

Out of Yggril’s cup, the die had come up with The Bear. Not a good sign. Trevor looked at his own dice.

The ten sided die was blank, so no help there. But on the six sided die….

“Plucky’s Got No Legs!” Trevor cheered, fists in the air.

Both halflings sat disgruntled, arms crossed over their chests. They weren’t looking at the victors, who were standing up and celebrating.

“Tris is a faerie, by the way,” James grunted.

“What?” Trevor said, still celebrating, “A faerie?”

“Yeah. Desiccated bug parts and magic.”

He looked at his partner. Between the cap and robe, if he looked past the light from the eyes, he could just make out what looked like bits of carapace working in unison to form a figure.

“Oh,” Trevor said. “Oh…” The joy had been sucked out of the celebration.

“Now don’t go hurting Tris’ feelings,” James prodded. "She's a person too, you know." Trevor sat down, fixing Tris in his gaze.

Tris picked up her seat and sat back down. He couldn’t read how she was feeling. He noticed what little of her hands looked like serrated beetle legs merely in the shape of a small hand.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he started.

She produced the binder again and put it on the table. James said, “The game’s over. You can go.” The cups and dice had disappeared. The candle was down to a nub, fused to the surface of the box.

Trevor hugged his binder and left the hold, and his fellow players, with mixed feelings.

Meanwhile, in the captain’s room, a minotaur with gem hooves, in a sharp nautical jacket and with tinkly holy relics draping from his horns, sat at the breakfast table. Captain Sule was at the window, under which was a table strewn with maps.

“I’m pleased to report, sir, that all was well overnight,” Gorestomp said. His voice had a refined gruffness to it.

“Good. I would have hoped to hear if it had been otherwise,” the elf prince replied. He sounded distracted, but the minotaur knew the captain usually seemed so.

“The losers will have to take over for the swabbie today,” the minotaur intoned.

The captain made a noise of affirmation. “We’ll be eating from clean pots, at least.”

“Clean-er pots, sir.” He stressed the -er.

“Yes. Clean-er.” He rifled some papers on the table. “He won his first game of Plucky’s,” the captain said. He tutted and shook his head.

“Yes. Against the twins, no less.”

“Tris helped,” the captain stated. Coming from someone else, it would have been a question.

The minotaur shook his head, making his holy relics jingle. When the momentum stopped, he said “I told Tris not to help, sir.”

The captain smiled. “Ophidion, I remember giving an order.”

“Sorry, captain.”

"It's been quite some time since someone won a game of Plucky's honestly."

At this, there was a knock at the door. Trevor was allowed inside and conversation transitioned to navigation.