The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  “I’ve seen her,” Cethern admitted. “But then why did Ferdia never mention this to me? Even now, it was your mother came and told me, with him just standing by saying yes and no at her side. I’m not such an ogre as all that. He’s a grown man now, and he isn’t afraid of me usually, though he has been very close with his counsel since he came back from Oriel.”

  “I think he thought it wasn’t policy,” Elenn said, looking up again, to see him frowning at her. “I knew it wasn’t my mother’s policy.”

  “You’re telling me two young people in love put it aside without mentioning it for considerations of policy?” Cethern sounded frankly disbelieving.

  “I certainly mentioned it to my mother,” Elenn said. She held Cethern’s skeptical eyes with an effort. “My sister came back from Oriel screaming and shouting that she was to marry ap Amagien the Victor, and my mother took it very badly. So I didn’t press her about Ferdia. I thought there was time and she might see the advantages later. Then … I know it sounds terrible, but Ferdia was here and he didn’t say anything and you didn’t, so I didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t exactly said that was why he was giving me the dog, though it seemed clearly his intention at the time. He wasn’t breaking any specific promises if he didn’t want me anymore. It was all things unsaid. Sometimes I wondered if I’d made the whole thing up. He’s been avoiding me since you’ve been here. And I knew it might not be what you wanted for Lagin, I thought you might have told him a definite no. Then Maga had made arrangements already and she didn’t give me any choice, and they were all men I liked, even if they weren’t Ferdia. My mother told me the kind of love you feel as a girl is sweet, but marriage is something different. I tried to put Ferdia out of my mind. I would have been a good wife to any of them, if there had been time.”

  “You’re a biddable girl for your mother’s daughter,” Cethern said, biting his lip. “Well, I suppose there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be, and I can see you’re telling me the truth as you see it. Your side of it seems clear enough. Poor girl, you’re as much the victim in this as anyone. But that doesn’t explain why Ferdia didn’t say a word about it after he left Ardmachan, to me or to you.”

  “I don’t know,” Elenn said, furious. “You should ask him. And I am not a victim or a biddable girl. I have made my own choices.”

  “Choices you didn’t have many options in, from the sound of it,” Cethern said. A watery sunshine was coming through the clouds. It caught the silver streaks in his beard.

  “I would have said no if my mother had suggested anyone I could not bear,” Elenn insisted. Cethern looked pityingly at her, and she smiled to avoid gritting her teeth. She wanted to growl in the back of her throat the way Beauty did when she was forced to keep still. She hated pity. She hated being treated as a child. “I will refuse to marry Ferdia tonight,” she said.

  “Maybe you are your mother’s daughter, if you’ll spite your heart out of pride,” Cethern said. “Besides, a marriage has not been arranged. You are men and women grown, if very young and foolish ones. You don’t need my consent for a marriage. Whether I would still call Ferdia my son if he married without my consent is another matter. An alliance is a different thing, and your mother is talking about an alliance. That’s what she wants, whatever you want. She wants one that will hold even with Ferdia dead. I said I’d not even begin to negotiate one until I’d spoken to you.” He sighed. “Even if I give consent, what Ferdia wants now is a betrothal, with a marriage to happen after the war, all being well.”

  “He is the cleverest, most admirable champion on the island of Tir Isarnagiri,” Elenn burst out. Cethern raised a warning finger, and she went on more quietly. “Then he won’t be killed trying to open a road, and I won’t have to marry another champion every night.” It did cross her mind that Ferdia might have thought of this several days ago and spared her considerable anguish, but she banished the thought in the general relief. She could have embraced Cethern. If he was to be her husband’s father, he would be kin and she could. But not now, not with people watching.

  “That would be if I agreed to a betrothal, which I haven’t,” Cethern said. “I haven’t yet,” he softened it, looking at her. “And in any case, according to your mother, he insists on fighting Darag tomorrow whatever happens.”

  Elenn stared at him in consternation. “Fighting Darag?” she asked.

  “Hush, not so loud,” Cethern said. “They may all guess what we’re talking about, but let’s not make them sure of it. Fighting Darag, yes, when every other sentence out of him has had Darag in it since he came home. And when he’s told me ninety-nine times that Darag is the best fighter of the generation, even before he started killing all corners. I can’t see any sense in it.”

  “Are you going to stop him?” Elenn asked, leaning forward, her voice only just above a whisper.

  “How can I?” Cethern’s voice was barely louder than hers. “I can refuse consent to a betrothal or an alliance, but I can’t stop him fighting Darag if he wants to. I can counsel him against it, but if he really is decided on it, then he is. He’s a grown man, not a babe. He’s taken up arms even if he isn’t the best champion there ever was, the way he says Darag is. He can fight if he wants to. Lagin is on this side of the war, much as I may regret it now. We’ve lost two champions already, one against Darag and another against Atha. My people wouldn’t stand for it if I took them away now. It might be different if Ferdia were the only heir to Lagin, but I have another son and two daughters, not to mention all my nephews.”

  “Then if Ferdia has decided to fight and you can’t stop him, why are you talking to me at all?”

  “I wanted to get to the bottom of things. I was hoping it was all a lie, though I can see it isn’t. If you love each other, it makes a difference. It may be that your mother isn’t about to give up using you as a prize to make men fight, and she’s told Ferdia he has to fight if he wants you. That seems most likely to me. I was hoping that if I could forbid the betrothal clearly and permanently, and with good arguments, he’d change his mind about wanting to fight. I wanted to say you were a pretty face who didn’t care for him and a bad alliance, issues of policy—as you said, policy does come into it when you’re a king’s son or a king’s daughter.”

  “I know,” she said, and though she wouldn’t have thought there were any tears left inside her, she had to blink some away. “Tell him that. Tell him I don’t want to marry him. Anything to save his life.”

  Cethern leaned forward urgently. “Will you speak to him? Will you tell him that? Will you tell your mother that?”

  Elenn took a deep breath and thought of Ferdia, dancing with her at the Feast of Bel, so polite, so kind, never pressing her as so many men did. She thought of him giving her Beauty, his diffidence, the brightness of his smile as they left Ardmachan and were alone in the chariot. She loved him. She could be brave for him. She could give him up to save his life.

  “I will,” she said, thinking hard about Ferdia to avoid thinking about Maga and what this would mean to her. “Come with me now, let’s find them together.”

  27

  (EMER)

  The camp was bright and bustling in the glitter of sunshine after rain. There were friends and strangers everywhere in little knots, talking, singing, practicing, even wrestling. They had the restless look of people trying hard to amuse themselves when they’ve been kept waiting too long. Emer wished them all far away. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Healing always made her feel distant, not properly connected to the world. There had been no time to rest today after Darag drew out the spear. If she could reach the tent without anyone stopping her, there might be time to sleep a little before tonight’s funerals and wedding. If she could sleep for even a few moments she would be able to bear it. If Elenn was in the same mood she had been in for the last few days and didn’t want to talk, she might manage it. She edged carefully through the crowds and into the welcome dimness of the tent.

  Elenn was not ther
e. Just inside, she almost tripped over a wad of bloody and befouled garments. Next to them on the ground was her sister’s silver circlet. Emer picked it up and frowned at it. It wasn’t at all like Elenn to be so untidy. Something must be seriously wrong. Though what could be worse than what Maga had been doing to Elenn the last few days, she couldn’t think.

  She turned the circlet over in her hands for a moment. It might be nothing, some sudden summons. Or it might be something terrible. Elenn had been so quiet and obedient; she hadn’t wanted to talk at all. Emer had suggested that she could go to Atha and claim her protection after Firbaith died. Elenn had just shaken her head and smiled and said she did not mind the new marriage Maga had found her. It was as if she were sitting in the middle of one of the pearls on her headdress, smiling and beautiful and distant, protected from everything happening around her. Emer had no idea what the consequences might be if something had broken through that.

  She looked longingly at her own blankets, set the circlet down carefully on Elenn’s, and went in search of her sister.

  Several people had seen Elenn leaving with Cethern of Lagin and marked the direction, so it wasn’t long before Emer came up with them. Maga was standing near the pyres where today’s dead were waiting for sunset and the spark of fire to send them on their way. She was smiling in a way Emer recognized as triumphant. At her side stood Ferdia, looking sullen and unhappy. Cethern was beside him, frowning. Elenn, on his other side, was almost incandescent with anger, though she might have seemed calm to someone who didn’t know her. Emer had never seen her sister so disheveled. Her hair was loose for mourning, and her blue dress was stained with grass and blood. The poet ap Dair stood between Elenn and Maga in an attitude of rapt attention.

  Maga was speaking when Emer came up to them. “Most kings wish their sons to win renown,” she said.

  “Most women wish their husbands to survive,” Elenn said passionately.

  Emer eased in beside Elenn. Ap Dair bowed as he made space for her. Maga smiled a welcome. Elenn ignored her. Cethern gave her a quick glance, then returned his attention to Elenn. Ferdia didn’t even seem to see her.

  “I am going to fight anyway. Honor requires it,” Ferdia said, darting a look at his father that seemed almost guilty.

  “Oh, Ferdia,” Elenn said. “It isn’t necessary. Someone will open the road or they won’t, but it needn’t be you. If our parents will agree, let us be betrothed now and married later, after the war, and after the details of an alliance have been worked out.”

  “You will have plenty of chances to distinguish yourself in battle without going up against Atha ap Gren or Black Darag directly now, when you are still a young man,” Cethern said.

  “I am going to fight anyway,” Ferdia said, staring straight in front of him.

  It was clear to Emer that Maga had got at him somehow. Maybe it was clear to Cethern as well, from the way he was frowning.

  Elenn looked on the edge of tears. “I won’t let you die for me,” she said.

  Ferdia looked at her sternly, almost with dislike. “I am going to fight anyway,” he repeated doggedly.

  “Why?” Emer asked. Everyone looked at her. “Why are you going to fight?” she asked again.

  Ferdia stared dumbly at her for a moment.

  “Yes, why, son?” Cethern asked eagerly.

  “It concerns my honor,” Ferdia said at last, looking at ap Dair.

  “Nothing could dissuade you,” ap Dair said, as if quoting something, or perhaps making something up.

  “Nothing,” Ferdia echoed gratefully.

  Nobody could say anything to that, of course. Elenn drew breath to speak, but thought better of it and sighed instead. Emer wanted to shake Ferdia. He would be killed. It would break Elenn’s heart. Worst of all, she would have to help, or stand by and watch Darag kill him. It was only then she realized how bad things were. It would break Darag’s heart even more surely than Elenn’s. Indeed, it might distress Darag so much that he could not keep fighting. Her breath caught on that. It didn’t bear thinking about, because if Darag couldn’t go on, then the army of Connat came forward into Oriel. This didn’t seem like chance. This seemed like a plan. Emer looked at her mother, the master-planner. She was smiling sweetly at Cethern. Emer looked back at Elenn. A tear had escaped her brimming eyes and was trickling down her cheek. There was something terrible and relentless in this, something far beyond ordinary cattle-raiding, or even ordinary war.

  There was only ever one way to stop Maga, one person who could stop her. She had to find her father. Maga’s smile reminded her only too well of the last time their parents had been at war with each other. Allel could stop her, though it wouldn’t be easy even for him.

  “Do we have a betrothal tonight?” Maga asked at last.

  Cethern let go of his beard, which he had been tugging gently. He looked at Ferdia, who was staring at the grass at his feet. Cethern did not quite shake his head. He turned to Elenn, who was standing perfectly still and quiet but whose face was now running with tears. “We do,” he said, and he sounded thirty years older than he had before.

  Elenn bowed to Cethern, who bowed back gravely. Then she put out her hand to Ferdia, who took it and held it tightly.

  “Tonight after the funerals, then,” Maga said.

  The sunset, the funerals, and the betrothal passed in a haze for Emer. Allel was there, but she could not hope to have him alone for a moment. There was plenty of food afterward, for once; fresh supplies must have come from somewhere. Ferdia did not seem to have much appetite. Elenn kept looking at him, but he rarely met her eyes. Allel too kept very quiet, drinking with Cethern and Lew of Anlar, who seemed to be a permanent addition to their dinner group now.

  Elenn and Ferdia led the first dance. Most people seemed to be wild and enthusiastic in the firelight. Emer waited until the second dance, which was one anyone could dance, men together, women together, even children with parents. She grabbed Allel’s hand and pulled him up. “Dance with me, Father,” she said. Their eyes were on a level now, as they had not been when last they had danced together.

  “There are plenty of younger people who would be only too pleased to dance with you,” he complained and gestured to Lew, who smiled. Lew could hardly be used to being called young.

  “Oh, please, come on,” she said, not letting go of her father’s hand.

  Allel sighed and shrugged and followed her as if he had no choice. As soon as they were far enough away from the others, with enough dancers between them and Maga that they couldn’t be seen or heard, she stopped and took both his hands. “You must stop Mother doing this to Elenn.”

  “I can’t,” he said, freeing his hands and gesturing with them as if to ward her off. “I promised.”

  “Promised who? What? Why?”

  Allel looked wretched. “Promised Maga I wouldn’t interfere.”

  “Wouldn’t interfere with what?” Getting him to talk tonight was like teasing out a sea anemone with a piece of seaweed.

  Allel sighed and looked around as if for help. Everyone around them was moving in the dance. Nobody was even looking at them. “I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “I have kept your secrets before, even at cost to myself,” Emer said, which was a truth Allel had to acknowledge. “I can’t see what you can have promised that would stop you helping Elenn.”

  “Well, but make sure this doesn’t go any farther,” he said. “Maga said she could bring the whole island together to conquer Oriel, and conquer it, right to the northern sea, before the Feast of Lew and the harvest. If she does, she has dominion over me, and if she does not, I have dominion over her—no more fighting between us in either case. But I must not interfere. I promised I would leave her alone to do what she wanted to arrange it.”

  “This entire war, all this craziness, is a war between the two of you?” Emer’s voice shook with anger. She felt almost drunk with it.

  “I didn’t think she could possibly do it,” Allel said. “You know what she can b
e like.”

  “I know what she can be like, and if you can’t resist her, how much less can we? Have you thought what this is doing to Elenn?” Emer glared at her father.

  “They have all of them been good men, and good marriages,” Allel said. “Maga is trying to win, yes, but she has a care for you children as well. She wouldn’t hurt you to try to win.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so blind and stupid,” Emer burst out. “Do you know she has been trying to marry me to Lew ap Ross?”

  “He is the king of Anlar, and he has no heir,” Allel said uncertainly.

  “He is forty-five years old at least, and he is Conal’s uncle!”

  “I spoke to her for you, for Conal,” Allel said, much more confidently. “She made him an offer and he wouldn’t take it. She may have suggested Lew, but she hasn’t forced him on you. He wouldn’t be a bad match in many ways. Yes, he’s older, but he’s a good man.”

  What Emer wanted to say to that would have taken all night, and it was irrelevant anyway. “I am not going to marry him. I am going to marry Conal. But what about Elenn? Do you know she loves Ferdia, and Ferdia doesn’t love her, and Maga has somehow forced him into fighting, even though he is young, Darag’s best friend, and nothing like as good as Darag?”

  “I didn’t know he didn’t love her,” Allel said. “But—”

  “She has seen four good husbands die for her, and three dozen good men die trying to win her, and now she is going to see the man she loves die just like them, under Darag’s spears. You have to stop this. Whatever you promised, you have to stop Maga. She is completely out of control, and nobody else has ever had any way of checking her.”

  “I promised,” Allel said, moving aside to let a pair of hurtling dancers pass them. “If I get in her way, she will call it interference and call the whole thing off. She hasn’t forced you or Elenn to marry anyone. Ferdia is Cethern’s son, not mine. It’s not my responsibility if he’s fighting people who are better than he is.”