Centaur, Minotaur, Satyr Fight!

“Alright,” Marlin said, “we’ll do it the old-fashioned way. BUT winner gets to be baiter.”

 “All hands pair off!” the first mate ordered in a surly, commanding voice. Everybody grabbed a partner. “Now, we’re gonna make it quick, simple, and fair. Best two out of three. No unicorns, either variety. Winners pair up, start again. Any questions?”

As everyone started moving, Tester realized he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Tang,” he hissed, “what are we doing?”

“Best two out of three: Centaur, Minotaur, Satyr,” she explained. 

“What’s that?” Tester asked. 

“You really are a nowhere kid if you don’t know this one,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, it’s easy. We say ‘centaur, minotaur, satyr.’ Then we each make one of the three hand signs.” 

She held her hand flat, palm down. “Centaur,” she said, then, “Minotaur,” as she balled her fist. Finally, “Satyr,” she said as she stuck out her pointer and pinky fingers. “Got it?” she asked.

Tester shook his head.

Tang sighed and started over. She flattened her hand. “Centaur,” she said, “because supposedly they are the flattest, most straight-faced kelp munchers in the world, and they have flat backs. It beats minotaur.” She made a fist. “Long range weapons,” she explained, as if Tester was an idiot. 

“Minotaur,” she said, shaking the fist at Tester. “Because they like to beat things with their fists. It beats satyr, for obvious reasons.” As she said satyr, she again extended her two outside fingers. “And satyr,” she repeated, wiggling her fingers. “because… well… you know how they are, or maybe you don’t, but I don’t have time to explain it. They beat centaur,” she said as she flattened her hand again, “because they make ’em laugh, and there is no greater shame in the world to a centaur than to laugh at a satyr.”

She nodded. “Got it?”

“Sort of,” Tester said.

“Just pick a symbol after we say satyr.”

They counted off the three symbols and each held their hand in a shape. Despite his confusion Tester, was surprised to find that he beat her. 

He beat his next opponent too. And the next, and the next. There was something about satyr that seemed surprisingly reliable. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was winning, over and over again. It almost felt out of order with nature for him to be so successful, but he reveled in it.

Before long he found himself in the finals. He’d never been in the finals of anything in his life. He paired off with a burly sailor two heads taller than himself, bewildered at how he’d made it this far.

“Centaur. Minotaur. Satyr,” they said, and held their symbols. Tester’s opponent took the round with a satyr. Tester cursed under his breath, feeling that he should have stuck with his reliable starter and fearing his luck might have run out.

“Centaur. Minotaur. Satyr!” They tied with a pair of minotaurs.

“Centaur. Minotaur. Satyr.” The boy won with a satyr! A one-to-one tie. The gathered crew “Ooooed” in amusement and leaned closer. Tester couldn’t believe his luck; he actually had a chance at this. His palms were sweaty. He felt jittery and excited. He’d never been so close to winning anything in his life. He was so close! One move away.

“Centaur. Minotaur. Satyr!” They tied again with centaurs. The rest of the crew laughed, getting more invested now, nudging each other and placing bets.

They tied again, then again, and again. The game lost its sense of chaotic luck as they each tried to think one step ahead and remember two steps behind in the short moments between rounds. By their eighth tie, the circle of sailors around them was so tightly bunched they were sharing body heat. They yelled with gathering enthusiasm and anticipation at each consecutive tie. Tester couldn’t take it anymore; the suspension and anticipation were too much, he wanted to win so badly. Brimming with nervous energy, he burned his power marker.

Time slowed; Tester’s mind cleared and the world opened up before him. 

Their last two ties had been flat-palmed centaurs. Before that it had been minotaur, so Tester reasoned that the most obvious choice was satyr. It was the longest since being used, and if one of them threw a third centaur trying to be clever, then satyr would win. But that made satyr the most obvious choice, so perhaps it wasn’t the best choice. Perhaps minotaur instead, to try to catch the other player in an obvious satyr. 

Tester noticed the look in his opponent’s eyes, the desperation. He noticed the twitch of the sailor’s hand, watched the muscles bunch and flex.

The crew shouted in unison, “Centaur! Minotaur! Satyr!”