PLAYING GAMES

Karigan grunted when Tegan shook her awake. The canvas of the tent walls was infused with sunshine.

“I brought you some tea and meat rolls,” Tegan said.

“What time is it?” Karigan asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Mid-afternoon.”

“What?” Karigan sat up and looked about in a panic. “I was supposed to answer more questions for the king last night, and then train with the Weapons this morning.”

“It’s all right.” Tegan passed her a steaming mug. “We reminded the king and the Weapons of how exhausted you were, but you are to go see the king when you are ready. And take your time—a few extra minutes won’t hurt anything.”

Karigan took her advice and savored the tea, then washed from the bucket of chill water Tegan had dragged in. She stepped outside into the brisk air and found the camp alive around her with soldiers walking or running among the tents, the babble of voices, orders being snapped out in the distance. The air smelled of woodsmoke and cooked meat. The attitude of the camp had not changed from last night, which probably meant there had been no aggression from Second Empire, and that all remained as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

She walked to Zachary’s tent, determined to behave as Connly had ordered her the previous night. She would be professional and not seem to question Zachary’s authority as king. She found Willis and Ellen again on duty at the entrance.

“Sorry I missed my training,” she said.

Willis nodded. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough.” His countenance did not reveal approval or disapproval.

She took a deep breath and entered the tent. Zachary and a few of his officers stood over the map table, looking at what appeared to be the plans of a building, which was more than likely the Eagle’s Pass Keep. The paper was yellowed and cracked.

“The problem is getting in,” General Washburn was saying.

“They used magic to take our people out,” said a gruff major Karigan didn’t know. “We don’t have the same advantage.”

“It was not honorable,” the third officer, General Hixon, said. He commanded the engineer companies. “Nothing about those imperials is honorable.”

Zachary looked up and saw her then. “Ah, Rider G’ladheon.” He excused himself from his officers who continued to examine the plans. “You received adequate rest?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Have a seat.” He indicated a chair at the other table, which still had an Intrigue board upon it, and sat opposite her.

“I wished to ask you more questions, get your impression on some things,” he said. “I need to know more about the enemy. I have already questioned Riders Duff and Notman, and Melry, too, in this regard, but you interacted with Torq and Birch, and you’ve your merchant background, which has proven useful in judging people.”

She relaxed. She had not known what he wanted to see her for exactly and was relieved it was purely business. She could pretend they were just king and messenger, and nothing more. She glanced at the map table and noted that the officers remained, flipping through plans and speaking in low voices among themselves. Nothing would appear untoward with her presence in Zachary’s tent.

“I coaxed a fair amount out of your colonel and others who faced the Raiders in the past,” he continued, “but few who encountered Torq survived to tell of it. What are your impressions of him.”

“No respect for authority other than his own.” It was the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s his reason for existence, why he’s an outlaw. He has no respect for the laws of this realm, but he also has no respect for Second Empire or Birch.”

“Yes, you brought that up in Oxbridge. Would you say Torq is just using Second Empire to whatever advantage he can?”

“I think that is likely,” she replied. She went into more detail than she had in Oxbridge about the interaction between Torq and Birch she’d observed after her escape from the hut. Zachary listened closely, his fingers closing around a game piece that he absently turned in his hand.

“Allies of convenience,” he said when she finished. “That is a weakness. What is your impression of Birch?”

“The opposite of Torq. Very disciplined, and smart enough to not trust Torq.” While she and Zachary spoke, people came and went—officers and their aides, Weapons, and servants. The servants brought tea and he poured a cup for Karigan. She was grateful for she’d grown parched with all the talking.

“Now, what of Lala?” he said. “It was her magic that allowed the keep to be taken.”

“Yes, she is a strange child, but I know little about her, except that she and Grandmother stole Estral’s voice, er, the Lady Fiori’s voice. I had never seen her before, but she seemed to know me. I guess from when I was a captive of Nyssa’s.” A good deal of that night was missing from Karigan’s memory, except for the whip and the agony it had brought. He, too, had been held captive in the Lone Forest, and Lala had assisted in his torture, but neither of them could do much more than speculate on her level of power, for they lacked enough information to come to any conclusions.

There was a lull in their conversation, during which Karigan was able to sip her tea uninterrupted and study Zachary. He had a faraway look in his eyes. She wondered what he thought about, where his mind wandered. He must have so much on his mind: his missing friend and advisor, strategy and counter-strategy, all that running a campaign required, and, very likely, he thought of his wife back in Sacor City pregnant with twins.

He placed the game piece he’d been fiddling with on the Intrigue board with a decisive tap. It was a knight, its features blurred with age, the paint chipped. This was followed by more blue pieces that he formed up on his side of the star-shaped board. She recognized the set. They’d played a game on it not long after she’d arrived at the castle one spring day five years ago, bearing a message that the dying F’ryan Coblebay had begged her to deliver. At the time, she’d been aghast that Zachary hadn’t wanted to hear about her journey, but found out later he couldn’t speak freely because he feared spies might have heard anything she had to say.

When he looked up at her, she began to get a bad feeling, and sure enough he started setting up green pieces on her side of the board as if he intended to challenge her in another game.

Surely not.

How could he play a game at this time? Shouldn’t he be standing over the map table with his generals and debating strategy? Then it occurred to her that maybe he was setting up a game for the same reason as the first time, that he had something to hide from spies, but she’d already told him everything she knew.

He set the last green piece in its spot and glanced up at her. Her expression must have clearly revealed her bemusement for he gave her a half-smile. “Shall we see if your skill at Intrigue has improved over the last few years?”

“It has not,” she assured him. She did not care for the game, never had. It brought back bad memories of being stuck in the white world with Zachary’s traitorous brother and his puppet master, the evil Shawdell, and his attempt to force her into a life or death game of Intrigue.

As its name implied, it was a strategy game, and she never won. Even without the bad memories, she disliked the politicking and subterfuge it required, the shades of gray. Noble children were taught to play it at a young age as a form of training for their adult lives in court. It took a subtle mind to be good at Intrigue, and she knew few would ever regard her as having such.

“Well, let us see,” Zachary said. “No Triad, but as I recall, we did fine with just the two of us last time.”

General Hixon appeared at the table. “Ah! His Majesty has you in his sights for a game, eh, Rider? Watch his assassins—sneaky bastards they are. I’d join you, but I need to inspect our fortifications, unless you need me, sire?”

“Go ahead,” Zachary said. “We’ll set you up as a Triad next time.”

The general beamed as he bowed, and then he clapped Karigan on the shoulder. The game was optimally played with three people. The third person, the Triad, was the wild card who could ally with one of the other sides, or play for him- or herself. A good part of the game could be spent negotiating with the Triad. At least with that element excluded, the game would move much faster. Still, Karigan felt overwhelmed by dread.

“You look as if you’ve lost your best friend,” Zachary told her.

Karigan attempted a smile. It faltered.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“It’s just—May I speak bluntly?”

He leaned back in his chair, a glint in his eye. “I value honesty from my Green Riders. Proceed.”

He had not been happy when she questioned him the night before, but this time she’d his permission to speak bluntly and she wouldn’t hold back. Connly still wouldn’t be pleased with her approach, but, well, he wasn’t there.

“Why are we going to play this game when there is so much going on? The keep and Second Empire, and what about Colonel Mapstone? We could be out looking for her.”

He gazed at the game board, adjusted the position of his king. “Did you know that your colonel and I play a regular game once a month?”

She shook her head. She had not.

“It’s a very useful way to combine business with pleasure. Our conversations during play tend to be wide-ranging. I believe your name has come up a few times during such games.” A smile flickered across his lips. “We work out many problems, and I get caught up on the business of my messengers. Your colonel is a formidable opponent.”

Yes, Karigan could see that.

“You do understand, my dear Rider,” he continued, “Intrigue is not just a game. For me it is a focus from which I can gain insight to strategy. It may help me solve problems with our current situation, spark fresh ideas, just as it did for your colonel. And as for your colonel . . .”

Here it comes, she thought. He was going to go cold and shut her down again.

He looked hard at her. Suddenly, all the activity in the tent, all that was happening outside, seemed very far away. “I think you know what Laren Mapstone means to me.”

She did. He’d said it before, that she was like an elder sister. His gaze softened, and she saw the regret, the sorrow in his eyes.

“She is my dearest friend and I will do anything I can to get her back. And I will have her back. Do not doubt it.”

“But we could have—”

“No.” There was fire in the word. “My Green Riders are excellent, but Varos . . . Varos is a very tricky situation. We must move carefully. We cannot afford a provocation, not at this time. Besides, I need my Riders here. All of them.”

It seemed to Karigan that it was Varos that was being provocative. “Then how will you get the colonel back?”

Muted light gleamed on his amber hair. “First we try diplomacy.”

“And if diplomacy doesn’t work?”

“Like a game of Intrigue, there are many ways to approach a problem, but you need not worry about that. It is in motion.”

Of course she worried—it was the colonel, the person she looked up to the most. “It?”

“The game, Rider,” he said, and he rolled the dice.