"Well, then, how about an octopus? Does that merit a score of eight?"
"Never!" Twistbuck cried in mock horror. Tentacles are also referred to as arms. Must I constantly remind you that the game is legs'?"
"A table has legs."
"Of course."
"And a chair or stool likewise?"
"Certainly. The legs need not be those of a living thing."
Now Gord smiled triumphantly. "What of a wine bottle? It is said that wine has 'legs', you know!"
Twistbuck's reply was dished out with a large helping of scorn. "You are reaching for very silly meanings to this straightforward game, young sir. A wine bottle has no legs, and the name of the establishment, or its sign's proper designation by name, demarks the limits which are allowed."
"What?" Gord asked, somewhat puzzled.
"Should a sign state the establishment is known as Zygfg's Arms, and should the arms thus displayed show various things with legs upon them, there would be no counting of said legs. The proper name of the establishment mentions a person or thing with arms, not legs. Furthermore, should the sign not bear writing, the picture displayed would still have an implied name; that of Zyglg’s Arms in my example. Ergo, other things shown would not allow the scoring of legs."
"But what if a place called The Ship showed several crewmembers aboard the vessel painted on the sign?"
"That, Gord, would absolutely be irrelevant to the game. No score!"
"Hmmm ..." said the young thief, feeling a bit foolish but still highly suspicious that he was being duped. "How about a game or a race? Either can have legs as part of them."
"A point I can concede. I shall leave it up to you whether or not to score legs for the occurrence of such signs — providing, naturally, that nothing indicating the contrary appears on the sign in question. If a tavern was called Chequers and showed a game of that sort, or The Game and showed chess, chequers, or some other game having no legs of play, then no score, obviously. In other cases I would allow scoring of two legs. If you wish."
"I do wish it," said Gord, feeling any point was a victory after the rude handling Twistbuck had given him in this matter. That concluded their discussion and the evening.
It was high noon on Starday. Gord and Twistbuck were at a six-point intersection in the Low Quarter. Chert was there to assist in keeping count tn case of disagreement, although the university don also had a bit of parchment and quill to mark totals. Gord was pleased that his comrade was there, for marks could be added or forgotten in the excitement of play. The young thief had selected the site with care. He knew the drinking places for a mile in any direction, and when turns were made he would be aware of what lay ahead. He would then have several choices of direction and would choose the route that promised him the highest gain. It looked to be a solid win, and Gord was wondering if Twistbuck's earnings would be sufficient to pay the losses he would incur when the total was discovered.
"You count first, and what route would you like to take?" the professor asked Gord.
"I believe we should follow that route," he replied, pointing to the northeast. They walked up Tosspot Lane and almost immediately came to a small tavern.
"The Blue Elf. I score two." Gord said with artificial disappointment. It was one of the least desirable shops around, but he knew what came next, in any of the optional directions.
"Let's continue along this route for now," the professor said. They followed the curve of the lane uphill and soon came upon another sign.
The Castle. Pity. I don’t have any legs at all, and it's now your turn again, Gord."
The young thief whistled as they walked along. Two signs down, two and twenty to go, and an intersection lay ahead. "I say we go right along Uskbarrel Road," he informed the others, and headed off due east thereon. Soon he came to the place he knew was there. "What luck!" Gord called happily to the pair trailing him. "Here's the Stag & Wolves, and I note that there are fully four of the latter painted on the sign too! Twenty legs for me then, plus the two before. I lead two and twenty to naught, I believe."
Twistbuck nodded glumly, but then pointed to a narrow opening to the left. "There is a new intersection, and I choose to follow it" He peered nearsightedly at a small, filthy plaque high above the brick wall of the building whose shoulder stood next to the passage. "Rag Alley. It says. Let us see what lies along this way."
Gord was disconcerted, for he'd missed this narrow place. No help for it now. There was a dingy drinking house there too, but it didn't help the professor at all.
"It is a place called The Crock," he lamented, holding his head. "I seem to be most unfortunate this day!"
"Cheer up, good don." Gord said with merriment oozing from his every pore, "for such ill luck must surely change." He still led the way, and very soon the alley debouched on a broader thoroughfare, a street named Felbo Close. Gord had never seen or heard of it, but it didn't matter. It ended to the left, so he had no real option but to turn right, and they were walking eastward again. "Does that count as a choice?" he inquired.
"Yes, any intersection is counted, but what matter? It is now my choice at the next joining, but your sign comes next"
It turned out that the next place was a tavern named Rose in Ice. It was irritating for he had hoped to build his lead further, but twenty-two was still commanding.
"I say! My turn, and what do I have but The Hungry Bear! Four, and your lead is cut to only eighteen legs, my boy!"
There was a very little triumph, even though the place stood on a corner, and Twistbuck opted to continue along toward the east. Gord was up again in both sign and intersection direction, and he knew this area now. "A crossroads!" he said as happily as the don had exclaimed when he scored the four count. "Let us turn to the right here, and see what lies southward along Hothand Street." He knew very well and soon added eight legs for coming upon the inn of the Double Dragon. He led by six and twenty now. Chert was beginning to get a little agitated. Gord was not supposed to be enjoying this little exercise.
A mile farther, and seven signs passed, Gord had scored a total of ten more legs to the professor's two. That gave him a round six and thirty, less Twistbuck's mere six, for a lead of fully thirty legs! The poor professor was going to lose the equivalent of six hundred bronze zees, thirty silver nobles, at this rate! Even the fact that they had passed out of the Low Quarter and into the Halls District didn't trouble Gord now. Chance dictated a win of from twenty to forty legs in his favor. Chert was not at all pleased.
The Avenue of Fountains was not a place for drinking, and Twistbuck had the option of direction at the next intersection. He selected Scrivener's Crescent, which curved off southeastward. The professor did not add to his score when they came upon Iggy's inn. Gord was pleased to see that there was a tavern a little farther along with a sign showing a wispy maiden in green and brown garb. "I score another two for The Dryad," he noted reflectively, not bothering to name the lead he now held.
"What miserable luck I am having today," Twist-buck lamented in earnest. "Now you are up by thirty-two legs, I have no idea what direction to take," he added miserably, indicating the lane that ran into the crescent at an odd angle. "Well," he said in a resigned manner, "I don’t wish to go back to the fountain area again, so I guess I choose Haven Lane for my next route." They walked some distance, and then Twistbuck clapped his hands in glee.
"My luck is changing!" he caroled. "This is my sign and I count two legs!"
"How so, Twistbuck?" Gord demanded. The tavern had only a piece of metal above its door, a chime to be struck to indicate meals or some like event.