Chapter 50: Ghost Stones

“Stones” was short for “Ghost Stones,” a complex game of strategy and calculated risk at which Herrwn, Ossiam, and Olyrrwd were acknowledged masters. It was played on a five-sided board with a pair of dice and thirty-three polished stones, of which fifteen were white, fifteen were black, and three were gray.

The object of the game was straightforward. Opposing players began with a set of the white or black stones, and the one who got the most of his stones all the way around the board won.

The remaining three playing pieces—the “Ghost Stones” that gave the game its name—were gray. Except for their color, the black and the white stones were indistinguishable, but each of the gray stones was engraved with one of the ancient symbols for fate, most commonly read as Chance, Fortune, and Destiny. One of the Ghost Stones moved after the players had each taken three turns at tossing the dice—Chance going forward three places, Fortune six, and Destiny nine—so, in addition to keeping track of their own pieces and those of their opponent, players had to take into account the movements of the Ghost Stones.

While game boards varied from simple planks to ornate heirlooms, they all shared the same basic features. There were eighteen numbered spaces zigzagged along each side and a space at each corner that was not numbered but was instead designated with a symbol depicting some feature of nature (usually an oak tree for the earth, horizontal arrows for wind, drops from a cloud for rain, undulating lines for the sea, and a fan-shaped cluster of spirals for fire). Taken together, the numbered and corner spaces were the game’s “track” where the active play took place. In the center of the board was a shallow depression—called the “hole” by some players and the “hold” by others—where out-of-play “captive” stones were kept.

A game of great antiquity, each facet of Ghost Stones was governed by deeply entrenched traditions, beginning from the moment the board was set out and all the stones, black, white, and gray, were placed in a strictly prescribed pattern around the “earth” corner of the board. This done, the two opponents stood up and bowed to each other, then sat back down and each picked up one of the two dice. On a count of three, they tossed their die, and the one with the higher score subsequently tossed both dice to set the “luck” of the track—an even number coming up making the even-numbered spaces “lucky” and the odd-numbered spaces “unlucky” for that game. The other player then got to choose whether to take the black or white stones. (Most picked black, as that was generally felt to be the stronger color.) With the colors decided, they tossed a third time to see who went first, and the play began.

A stone being moved onto the board had to go the full number that was tossed. Once stones were on the track, the number thrown could be split between two pieces. A game stone was taken “captive” and put in the hole when the opposing player’s stone landed on the same space. Having a gray stone land on a black or a white one was good for the player whose stone it was if the space was “lucky,” because the game stone was then sent forward to the next corner space. It was bad if the space was “unlucky,” because that meant the player’s stone was “struck down,” by which it was meant that the piece was permanently out of play (and it was for this reason that the gray stones were called the “Ghost Stones”).

Key to the game’s outcome was that a player who could get three of his pieces on a single corner (a placement that was called a “wall”) could bar the passage of his opponent’s stones, and that would begin the central intricacy of the game—the negotiation over how many turns would be skipped or how many captive stones in the hole would be released (or “ransomed”) in exchange for the wall being “taken down” and its stones moved back into play.

The position of the playing pieces at any particular time was called the “lay” of the track. There were certain strategic positions that players aimed for, and opponents intent on their game could often be heard muttering to themselves about getting a good or a bad lay.

A “round” of Stones between two well-matched players might last for hours. Before the schism between Olyrrwd and Ossiam, the three cousins had often stayed up all night—two of them “at the board” while the third moved the Ghost Stones—and Herrwn continued to practice in private, playing against himself, in order to be ready when one or the other of his cousins wanted to “go a round” with him. Now, carefully nonchalant, Herrwn went to get his board and the embossed leather bag holding the stones and the dice while Ossiam moved Olyrrwd’s healing paraphernalia off the table.

From the outset, it was clear that the game was going to be a close one. On the opening toss, Ossiam threw a 5 to Herrwn’s 4, then cast a 2 to set the even numbers as lucky.

Herrwn chose the black stones.

On his first regular toss, Ossiam rolled a 9, while Herrwn’s first throw was a 6—equally good if you accounted for its being on an even number rather than an odd one. From there play went on, growing in intensity as one of them jumped ahead only to be overtaken by the other’s lucky throw.

They’d both made it past the first corner and both had succeeded in getting two stones in place on the second corner and were in competition over which of them would complete his wall at this critical juncture in the game. It was Herrwn’s turn. Deep in thought over how best to use the 2 and the 5 he’d just thrown, he was leaning back, balancing his chair on two legs, when, without warning, the classroom’s double doors slammed open and Olyrrwd stormed in, roaring, “Where is he?”

The next thing Herrwn knew, he was lying on the floor, his legs hooked over his toppled chair and pieces from the game scattered around him.

He must have been, at least momentarily, knocked senseless, as he had no memory of Ossiam standing up or of Olyrrwd crossing the room, and yet the next thing he saw was the two of them poised just beyond arm’s length of each other, their mouths moving in some heated debate—although at first all Herrwn could hear was a loud buzzing, as if the room were filled with swarming bees.