The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  “It isn’t up to Conary, it’s up to the Royal Kin of Oriel once Conary’s dead,” Emer insisted.

  “While he’s alive, it’s up to him, and he’s not an old man. How long were you thinking of waiting?” Elenn asked. “I want to get married when I’m still young enough to have children.”

  “I didn’t say anything about you.” Emer was confused. The puppy came pushing against her legs; she put her hand down and petted it.

  “If you were married to Conal, that gives her one daughter less to play alliances with.”

  “Who do you want to marry, then?” Emer had no idea. Elenn flirted with everyone.

  But Elenn just sniffed. “If I told you, you’d do something to mess it up, and right now, your saying a word about it for or against would mess it up with Maga. She won’t rest until she finds out whatever it is you’re keeping from her.”

  “She won’t,” Emer said. Nobody who knew was likely to tell Maga. But if she crossed the border in arms, she would find it out soon enough.

  “Whose side are you on?” Elenn asked. “You wouldn’t fight Conal, would you? Would you fight Oriel?”

  “I’m Conal’s charioteer,” Emer said, very sure. “I don’t think I could, unless Oriel invaded us. When I marry Conal, I’ll fight for Oriel against Connat if Connat invades.”

  “If mother finds that out, she’ll never let you marry him,” Elenn said, hardly above a whisper. “That’s like saying you’d not make her alliance. If you had a choice of where to live, you’d pick Oriel, then?”

  “Muin,” Emer said, and laughed. She wished she could see Elenn’s expression. “Look, I’m going into the hall. I’m still absolutely furious with Maga, but you can feel sure I’m not about to kill anyone. I’m also never going to tell Maga or you or anyone what it would be dishonorable for me to tell, so you may as well stop trying.”

  “What are you going to tell Allel?” Elenn asked.

  “Right now, in front of everyone? Nothing. But when I get the chance to talk to him properly, probably tomorrow outside somewhere, I’m going to tell him what Maga asked, and I’m going to tell him about my arrangement with Conal. He’ll be on my side when he sees it, I know he will.”

  “You’d start a war between them?” Elenn asked.

  “It’s Maga who wants a war,” Emer said, puzzled.

  “Not between Oriel and Connat, between Allel and Maga!”

  “They’re always fighting,” Emer said dismissively. “If Maga is going to be utterly unreasonable, then of course I’m going to go to father. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Life is completely impossible when they’re really feuding, as opposed to just normal bickering, and you know it,” Elenn said.

  “Well, sorry if my desire to marry the man I love is getting in the way of your comfort,” Emer said, entirely out of patience with her sister. “I’m going to the hall now. I want a drink.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Elenn said, ignoring everything else.

  They had to greet a number of old friends on their way to their father. Many of them Emer was genuinely glad to see. Everyone said how much they’d grown, and most commented on Elenn’s beauty and Emer’s height. Old Barr, who had nursed them and Maga before them, tutted over Emer’s scar. “I’m proud of it,” Emer said. “It was a fair fight and a won battle, no shame to be wounded by Atha ap Gren.”

  “An honorable wound, sure enough, and healed well and clean. But it spoils your beauty,” Barr said, touching her fingers to Emer’s cheek.

  Emer winced away, though it did not hurt and had not since the moment Conal healed it. “It’s Elenn who has songs sung to her beauty,” she said, trying to smile. “I am a champion, and have songs sung about my fighting abilities.”

  “Songs, is it?” Barr asked.

  “Amagien the Poet did write a song about me,” Elenn admitted.

  Barr chuckled. “To think of my nurslings grown up enough for that already. And was it Amagien the Poet who wrote a song about you, Emer?”

  “No, it was Gabran ap Dair,” Emer said. “The song’s mostly about Conal the Victor. I’m his charioteer.”

  Barr looked most impressed, and let them go.

  Allel was still sitting in the alcove, drinking with Mingor and his guests. They all glanced up as she came in. She had thought she was getting away with appearing outwardly calm until she saw Conal catch sight of her. He rose half to his feet, then remembered himself and sat down again.

  “Does our mother want me?” Mingor asked.

  Emer suppressed the strong desire to snap that Maga must have wanted him more than anything once, but rarely since. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Darag was just telling me about the contests,” Allel said. He moved over a little and patted the bench on each side of him. She walked over with Elenn and sat down beside her father. Emer grimaced at Conal as she passed him, that being the nearest to private conversation they were likely to get tonight. She could read the worry in his eyes. She wished she’d been able to explain properly about Maga. But Maga’s impossibility defied description.

  She sat back, taking deep drafts of the ale when it came around. She listened to Leary giving a fair account of the chariot racing at Lagin, helped out by occasional comments from the others. Elenn’s puppy moved among the company, sniffing everyone’s feet in a friendly way. It seemed to know Ferdia already, and to be very taken with Darag, who rubbed it hard behind the ears with practiced ease. Conal kept looking at her inquiringly, but she couldn’t say anything without everyone hearing.

  After a little while, a servant brought supper—a pot of lamb stew with bowls for the company, and a ladle.

  “Help yourselves,” Allel said. “I thought it was unwise to serve you a roast, with the hero’s portion in dispute among you.”

  There was an awkward laugh.

  “A good hot stew is ideal in this cold weather,” Ferdia said.

  “As long as it’s not served with a knife,” Nid said. The laughter this time was much more heartfelt. Everyone knew the story of the champions fishing about in the stew with their knives and eating the first thing they managed to stab, and with the pot in front of them, it suddenly seemed even funnier than usual.

  Emer got up to serve herself and managed to seat herself next to Conal when she sat down again. They still couldn’t talk without everyone hearing what they said, but at least their knees could touch.

  After they had eaten and Allel was just beginning to pester Emer to sing, Maga came to join them. She had changed her clothes completely and was wearing all her gold. Emer immediately felt travel-worn and dowdy. She wished she had worn the two arm-rings she had brought from Oriel, the gold one Conary had gifted her with after the battle, and the twisted copper-and-bronze one Conal had given her.

  “No need to get up,” Maga said, after everyone had stood and bowed. “I am not really well enough to receive guests this evening, but I wanted to greet you. Cruachan is fortunate to have so many distinguished visitors in this season.”

  “They are here on a quest, my dear,” Allel said cheerfully.

  “I have heard of it,” Maga said. “I have been thinking and consulting about it since I first heard that you three young princes would be coming here to compete.”

  “They had contests in the Isles and chariot races in Lagin and in Muin—” Allel began, but Maga raised her hand and cut him off.

  Emer felt her stomach clench. There was not much Maga could do to cheat in a fair contest. Darag was very good, but so was Conal. But Maga was setting the rules of the contest, and that almost guaranteed it wouldn’t be fair. But it wouldn’t be too blatant either. Maga was quite shrewd enough to know when people were watching.

  “I have decided that the fairest test would be for the three of you to go, unaccompanied, up to the heights of Cruachan tomorrow evening at sunset. There is a cave up there among the rocks. You will stay there, without going into the cave, for three nights and days, defending yourselves against anything that comes again
st you. Whoever does this will be awarded Connat’s prize.”

  Emer stared at her mother as if she’d never seen her before. Nobody ever went up to the heights of Cruachan. Nobody dared. Even the Ward fires were lit from lower down. All the things Barr had said when making threats to get her to behave came into her head—the monsters, the ghosts, the lane to the land of the dead. They said there was something there that would come out to defend Connat, if it was called. Nobody went up past the bonfire mound except a new king of Connat, who had to spend one night on the heights. Emer had never liked spending the night even at the Upper Hall. Sending them up there for three nights was terrible. Maga ought to know what was there, she was the king, but Maga wasn’t trustworthy. She wished she could be sure Maga wasn’t sending the three of them to certain death. What could Conary do if they all died after all, other than complain? He could go to war to avenge them, even if Maga said it was an accident, but it wouldn’t make them alive again. Maga wasn’t bound by the things that bound other people—the web of honor and fear and trust that made the world safe.

  Leary drew breath to speak, but Conal got in before him. “What lives in the cave?” he asked.

  Maga laughed. “Some say one thing and some say another. It is an unchancy place.”

  “And if we all complete the quest?” Leary asked.

  “Then I will have to devise another test,” Maga said, sounding as if this were a very unlikely contingency. Emer agreed with her for once. She would have been more inclined to ask what happened if none of them were ever seen again. Darag said nothing, just stared into the fire. Maybe he had a better idea about the top of Cruachan than the others.

  Maga sat down then, between Darag and Leary, and made herself as agreeable as she could be, which was sufficient to make both young champions unbend.

  Elenn was sitting stroking her puppy and talking to Ferdia. Allel was drinking amiably. Emer turned to look at Conal. He was as beautiful and as beloved as ever, and she longed to hold him. “I’ve never been to the heights of Cruachan,” she said quietly, but not so quietly as to be accused of whispering. Nid could certainly hear. “Everything I know about it I learned from my nurse when she wanted me to be good. I have heard that it is a strange and dangerous place, maybe a gateway to the land of the gods, a haunt of monsters, god-touched, a place where time acts strangely. I don’t know what is true about it. Be careful. Keep close track of time.”

  Conal smiled, undaunted. Emer tried hard to smile back.

  20

  (FERDIA)

  He had been longing to leave, but now he had to stay until the contest was over. He just had to. Darag understood, of course. Strangely enough, Maga didn’t seem to have any problem understanding either. She just smiled, assured him he was welcome, thanked him again for returning Elenn to her, and said that it would be more than flesh and blood could bear for him to leave now. She was much nicer than he had expected. He wondered if his father could possibly have misjudged her.

  Everyone in Cruachan went out to watch them go. It was strange to see three champions setting out on foot with swords and spears and waterskins. Their charioteers seemed to think the same and kept fussing over them until the last minute. They were to ascend in order of age, the next to follow when the first was out of sight. Ferdia didn’t see what good it would do, considering that the top of the hill could hardly comprise half a mile of craggy land and that they’d all been told how to find the cave.

  Conal left first, as the sun began to slip behind the shoulder of the hill. He embraced Emer fiercely and set off among the rocks. Emer did not go back to her parents but stood still, watching him out of sight.

  “Do you want to take my cloak as well?” Laig asked.

  “This one was warm enough on night watches in Muin,” Darag answered with commendable patience. It was chilly and damp, typical winter weather, not terribly cold.

  “You had hot drinks then, and somewhere warm to go before and after. Three nights and days outside at this time of year is a challenge in itself. It would have to be midwinter.” Laig shot a furious glance at Maga, as if to hold her responsible for the season.

  “Just past midwinter,” Ferdia said and smiled at Darag. He had no doubt of his friend’s powers of endurance.

  “At least it isn’t snowing,” Darag said and won a reluctant smile from Laig.

  Then the priest, ap Fial, called to them that it was time for Darag to go. He embraced them both swiftly. “Good luck,” Ferdia said. “But I’m sure you will win this.” Darag just smiled, turned, and walked uphill with an even stride, not looking back.

  When Darag was out of sight and Leary began to make his way up, Ferdia turned back to the others. Elenn, the wretched puppy at her feet, was standing with her parents and brother, most of the people of the court and village around them. Ferdia and Laig went to join them. Emer was still standing alone where Conal had been. Nid went to her and said something quietly, and they walked back to the Upper Hall together, just ahead of Ferdia and Laig.

  “What do you think is in that cave?” Laig asked Ferdia.

  “I don’t believe any of the stories about monsters,” Ferdia said as decisively as he could. “And it can hardly be wolves up here. Maybe a bear?”

  “Darag could deal with a bear,” Laig said, made more cheerful at the thought. Ferdia wondered if he had ever seen a bear. “He has his spears. Anyway, a bear would be snoozing at this time of year. I’m more worried about the cold than anything. It might snow in the night. He’ll have to sleep sometime.”

  The Upper Hall was smaller but more sturdily built than the Lower Hall. There was a boar roasting over the fire. Ferdia wondered for a crazy moment if there might be boar in the cave, in contradiction to everything he had ever learned about the habits of boar. He was glad they would be staying up here, nearer the heights.

  That evening they feasted, drinking to the three princes of Oriel and their ordeal. It was strange to be warm and well fed, sitting in the light hearing music and conversation, knowing that Darag was not very far away but outside in the cold and the dark. He sat in an eating alcove with Allel and his children and some of the champions of his household. Nid and Laig were sitting with Maga and some of her women. Ferdia heard occasional loud laughter from Laig and worried that he would get very drunk and disgrace Darag. Laig was a good charioteer, and undoubtedly devoted, but sometimes he disgusted Ferdia.

  The next day was bright and clear and very cold. Laig looked the way Ferdia had felt after the Feast of Bel. He swore, not for the first time, that he would never drink again, and said that Maga kept asking questions about the security of Oriel, which he knew better than to answer, drunk or sober. Ferdia wondered if she was really planning a war against Oriel. It would be something to ask his father when he was home. Maybe knowing what she had asked Laig would be information that would help his father put together a picture of what Maga was doing.

  After breakfast, Mingor led out a hunt. Ferdia went with them. There seemed little chance of anything happening on the heights the first day. There was nothing to watch, after all, and hunting was always a pleasure. But when they came back in the twilight, pleased and tired, having killed two hinds and a stag, Leary was sitting beside Maga in the hall, a cup of hot ale in his left hand. His right arm was bandaged.

  “What brings you back so soon?” Ferdia asked. He hadn’t thought Leary would give up, even if he couldn’t win.

  “To save him wearying of repeating it, Leary will tell us all his story after dinner,” Maga said. Leary smiled sheepishly. They contained their curiosity while they ate. Tonight Maga seemed to be devoting herself to Leary. He wondered if Leary would let slip any secrets about Oriel’s defenses. He sat with Elenn and Laig and some champions of Connat and talked mostly about the hunt.

  After dinner, Emer took up the harp and sang the old song of Manan and Rhianna declaring their love for each other while dashing about the field dispatching their enemies in the Battle of the Towers. Ferdia thought it exactly the song
one would expect a charioteer to choose.

  Then Leary came forward and took the musician’s stool. “Mine’s not much of a story,” he said, and was met with sympathetic laughter. “I went up the hill last. Found the cave easily enough, but there was no sign of the others anywhere. I settled down to keep watch, and watched all night, with no sign of anything. The sun came up at the usual time, though it felt like forever. The day passed uneventfully. The only odd thing was where Conal and Darag could be. I walked about a bit looking for them. I didn’t go in the cave. The second night, I must have dropped off for a minute. Something came out of the cave, a great dark shape, I couldn’t see it properly. It attacked me, and I fought it. That’s when I got this scratch.” He indicated his bound arm. “I didn’t kill it, it fled back into the cave. I slept a bit more the next day, had some strange dreams, too. The third night, three armed warriors came out of the cave, but I was ready for them. At least one of them went down, but by the time it got light, her body had vanished. I came back down at sunset today.” He spread his hands as if to say that was all there was to it.

  There was a silence. Ferdia was baffled.

  “It’s only been one day,” Nid said at last.

  “Maga told me that,” Leary said. “Very strange indeed. No accounting for it. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “It may yet be that Leary will win the contest,” Maga said, her voice smooth and assured.

  When Ferdia went off to bed, Leary was leaning on Maga, looking deep into her eyes. It looked almost amorous. Allel was across the hall taking no notice at all. When Ferdia passed them, Maga was smiling in a very pleased way and saying something about Beastmother, so he must have been mistaken, it must have been a religious discussion. No wonder Leary wanted to drown his troubles, really, after three days turning into one like that.

  The next day was even colder, with a few flakes of icy snow blowing about. Ferdia managed to forestall Laig by assuring him right away that he thought Darag’s cloak would be warm enough even for this weather. He couldn’t help looking up to the icy heights and worrying. It was waiting that was so difficult, not doing. Late in the afternoon, he managed to evade Elenn for a little while. She was so persistent in her attentions that he wondered if Maga had asked her to keep watch on him. For a girl who had wanted to be home so much, she seemed to have nothing to do now she was here except get under his feet. She had never seemed this irritating at Ardmachan.