"Nothing happened, you old fool!" Nakatoshi muttered.

"Who's an old fool?" The old man glared. "You nearly got killed when you sold the name of the favorite in the examinations for two strings of coppers a piece, and then another fellow won."

"That wasn't my fault," cried Nakatoshi. "We went over the grades of all the candidates carefully, and there was only one possibility. But then they picked a fellow who never got above a 'satisfactory' on anything except calligraphy! It was a fluke, I tell you. Anyway, that can't happen again now that we handle the bets ourselves."

Tora laughed and patted Nakatoshi's shoulder. "Mistakes happen in the best business. As for me, I look forward to placing a small wager with you as soon as I check out who's who."

They parted on friendly terms. On his way out, Tora walked past the poor student, who was just putting away his broom. For a moment he considered leaving him a few coppers as a tip, but then he remembered that, for all his politeness, the youngster had not addressed him as "sir," and went in search of a new quarry. Eventually he strayed into the large enclosure which contained the student dormitories. At this hour these were empty except for a couple of slovenly women with brooms and pails. Tora ignored them and crossed an open area dotted with pine trees and small shrubs, heading towards the service buildings. The largest of these was the kitchen: empty, filthy and filled with the rancid stench of moldy grain and rotting fish.

The cook and his helpers were taking their ease under a large paulownia tree behind the building. They were seated in a circle around a cracked bowl, pitching coppers towards it. A set of dice made the rounds and small heaps of copper coins lay before each man. There were four rough-looking adults and a handful of scruffy youngsters. When they saw Tora, they snatched up the money and jumped up.

"Don't disturb yourselves on my account," grinned Tora. "I'd be the last man to begrudge a working man his well-earned rest. For that matter, I like a good game myself."

The cook, recognizable by his girth and the many food stains on his clothes, was a cross-eyed brute who pursed his thick lips and looked Tora up and down suspiciously. The others settled back down and waited. Tora hitched up his gown, saying, "Better not get this new outfit dirty. My master'll have it out of my wages," and sat down cross-legged amongst them. "What're the rules?"

"You in service then?" asked the fat cook.

Tora nodded and began to count his coppers into neat little piles. The others watched avidly.

"Do a bit of gambling, do you?" the cook wanted to know.

"Not for a while. I was a soldier once and a buddy showed me how to roll the dice, but it was against the rules then."

The cook grunted and flopped down with the dull thud of a sack of rice. "Glad to have you," he growled. "Here, you can check the dice! To make sure we're on the up and up. You roll for the number of tries at the bowl. Hit the bowl with a copper and all the misses are yours."

"What do you mean?" Tora received the wooden objects and stared at them with a frown. They were crude but had not been tampered with. He handed them back. "They look like dice to me." He eyed the bowl, which was quite small and about ten paces away. The dirty ground around it was covered with copper coins. "I've never seen the game played like that, though."

Someone snickered, but the cook snapped, "Enough talking! Let's play!"

They were avid gamblers, but not particularly skilled at tossing for the bowl. Tora played judiciously, gauging the distance and the weight of the coins, slowly losing his pile of coppers before beginning to win steadily.

"Hey, you're getting good at this!" cried one of the men.

Tora boasted that he would not miss for the next ten tosses. They proposed a bet. Tora lost, but proposed other bets, which he won more often than not, until he sat before a small mountain of coppers, while his companions were dropping out of the game.

They sat with long faces. The cook glowered at Tora and muttered. Finally he snarled, "The bastard lied to us!"

Tora looked up from counting his coppers. "What did you say?"

The cook blustered, "You said you had no skill at the game."

"Did I not tell you that a buddy taught me how to play? Of course I know how to roll the dice," Tora said scornfully. "And I learned to toss pebbles when I was a kid."

"Well, you made it sound like you were green," whined another fellow. "We were just having a friendly game, and now you cleaned us out. What'll we tell our wives?"

Tora saw no reason why he could not succeed with the same method twice. "I tell you what," he said. "Just among friends and to show my appreciation for a pleasant game, why don't I use some of the winnings to treat you fellows to some really good wine?"

Their faces brightened instantly. "Here, runt!" shouted the cook to the smallest boy. "Run to the wine shop by the Left City Hall! They've got the strong stuff."

Tora scooped up his winnings, carefully counted out a generous amount and turned it over to the boy. "Get plenty!" he instructed, "and some tasty pickled radish to go with it."

There was a murmur of appreciation. The cook remarked that there were still some true gentlemen left in the world.

While they were waiting, Tora introduced himself as the new professor's servant and received, in return, information about the university, its staff, its professors and its students. The point of view on this occasion differed markedly from that held by the clerks. The kitchen staff and the groundskeepers and sweepers regarded students and faculty as inconsiderate nuisances who made their lives a constant misery. As soon as the wine, a very strong brew indeed, had made the rounds, their tongues loosened in the most helpful manner.

"I can see," Tora remarked to one of the sweepers, "that those youngsters are a lot of trouble to clean up after."

The man responded with a long list of abominations, but the cook snorted. "You think he's got trouble? The lazy rascal goes home at sundown. If you want to hear about trouble, it's me and my old woman you got to talk to. We're kept awake all night with the tricks those cursed students get up to."

"What sorts of tricks?" Tora asked, filling cups all around, but skipping his own.

"Oh, climbing the walls to get out. Smuggling in loose women. Breaking into the pantry and stealing food. Burning candles at night and setting the place on fire. You name it, they do it. Every night my old woman has to do a bed check, looking for their doxies."

"Doesn't trust you to do it, does she?" Tora remarked, grinning broadly.

This caused raucous mirth. One of the workers cried, "Him? He's so lazy, he wouldn't know what to do with a girl in his bed 'cept sleep. His old woman does the checking 'cause he's sacked out before the rest of us ever go home."

The cook glared, rolling his crossed eyes terribly. "Liar," he growled. "All day long I'm cooking to keep the little bastards' bowls filled! They eat like starved rats and beg for leftovers. Most of 'em don't have two coppers to rub together. Makes you wonder how they get the women! There's always a couple hungry enough to help out in the kitchen for a bit of extra food or a couple of coppers. It's my kindness! They steal more food than they're worth."

Tora thought this another example of how dubious a thing an education was. "If they are so poor, how come they get treated like gentlemen?" he asked.