Tile Trouble
A Beginnings Short Story
Hello Friends!
It’s been a while since I last wrote to you! I hope you are all doing well. I’ve been enjoying a few months’ break from writing, though I’ve been keeping myself busy. In January, we had the 4th SU Creative Writing weekend, which was a wonderful time of creativity and community. This month, I also managed a wee holiday to Paris to see the sights, climb the Eiffel Tower and make a visit to Disneyland.
I am now starting to look ahead to new writing projects, including the conclusion of Dragons by Firelight and the final book of the Eagle Rider Saga. While I have not been writing much recently, I did write one ‘just-for-fun’ short story, which I thought I would share with you. It’s based on one of my favourite board games, called Azul. This is the first draft of the story and I hope to revise it at some point so it would be lovely to hear what you think. If you have played Azul, does this story capture your experience of the game? And if you haven’t played the game, does the story actually make any sense?
If you enjoy this story please like, comment, and share!
Until next time, all the best,
Lindsey
P.S.
If you haven’t got your copy of Eagle’s War (or in fact any of the Eagle Rider Saga), there are still a limited number of first and special edition paperbacks available to buy through my bookshop.
Tile Trouble
I straightened my jacket and entered the marketplace. Mosaic City was renowned for its colour and splendour, but the Artists’ Quarter was something else entirely. A brilliant array of reds, blues and yellows assaulted me as I walked forward, their swirling geometric designs creating a riot of patterns that drew the eye in a hundred directions. Stalls ringed the wide cobbled arena, loaded with square ceramic tiles, while their artists perched behind, painting under the shade of their awnings.
I made my circuit of the arena, taking my time to peruse the tiles on sale. If my apprentice had been here, she would have said I was taking too much time, but I was looking for a very particular combination of tiles. My grand mosaic demanded nothing less than a trio of matching jet black tiles with silver decoration. While this colour combination in itself was not unusual, finding an artist selling three at once would be a challenge. Of course, I could buy from separate artists, but there were unwritten rules to the marketplace. Since the Artists’ Revolt of 1724, no artist would sell less than a set of four. The weight of gold in my pocket, or rather the lack of it, served as a stark reminder that I could not afford to be wasteful with my purchases.
As I stood in hesitation, a young boy ran up to my side and held up a stack of five sky blue tiles painted with a fractal pattern reminiscent of a snowflake. “All five for fivepence,” he said.
I shook my head.
The boy frowned at me, then turned on his heel.
After a second, I called after him. “Wait! If any of your lot have three black tiles, then I might be willing to pay.”
The boy’s frown turned to a grin.
“Only three mind.”
The boy ignored my comment and dashed away, joining the crowd of other young hawkers who made their living by collecting all those extra tiles the artists forced us to buy with their petty rules.
I sighed and made a second circuit of the marketplace. By the time I completed my round, I had still not found the tiles I sought nor had the boy returned. I was about to finally give up, when a flurry of movement caught my eye from across the arena: an artist placing a new set of freshly painted tiles on the fore of their stall. Their jet surface gleamed in the sunlight. I counted, one, two, three. My heart leapt. My feet moved of their own accord. At least two people had to jump out of the way of my rapid march.
Ten yards from the stall, I skidded to a halt. In the seconds it had taken me to cross the marketplace, another customer had emerged from the crowd and now stood admiring my black tiles. I narrowed my eyes. They must have felt my glare, for they turned with a slow-motion swish of their cloak and dropped their hood. A familiar face grinned back at me.
Rival. Nemesis. Enemy.
I smoothed my face into the most placid expression I could muster. “Good day, Azul.”
“And to you, Ravenna.”
“What brings you to market today? I thought Tuesday was your normal day.”
Azul gave me his most charming smile. “And I thought Thursday was yours, but here we both are on Saturday.”
I gave an unamused laugh. Three years ago, after our rivalry brought about the great shattering incident, we had both agreed to take turns visiting the marketplace, but with the Mosaic Awards only a fortnight away, the race was on to complete our masterpieces. Azul was breaking the pact by coming here today, clearly looking to snaffle the best tiles before me. I would have called him out as a cheat, if only I too hadn’t been doing the exact same thing.
“There was a boy here earlier with five snowflakes,” I said, shifting the conversation. “You were looking for something similar, if I remember.”
“That’s kind of you, but I’m just after a single yellow today.”
My eyes flicked towards the stall where my three black tiles lay alongside a single yellow. The adjacent stall also displayed a yellow beside two blues and a red. I bit my tongue before I could say anything rash. If Azul thought I wanted those tiles… well, let’s just say no one wanted a repeat of the great shattering incident.
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding that today,” I said. “Have you made a round of the market yet?”
“Oh, no need. I seem to have a choice here already.” He waved vaguely towards the two stalls. “What are you after today?”
I shrugged. “Oh, you know. This and that.”
Azul smiled knowingly. He reached out a hand and ran one finger over the surface of one of the black tiles. “Excellent! You won’t mind me taking these then.” He signalled to the artist behind the stall.
I willed the expression on my face to neutrality even as my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. Azul paid the artist and collected up the yellow and the three black tiles.
“All the best with your mosaic,” he said, overly cheerful.
“Likewise,” I replied, hoping my own cheer didn’t sound too strained.
Azul turned and walked towards the exit. As he crossed the arena, I saw the boy from earlier returning, pushing his way through the crowds directly towards me. He no longer held the five snowflake tiles. Instead, he clutched a smaller stack in his hands. As the boy twisted to squeeze between two people, sunlight reflected darkly on black paint. Could it be luck was on my side after all?
I immediately caught my breath, time slowing to match the beat of my heart. Azul halted in his stride towards the exit, calling to the boy. The boy deviated from his path, drawn inevitably towards Azul. I watched, helpless, as Azul handed the three black tiles to the boy, doubling the height (and cost) of the stack in his hands. The boy’s eyes brightened.
Time suddenly caught up with itself. The boy ran the rest of the distance to my side before I had even finished processing the disaster I had just witnessed.
“Six blacks for you,” said the boy gleefully. “That’ll be sixpence.”
I turned my attention to him. “I said I only wanted three.”
The boy narrowed his eyes. “You know the rules. It’s all or nothing. You want them or not?”
I sighed. I needed these tiles more than the money. “I’ll take them,” I said, reaching into my rather lightweight purse for six small coins.
I dropped the coins into the boy’s outstretched hand, then took my stack of tiles. When I looked up, I found Azul staring at me across the arena. Until that moment, I could have believed the whole incident to have been a series of unfortunate coincidences. Then Azul waved, and it might as well have been a gauntlet thrown at my feet. I could have cried. I could have shouted my rage at him. Instead, I waved back.
Challenge accepted, Azul. Two can play at this game.