The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  Conary had set his gift down on a table. He looked at Ferdia expectantly. Ferdia looked about helplessly, and put the bundle down by his feet. Then Conary leaned forward and embraced him as a foster-father. Ferdia returned the embrace. He hadn’t thought he would be glad to leave, but he was. He hadn’t thought he would spend the last season almost alone either. He’d never imagined Ardmachan without Darag or realized how lonely it could be. When they left, he had thought they would be back in a month, but it had proved an unexpectedly slow contest. All the kings seemed to take forever to devise different testing feats. They had been half a month in the Isles, then his father had kept them a half a month, and then they had sent word that they would need to stay in Muin for a month. That time was almost up, but they hadn’t even reached Connat yet. Anyway, it was too late. It was midwinter. Ferdia had been in Oriel for a year and his father wanted him home.

  He picked up his bundle and stepped aside with it. It was bulky. Elenn came forward. She was wearing warm traveling clothes with a soft blue cloak over everything. She was carrying a little wrapped bundle. He wondered where she had found whatever it was. There hadn’t been time for her to send home for something. She looked cool and beautiful and assured, not at all the way she had looked when she had begged him to escort her home. She should have stayed another few months; she hadn’t been here a year. But she had said she was desperate to get home, and looked it. She said she couldn’t bear to stay here entirely on her own after he left. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She said she would tell Conary her father was ill. It wasn’t all that far out of his way to take her to Cruachan, really. She was still a child, so she couldn’t go on her own, and it was a bit much to expect anyone to take her before it was time. He was glad he’d stuck out his year, even if the last part had been lonely.

  Elenn and Conary exchanged the same kind of gifts and ritual farewells that Ferdia had. He tapped his feet when everyone else did. Fostering was an ancient custom. His father said that it was one of the things that helped to bind the peace between the kingdoms, just as much as the Ward, in its way. He had thought he agreed. But now he wasn’t sure he knew what his father meant. He looked forward to asking him about it, about lots of things. There were things you couldn’t say in a letter. And, of course, there were things you couldn’t say at all. Maybe that was the real difference being grown up made—not taking up arms, but having things you couldn’t ask anyone.

  Conary embraced Elenn and she came over to Ferdia. They had officially left but they were still here, which was awkward. He shifted the bundle in his arms. He had packed the chariot already and he wasn’t sure there was room. It was five days to Cruachan, and then four more days before he got home. He knew exactly where he was going to stay every night, but he had food and a leather tent in case he needed them. It wasn’t the best time of year for a journey. It was cold. But the weather looked settled. One good thing he had done this year was to learn weather signs from Inis. He couldn’t say he had mastered the Fir Knowledge. He certainly couldn’t control the weather as some people said they could. Still, it was useful to be able to look at the sky and see if a storm was coming.

  “Shall we go?” Elenn asked quietly. She also held a bundle. He wondered if they were the same. They pretty much had to be, unless Conary was meaning to indicate more friendship to one country than the other, which might be dangerous.

  Nobody was looking at them, though people were still gathered around expectantly, as if something was going to happen. But there was nothing else. They were gone already. “Come on,” he said, and led the way out of the hall.

  He blinked at the sunlight as they came out. Frost limned each blade of grass, making the world glitter.

  “I’m so glad to be leaving,” Elenn said, leaning toward him in her confiding way. “Thank you for taking me.”

  “It’s not far out of my way,” he said, knowing he sounded awkward. “Did anyone make any difficulties?”

  “No, they didn’t mind at all,” she said. She sounded a little hurt, but when he looked, she was still smiling.

  They walked down the hill. Elenn said good-bye to the guards on the gate as they passed, so he did the same. The trees and fields were glistening. He felt filled with relief at leaving. No more Ardmachan. No more trying to make decisions on his own without enough time to think.

  One of the grooms had yoked up the chariot ponies ready. There was probably just about room for the bundles. Ferdia was about to tell Elenn to get in when, to his dismay, the dog woman came out of the kennels and smiled at him. Her breasts and stomach were hugely swollen with pregnancy. She had two hounds with her. She looked as if she was going to walk right over to Ferdia.

  “Wait here a moment,” he said to Elenn. She looked puzzled. He crossed the yard to the dog woman.

  “Ferdia,” she said.

  He hadn’t heard her voice before, not talking, only whispering and then crying out. He still didn’t know her name, and he writhed with embarrassment. He had hardly exchanged a word with her before or after. He had thought he ought to talk to her, but not known what to say. There had been too much and not enough between them. Her belly stood between them now. A child to be, a child that was and was not his. He couldn’t ask her name. He should have asked it on the feast of Bel, or he should never learn it. “I’m going home,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, looking down at her dogs. “I wanted to give you something.”

  “I don’t have anything for you,” he said. He was conscious of Elenn and the grooms across the yard. They couldn’t hear, but he knew without looking that they were watching them.

  “You’ve given me a gift already,” she said. “Come inside for a moment.”

  She turned, and he followed her into the kennels, the hounds padding silently beside them. At least there was nobody else there to see. The light came in under the eaves, so he could see quite well, but it was shadowed after the brightness of the yard. She walked over to one of the pens. Inside was a bitch, her teats swollen in a way uncomfortably reminiscent of the woman’s, and a litter of pups. He hadn’t known what he’d expected her to give him, but it wasn’t a dog. Though what else would she have to give? He didn’t know what he could do with a dog.

  “This is Swift,” she said, bending down and patting the bitch. He wished she’d think to introduce herself like that.

  “She’s lovely,” he said inadequately. “Does she live up to her name?”

  “She’s one of the three best hunting dogs in Oriel,” the woman told him, pride in her voice. “And she’s mine, not Conary’s. She came into heat very late this year, and the father of this litter is Conary’s famous Blackear. These pups should be great hunters, and half of them are mine. Choose whichever one you want.”

  He looked at them. They all looked alike—puppies, grayish-brown, with darker gray brindling just beginning on their coats. His father had a kennel full of hunting hounds at home. How could he explain bringing one from Oriel? “Are they old enough to leave their mother?” he asked.

  “They’re just ready,” she said approvingly.

  He looked at her. She was standing with one hand on her belly, and he thought he saw it move. He looked hastily back to the dogs. He didn’t know her name, and the baby would have her husband’s name, which he didn’t know either. It was so strange to think that what they had done on the hurley field had swollen so and would soon be a child, a person. He looked away, back at the puppies. “I don’t know enough to choose,” he said honestly.

  “Then I’ll give you the pick of the litter,” she said and put her hand in and drew one of the puppies out. It tried to squirm away but she held it tightly. “She doesn’t have a name yet. You can give her one.”

  Ferdia took the puppy awkwardly. She tried to get away. He couldn’t think how he would manage in the chariot, but he wanted to get away as much as she did. “Thank you,” he said.

  “No, thank you,” she said, and turned away to fuss with one of the other hounds.


  Ferdia was left standing there feeling that he didn’t know whether the encounter was over or not. The puppy licked his ear. He backed away, and the woman didn’t look back at him. Maybe he would never have to see her again. But in a way, he would like to see the child, even if he had no claim on it.

  He blinked a little again as he came out. The puppy whimpered. Elenn was staring at him. She was going to ask questions, he just knew she was. What was more, she was going to have to hold the puppy while he drove.

  She amazed him by taking the puppy from him without protest. “Isn’t he sweet,” she said. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing? Look at his brindling just starting. Oh, look, the hair underneath is so much lighter.”

  “She’s only just old enough to leave her mother,” he said. “She doesn’t have a name yet. Her mother is a hound called Swift, and her father is King Conary’s Blackear.”

  “She’s a little beauty,” Elenn cooed. The puppy clearly returned Elenn’s approval: her tail was wagging almost in a circle, and she was licking everywhere she could reach.

  “Do you like her?” he asked, an idea striking him. He turned it over in his mind and couldn’t see any disadvantage to it. Elenn liked the puppy. Elenn could have her. He wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone at all.

  “She’s wonderful,” Elenn said.

  Ferdia glanced back at the kennels. The dog woman was still safely inside. Some grooms could see them but not hear them. They were gone already, after all. “She’s for you,” he said.

  “Oh, Ferdia!” she cried, so enraptured that he felt guilty. “She’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.”

  “I’m glad you like her,” he said.

  “I’ll call her Beauty,” Elenn said, looking from him to the puppy.

  “But then when people call, you won’t know if they mean you or her.”

  Elenn smiled, not her usual smile but a broad grin. “I’ll work something out,” she said. The puppy chewed the corner of her cloak. “No, Beauty, don’t eat my clothes.” She turned back to Ferdia. “How are we going to manage in the chariot?” she asked.

  “I thought you could hold her,” he said, realizing as Beauty squirmed how inadequate a plan it was.

  “I need a box or something. I’ll get one from the kennels.”

  “No!” Ferdia didn’t know how he was going to stop her, but he knew he had to. He hated thinking quickly. “I just want to go now,” he said.

  Elenn’s face softened. “I want to get away as well. But she’ll escape and jump out and maybe hurt herself.” Then she went back to cooing. “My Beauty, my beautiful puppy.”

  Ferdia looked at the pile of things in the chariot. None of them would do for a puppy. “When she’s trained, she can run along beside a chariot,” he said and sighed. “I’ll go and find something.”

  “I’ll go,” Elenn said, looking up.

  “You wait here and look after her,” he said firmly and took a deep breath before plunging into the stables. The dog woman was crouching over the remaining puppies. She looked up as he came in. “I need a box or something, to carry her safely,” he said.

  “Of course you do,” she said. “I didn’t think. Now what—” She straightened carefully, a hand to the small of her back, and looked around the kennels thoughtfully. “I think I’ll have to go over to the stables.”

  “Isn’t there anything here?” Ferdia asked desperately.

  “I don’t think so. People don’t normally take puppies in chariots.” She frowned.

  Ferdia knew what was about to happen. She would go outside and Elenn would still be cooing “My puppy” and the woman would know that Ferdia had given away her gift. The possibilities then started from his having to fight a champion of the woman’s choosing, followed by fighting one of Elenn’s, and ran right up to all-out war between Oriel, Connat, and Lagin. How could he have been so stupid as to think it could possibly work? Even if she didn’t come out now, Elenn would say something to someone before they left and it would get back to her. The worst of it was that he really had acted dishonorably. It hadn’t seemed like that at the time, because he hadn’t really been thinking of the puppy as a gift, just as a nuisance, but now he could see what he had done.

  “What’s that?” he asked as his eyes lit on at a wicker basket in the shadows.

  “It’s just some apples,” the dog woman said. “I brought it in from home so I would have some to eat here. It is the right sort of size. I don’t know if it’s strong enough.”

  “It looks strong to me,” he said. “I’ll help you move the apples.”

  He hardly dared to breathe, but she assented mildly.

  The apples went into a sack. He barely managed to restrain the dog woman from coming out to settle the puppy in the basket. He came back out alone, imagining more disasters, but Elenn was sitting alone on a stone playing with the puppy. “Here, put her in this,” he said, offering the basket.

  At last, at long, long last, after Ferdia had died a thousand coward’s deaths of fear of having his lies and ingratitude discovered, the three of them drove safely out of the lower gates of Ardmachan. Elenn said good-bye to the guards, but didn’t mention the puppy. Ferdia drove past the stone where Darag’s mother had died, past the turning to the woods where they had killed the swan, and turned south for Lagin by way of Connat. The puppy gave a few yelps, then when Elenn soothed her, curled up and went to sleep. Ferdia drove on, knowing now that the puppy was something he would never be able to explain to anyone. Five days to Cruachan, where he could leave Beauty and Elenn. If he had his wish, he’d leave them at the gates and never see either of them again.

  5

  CONNAT

  17

  (CONAL)

  The Isles had been good, Lagin had been better, Muin had been wonderful, only Connat lay between him and victory. Leary and Nid’s chariot rolled along ahead, Darag and Laig came behind. The road rose and fell over rolling farmland, winter-brown now. Apart from the occasional pheasant, he hadn’t seen any life for hours. A feeble sun shone now and then through clouds, and it hadn’t rained all day. If it hadn’t been for Emer’s set scowl, Conal could have sung.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked when the silence had stretched too long, although he already knew what was wrong. She didn’t want to reach Cruachan, to see her mother, for this journey to be over.

  “For someone with parents like yours, you’re very reluctant to believe in parents like mine,” Emer said between her teeth, her eyes on the road ahead.

  “But why do you think they won’t let you go back to Ardmachan for the three months left of your time there?” Conal tried hard to sound reasonable.

  “You don’t know how hard it was for me to get away at all,” Emer said. “And it’s hardly fostering now that I am of fighting age. She’ll say there’s no use to it.”

  “Well, I don’t think she’ll be that unreasonable,” Conal said hopefully. Emer gritted her teeth. “And even if she does, whatever she says, as soon as I get home I’ll talk to Conary and my parents, then I’ll have Conary send me back to ask her.” His mother had half-agreed before they left, after all. Speaking to Conary about it wouldn’t be easy, but it would be easier than it would have been before. As for his father … well, when he got back Amagien should see that he was a boy no longer.

  “And what about this stupid half-arranged thing with Darag?”

  “Everyone knows neither of you want that. And if …” he trailed off, not daring to say it. It was the most ill-omened thing you could do, to count on victory halfway around the course. “Whatever happens, I should look like a good alliance to your mother, and it won’t be more than a year that you have to stay there,” he said instead.

  “You don’t know my mother,” she muttered. “I wish I was a champion of Muin.”

  Conal laughed in surprised recognition. “So do I,” he admitted. “I’ve never had such fun in my life. Even exhausted. Even covered in mud and freezing cold and starving.”

  “They
really know how to have a good time,” Emer agreed, then giggled. “It was a good time, though, it really was.”

  “And not only that, but unlike all the contests in the Isles and Lagin, it was a good challenge, because it was actually something that does count for being a king,” Conal said.

  Emer raised her eyebrows and darted a quick glance at him. “Flying Leary’s breeches like a banner from the top of the palisade is something a king needs to be able to do?”

  Conal laughed. “Wasn’t he furious! But you know what I mean. Not that specifically, not any of the specific goals, but organizing the watches, arranging the raids and the defense, even little details arranging how people eat so that nobody has to sit down with anyone they have a bloodfeud with, getting everyone working together. It’s useful knowledge. I think it’s a better way than Conary’s, having the champions working together in watches like that, having rivalry between watches instead of rivalry between champions. I learned a lot doing it, from Samar and the others. Think how cheerfully Samar let me take her place as watch captain and make mistakes, and how she helped me.”

  “Once we’d shown we were competent.” Emer was staring out at the road again. “It really felt like belonging, as if we had a place in the Heather Watch. As if they’d be there at our backs when we needed them. All of the rivalry and all of the goals were just part of that, and that was what was important. It was easier for me, of course. I didn’t have to be organizing everyone, didn’t have to be in charge.”