What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  Bowe rubbed his fingers along the wooden balcony railing. It felt great to see the mansion coming back to life. In the courtyard, scrub brush had been cleared away to make room for the sparring. There were still many weeds, but it was getting better. The escay girls had started cleaning up years upon years of dust from the interior one room at a time. It had begun to look less like a derelict building and more like the grand mansion it had once been. Bowe hadn’t received any more gold from Iyra since she’d paid off his loan, so he assumed she was using the rest to pay the escay servants and guards.

  The bet-takers had been impressed with his latest progression along the Path, and Bowe had edged up the lists into the top ten. Heady heights for someone who had been nailed to the bottom for so long. Perhaps Bowe should obtain more of that poison and antidote from Jeniano.

  Jisri had moved up the lists, as well. The White Spider had developed a business that concentrated on selling to the ascora. By all reports, it was wildly successful already. Bowe was indebted to Jisri for saving him from Dulnato, so he was glad to see him doing well, but it meant more competition at the top. The Path was only going to get narrower, and Bowe needed every edge. That was why he needed to compete at this qualifying Harmony match. He had to win in order to be invited to the next ascor event. He couldn’t let the ascor forget him.

  It was time for him to be off. He left the balcony and descended the stairs. In an alcove halfway down, an ornate turquoise vase rested. That was new. Courtesy of Sindar, expensive-looking objects had begun popping up throughout the mansion. In addition, one object that wasn’t from Sindar had appeared in Bowe’s bedroom. It was the lion carving he’d admired on Iyra’s stall. He didn’t understand why she’d left it. Their last parting had been acrimonious, yet she continued to help him.

  Bowe heard the front door opening, and he looked up in time to see Xarcon exiting. “Wait up,” Bowe shouted and ran down the stairs two at a time. Xarcon looked like he wanted to flee, but thought better of it and held the door open for Bowe with a nervous smile.

  “Where are you off to?” Bowe asked. “I’m on my way to that Harmony match I’ve been practicing for.”

  “I’m just going to visit with the street performers.”

  “You should keep training with them. Sindar still gets involved in nocturnal adventures and Edison continues to train for the Eye. We’ve started something great here,” Bowe said, gesturing at the revitalized mansion, “but I’m not sure exactly how to proceed. You may as well do what you enjoy. And the skills you learn could prove useful later on.” Bowe moved into the street. “Come, walk with me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  Xarcon walked alongside Bowe. Although he had joined Bowe’s brotherhood along with Sindar, Thrace, and Edison, he seemed more reticent than the others, almost afraid of Bowe. Bowe wondered if he had said something under the influence of the fever that had offended or frightened Xarcon. “I can’t remember much of what I said when I was sick, but Sorrin told me I said I killed my mother. I’m worried that you might have gotten the wrong impression. I didn’t really kill Chalori, my—well, I guess you could call her my foster mother. I blame myself, but I didn’t actually kill her. She committed suicide.”

  Xarcon studied the ground as they walked; he didn’t react to Bowe’s words.

  “Come on,” Bowe insisted. “Every time I look at you, I know there’s something you want to talk to me about. Let it out.”

  “Okay, let’s talk.” Xarcon pulled Bowe down an alleyway, and Bowe was too surprised to resist. “You told me about the escay organization that you are working with.”

  Helion’s blood, mentioning that was stupid. “I see.” Xarcon’s attitude made sense now. “And the others—Sorrin, Edison, Thrace—did they hear the same?”

  “Thankfully not. You mentioned it when we were alone. I was sure you were going to blurt it out again, but it didn’t happen.” Xarcon didn’t meet Bowe’s gaze, but his expression showed his revulsion at talking about the Guild.

  “I’m surprised you joined our brotherhood after what you learned.”

  “Everyone joined together and I just went along with it. Hoping for some explanation, maybe. I don’t know.” Xarcon swallowed. “You don’t even deny it. I can’t understand how you can just stand there and be so brazen about it. You’re not sick anymore.”

  Bowe paused for a moment before replying. “There’s a picture in a children’s book that I think about a lot.” Bowe let his gaze drift, visualizing it. “It’s a simple black and white photo of a candlestick, but underneath is the caption, ‘Look closer.’ After studying it for a few moments, you can see that it’s actually a picture of two women’s faces studying each other. Once I saw the women’s faces, I could no longer see the candlestick. Do you get my meaning?”

  “That you are still fevered?” Xarcon suggested.

  Bowe laughed. “I was hoping for more of a revelation about perspective. But maybe you are right. Perhaps I am crazy. Though, I bet your feelings toward escay have changed since you started living with them. What if everything you thought you knew when you lived in Lessard Mansion was a lie? What if everything you think you know about the…about that organization is distorted?”

  “Let’s continue walking.” Xarcon led them back onto the main street. “You must be burning up in those clothes.”

  “I’ll need a water hose inserted down my throat so I can be re-inflated when I reach Lessard Mansion.”

  “We can’t have that.” Xarcon inserted a finger into each side of his mouth and whistled. A passing rickshaw pulled over. “No one is walking to Lessard Mansion—certainly not one of the competitors. You know that.”

  Bowe had needed a rickshaw to get to the ascor ball, but he’d hoped to get away without one this time, since he was invited. But Xarcon was right—appearances were important. “I don’t have any money.”

  Xarcon reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coppers, and gave them to the rickshaw puller, then turned back to Bowe. “I still make a few coins. If you can’t figure out another way of making money, I might have to get you out in the square with the performers soon. Always room for a good clown.”

  Bowe swung into the rickshaw. “Thanks for the help. Does that mean you understand what I said? About…you know.”

  “It means I’ll think about it.”

  Bowe nodded and leaned back in the rickshaw, letting the drape fall across the window. It was a huge relief to be out of the direct sun, and Bowe tugged rapidly at the front of his tunic, fanning air against the skin of his chest.

  He wiped sweat from his hairline. He now wished that he’d listened to the tailor. At the time, he’d never considered that he might need to wear the clothing more than once, never mind during the daytime this close to the Infernam. The rickshaw jolted back and forth, only slowing when the puller shouted at people to get out of the way. Bowe took deep breaths; he didn’t want to arrive hot and flustered. He wondered about Xarcon. Would he be too frightened of the Guild to keep helping Bowe? Xarcon was one of the few Greens who respected and liked the escay, so if he couldn’t accept the Guild, who else would?

  “Lessard Mansion, sir,” came a shout, and the rickshaw jolted to a halt. Bowe stepped out of the rickshaw and walked inside, nodding to the marshals on guard. Out of the corner of his eye, Bowe spotted a face he thought he recognized, but when he turned, there was no sign of the man. He frowned. Had that been one of Dulnato’s Defenders? He was likely up to no good, but Bowe couldn’t be sure he’d even seen him, so he shook his head and continued into the mansion.

  Bowe was directed into the ballroom. As soon as he walked in the door, Eolnar dragged him aside. “Sorry about this. I’ve done all I could, but the Raines and Greniers have combined to ensure that one of them will win.”

  Bowe’s spirits fell. “You mean I won’t get to compete?” All the time he’d spent practicing the full four-player version of Harmony with Sorrin, Glil, and Edison now seemed a waste. Bowe looked around—ascor and ascor
a no longer stared at him the way they had at the ball. He was expected this time.

  “No, the players are set. I had no luck in getting the other judges to agree with me. Normally there would be a three-way impasse between the three judges, and I hoped they would choose you as a compromise winner. But there’s a Grenier/Raine pact this year—Legrand will support the Raine candidate.”

  “We haven’t even played yet! How can you judge already?”

  Eolnar tilted his head and looked at Bowe with an amused expression. “We know what the outcome will be, more or less. All four of you are excellent players, so it’ll likely end in a three- or four-way draw.”

  “Then the judges will decide who played the best, and he will be declared the winner,” Bowe said. “But they’ll have made up their mind already.”

  “Exactly. The judges will, of course, decide based on the ascorim, not on how the Harmony game was actually played. That’s just the way the world works.” Eolnar touched Bowe’s arm. “I was looking forward to seeing a Bellanger as the fourth player once more in the Grand Match; it wasn’t the same last time with three Guardians and one marshal.” He shrugged. “But that isn’t to be.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Bowe muttered under his breath as Eolnar moved back into the crowd. There would be no four-way draw, not with the way Bowe intended to play. He might lose horribly, but if he didn’t, the other players would find themselves in a Harmony game such as they’d never played before.

  “Players, take your positions.” Bowe recognized the voice—it was Jeniano’s. Bowe hoped he wasn’t in a poisoning mood.

  The crowd swirled toward the edges of the ballroom, leaving the center vacant except for the large circular table with three marshals sitting at it. A large Harmony set was laid out, and Bowe took the fourth seat. The board was checkered black and gold. In front of Bowe were the azure-colored pieces. Opposite Bowe on the other side of the board were the sea green pieces, and behind them sat a marshal who Bowe recognized. Tokanu gave Bowe a nod. Sitting in front of the silver pieces was the Raine captain of the guards, Myro. Taking control of the scarlet Harmony pieces was a Grenier marshal Bowe didn’t know.

  Behind Tokanu, a high table was set up with three chairs. Jeniano sat on the middle chair. As Bowe watched, Eolnar took his place to the right of Jeniano. Another man took the last seat. Bowe had never seen him before, but knew he must be Legrand, the Eyemaster and third judge. He had dyed his hair scarlet. Bowe had to force himself to stop staring.

  “Welcome, all. Welcome.” Jeniano stood and waited for the room to quiet. “Welcome to the second ever sexennial qualifying match. After the demise of the Bellanger family—current company excluded,” Jeniano said, his eyes flickering to Bowe, “the Guardians needed to decide what to do about the Grand Sexennial Harmony Match. Some argued for the tournament to be canceled, but the Guardians decided to honor the marshals of Arcandis by offering them a chance to play in a qualifying match. Six years ago, the Grenier marshal, Kirande, won the seat. He went on to play in the Grand Sexennial Match against the Guardians and acquitted himself with pride, though he lost. He was later raised to become an ascor by Stenesso.”

  Jeniano paused for a smattering of applause. There was clear division in who clapped. The Raines and Lessards were not happy about the number of marshals raised to ascor by the Greniers. “Today, three marshals have the honor of being selected to play for this great prize. Gentlemen, I’d like you to congratulate Xelu, Tokanu, and Myro.” Each stood for applause and bowed when their name was called. “In addition, we have an unusual fourth player. A baby was saved from Bellanger Mansion twelve years ago on the day the rest of his family died. The Guardians, in their wisdom, decided that the child should be raised in Raine Mansion and be given a chance to walk the Green Path. Having made great strides along that Path, he is here to fight for the Bellanger seat at the Harmony table on the final day before the Infernam.”

  Jeniano gestured to Bowe, who rose to his feet and nodded. No one clapped. Someone coughed; another person cleared his throat. Both sounds were amplified by the silence all around. Bowe quickly sat again.

  “In the event of a draw,” Jeniano continued, “we three judges will decide who played the best and deserves to go forward. We already drew for first move. Scarlet opens. Begin when you are ready.”

  Jeniano sat, and Xelu made his first move, followed by Tokanu, then Myro. Bowe considered. The Grenier made an aggressive move—which was to be expected for the warrior family. Myro’s move, on the other hand, was cautious. This set up the perfect situation for one of the strategic plans Bowe had in mind. An extremely risky plan.

  Bowe’s hand drifted over the board, but he snatched it back again. He could sense everyone watching him, wondering what was taking him so long. A lump congealed at the bottom of his stomach and a tightness squeezed his throat. He had experimented with various unorthodox strategies against the Deadbeats to varying success, but had never tried this exact one. And these marshals were likely superior players. He’d look like a fool if this backfired horribly in front of everyone. Bowe swallowed, reached forward, and quickly moved a piece before he could change his mind.

  A rumble of noise greeted the move. Jeniano leaned forward and studied the board, frowning. Bowe’s move was lateral, almost backwards. Xelu’s lips curved into a smile and he advanced his original piece into Bowe’s territory. The initial stages of Harmony were usually marked by a grab for the center of the board. Xelu saw his opportunity to grab the central areas in front of both his and Bowe’s pieces.

  Bowe found himself with time to glance around the ballroom. He didn’t recognize too many people. The Guardians and higher ranked ascor hadn’t attended. There were very few ascora about, and only a handful of the Greenettes.

  Zofila was here, though. She was laughing in a forced way at a joke from an ascor who sat beside her. Bowe turned back to the table, but kept an eye on her whenever he got the chance. On the Harmony board, the game developed just as Bowe had hoped. Xelu had taken control of most of the central areas, giving the Grenier marshal a good strategic advantage. Bowe began an ineffective attack on Xelu’s flank. Both Tokanu and Myro developed their pieces in a waiting pattern.

  Xelu now launched an attack on Bowe’s position. From his attitude, the Grenier marshal didn’t expect crushing Bowe to take long. Both tactics and strategy were important in Harmony—strategy for the board-level positioning and tactics for the actual close-in fighting. Xelu clearly expected Bowe to be as inept at tactics as he seemed to be in strategy.

  Bowe allowed some of the conversations around him to filter through. There was much talk about the Jarindor spy, who still hadn’t been found. Some thought it too harsh to keep all his crewmates locked up, since they needed to return to their home country before the Infernam, but most considered this the best way to ensure that the Jarindors followed the laws of Arcandis and didn’t come ashore again.

  Xelu’s pieces were lined up against Bowe’s. Bowe began to concentrate more; he leaned over the board, his hands trembling with each move. Xelu’s lips curled into a snarl as he realized his opponent wasn’t easy meat. Bowe was dug into a defensive shell, but couldn’t hold out too long against Xelu’s superior position. He just had to hope—and then it happened. Tokanu and Myro made their moves, attacking Xelu. Bowe sat up straight on his chair. Xelu’s strength was now his weakness. His control of the important central areas made him an appetizing target for the others, and with Bowe proving tougher than expected, Xelu was overextended. Xelu began to redeploy his pieces to deal with the new threat, but Bowe wasn’t going to give him time to regroup.

  Bowe’s pieces on Xelu’s flank now launched a strong attack into the heart of his position. Spectators who had gotten bored and drifted away now returned and pushed in closer. It felt like fifty people were breathing down Bowe’s neck as they studied the board. Bowe won the next few tactical battles against Xelu, and, with both Tokanu and Myro attacking, Xelu’s demise was sudden. He went from hav
ing the most pieces to having none within a handful of turns.

  “And with the elimination of Xelu, we’ll take a short break.” Jeniano looked like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

  Bowe stood up, stretched, and pushed his way out through a knot of onlookers who still studied the board.

  He spotted Zofila darting away from her companion and moved to intercept her. She turned sharply when he touched her shoulder.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be playing a game?”

  “Life’s a game,” Bowe said. “We are always playing at something or another. How goes your game?”

  “Since when do you care about what I do?”

  “I was watching you talk to the ascor you were with. You didn’t seem happy.”

  She was about to retort when her face seemed to fall into itself, and she burst into tears.

  “Hey, hey—now there.” No one else had noticed her quiet sobbing, and Bowe put his arm around her and eased her out of the ballroom and into a corridor.

  He waited, his hand resting on her upper arm while she dried her eyes. “You have some strange effect on me,” she said. “I never cry, but I’ve met you twice and I’ve cried both times.”

  Bowe studied her. “I don’t believe you never cry.” Her tears came too easily.

  She laughed at that, or tried to. It turned into a sob, and she buried her face into her hands and wept once more. After a few moments, she rubbed her hands down her face, wiping the tears away. “Right, I’m done crying. No time for it. My makeup must be a mess.”

  That was an understatement—she looked like someone had dipped a mop into several vats of makeup and scrubbed her face with it. “It could use a touch-up.”

  She laughed, and this time it didn’t turn to tears. “You’re right. I cry more than I should. Most nights. But not in public, except with you.”