The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  “How are they going to manage to get the four kings to judge?” Casmal asked from across the table.

  “That’s their problem now,” Orlam said.

  “It’s only Muin that could be a problem as far as I can see,” Ferdia said, looking self-conscious, glancing at Atha and then at Elenn.

  “Damona alone knows how they will decide,” Casmal said.

  “It’s her business to know,” Orlam said, smiling a little.

  “They should be able to choose fairly, as they have no stake in the outcome,” Elenn said.

  Casmal opened his mouth to comment, then looked at Orlam and thought better of whatever he was about to say. Elenn smiled at him encouragingly. “They’re bringing us some meat at last,” he said.

  15

  (EMER)

  Are you feeling any better?” Conal asked, bending over her.

  Emer lay still and wished that the deck below her would do the same. “Is the storm over?” she asked. It had stopped raining and the heaving of the deck was definitely better than it had been. She was chilled all through.

  “We’ve rowed around the cape and we’re inside the bay here, so it’s more sheltered,” Conal said.

  “What cape?” Emer asked.

  “The wind has changed again and it’s all wrong for Oriel. We had a choice of going back to the Isles or making for Fialdun, and decided not to go back. So this is the Firth of Anlar we’re going into.”

  Emer’s stomach heaved. Going back to the Isles was unthinkable. It would have taken them another day and night at best, and leave them with the prospect of attempting the crossing again later in the season, when the winds would be worse. “How long before we reach shore?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Conal said. “Not long, I hope. I wish we were there already. Shall I see if they’ll spare some water for you? You look almost green.”

  “It would only come out again,” Emer said. That was what had happened last time. A hot drink might be different, but she knew that was impossible on a boat. “How are the others?”

  “Laig and Leary are pretty near as sick as you are, and lying down on the other side. Darag’s feeling a bit unsettled but rowing, and Nid is running about as cheerfully as if the ship were a chariot. Darag says it’s a pity we didn’t bring Ferdia, who knows all about boats.”

  “Ferdia isn’t in the contest. He’ll be all right back at Ardmachan with Elenn,” Emer said. “And how about you?” She clutched the wet blanket around her more tightly for the tiny bit of warmth and comfort it provided.

  “I felt bad for a while, but I took a turn rowing and I found looking out at the horizon made me feel better.”

  “Do you think I should try it?”

  “I can’t see what harm it would do,” Conal said.

  He bent and put out his hand. Emer didn’t want to move at all, but she took it and pulled herself up. Standing made her head swim, and almost at once she retched, heaving and gagging over the rail though there was nothing left to come out.

  Conal kept his arm around her, supporting her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Not your fault my stomach is heaving,” she said and clutched the rail. She clamped her teeth and looked out at the horizon as Conal had recommended. To her surprise, there was a steep-sided rocky coast quite close.

  “My fault you came at all,” Conal said. “You could have lived your whole life on land and never known that the sea made you heave.”

  She laughed. One of the sailors came pushing past them and they moved to let her go by. “I’d have missed seeing the Isles then. And missed the contests. And missed being with you.”

  Conal smiled down and tightened his arm around her. Even feeling so terrible the touch was a great comfort to her.

  “It’s so good to be away from our families,” she said. A gull soared out ahead of the ship and she followed it through the air with her eyes. The half month of contests in the Isles had been wonderful. The weather on the way over had been smooth and she’d barely felt ill at all. Gren and Skatha had treated them like adults and given them a room to themselves. Maybe it was because the Isles were so close to Demedia, but they seemed to have a positively Vincan attitude to blanket-sharing, smiling indulgently. They hadn’t even blinked when Atha went off with Darag after supper every night, though Emer had. She felt there was something very strange about the pairing, as if she wasn’t sure which of them was more of a danger to the other. She didn’t think she would ever like Darag.

  There had been contests all day, then feasting and sweet nights alone with Conal. She couldn’t even feel a ghost of desire with her stomach wanting to turn itself inside out, but she could still remember. She smiled. The contests had gone well, too. Darag had won the spearthrowing, but Conal had won the sword-fighting. She was still kicking herself about the chariot race, but it had been very close. Conal hadn’t reproached her for it, and there were other chances. Next time, they’d do it. Lagin, Muin, and then Connat. Cruachan. Maga. But she didn’t want to think about that yet. She looked at Conal and pushed the thought away. She was feeling a little better.

  “If we’re landing in Anlar we’ll be away from them a little longer.”

  “Lew ap Ross of Anlar is my uncle,” Conal said regretfully.

  “Of course, your father’s brother, how could I forget?” she said, her heart sinking and her stomach with it. She looked at the shore and saw a palisade around a hill and limewashed buildings curving up inside it. There was a scattering of small buildings around the shore. It was shadowed by the higher hills all around, making it seem a gloomy place. “Is that Fialdun?” she asked.

  “Fialdun at the head of the bay,” Conal replied, clearly quoting something. Then, in quite another tone, “I must get them to change the banner. Lew will think he’s being invaded again.”

  “He’s not at war with the Isles, is he?” Emer asked. Surely she would have heard.

  “No, but his wife and daughter were killed raiding them last year, so feelings are running high. There isn’t a war, but Lew personally has a bloodfeud with Atha. One ship couldn’t really be an invasion, but it could be Atha coming to challenge his champion to single combat. It’s the kind of thing she made her reputation doing.”

  “She can’t challenge him. He’s a king,” Emer said.

  “Challenge his champion, I said,” Conal said. “Wake up. But anyway, I think that if we put an Oriel oak branch under the Eye of the Isles, he’d find it reassuring.”

  Conal patted her arm and went to speak to the master of the boat. Emer held on to the rail and watched the land approaching. She stayed there until the boat was drawn up, then climbed down to splash through the last few feet of water.

  “If I never set foot on a boat again, I’ll die thanking the gods for it,” Leary said. He looked wretched and his clothes were filthy. She laughed ruefully. “At least your sister isn’t here to see,” Leary went on.

  Emer looked at him blankly. “Elenn would probably have been puking over the side with you,” she said.

  “Oh, surely not,” Leary said, his face full of serene confidence.

  Emer gave up. Elenn had never looked at him for more than long enough to make sure he was still dangling after her, but that seemed to be enough. Poor Leary. Poor Elenn for that matter. How terrible not to love Conal and be loved by him. Emer followed Darag and Laig up the beach. She wondered if Darag loved Atha and if she loved him. How could she? How could anyone? They waited for Conal up on the shingle.

  Some of the people of Fialdun came to find out what the sea had brought them. Most of them seemed to be expecting a trading voyage. They were taken aback to find three princes of Oriel and their charioteers. There was a little flurry of confusion, during which Emer found herself shivering, and she gratefully accepted a dry, warm blanket someone brought out of one of the houses. Then they had to wait for the boat to be secured before they could go up to the dun. It was too much to hope that Lew would come down and welcome them so that they could have a hot
drink immediately. Once the horses and chariots were offloaded, she forgot herself in concern for them. The horses, all geldings, were more miserable than she had ever seen animals. They took careful awkward steps when she kept them moving for warmth. If Rhianna came and reproached her for the state of them now, she would just lie down and agree with her.

  When everyone was ready, Emer reluctantly handed back the blanket and made her way up the hill with the others.

  As at Ardmachan, there was a lower gate and an upper one. They gave their names at both. Emer was reluctant to leave the horses at the bottom of the hill, but there really was no choice. There was a stream, fortunately, and some pale, late sunlight was spearing its way through the clouds. She kept glancing behind her, and noticed that Nid was also looking back at the horses. There were stables, but nobody came out to see to the animals.

  “When I heard about the welcome given to travelers I always pictured it as a bit more … well, welcoming than this,” Nid whispered.

  “I suppose they’re waiting to make sure we’re peaceful,” Emer said. “But the horses go right into the stables at Ardmachan.” She remembered that from when she had arrived from Connat. But she had been with ap Carbad then, who had escorted them all the way. Maybe that made a difference. It had been raining. Conary had welcomed them and then Finca had taken them off to get dry. She wasn’t sure what happened at Cruachan. When she got back, she would find out and make sure the horses didn’t have to wait about.

  Lew met them at the door of his hall with the welcome cup in his hand. He had long mustaches, longer than his beard. Apart from that, he looked a lot like Amagien, until he saw Conal and smiled. Then suddenly Emer could see a resemblance to Conal. If Amagien ever smiled like that, she had never seen it. She had always thought Conal looked like Inis and his mother, but there must have been something of Amagien in him after all. Lew handed the welcome cup to a champion who stood beside him and came forward to embrace Conal as kin. Then he took up the cup again and offered it around to all the others and exchanged the ritual peace and welcome greetings. The champion came behind with salted bread to complete the ritual. Emer was almost the last. She had given her name twice already, but when Lew heard it, he gave her a shrewd look, as if to take note of her.

  Inside, the hall urgently needed new rushes. The floor was musty and almost slippery-smooth. The hall was very dark. There seemed to be a lot of people there but not very much organization. After a little while Emer was given a bowl of hot broth which she sipped gratefully. It was much too salty and had fish in it but it gave her strength. As her eyes adjusted to the dark hall, she saw that there was dust and cobwebs in all the corners. There were dogs lying in front of the fire; champions and servants stepped over them.

  Lew came up to them and bowed politely. “I had heard of your contest, but I thought I’d been left out of the list of kings you were to visit,” he said to Conal.

  “Indeed, Uncle, this visit is not part of our contest,” Conal said.

  “What are they teaching at Rathadun these days if ap Ringabur could give a judgment that the five kingdoms of Tir Isarnagiri include the Isles and not Anlar?”

  Emer wanted to laugh. It was well known that Tir Isarnagiri was divided into five parts, but what exactly those five parts were was a great matter of dispute. Maga considered Anlar almost a part of Oriel. Muin had once been two kingdoms. The kingdom of the Isles had long ago been a part of Demedia and not Tir Isarnagiri, but not for hundreds of years. It seemed strange to hear Lew saying it seriously. She’d always heard the five parts of Tir Isarnagiri talked about as one of those questions where asking two people got you three different answers.

  “I’m sure she meant no insult, only that you are my uncle and could not be seen to judge fairly, as she herself could not,” Conal said. Emer met his eye and saw the laughter bubbling up under his sober words.

  “Maybe,” Lew said, looking mollified. “One of my counselors suggested that was the reason, and it may well be so. Another suggested that this was an insult in itself.” Lew frowned again.

  “I don’t see how it could be,” Emer said firmly. “She wanted to avoid even the appearance of partiality casting a shadow on the outcome.”

  “I see,” Lew said. He looked relieved.

  Just then, Nid came over to them. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said. “I’m going to go down and see to the horses. I’ve just said this to Laig as well—I’ll do all of them because you two are recovering from the journey and I’m fine. You can owe me some other night.”

  Emer shook her head. “I’m quite recovered now. I’ll come with you.” The stables, whatever they might be like, seemed a much more pleasant place to spend the next little while than the hall.

  “People will have seen to your horses already,” Lew said, waving his hand vaguely. “There’s no need to go.”

  “I don’t mean to doubt the hospitality of your stables, but charioteers are always concerned about their horses, and these have had a bad voyage,” Emer said.

  Lew smiled kindly. “I understand. Yes, of course, a good charioteer always wants to see to the beasts. I won’t stop you. Come back soon, we will eat in a little while and I would like you to eat with us, ap Allel.”

  Nid and Emer bowed to Lew and Conal and went out. The wind that was a storm out to sea was strong even here, blowing away the fustiness of the hall. It was chilly. The sun was already behind the shoulder of a hill to the west and they walked down into deeper shadow.

  Somewhat to Emer’s surprise, their horses had been taken into the stables, rubbed down, fed, and were in stalls with blankets over their withers. They thanked the grooms, who made nothing of it, just admiring the horses. They could easily return the compliment—the horses in the stables were in very good condition.

  “The stables are cleaner than the hall,” Emer said as they walked back up the hill.

  “Lew has a good head groom,” Nid replied. “He clearly needs an equally good key-keeper.”

  “His wife was killed in battle last year,” Emer said. “Conal mentioned it.”

  “That would explain it,” Nid said. “But there should be someone else.”

  “His daughter was killed too, apparently. Maybe he’s been too struck with grief to get organized.”

  Nid rolled her eyes. “He needs to find a key-keeper quickly. I’ve heard people say that Lew sways with every wind, and that he thinks too much of himself. He won’t like it if they start saying he keeps a dirty hall, and they will if he keeps on.”

  “Although I’ve only just met him, I suspect it’s true that he sways with every wind,” Emer said. “But he seems a good enough man. He needs guidance.”

  “A good man, maybe not a good king,” Nid said. “I don’t know. I’ve also heard that he makes shrewd alliances.”

  They went back into the hall. Lew was still talking to Conal, who looked even more pleased than usual to see Emer.

  “Think about it, Conal,” Lew said as she came up. He patted Conal on the shoulder. He smiled at Emer in a friendly way, then went to speak to Darag.

  “Think about what?” she asked quietly.

  Conal looked stunned. “He asked me if my heart was given to Oriel or if I might like to come here,” he said, gesturing at the hall. “There are only three people in our generation who are Royal Kin of Anlar, and none of them born here. He said that if I came, he’d treat me as his heir.”

  “Well?” Emer asked. Half of her mind was making rapid plans for cleaning up the hall and putting heart into the place, but the other half of her mind knew that Conal would only accept one kind of success.

  “It isn’t Oriel,” he said, as she had known he would. His eyes were on Darag, who was talking to some champions on the other side of the hall. “Lew isn’t so old, not forty yet. He could marry again. He said he would if I wasn’t interested.” He looked back at her, his eyes full of ambition. “Who would have Anlar if they could have Oriel? Who would guide good, weak Uncle Lew for the next thirty years and ho
pe nobody said anything to change his mind between the desire and the action?”

  “It’s away from the curse,” Emer said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “And it’s away from your parents.” As soon as she’d said it, she knew she shouldn’t have. He wouldn’t want anyone to think he was afraid of the curse. And he couldn’t see what his parents did to him, not really. She also wasn’t sure that she wanted to live here. It was a strange place, and it felt more distant than it was because of the way they’d come here. It was barely a two-day ride from Ardmachan, and hardly more than six from Cruachan.

  Conal laughed shortly, as if he’d hardly heard her. “Lagin,” he said. “Lagin, Muin, and then Connat. We’ll see what we see. You know how I’ve been practicing. And I’ve grown. I’m taller than the others now. I won the sword-fighting fairly. I’ll show them. I’ll show Darag. I don’t need any second-best kingdoms.”

  16

  (FERDIA)

  It has been an honor and a pleasure,” Conary said. “You came to me a boy and I am sending you home a man any father could be proud of. These gifts I send with you are a token of friendship between you and me, and between Oriel and Lagin.” He took a wrapped bundle from Finca and gave it to Ferdia. Everyone tapped their feet in restrained applause and looked pleased, except Finca, who looked as prune-faced as always. The hall was quite full, but at least the dog woman wasn’t there. If the weather had been warmer, they would have been doing this outside and he could really have just got in his chariot as soon as they were done.

  “Thank you,” Ferdia said, taking it and wondering what it was and where he could put it. “And please accept this small gift in thanks for the hospitality you have shown me.” People tapped their feet again. They would have whatever he said. He hoped it was all right.

  He handed his own bundle to Conary, who politely bowed over it without uncovering it. Of course nobody would ever refuse a gift, it would be a fighting matter, a rejection of friendship. The only time it was ever done was in ritual declarations of war, where the cover would be drawn off and the gift, whatever it was, scornfully returned, broken, or passed on to someone else. Ferdia was more worried that it would not be good enough when examined. It was an embroidered sword-sheath he had asked his mother to make and send. Conary was very fond of swords. It was well made, and his mother had sewn pearls onto it, and gold thread. He thought it was a rich enough gift that nobody could reproach him. It would not be right for him to give any greater gifts on leaving. His father would send something later to match whatever Conary had sent him, gifts of friendship from Lagin to Oriel. This gift was supposed to be personal from Ferdia to Conary.