“You must believe in luck.”
To me, the voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. According to urban legend, it came from the pair of senet sticks lying on the ground in front of me. Sloppily painted and carved, teal on one side and black on the other. There was only one coat of paint, and I could see brown wood grains through it. I stared down at them, unwilling to respond but hesitant to leave the alley I was standing in.
“You must believe in luck,” the sticks repeated, but their tone was inquisitive this time. “Everyone here does. That’s why we play senet.”
“Senet is a game of strategy and skill,” I point out.
“You flip a few sticks to decide how many spaces your piece can move — you think it takes skill to do that?”
“… Yes.” It dawned on me that I must have looked silly to onlookers from a distance. The sticks were small and nondescript enough that I could’ve appeared to be talking to the ground, and the disappearing light from the setting sun didn’t help.
“Luck determines the outcome. You play senet to win, don't you? If you believe you’ll win, you believe luck is on your side.”
My nostrils flared. “Let's just cut to the chase. I don't want to flip you.” I’d heard the stories — I knew what would happen if I did.
The sticks asked, teasingly, “Then why are you still here?”
Because my feet felt glued to the ground. Because a strong sense of danger washed over me, like if I made one wrong move then something horrible would happen. Because the link between my mind and my lips felt delayed, and I couldn't say the words, “B-Because—”
“Because you believe you can prove me wrong, just like everyone else. You believe there's a probable chance you can influence this outcome in a way that benefits you. You believe in luck.”
“Shut up! I do not!” I finally blurted.
“Then prove it.” The sticks went quiet after that. I could feel their silence, like a fine thread linking our consciousnesses had been snipped. But they were still here, watching me, waiting for me to make my choice.
I had two options: walk away, or flip the sticks. I still felt rooted in place — not frozen, per se, but as if the probability of me turning on my heels was impossibly low. I had the sense that if I tried to step forward, towards the senet sticks, then I could. I still didn't want to flip them. But I didn't know how else to relieve this sense of dread, or how to get the sticks’ eyes off of me. I did want to prove them wrong, gods damn it, and I didn't need their stupid luck for that.
I took one step forward, and then another, and then I knelt. I'd been flipping senet sticks since I was a child. I wasn't a cheater, but I was sure there would be a way to ensure they land on a fortunate result — preferably double-threes, because that was the best one. I picked them up, and the strategy I’d been formulating was immediately dashed to bits by an influx of thoughts — no, demands — that surged up through my fingertips and into my heart.
Just flip me. You can do it. You know how. You believe in luck. You want fate to be kind to you. Fate is probability, and probability is luck. You believe in luck.
The voice drowned out my own thoughts with enough volume to give me a headache. I panicked and dropped the sticks so I could clutch my head, but the second they hit the ground the voice and the pain vanished. I glanced down at them. The results were two fours, facing me.
Suddenly, the sticks rose into the air and rattled, clung together, and before my eyes appeared a brown-skinned woman with thick, dark hair tied into a short knot. Her eyes were decorated with black-and-red striped misdemet. She wore nothing but a simple white kitak skirt, yet she looked down at me as if I was a penniless peasant and she was my queen. Her lips were curled into a smirk, and a forked tongue dangerously dangled between them. She could only be Varik, the viya of probability and luck, and she'd just captured me.
Before I could react, she seized my hair hard enough to make it hurt, badly. “I saw the way you were holding me. You were gonna try to cheat me, weren't you? Are you serious?” Her human form’s voice was that of a normal, albeit incredulous, woman's. It was a stark contrast from the haunting jeer of the sticks from her true form.
“Please, let me go. I don't have anything I can give you!” I tried pushing her hand away, but that just made my scalp hurt more. She could probably tear all of my hair out if she wanted to.
“You’re giving me a good laugh right now. Nobody's ever tried to cheat me before.” Varik chuckled and remarked, “You’re creative, aren't you?”
“You want to make a contract, right? There's nothing worth bargaining with me for, I promise,” I pled.
Varik looked me up and down and tsk, tsk-ed. “Sit down.” She let go of my hair and sat cross-legged on the ground.
I looked between her and the other end of the alley we were standing in, then made a run for it. In a flash she sped ahead of me, grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me into the wall. “I bet you'll never outrun me, guaranteed.” Her eyes rolled in their sockets with the speed of spinning wheels, and it was dizzying to watch. Eventually they slowed down, but her pupils were replaced by two digits: a pair of threes. Then she let me go and sat across from me, legs crossed like they were before. When she blinked, her pupils returned to normal.
Somehow, the possibility of running away was struck from my mind. Maybe someone else could try running, but I knew that I couldn't. My body wouldn't even move in the direction of the alley’s mouth. Instead I gritted my teeth at the pain from being slammed into the wall and rubbed my shoulders, then sat down across from her. I took a deep breath to brace myself for whatever horrible thing she was about to say next.
“Your guess was right; I am proposing a contract. See, I’m trying to raise some money.”
“For what?”
“That’s none of your business,” she snapped. “Anyway, I know you've got money. You raise cattle.”
My back straightens. “How do you know that?”
Varik hissed at me in response. “You ask too many questions, boy.”
I bristled at being called “boy” — I was twenty-five years of age. Even though she looked as old as me, as a viya she was likely far older.
She continued, “Here's the deal: You give me three-fourths of the coin you make every month. You miss a payment or try to underpay me, and I take all your money and all your livestock.”
“That's not a deal, that's a ridiculous tax! I would have nothing to gain from it!” A portion of my income was already given as tribute to Basara's kingdom. I couldn't afford to pay two high taxes at once.
Varik’s eyes flashed, and she pulled out a coin from thin air and began rolling it between her fingers. “So you want something from me?”
“Of course not!”
“Really? Because I know something that no one in your position could resist.” She switched the coin from her right hand to her left. She rolled it just as skillfully, and it was almost mesmerizing. “Word on the street is that Basara’s plotting something. You know how he raised his taxes recently?”
I sucked my teeth. “What of it?”
“What do you think he’s using that money for? His gradually increasing army, perhaps?”
“You think he’s planning some kind of attack,” I surmised.
“I know he is — he and a few allies, in fact. It'll be a big conflict, and you won't be spared. Think about your cattle, Nefta. Wouldn't it make sense for an army to confiscate them in order to provide food for its troops?”
“I suppose, but—” A chill crept down my back when I realized what Varik said. “How do you know my name? Have you been watching me?”
“Stay focused, boy,” Varik demanded, but the devious grin on her face implied that watching me was exactly what she had been doing. “Soldiers sometimes attack civilians. You've got a wife, don't you? With child? It would take but one angry or drunk soldier to kill them.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Don’t touch my family.”
“I've no intention to.” Varik switched her coin back to her right hand and placed her left upon her heart, to imply that she was being truthful and clear of mind. “In fact, I can help you — all three of you. If you accept the terms that I laid out, then I’ll make sure that not a single soldier lays a hand upon you or your wife.”
“And if I don't?” I asked, eyes narrowed. An honest gesture like that coming from her of all people didn’t mean much.
Varik’s fingers stilled, and her smile disappeared. “If you don’t, it's very likely that disaster will strike you by this time tomorrow.”
The chill on my back deepened to a freeze. “Not guaranteed?”
Varik leaned in, and with a somber voice intoned, “Death lurks at your threshold, boy. If you make the wrong move, it will step through.”
I gulped and weighed my options carefully. If I forged a contract with this viya, then I’d be driven to poverty, but my wife, child and I would be safe from whatever war was on the horizon — if Varik was telling the truth, that is. There were a lot of questions that her proposal didn't answer — what would she do if a burglar attacked my home instead? — and I had a feeling that she would not be open to hammering out those murky details. But if I refused her offer, then I could be struck by calamity, whether it be death or something far worse. This was how Varik truly manipulated her victims, I realized. I didn't have to make a contract with her, but was I lucky enough to risk turning her down?
I cursed under my breath as I processed what I’d just thought. Varik’s maddening obsession with luck was growing on me. I did believe in it, didn’t I?
“Hmm? Something troubling you?” Varik’s words were nice, but I could tell she didn’t really care.
“No, nothing. I’ve made up my mind, Varik.” I forced myself to meet her eyes and declared, “I refuse to accept your contract.”
Varik’s eyebrows shot up; it seemed like she genuinely wasn’t expecting me to say that. “Really? You know what happens to people who refuse my contracts, don’t you? They die.”
“But it’s not guaranteed, you said. I could be the first to live.”
“You’ll definitely live if you accept my contract,” Varik countered.
“I don’t believe you. You’re a deceptive snake, Varik, and I won’t fall for your lies!” I stood up and looked around me, wondering if there was another way for me to escape. It still felt like I couldn’t run, and even if I could, Varik was much faster than me. But her bet didn’t mention any other methods of escape. If I interpreted it literally, then maybe another possibility would reveal itself to me.
To my surprise, Varik stood up, dusted herself off, and motioned for me to leave. “Fine, then. You’re not my sole source of income, Nefta. Go. But before you do, why don’t I let you in on a little secret?”
“What is it?” I cautiously asked, inching away from her as I did so.
“I don’t care if you believe in luck or not,” she chuckled. “I just talk about it to get under humans’ skin.”
As if, I thought, but I didn’t want to argue about whether luck existed or not again. Although, I couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’ll die before the secret gets out.” Varik flipped her coin, snatched it out of mid-air, and strode past me without another word.