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The boats pull in close to the banks and the players start to board. I spot Cal – he stands taller than just about everyone else – and wave to him, but he doesn’t see me. People are cheering and singing, and I learn from a couple of people close to me that they’re old songs that date back to a time before the war, when the Tourney was a regular feature of life in the Merge.
I see Tieren boarding with Franz and the captain of the team, and smile as I recall how scared she was when Cal threatened to rip off her head. She must have overcome her fears, because she made the final thirty. I’m pleased for her, and hope she does well. (And holds on to her head!)
The captain’s a woman called Olivia. She’s a hummingbird, one of the players who shoots from open play, and she’s something of a legend. Condors usually score the most points in games, from penalties, but Olivia’s often the highest scorer when she plays, and has maintained her ranking as maybe the best hummingbird in any of the realms for more than two hundred years.
Olivia’s a tall, thin woman, with tight brown hair that’s been shaved away on the left side of her head to highlight the fact that she’s missing an ear. It was ripped off in an especially violent game in Ruby long ago. She could have had it restored, but she’s proud of the injury, and left it as it was in memory of the occasion.
I thought the captain would be one of the bigger, scarier players, but when I asked Cal, he shivered and said that on a grop pitch, Olivia scared him more than anyone else he’d ever played with. “You feel that if you make a mistake, she’ll rip out your heart and use it as a grop in the next phase of play.”
“Is that a good thing in a captain?” I asked uncertainly.
“It’s the best thing of all,” he said firmly.
Once the players have boarded, it’s the turn of the backroom team. There are more of us, so we take our time, no pushing or jostling, everyone aware of the need to be cautious this close to the bank of the river of blood.
As I’m waiting to move, idly studying the crowd, a small boy with a backpack way too large for him slips into the line beside me. He’s dressed in clothes that are a close match for mine, but not exactly the same. The material’s rougher and a slightly different shade of blue, while the shirt’s a touch too long in the arms and the trousers only barely cover his shins.
“Are you alright?” I ask, concerned that the boy will collapse beneath the weight of his bag.
“Shut up,” the boy growls.
“Charming,” I huff, eyeing him frostily. I can’t see his face, as he has his head turned away from me and is keeping his chin low. “What’s your name?”
“None of your business,” he says.
“What are your duties?” I press. “Whose squad are you on?”
“I’ll be on the stamp-your-face-into-the-mud squad if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” the boy snaps.
“I’m calling Baba Jen,” I tell him. “That isn’t official team gear, and I bet that bag isn’t packed with authorised equipment.”
I start to move away, worried that he might be a SubMerged agent sent to sink a boat, but then the boy grabs my arm and hisses, “Archie, stop, don’t give me away.”
“How do you know my name?” I frown.
“The same way you know mine,” the boy says, and reveals a flash of his face.
“Pol?” I gasp.
“Louder,” Pol sneers. “Someone at the back of the crowd didn’t hear you.”
Pol’s a vine rat. The rats are children who live inside the vines and obey their own rules. He helped Inez and me sneak into Canadu when we were trying to get there for the vote last year.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, shuffling forward as the line starts moving again.
“I’m sneaking aboard,” Pol says smugly. “You’ll help me if anyone questions my presence, tell them I’m one of the team.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because you owe me,” he says. “Or have you forgotten?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “Why do you want to come onto the boat? There are no vines on it.”
“Very observant of you,” Pol says, then laughs. “I’m going to Topaz.”
“What for?” I ask.
“A foreign exchange programme,” Pol says.
“You’re going to be a foreign exchange student?” I ask sceptically.
“What’s so strange about that?” he counters.
“Well... I mean... what are you going to study? Languages? Business?”
“Don’t be dense,” Pol growls. “I’ll study vining.”
“Vining,” I echo, as if I know what he means.
“It was common in the old days,” Pol says as we draw closer to the bank. “Rats crossed realms every time there was a Tourney, always on the boats with the teams. I don’t know if rats will come from the other realms – it’s been a long time and we don’t keep in touch, they might have forgotten the tradition – but the rats of Cornan have long memories, so a few of us volunteered, and I was chosen. If I make it, I’ll hook up with the rats in Topaz and send one of them back at the end of the Tourney.”
“Send one back?” I frown. “Does that mean you’ll stay there?”
“Until the next Tourney, yeah,” Pol says. “That’s how it works. I’ll live among the Topazers and learn. Rats do things differently in every realm, so you can always pick up new tricks. When there’s another Tourney, I’ll travel to that realm with the Topaz team, then sneak back home with the Sapphirites when it’s over. We don’t use boreholes. It’s the boats or bust.”
“What if they don’t have another Tourney?” I ask.
Pol grimaces. “It’s a risk, but if I get stuck there, I’ll just have to learn to love the cold.”
I want to ask more questions, but we’ve come to the boat and there’s a man with a moon-shaped face waiting for us. He’s holding a list and checking names. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him before. He was working with a giant when I came to Cornan with the thesps last year, directing newcomers, telling them where to camp. He was extremely officious, and doesn’t seem to have mellowed any.
“Names?” he sniffs.
“Archibald Lox,” I tell him, and he studies his list, before mentally ticking off my name.
“Yours?” he says to Pol.
Pol doesn’t answer. He hasn’t thought this through. I’m not sure how rats boarded in the past, but they probably didn’t approach the boats as openly as Pol has, or else officials like Moon Face are a new thing.
“Name?” Moon Face snaps impatiently.
“Arlo,” I tell him, offering the name of someone on my squad, who I saw on the other side of the river.
“Why doesn’t he answer for himself?” Moon Face asks suspiciously.
I’m about to say that Pol can’t speak, but he barks before I can, “Because you didn’t say please.”
Moon Face’s features darken. “Ar. Lo,” he says thickly, studying the list slowly until he comes to the name. His eyes narrow and he looks at Pol again. “Surname?”
Pol doesn’t answer, only glares. I’ve no idea either, so I keep quiet too.
“Surname?” Moon Face repeats, louder this time.
“You know what you have to say if you want an answer,” Pol says, toughing it out.
Moon Face’s nostrils flare. “I’m going to ask one of your superiors to verify your identity,” he says.
“See if I care,” Pol says, but his shoulders slump and he must think he’s about to be turned away.
“That’s fine,” I say sweetly to Moon Face, taking a step away. “Wait here and I’ll fetch Baba Jen.”
“Baba Jen?” Moon Face bleats, and it’s clear their paths have crossed before.
“She’s our boss,” I tell him, patting my rucksack. “I saw her a few minutes ago, chatting with a coach, but I’m sure she won’t mind if I pull her aside to deal with something as important as this.”
“Hold on,” Moon Face says nervously as I take another step away. He stares at his list, then at Pol, and gulps. “I suppose she’s quite busy...”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to settle your mind,” I purr. “Arlo’s dressed in the team uniform, his name’s on your list, and I’ve confirmed his identity, but if you want to be extra cautious...”
Moon Face scowls. “Arlo,” he says firmly, and it’s clear that he considers the name ticked.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping past him onto the boat.
“For nothing,” Pol grunts and steps up next to me. He digs an elbow into my ribs. “That doesn’t make us even, by the way. You still owe me.”
“I’d never have thought otherwise,” I murmur, and it’s hard to hide my smile.