"The Inn at the Crossroads" "If you want him back, you'll have to roll for him. More wine?" "Roll?" She gave the reaper a skeptical look. "Dice. You roll the high number, you can have him." He picked up the wooden cup on the table and shook out a pair of small ivory cubes, then gestured to the captive bound behind his chair. "But if *I* roll the high number, both of your souls become mine." She narrowed her eyes. "Fine," she said firmly. Little did the black-clad skeleton across from her know, her daddy taught her a great deal more about gambling than shuffling a deck of cards. A few minutes later, Death was muttering to himself. "Best three out of five?"