by Darren Shan
Urszula’s lips purse as she makes an especially long sucking sound. The noise reminds me of the noise the gargoyle was making in King Lloyd’s chambers, and I shiver at the memory.
The empress draws a 5 and Mandy winces.
“Awkward,” Urszula sings. “Bang in the middle. No advantage in going either high or low. It’s all down to the sharpness of your eye now. Have you come to grips with the beads? Can you force it to stop on the number you need?”
“I doubt it,” Mandy laughs. “I’ve gone for a specific number every time, but I’ve only called it right once.”
“Well, if you’ve done it once, you can do it again,” Urszula says kindly.
Mandy thinks a moment, then mutters, “High.”
She draws her handle and watches the bead spinning. She waits longer than on any other turn, fifteen seconds… twenty… thirty…
Urszula is making a distracted whistling sound now, her eyes bright as she waits to see what will come up.
Finally Mandy sends her hand shooting forward and the bead comes to a halt.
The number 7 is showing.
Mandy whoops and punches the air. Urszula groans but graciously embraces the younger woman. Everyone is applauding, even those who bet against the challenger.
“My assistants will arrange the trip to Niffelheim,” Urszula promises as one of the ladies takes Mandy by the elbow. “Have fun in the fires.” Chuckling, the benign-looking empress faces the crowd. “See? It’s easy. A good eye or a few lucky spins and anything you desire can be yours. So, who’s next?”
13
Another woman steps forward. She doesn’t give her name, but brings a beautifully carved crystal vase, which she wants to wager for a necklace that she saw Urszula wear at a ball a few weeks earlier.
Urszula doesn’t concentrate so keenly this time, even talking to her assistants while she plays. The woman wins by five spins to two – they skip the final spins – and an assistant takes her away to fetch the necklace. Urszula sighs and says she’ll have to go shopping for a replacement, but doesn’t seem too bothered by the loss.
A man is next up, and Urszula’s smile fades as she greets him.
“Earl Vlad,” she says. “You come to me again.”
“I’m nothing if not persistent,” the man says slyly.
“You’re still after poor Marjorie?”
“I am indeed,” he beams, “and I’m willing to bet not one or two, but three devisers from Diamond.”
The empress looks impressed. “Devisers from Diamond are highly valuable. Why risk them?” she asks.
“I want to create a glass dome for my palace, and Marjorie’s the best,” Vlad says.
“I don’t know,” Urszula purrs. “There was a time when I would have risked much for a deviser from Diamond, but now that so many of them have left their homeland and are roaming the realms…”
“There aren’t that many,” Vlad notes, “and having enjoyed the warmth of King Lloyd’s rule, I’m not sure they’d be in a rush to succumb to your cooler methods.”
“Are you saying I’m a cruel ruler?” Urszula asks frostily.
“Not at all,” Vlad says smoothly, “but you can’t deny that you rule with a firmer hand than Lloyd. Maybe I’m wrong, and his people have been beating a path to your door. If that’s the case, send me packing and I’ll take my devisers with me.”
Urszula glares at him, then laughs grudgingly. “You’re a rogue,” she says.
“That’s why we get on so well,” he grins. “Is it a bet?”
“Yes,” she says, then points at him. “But I’ve lost the last two games, and it’s rare that I lose three in a row. Are you sure you’re willing to risk so much when I’m potentially at my most dangerous?”
“You’re always at your most dangerous,” Vlad chuckles, and steps forward.
The earl spins high, having called low. He curses and immediately spins again.
Urszula wins the second round and laughs with delight.
Vlad wins the third round and looks a bit more comfortable, taking a break before spinning for a fourth time.
The earl wins again. Things are getting tense. Urszula isn’t taking this lightly any longer and is fully focused on the beads.
The empress draws a 4. Vlad grunts, “Higher,” and sets his bead spinning. Urszula watches closely as he prepares to make his move. She’s whistling a few out of tune notes, repeated over and over.
Vlad drives his handle forward and the bead stops on a 2. His face reddens.
“Bad luck,” Urszula purrs.
The earl shoots her a dirty look, then spins again. This time he draws a 6.
“Lower,” Urszula says, and takes her time, letting her bead spin for several long, teasing seconds. She’s switched from a whistling sound to a sucking sound, but again it’s a tuneless noise, repeated while the bead is spinning.
She stops and the number 3 is revealed.
“Four-two,” she says as an assistant pins another yellow disc to the Spinner.
“I can count,” Vlad snarls. He’s sweating now.
“Marjorie will be pleased she doesn’t have to switch kingdoms,” Urszula says.
“It isn’t over yet,” the earl barks. “Spin, damn you.”
Urszula winks, then pulls her handle. She doesn’t look at the bead as it spins, but stares at Vlad. She doesn’t even check when she stops the bead. Vlad tries not to check either, but can’t help himself and steals a glance.
“Well?” the empress smiles.
“Lower,” is his only answer as he spins.
Urszula still doesn’t look away, but Vlad refuses to meet her gaze now, staring at the bead with a pained expression. He grunts happily when he stops it, then says out of the side of his mouth, “Four-three.”
“I love a close match,” Urszula laughs, then stares at the Spinner again as Vlad takes the first turn of the eighth round. This time she makes a clicking noise with her tongue as his bead is spinning, and it sounds like one of Winston’s cuckoo clocks ticking in his base in the wrap zone.
When Vlad stops his bead, the number 1 is face out.
The earl’s shoulders slump.
“Oh dear,” Urszula says. “It isn’t your day, is it?”
“Just spin,” Vlad sighs, then cocks an eyebrow at her. “And forgive me for the biggest roar of laughter ever recorded if you draw a 1.”
Urszula giggles and pulls her handle. “That’s what I like about you,” she says as the bead spins. “You take defeat in your stride.”
“I’ve had a lot of practise,” he chuckles, resigned to the loss. “May I?”
Vlad chose the right side of the Spinner, so he’s been holding his handle with his left hand, while Urszula has been next to him, using her right hand. Now he moves his right hand across until it’s resting just above hers, and looks at her questioningly.
“Why not?” the empress giggles, and he puts his hand over hers and slowly slides it forward. The bead comes to a stop on the number 3.
“So near and yet so far,” Vlad says with a smile, releasing her hand.
“Isn’t that life summed up in a nutshell?” Urszula says, then tells him she’ll take good care of the devisers and promises not to gloat when he visits again.
Everyone around me is discussing the game, commenting on how unlucky Vlad was and how he’s such a good loser, marvelling at how Urszula always pulls it out of the bag in the big showdowns.
I don’t engage in the conversations. I’m shell-shocked, because I’ve figured something out. I might be wrong – the next few games will tell – but if I’m right, the empress does cheat, and I know not only that she manipulates the Spinner, but also how she does it.
But that’s not the reason my knees are trembling.
They’re shaking because a voice is whispering inside my head, the voice I first heard that day on the bridge when the killers set their sights on me, and it’s telling me that maybe I can sec
retly work the Spinner too…
14
The fourth and fifth games are nothing affairs, played for low stakes. Urszula wins one by a wide margin, loses the other by a similarly wide margin. I don’t hear the noises that I’m listening for in either game, and get the sense that the results truly have been random.
Her sixth opponent is a would-be governor. Maiko tells me that Suanpan is part of a sprawling kingdom, and a band of people in a collection of zones are keen to break away and form a federation of their own. They declared their independence decades ago, but it hasn’t been recognised by the empress.
Aarav, her opponent, says he wants to gamble for the right to be called governor of the disputed zones. Maiko explains that if he’s successful, it will make it harder for Urszula to deny the federation’s legitimacy.
Urszula listens to Aarav with a glowering expression.
“A bold move,” she sneers when he finishes. “I admire the thinking behind it, but what are you prepared to risk?”
“My freedom,” Aarav says. “One hundred years of servitude.”
“Not enough,” Urszula says. “I require two hundred.”
Aarav flinches, but nods.
“And not your servitude,” she continues, “but your people’s loyalty.”
Aarav frowns. “I don’t follow.”
“If you lose, those who follow you have to agree not to raise the issue of secession for the next two centuries.”
Aarav shakes his head. “I have no mandate to trade away their demands.”
Urszula shrugs. “Then go back and tell them you failed to negotiate terms.”
Aarav hesitates and looks over his shoulder to where a small group of his kinsmen are quickly discussing the situation. One of them makes a few hand signals. Aarav grimaces and faces Urszula again.
“Fifty years,” he says with disgust.
“One hundred and fifty,” she counters.
“A century,” he says firmly. “If I lose, we’ll park our demands for a full hundred years. That’s a massive concession, so ask no more of us.”
Urszula mulls it over, then accepts the terms, and the pair face off on the Spinner.
It’s a tight, tense contest. Urszula loses the first two spins, then wins the next three. Aarav wins the next two, before Urszula wins the penultimate spin, and then the final one, to triumph five points to four.
“That was a lot closer than I would have liked,” she laughs as a dejected Aarav trudges back to his crestfallen supporters.
Urszula’s seventh game is another minor match. I don’t pay any attention to it, because I’ve gathered all the information I need.
Urszula made little noises throughout the game with Aarav. She hummed, sucked and whistled during every spin, his as well as hers, subtly directing proceedings like an orchestra conductor, setting up the scores exactly the way she wanted.
The noises were very similar to those she makes the rest of the time when she’s playing, so I can understand why no one noticed the difference. I wouldn’t have either, if this hadn’t come so soon after my encounter with the gargoyle in King Lloyd’s palace.
I know what the Spinner is now, and how she tweaks it in her favour, but rather than share that knowledge with the others, I’m having a lengthy internal debate. The voice from the bridge is telling me what I must do. I reply, saying I’m scared and not experienced enough for something like this, but the voice tells me that if I truly want to help Inez, I have to stand up and fight for her.
The seventh match concludes – I don’t even know who won – and the holder of the eighth yellow ball is called. Oleg sighs. “Here I go,” he says and stands, his legs trembling.
“Wait,” I stop him, and I rise too.
“Archie?” a startled Inez asks from behind her scarf.
I ignore her. “Earlier, Inez and Maiko said any one of us could take the ball and go up there in your place, right?”
“Yes,” Oleg says with a puzzled frown, as the number 8 is called again by an impatient assistant.
I hold out a trembling hand.
“Archie!” Inez snaps, lurching to her feet. “What are you doing?”
Oleg is staring at my hand, the ball clamped tight in his left fist.
“Please,” I whisper as the assistant calls the number 8 again and adds that this will be the last time she’ll call it.
“Archie, no,” Inez says, starting to panic. She tries to grab me, but Cal lays a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sure Archibald knows what he’s doing,” the giant says with touching faith.
“He’s risking everything,” Inez pants. “We can’t let him fall into her clutches. I need him even more than I need Baba Jen.”
“I know,” I tell her, smiling thankfully at Cal, “but I’ve a better chance than Oleg of beating her.”
“What are you talking about?” Inez spits. “You’ve never played this. You’d never even heard of the Spinner before we came in.”
“That’s right,” I say again, reaching out to unfurl Oleg’s fingers and take the ball from them. He doesn’t protest.
“Very well,” the assistant shouts. “Since no one’s stepped up, we’ll put –”
“Hold it,” I yell. “I’m coming.” Then I whisper, “Trust me, Inez. I know what the Spinner is, and I think I can turn it against its mistress.”
“What do you mean?” she says, bewildered. “The Spinner’s a gambling machine. We all know that.”
“No,” I grin sickly. “It’s being used that way, but it’s really a lock.”
There isn’t time to explain any more, so as a shaking Inez slumps beside a beaming Cal, I trot down the steps, ball in hand, lump of fear lodged firmly in my throat, to risk everything in a showdown with the empress of Suanpan.
SIX — THE HOURGLASS
15
I hand the ball to a frowning assistant, then present myself to a bemused Urszula. “Hi,” I wheeze as I make the greet with a shaking hand. “I’m…” I pause. I was going to announce myself as Archie, but something loftier seems more in line. “Archibald.”
I don’t tell her my Merged surname, as that would tip her off to the fact that I’m a locksmith. (Even though I still don’t really consider myself a locksmith, despite the fact that everybody else here does.) She probably wouldn’t be wary of me even if she knew – my inner voice tells me that the vast majority of locksmiths wouldn’t recognise the Spinner for what it really is – but best not to take any chances.
“Archibald,” Urszula says, returning the greet. “I was under the impression that I’d be playing a thesp called Oleg.”
“Nerves got the better of him,” I mutter, “so I agreed to step in.”
“You’re with the thesps?” she asks.
“I’m new to the team,” I reply honestly.
“An actor?” she asks.
“No,” I say, “but I’m considering a career change.”
“You’ll have to put your career plans on hold if I defeat you on the Spinner,” she laughs, then claps commandingly. Baba Jen appears beside us a few moments later. The diminutive actress is scowling up at me.
“I think this young gentleman has come to play for your freedom, little cherub,” Urszula says. “Am I correct, Archibald?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“What’s your impression of your knight in shining armour?” the empress asks Baba Jen.
“I’m doomed,” she growls.
Urszula stifles a laugh, dismisses the actress, then faces me. “This is no trifling matter, Archibald. Jen gambled the rest of her life away, so if you play me and lose, you’ll have to join her in service to me, and death will be your only way out.”
I gulp. “Couldn’t we set a shorter term?”
Urszula shakes her head. “Jen is mine, and I won’t let her go without a fight. Understand?”
I understand all too well — she has the power to twist the Spinner any way she wants, and she
’s going to use it to crush me, to make sure that Baba Jen stays put.
The empress is waiting for a reply, so I nod shakily.
“Do you accept the risks?” she asks.
“Yes,” I croak, then flash her a weak smile. “I’m feeling lucky.”
“What a coincidence,” Urszula says. “I feel lucky too. To be clear, if you win, Baba Jen walks free. If you lose, she remains in my employ, and you will also have to serve me for the rest of your life. Agreed?”
I’m tempted to back down, but that voice – that damn, elusive, frustrating voice – says, “Do it.”
“Agreed,” I whimper.
“Then step forward,” the empress says, “and let’s find out which of us Lady Luck truly favours today.”
I gulp and approach the menacing-looking Spinner.
“Would you prefer the left or right side?” Urszula asks.
“I’ll go left,” I say and grasp the handle, which is carved out of wood, worn smooth by the sweaty grip of countless hands over the decades.
Urszula steps up next to me, taking hold of the handle to my right. “I assume you’d prefer if I went first?” she asks with a sly smile.
Her smugness annoys me. She’s used to winning and assumes that everyone will lunge at the smallest of advantages. So, even though it’s senseless to reject the offer, I sniff and say, “I’m happy to lead.”
People in the audience murmur, intrigued, and I imagine a lot of bets are being laid against me. If Urszula is surprised, she masks it, and simply tilts her head again. “In your own good time,” she purrs.
I spend several seconds squeezing the handle. I wriggle and flex my fingers, letting them settle into a naturally comfortable position.
Then I pull the handle.
The top bead on my half of the Spinner starts to spin. I stare at it without blinking, and spot – or imagine I spot – the occasional number flashing by, but there’s no way of predicting where it will stop. I can tell within a couple of seconds that, despite what they might convince themselves, nobody has ever won by visually mastering the spinning beads.
