Gambit of the Gods

by Ashley, Angela

  Maren enters her room and bows. “Would you like me to bring in your breakfast now?”

  “Yes please, Maren.”

  He brings in the tray from outside her door and carries it through Wilde, who just materialized beside her bed. Our spirits embrace for a long moment. Watching Kella spread redberry preserves onto a slab of freshly-baked bread, he asks, “Were you able to reach her?”

  “I was able to talk to her and warn her, but she won’t believe I exist until she finds out about Kliara’s pregnancy.”

  Wilde looks at me questioningly.

  “Kliara hasn’t been able to conceive, but I overheard her telling her Elder Mother she was pregnant. They haven’t told anyone else because they want to make sure she doesn’t lose it first.”

  “Oh, I see. Clever. That way she’ll have to believe you.” His dark eyes are approving, making my heart leap. He’s so incredibly handsome. What does he see in me?

  “What is Jaereth doing today?”

  “One of the Great Fountains isn’t working properly, so he’s been sent to fix it since he’s so good with his hands.” I feel his pride in the boy. “He told Kisto he might sneak over later to check on Kella at the Jemleyn Tea.”

  “He’d best stay well out of sight,” I warn, and Wilde nods. I sense annoyance from him, not directed at me but at his young Chosen. From what I understand, Jaereth can be quite headstrong, and not as cautious as he should be. If he’s caught by the wrong person, ogling Kella at the Tea, he could very easily be joining Berit at the hanging.

  “I’d better go and keep an eye on him,” he says glumly. “I wish we could spend more time together.” His frustration at being apart from me warms my heart like a fire lit in a cold room.

  “I do too. Maybe we’ll see each other later, if Jaereth has his wish.”

  He grins hopefully, then drawls, “Look for us skulking around later then, my love.” We embrace once more, and he travels back to Jaereth.

  Two more moons, I muse. Two more moons of peace and tranquility before all hell breaks loose and those we love may lose their lives or find them irrevocably changed. But we’ve done what we could to protect them.

  If you’re really there, God or Goddesses, I pray, please keep them both safe.

    

  Kella and the rest of House Klia arrive at House Jemleyn just before midday, walking around the lovely old manse to the fields out back where the festivities have already begun. High Elder Kylara directs the slaves on where to place the food, sweet tea, and desserts we brought to share, then hurries over to greet High Elder Jalessa of House Jemleyn and her daughters. The High Elders of House Beltarra, House Amalria, House Mystalora, House Stalia and House Chalaena are seated with them in the shade of a huge old willow tree, drinking sparkling wine and conversing. Musicians play unobtrusive music nearby. I have no interest in listening to the High Elders’ false witty banter and hierarchical raillery, but I need to see if they have any inkling of what the Resistance has planned for tomorrow.

  “I half-wondered if you would come today, dear,” High Elder Ashayel simpers, peering up at High Elder Kylara from underneath her absurd feathered hat and fanning her ample bosom languidly. “You threw such a tantrum during our last Meeting, I thought you might still be in hysterics.”

  I bristle at the well-placed barb, for Kylara used to be my Chosen. But to her credit, she only smiles condescendingly, accepting the wine and chair proffered by a House Jemleyn slave. Her green eyes are cold as she fixes them on her younger rival.

  “Oh darling, unlike you, I never get hysterical. You will recall that I’m not the one who raised my voice during our little disagreement. Apparently, you’re still quite distraught over it. You’ll no doubt outgrow these unseemly fits as you mature, as I have.”

  High Elder Ashayel’s comely face flashes scarlet to match her dress at this insult. She opens her mouth to retort, but High Elder Malisanth cuts in smoothly.

  “Now, now,” she admonishes, laying her black lace gloved hand on High Elder Ashayel’s shoulder and smiling at them both in the pacifying manner that is her trademark, “I see no need to bring up old business. Embrace one another as friends and let us enjoy this day of leisure free of petty squabbles, I beg you.”

  Her eyes are oddly compelling as she stands to urge the hesitant women to approach one another, and at last they do, their embrace fleeting and obviously insincere.

  “Excellent,” High Elder Jalessa croons. I wonder if she even senses the hatred still flowing from both ladies like poison. She’s only been High Elder of her House for a few moons since her mother, Jeslyn, died so unexpectedly, so she’s still learning who are allies and who are old enemies, but she’s foolish and self-absorbed, to boot. “I see that the other High Elders have made it here at last. Who’s ready to play Hoops and Strikers? Delsia dear,” she calls over to the approaching High Elder in brown, “we have need of the Standings.”

  High Elder Delsia, a perennially sour expression her only notable feature, leaves the other latecomers behind in her sensible, low-heeled boots and joins the circle of High Elders beneath the willow. Opening her notebook with a flourish, she reads in a monotone, “Mystalora, Klia, Amalria, Laela, Stalia, Beltarra, Elmaya, Damalis, Jemleyn, Chalaena, Isalania.”

  The other High Elders amble up, accepting flutes of sparkling wine from silent slaves as if they had appeared out of thin air. In a sense, they have, I muse sadly—slaves are like furniture to them, merely there for convenience’s sake, otherwise not noticed or acknowledged.

  “Ah yes,” High Elder Jalessa prattles, adjusting the beribboned stays of her brushed silk, pale pumpkin-colored dress ostentatiously. “Congratulations to House Stalia for their bold leap in the Standings this moon; well done, my darling!”

  High Elder Shaylie brushes a stray strand of golden-blonde hair back under her pearl-pink, three-cornered hat and embraces Jalessa for a long moment in greeting. Too long a moment, in point of fact—everyone knows that Jalessa and Shaylie are much more than friends, and have been for some time now. It hadn’t been a problem until Jalessa became High Elder.

  As Queensrealm social custom dictates, love affairs between Houses are not to be openly acknowledged, though they’re gleeful fodder for gossip behind closed doors. Sexual relationships between Ladies are the norm, but are kept discreet or even hidden so as not to be seen as giving the Houses involved an unfair advantage. Because of the ever-changing alliances and enmities between the Houses, a heart attachment can be a very powerful weapon one can use to rise in the Standings.

  The Standings are an anonymous voting system that the Houses participate in every moon cycle. Each House has ten Tokens, one each for every other House, to place into a locked box divided into five compartments. Each compartment is marked with a different letter—an ‘S’ for Style, a ‘P’ for Productivity, an ‘A’ for Adoration or popularity, a ‘C’ for Competition, and an ‘E’ for Entertainment. Though there are eleven Houses, there are only ten Tokens because a House may not vote for itself. Two tokens must be placed within each compartment. The locked boxes are opened by the Council of Eleven and the results plotted on the Standings Wall. Productivity ranks highest and gives each House receiving that vote five points each, followed by Adoration with four points, Entertainment with three points, Style with two points, and Competition with one point. Of course, most Houses will vote based on their current loyalties and rivalries with other Houses as much as on their true achievements, so unproductive Houses that curry favor with multiple Houses can still rise high, while unpopular yet productive Houses can still fall.

  At the end of eleven moon cycles, the Houses gather together at the Field of Honor for the Standings Ceremony. There, each House may present any new discoveries, inventions or creations they wish to share with the other Houses. Significant additional points are given by a vote of the Council and added to the Standings for each. These Standings numbers become final for the next eleven moon cycles. They dictate not only a House’s social s
tanding, but also result in financial awards as well as limiting the number of visits the members of each House can make to the mating temples. Houses that remain low in the Standings for several Standings Ceremonies can see a steady decline in their reputation, wealth, and numbers. But the fortunes of different Houses rise and fall with every moon cycle as alliances form and fall out, so Houses are never on the top or bottom for long. The current Standings are less than a moon old.

  The reason High Elder Kylara threw the ‘tantrum’ that High Elder Ashayel mentioned was because of House Klia’s latest invention, ‘kolza oil’. It’s a slow-burning lamp oil that was before now an unused by-product of a process House Klia implements to create feed-cakes for livestock. House inventions and discoveries become the sole property of the House that created them, to be added to the list of products they alone can sell in their Barter Booths.

  If the item is deemed a luxury, it may be sold for whatever price that House wishes to name; but, if the item is deemed a necessity, it must be sold at a much lower price agreed upon by the High Elder Council so that even the poorest Houses can afford it. Kolza oil, as the first lamp oil created in the Queensrealm that is virtually smokeless, burning slowly and safely, was unfortunately voted a necessity. Even though it raised House Klia to second place in the Standings for the first time in High Elder Kylara’s lifetime, she is understandably bitter that her profits from it will be greatly limited by the decision of the Council.

  Meanwhile, House Amalria has fallen to third place for the first time in High Elder Ashayel’s lifetime. Because the rivalry between House Kila and House Amalria is one of the most ancient and abiding, Ashayel, in her bitter jealousy, has taken every opportunity since the ruling of the Council to attack Kylara over it.

  Klia is sandwiched between the ‘serious and boring’ Houses, Damalis and Elmaya, and the ‘creative but simple’ Houses, Beltarra and Jemleyn, which together form a loosely-allied voting group called the ‘southern alliance’. Meanwhile, Mystalora and Chalaena stand between the ‘wealthy leader’ Houses, Amalria and Stalia, and the ‘fun-loving, high producing’ Houses, Isalania and Laela. They form a loosely-allied voting block called the ‘northern alliance’. House Stalia has been steadily climbing the Standings lately, despite the fact that they haven’t had a new invention for some time. Their rise could be the result of their prime location, their social status, or the suspected new alliance between Stalia and Jemleyn because of their High Elders’ romantic dalliance.

  If it’s the latter, it further weakens the position of the smaller, southern alliance. This is why Kylara, Bryselle, and Emmaleyn all glance at each other and roll their eyes as Jalessa and Shaylie embrace.

  “All right, everyone,” Jalessa announces when they break apart, “time to partner up! Delsia dear, wasn’t it Chalaena and Isalania at the bottom of the Standings? Yes? The last shall be first, so Casilloria and Indraelis shall go first.”

  Casilloria takes the blue ball and places it in front of the starting stake buried into the ground. Turning her wooden striker sideways, she pushes the ball through both wooden ‘hoops’, thus gaining herself and her partner two more shots. Since the field of hoops is laid out in a ‘double diamond’ pattern, the ball must now go through the hoop some distance to the right. But the next shot belongs to Indraelis, and she’s already a little tipsy, having been drinking steadily since her arrival. Her strike goes wide of the hoop, and her partner’s second strike still misses it by a fair margin.

  “By the Goddess!” Indraelis curses amiably. Casilloria, always a good sport, steadies her partner with a good-natured smile and leans on her striker to wait for their pursuers.

  Delsia consults her notebook. “Jemleyn and Elmaya are next, with Elmaya taking precedence.”

  Emmaleyn selects the white ball to match her House colors and places it in front of the starting stake. With a deft push, her ball rolls through the first two hoops and a respectable distance further. Jalessa squeals with glee, hurrying over to the ball for her swing. Despite her feather-headed ways, her strike is strong and true. The white ball knocks the blue one further out of the field of play. Jalessa squeals again, earning an indulgent grin from her lover and a sneer from Ashayel. Striking an opponent’s ball earns two extra shots, so Emmaleyn uses their first to hit their ball through the hoop, then Jalessa kicks her skirts out of the way deftly and sends the ball hurtling toward the second hoop.

  Looking bored, Delsia says, “Next is Beltarra and Stalia, with Stalia taking precedence.”

  Shaylie places the pink ball in front of the starting stake, but her strike is weak and the ball only clears the first hoop. She giggles with embarrassment, though I sense no real sheepishness from her, and walks over to Jalessa, who has drifted over to watch her lover’s turn. They’re alone for a moment because Bryselle is taking their second shot and Emmaleyn is waiting over by her ball.

  Jalessa and Shaylie clasp hands, watching as Ashayel places the red ball in front of the starting stake. Shaylie whispers, just low enough that no one else can hear, “Did you get my note?”

  Jalessa laughs loudly, as if her lover had said something humorous. “Yes, and all is ready. She shall see them delivered this evening to the slaves’ entrance, just as I promised. I believe she’ll be quite pleased.”

  Again, they laugh together. Jalessa says loudly, “Indeed, she said that? How amusing!” The two drift apart as Malisanth’s black ball strikes Shaylie’s pink ball away from a hoop.

  “Well!” Shaylie calls mock-indignantly and pretends to storm over to Malisanth, her emotions clearly playful. “How dare you strike my ball in that fashion!”

  Malisanth chuckles. When Jalessa crows at another well-placed strike and diverts the others’ attention, Malisanth murmurs, “What did she say?”

  “The dress and coat will be delivered tonight, to the slaves’ entrance.”

  “Excellent,” Malisanth breathes. They both start forward, but in different directions, when Shaylie’s partner strikes the blue ball with their pink one, earning them two extra strikes. Malisanth raises her glass to signal the slaves that she requires a refill, then saunters over to her partner, Kylara, who is about to hit their ball. Once they’re done with their turn, Kylara moves to join the others, but surprisingly, Malisanth forestalls her with a gentle hand on her elbow.

  “Your dress is absolutely stunning, my dear,” she says of Kylara’s new dress, which is spring-green silk overlaid with lace. “But then you’ve always had excellent taste in clothing, I’ve noticed.”

  Kylara looks surprised but emanates cautious pleasure. She hasn’t had much chance to speak with the High Elder of House Mystalora before about personal things, since House Mystalora has always been closely allied with Klia’s greatest rival, House Amalria.

  “That’s so kind of you to say,” Kylara says, beaming. “I’ve always thought the same about you, as it happens. But of course, you’re so beautiful that a feed sack would look elegant on you.”

  “You’re too kind.” Malisanth manages to look both humble and gratified at the same time. She pauses, looking to make sure the others’ attention is elsewhere.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Kylara,” she says conspiratorially, “just between the two of us, of course, that I voted to make your new lamp oil a luxury. It just seems wrong to me that such a crucial contribution to the realm should be so poorly repaid.” Her sympathy eddies in the air between them. Kylara sighs, looking pleased.

  “Thank you for your validation, my friend.” They begin to amble toward the others. Delsia appears to be mediating a rule dispute between Ashayel and Jalessa. Jalessa gesticulates animatedly, but Delsia calmly shakes her head and Jalessa flounces off in mock anger, winking at Shaylie.

  “It was very disappointing, I won’t deny it,” Kylara continues. “We’re a humble House, with little to offer compared with some, and I’d merely hoped to level the playing field a bit, as it were. You understand.”

  “Indeed I do. If it’s any consolation, a
t least the vote was a close one.”

  Kylara suddenly stops dead, her feelings igniting from confusion to angry suspicion.

  “Wait…if you voted with us, that means one of my own alliance members betrayed me.”

  The House in question cannot vote, so Kylara had just assumed that the northern alliance had outvoted hers 6 to 4. The High Elders vote by slipping either a white rock for ‘yes’ or a black rock for ‘no’ into a small black bag and placing it into the voting box. There were six black rocks, but if Malisanth really had voted yes to grant House Klia’s new oil luxury status, then it could mean only one thing: House Jemleyn had turned its coat, just as the others in the southern alliance had feared it would.

  Malisanth slows too, regret suffusing her lovely face.

  “I promise you, I didn’t mean to sow dissention. I just wanted you to know I agreed with your cause.”

  The others are looking their way now, waiting for them to take their next turn. Kylara smiles briefly though it doesn’t reach her eyes and begins walking once more, her emotions abruptly shuttered.

  “I truly appreciate everything you’ve said,” she says, glancing up at Malisanth once more before exclaiming to the others as they reach them, “Malisanth was just telling me more about her last encounter with the People. Jalessa, did you catch Ashayel attempting to cheat again? I could feel your frustration from across the field!” She laughs carelessly. Bryselle and Emmaleyn titter behind their hands.

  Ashayel looks like she’s trying to think of a stinging reply. Malisanth hurriedly says, “Am I the only one who is utterly starving? I say we take a break for lunch.”

  “No, I’m positively dying, by the Goddess!” Lyrielle exclaims wretchedly, her arms wrapped around her yellow satin-covered stomach. Despite being tall and almost painfully thin, somehow she and the other Ladies of her House always manage to eat more than their fair share. They often brag about how much they eat and drink as if it were some kind of contest.