The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  She furrowed her brow, sat down to pull on her heels, one leg crossed over the other as she eased one onto her left foot and teased the straps together. “It’s a very open field theoretically. Very few people have the answers for definite one way or the other. It’s just one of those great mysteries of life.”

  Nick reached up and stroked her back through the dress. “Tough, beautiful and smart? Is there anything you can’t do, Ms Arventino?”

  “Oh, I don’t know Mr Roper,” she giggled, arching her back to his touch. “I think there might be a few things that I’m willing to work at. But that can wait until later.”

  Scott was starting to feel a little nervous as he paced up and down his hotel room, trying not to look at himself in the mirror. He’d taken three pisses in the last hour and the worries weren’t quite fading away. If anything, they were intensifying. He shouldn’t have let Pete bully him into this tonight. Sure, he found Mia attractive, if he was honest then she was better looking than Jess. And a lot more pleasant. And it felt like she liked him back. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure what the problem was.

  But if he was honest, however it had ended between the two of them, it did feel like a bit of an insult to be doing this with someone else so close to the end of their relationship. It hadn’t been something brief and barely worth mentioning, they’d been together for a while. There’d been a lot of strong feeling there and he couldn’t just forget that because of one bad breakup… Or the six months of on-off arguments that had led to it.

  He’d brought it all up to Pete of course, and he’d made some sense of it. It wasn’t sense that he liked but still it felt like there might be an element of truth to his words.

  “Look, Scot,” he’d said. “You and Jess broke up. It’s done. Over. Finished. You might be able to repair it if you wanted to, but why the hells would you want to do that? You hated each other’s guts come the last rites of the whole bloody mess. You’re through. She’s probably going to be back on the horse, you might as well join her. On a different horse, obviously. And I’m not comparing Mia to a horse by the way, but she looks like a good ride, so you know what I mean there, right?”

  As always, he’d hit the point right in the centre, even if he had made it like a horrible misogynist. Still at least he thought he was doing him a favour. Scott couldn’t fault him for that. Not even slightly. Good friend. Not like Barry who hadn’t done exactly much to keep the friendship going since he’d left Premesoir. Then again, maybe he could have… Scott rejected that thought. He’d tried to stay in touch. Barry hadn’t responded to his messages or his calls. Whatever blame could be proportioned for the failure of friendship; it wasn’t anything to do with him.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, drew a deep breath. Suddenly he found himself hoping and caring that he looked okay. Shirt and jeans, light blue and indigo, about the best he had to hand. He hadn’t known this was coming or he’d have prepped better. In another time, he would have been coming here with Jess. No doubt she’d have found something to criticise about his choices in clothing. Scott smiled ruefully at that. Least that whole thing wasn’t an issue any longer.

  He still hadn’t seen Jess since the breakup, he wondered if she’d left the island. Maybe she was avoiding him. As much as a relief that was, he couldn’t help but feel it was going to cause even more awkwardness when he did eventually run back into her again. By Jess’ aggressive moaning standards, the breakup had been quite amicable. Would it extend to meeting number one after the event? Number two? Three? Four?

  He really hoped there wasn’t going to be many more after it all. Somehow, he doubted her pleasant demeanour would remain. Maybe when this was over, he’d find out where she was going somehow and make it a mission to get as far in the other direction as possible.

  Nearly time. He didn’t want to be too early. It’d be awkward stood there looking like he was waiting for someone. But sooner or later he’d have to do it. He was simultaneously genuinely looking forward to it and feeling like he was going to throw up with nerves. He supposed that was natural in a way. He hoped it was anyway.

  Otherwise he’d feel a bit of an idiot.

  As it was, he didn’t have long to wait before she showed up and he had to admit it was something worth waiting for. She looked fantastic, he let out an appreciative little whistle as she walked over, clad in a little black dress with white and red flowers all over it, her hair a fresh mixture of shades of black and blue up in a tight little bun.

  “Wow,” he said softly. “You look beautiful. Really, really beautiful.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, he suddenly couldn’t think of anything else to say and he felt his cheeks flush. If she noticed, she didn’t say it, instead giving a shy little laugh.

  “Really?” she said. “Thanks. Thank you. I’m glad I brought this now. I sometimes wear it when spirit dancing.”

  “Yeah? Cool,” he said, offering her a hand. She took it and grinned at him. “Shall we go in then? You and me?” He didn’t know if her brother was showing up and she was waiting for him. He hoped not. That’d make it uncomfortable. Yet at the same time, the two Arnholt children did appear to have a close bond between them.

  “That’s the way it should be,” she said. “I’m glad you asked me. I probably wouldn’t have come otherwise.” It was her turn to blush a little as she said it and Scott felt his heart leap.

  “Well that makes two of us,” he said. Never mind that he might have come with Jess… He rejected that thought. He wasn’t thinking of her tonight. Not with this enchanting girl in his presence. He grimaced a little. Had he just thought of her as enchanting? Wow… First time for everything.

  “Something wrong?” she asked. Maybe she’d seen the twitch in his face. Scott shook his head quickly.

  “Nah, just had a strange thought.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Not even in the slightest,” he said. “It’s a bit…” He shrugged.

  That brought a small frown to her face but she didn’t push it. Privately he was glad. Last thing he wanted was to bring it up. It’d be embarrassing for one thing. Instead he squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “It doesn’t matter. Just something I needed to do but didn’t. It doesn’t matter now.” Not entirely true but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “Let’s just focus on tonight. Because, well…”

  He looked at the building in front of them, one he hadn’t really noticed before tonight. Kanu Hall, a squat building that looked far grander than it probably warranted with the marble steps leading up to huge rich glossed wooden doors. A pair of ICCC officials stood at the entrance, both in suits, greeting everyone entering. The roof was flat, barring a trio of thin chimneys that protruded up into the skyline.

  Already there was a bit of queue, Scott kept his arm linked with Mia’s as they found themselves caught behind a bulky caller who was talking with a broad accent, tricky to place but enough to make him sound like a Premesoir burntneck from the south although the woman with him was anything but. Studying the backs of the two of them, Scott was privately amused. That guy must have something going for him. As if he’d sensed someone staring, the man turned back and caught his eye. Scott didn’t break the gaze for a few moments and slowly the ruddy face broke into a grin.

  “Well hey there friend,” he said. “Nice to see you. You and your lovely young lady. Enjoy your night, yeah, you see you do that.” Scott had seen him before, the name escaped him but he might have caught one or two of his bouts on the viewing screen.

  “Thanks, you too,” Scott said, offering him a hand which the bulky man took and shook. “Scott Taylor.”

  “Connor Caldwell. And this is Countess Amelie Richert of Serran.” He jerked his head towards his companion who inclined a lovely head and gave them a smile not entirely laced with warmth. Scott returned the smile. “And who might your lovely companion be?”

  He took Mia’s hand and kissed it, her blush combining with amusement to paint an interesting picture of her face
. Scott felt a stab of jealousy.

  “Mia,” he said. “Mia Arnholt.”

  “Daughter of the famous Terrence himself?” Caldwell asked, raising an eyebrow. “A fine man, to be sure. I’ve had the pleasures of his hospitality on more than a few occasions and well, I’ll be sure to offer my congratulations to him on such a fine daughter.”

  Yeah, good luck with that, Scott thought as the queue moved on and Caldwell and the Countess with it. “Are you in the tournament, Mr Caldwell?” Mia asked. If she was moved by his words, she didn’t show it. He wondered if she was used to people knowing who her father was.

  “Oh please, Connor, my dear,” he said. “And I am, I await the draw in the morning to see what fate has in store for me.”

  “Me too,” Scott said. Again, the queue moved on and he was relieved to see Caldwell and the Countess being waved through by the ICCC officials. He glanced at Mia and rolled his eyes at her with a grin. “He was a bit… What’s the word?”

  “He was friendly enough,” Mia said. “Very nice man. Bit pompous, I think is the word you were looking for.”

  He nodded in agreement, studied the two officials and smiled at them, suddenly hoping they didn’t take it upon themselves to throw him out. That’d probably make things a little humiliating. Although at least it’d make it a memorable first date for him and Mia. Whether they’d get another one or not was open to debate but it hadn’t happened yet. They studied him back for a good few seconds, he found himself suddenly feeling a little nervous. He tugged at his collar, grinned at them, before they both relaxed and let the two of them go through.

  He wasn’t ashamed to admit he let a little sigh of relief slip from him as they walked into the well-lit corridor, the floor tiles clicking beneath Mia’s heels. On the wall beside the entrance, he glimpsed a bronze plaque giving the history of the Rachmane Alba Kanu Hall… Who knew it’d been named after a famous Vazaran spirit caller. Music echoed out from the other end of the hallway, just behind an ajar door. He could see lights and movement through the crack, another ICCC official awaiting them.

  “Do you get that a lot?” he asked as they made the long walk through. “People knowing who your dad is?” Mia nodded her head. “Does it get annoying?”

  She tilted her head to the side for a moment, considering it silently. “Well a bit at times. I think it might bother my brother more than it does me. He’s the one who does calling, not me. He’s the one who has the comparisons made between them. If I was a caller and not a dancer, it might be me. But I don’t have to put up with that. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s a bit grating when some people do it, but I can’t complain too much. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Some caller kids change their name for the early part of their career,” Scott said. “You know, avoid pressure over who their parents were.”

  “Why would I do that?” Mia looked genuinely outraged at the suggestion. “This is who I am. I’m not hiding it.”

  “I wasn’t saying you should, I’m just saying it happens,” Scott said. They reached the door and found themselves waved through quickly by the official, the music hitting them as they entered. At least it wasn’t overbearing, he could hear himself speak over it. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologise,” she said, smiling at him. “Drink?”

  “Yeah, sure I’ll get you one, what do you want?” he said, looking for some credits in his pocket. He’d broken a hundred out, just in case. Suddenly it felt painfully lacking in amount.

  “Well how about I get you one,” she grinned. “My treat. It’s a custom where I grew up. On the first date, the woman buys the man the first drink without knowing what he likes. If it’s something he enjoys, it’s supposed to bring good luck or something.”

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  She nodded, her face deadly serious. He’d half expected her to break out laughing. But no, no such sign of it. “I’m not joking you.”

  “That’s unusual.” He wanted to say strange or weird, some force stopped him, suggesting it might not be the best idea. Nothing ruined a date more than having a go at someone’s cultural beliefs. Well not much more. At least he’d never had that problem with Jess. “But hey, I’m down with it. Long as you let me buy you the second?”

  She smiled at him. “I think I can manage that.” It was only as she walked off, he found himself wondering something about her statement. Out of all those men who’d ever had drinks bought for them by women like Mia, how many of them had faked enjoying the drink to avoid hurting the woman’s feelings. Already he had the image of trying to force something down with a smile on his face. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

  As customs went, it was a pretty ridiculous one, although he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to say that out loud. Based on one drink… Doubtless the meaning had probably changed over time but still. You might get someone completely unsuitable managing a lucky guess and… Well, he supposed it didn’t really matter. If someone wasn’t right, you’d work it out eventually. In theory anyway. Eventually just had different meanings of time for different people. Could be weeks, could be months, could be years. Besides. Free drink, right?

  His thoughts were interrupted with her return, a glass of olive coloured wine in one hand, a bottle of black briar beer in the other, before he knew enough to realise exactly what she’d had in mind, she placed the bottle in his hand.

  “Can’t go wrong with beer,” she said. “Old favourite. And it’s from Premesoir. Like you.”

  Scott laughed, glanced at the label. It had a printed rendition of an old man smoking a pipe. His eyebrows were huge, like big grey caterpillars. It spoke of a different time, made him feel a little wistful. “You want to know the weird thing about that though?” She raised a thin eyebrow. “Was born in Premesoir but my mom was from Serran. I’d take a wild guess and say my dad had some Vazaran in him.” He gestured to his skin, saw her smirk at his way of describing it. “So yeah, home is where you make it.”

  He took a gulp of the beer, it was rich and had a distinctive taste of something he couldn’t quite name to it. It went down easily and he had to hide a smirk. “But the beer is quite good,” he said, trying to sound offhand. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” She couldn’t quite hide her smile, jittering her weight from one leg to the other. He liked her smile, the way it curved at the corners of her mouth and her eyes lit up with glee.

  “So, what’s the next stage of your whacky customs?” He inquired, grinning at her. “Anything or nothing?”

  “Well I’ll leave that for you to discover on your own,” she said coyly. “I’m not giving everything up easily.”

  “You like to dance?” Scott blanched inwardly as he said it out loud. Why had he asked that? Hopefully she’d say no. If she said yeah, he’d feel obligated to ask her if she wanted to dance. He hated dancing. It made him feel awkward. Like everyone in the room was watching. And given his limited ability, everyone probably would be. And laughing, don’t forget that. Especially Mia.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Another blanch. “Do you want to?” He kicked himself mentally, he’d dropped himself in it now. If she said yes, he’d end up looking a fool. If she said no, he’d spend the rest of the night wondering what he’d done to put her off.

  She smiled and he felt a little better, a little more confident. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

  “Sure,” she said. “Lead on, flyboy.”

  Flyboy… Maybe he’d adopt that nickname. It was cool. He held out a hand and she took it, though he felt the need to warn her. He didn’t though. He felt a little bad as he led her out to the dance, maybe he should have. But still the words remained unsaid.

  In fairness as he came back off, it hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d imagined. At least people hadn’t stopped to laugh. He’d not done badly. Okay, so Mia had grinned a little but she still hugged up to him on several occasions, maybe she genuinely didn’t care. He’d felt the warmth of her body and found any
doubt slipping away about his lack of skill.

  “I liked that,” she said. “You got interesting moves, flyboy.”

  “Yeah, that was going through my head,” he said, scratching the back of his head uneasily. He quickly stopped, didn’t want her to get the wrong impression that he had fleas or something. “Hope you find my moves ‘interesting’ and the like.” He was grinning uneasily and she matched it with a big smile.

  “Hey, I got to admire your confidence. And your enthusiasm.”

  “Well that’s probably my biggest victory of the tournament then,” Scott grinned.

  “And it’s one I’ll savour the most.”

  “You do that.”

  “Mia!”

  Scott’s brow knotted as he heard the high pitched eerie voice break into the space the two of them shared, a big bulky man with long dark hair striding into them. He had to avert his eyes, avoid staring at the vicious green colour of his suit. It was like staring into an emerald sun.

  “Oh hey,” she said. He couldn’t help but notice her eyes had taken on a distinctively glassy quality as he arrived. Earlier glee had been replaced with bemused caution. “Harvey.”

  “Saw you out on the floor, girlfriend, you got some style,” Harvey smiled, glancing back to Scott. His smirk grew and it wasn’t an expression that Scott found encouraging. It was akin to the sort of look a jackal gave you when you were wounded. It was ready to finish you off and eat you up. “And you. Interesting moves, man. You come up with them yourself?”

  “I might have done.” Scott didn’t like his tone. It made his skin want to crawl off into a corner somewhere.

  “Yeah, it shows,” he said dismissively. Scott found himself wondering if it’d cause a ruction in his date with Mia if he picked up the closest chair and cracked it over the big guy’s back. Probably. But it might be worth it.