Page 56 of With a Little Luck

“He joined the king’s army?” shouts Noah. “That traitor!”

“Traitor or not, let us wish him well on his journey,” says Russell. “I raise my drink to our fallen comrade.” He mimes holding up a tankard of ale.

“He isn’t fallen yet,” says Kyle. “He literally just left.”

“Yeah, but it’s Brawndo,” says Noah with a smirk. “He won’t last two hours on a battlefield.”

“True,” Kyle says thoughtfully. “In that case, I buy a round of ale for everyone in the tavern, and lift my cup in honor of Brawndo.”

“To Brawndo!” César, Russell, and Noah cheer, while Maya looks on, her gaze bouncing between each of them.

“All right,” I say. “Querth, deduct two silver coins from your purse to pay for the drinks.” As Kyle makes a note, I go on, “As you complete your toast, the door to the tavern swings open and in strides a tiefling dressed in traveling gear, a broadsword at her hip.”

Maya sits taller in her chair. “That’s me! Wait. Is that me?”

I chuckle. “That’s you. So—what do you do?”141

Maya hesitates, her momentary enthusiasm fading into uncertainty. The others wait. I know they could jump in with any number of prompts to help her get started. A greeting, an observation—even picking a fight, which is César’s answer to just about everything. But we all wait to see what Maya will do first, to let her decide how she wants to introduce her own character.

Her eyebrows bunch briefly, but then the moment passes. Her expression clears, set with determination and a spark of glee. “The tiefling shouts, ‘Give me ale, or give me blood!’” Maya punctuates the demand by slamming her fist on the table, nearly knocking over my privacy screen.

My eyes widen in surprise.

Grins split across the faces of the group. Even subdued Russell nods appreciatively.

“Well said,” whispers Noah, before settling a hand on Maya’s wrist and leaning closer. “But you don’t have to say ‘the tiefling.’ You can just talk as your character.”

“Oh, okay.” Maya wiggles her shoulders. Her smile is huge, like she’s been waiting all her life to yell those words and not be judged for it. “Um. Now what?”

I grin at her. “The bartender looks up …”142

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Chapter Nineteen

It is the strangest night of Dungeons & Dragons I have everexperienced.

Not just because Maya is there—though that’s definitely part of it.

Not just because Maya is playing a fighter and … weirdly enough, she is playing her characterreally wellas the players set out on their quest through the forest and encounter their first obstacle—a pack of giant weasels. Maya is so into the mindset of Grit Stonesplitter that once the battle is over and the remaining weasels are trying to run away, she throws a handful of popcorn at the board, shouting, “Get back here so I can rip your spines out with my bare, bloodied hands!”

We all gape at her, speechless, until Maya sheepishly sinks back into her seat. “Sorry.”

But Noah just beams, delighted, and looks at me. “Screw Matt. We’re keepingher.”

And then Russell informs us all (with a completely straight face) that a group of weasels is called aboogle, and how a person knows that, I have no idea, but the whole night dissolves into hysteria pretty fast after that.

But possibly the strangest part of the night is … me. And my dice. And my bizarre streak of impossibly lucky rolls.

Since I’m letting Maya borrow my dice, I’ve been using my magic D20. And I’m not, like,greatat math or anything, but even I know that148on a twenty-sided dice, the odds of rolling a twenty on any singular roll are … well, one in twenty.

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