CHAPTER 6

Margaham’s Game

When Fin stepped on deck the next morning, Coll was pointing to where the angry red walls of the Ravingorge sloped downward, dropping into the calm of a broad, rippling bay. “Exit ahead,” the captain pronounced.

A low mist obscured the land beyond; all Fin could see were the triangles of mountains, the green of deep forests, the outlined towers of some mysterious city.

“Oh, thank heavens,” Remy said. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, plastered in place with what looked like dried saliva. Apparently, the Ravingorge had not been kind to the Kraken’s student driver.

As the mist lifted, Fin studied the shore ahead. Something about it was weird, he realized. Nothing was changing. Nothing at all. The Kraken was moving, which meant that even if the land was completely frozen, his perspective should have been shifting. But it wasn’t. It was like they were moving toward a flat painting.

Now that he thought of it, the whole panorama seemed exactly like a painting. The outlines were two-dimensional. The smudges of color were too smudged. He snapped his gaze down to the waters of the bay. They weren’t just calm; they were motionless. Even the ripples were frozen in place.

They weren’t ripples, he realized. They were just lines drawn there to look like ripples. The Kraken was about to sail straight onto fake water!

“Coll!” Fin yelled to the quarterdeck. “Full stop, full stop!”

But it was too late. A second later, a great screeching squeal tore the air as the Kraken crashed onto the painted water of the false bay. The deck shuddered, throwing Fin to his knees. His teeth rattled in his head. Remy screamed. Coll let out a bellow as he toppled down the stairs.

The Kraken listed to one side as momentum carried it forward, slowly grinding to a halt. A second later, the door to Ardent’s cabin burst open.

“What in the name of the Thirty-Four and Seven Thunders!” the wizard shouted. His purple cap hung to one side of his head as he strode out onto the still deck. “Oh,” he said, stopping. “We’re here. Well, that would have been nice to know forty-five seconds ago.”

Coll rolled over and groaned. “You knew this would happen.”

Ardent sniffed and straightened his cap. “Well, I thought we had a competent captain who knew how to park on cardboard, so no, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Hey!” Remy protested. “I’m still learning how to drive this thing, so lay off!” She turned back to the wheel, gripping it tightly.

Fin stumbled to the tilted railing. What should have been golden waves beneath them were marred with furrows of torn brown paper. He could see clearly now that the new “land” ahead of them was just a painted backdrop. Behind them, the water pouring out of the Ravingorge merged seamlessly with the flat expanse: liquid one second, painted surface the next.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Margaham’s Game is literally a game,” he said with wonder.

“Well, of course it is,” Ardent declared. “I mean, it’s—”

“Right in the name,” Remy finished.

“Exactly. Because the Stream—”

“Touches all waters. Even the ones that aren’t technically waters.” She sounded exhausted. “I hate this place. I hate that I’m starting to understand this place.”

The hatch opened, and Marrill struggled out of it, Karny in her arms. “What in—”

Fin shook his head. “Catch you up later.”

She stopped, looking around. “Oh, it’s literally a game.…”

“And now you’re caught up.” Fin had to admit, it did make a stupid sort of sense.

Remy scanned their destination. “You’re sure this is the only way to talk to Margaham and find out what he knows about the Master? To play his game?”

Ardent nodded. “It can be terribly frustrating when all you want to do is drop by for tea, but Margaham insists that the only way to gain entrance to his castle is via his game.” He lowered his voice. “I think he has a hard time finding people to play against otherwise.”

“Wizards are weird,” Fin mumbled under his breath. But he didn’t plan on letting that stop him. He’d been looking forward to the game. “So, how do we play?”

Ardent clapped. “Excellent question, my good random street urchin! Let’s take a look at the board.” He strode to the bow of the ship, where a circular board and pewter pieces had been set atop a small wooden table. Fin had never seen either the game or the table before. In fact, he was quite certain they hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Now then,” Ardent said, leaning over the board. It was a series of concentric rings, nestled inside one another. Each ring was unique in its own way: One was divided into checkerboard squares; another flickered with arcane symbols; still another had been painted to look like the rampart of a castle wall. The circle in the center rose up into the carved shape of a miniature castle, the middle of it completely flat and smooth.

“Is that the board?” Marrill asked. “I guess I can see how it looks like your wedding cake sketch.” She tilted her head to the side. “Kinda.”

Ardent cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Let’s see what pieces we got this time.… Knight, Blackguard… ooh, Lion Tamer!”

Fig appeared by Fin’s side, rubbing her arm. “Are the wake-up calls usually so… abrupt?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Morning, snoozy,” he told her. “Good job not stealing the ship’s wheel during the night. And you’re in luck. Apparently we’ve reached Margaham’s Game, and you’re just in time to learn how to play.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yay.” She stepped back as though intending to sneak away. Fin smirked and tugged her forward so she could see.

A flash of confusion crossed Ardent’s face as he took the two of them in, but he just shrugged. “Ah. Well, the more the merrier, I guess,” he said, snapping his fingers to call for a chair.

Ardent sat, kicking aside the hem of his robe, and cracked his knuckles. “Okay, the goal of the game is simple,” he explained. “One player, which is always Margaham, is the defender. His Wizard will be placed here.” He tapped the smooth center of the castle. “All the other players are attackers, who compete with one another as well as the defender. Of course, the only attacker this time is us, so our goal is simply to move our pieces through the rings to the center and capture the defender’s Wizard.”

He picked up one of the pewter figurines and held it up. “Of course, each of our pieces is unique and has its own movement and abilities. The Lion Tamer moves like so”—he clacked the piece quickly across the board in a Z-shape—“and the Knight like so.” This time, he moved the piece in an inverted L around the outer ring, then in the opposite direction.

He turned to them with a sharply raised eyebrow. “Now, the Knight can destroy any obstacle ahead of it and shield any other player from harm. But it can only move around a circle, and never up to the next circle, unless another piece helps it. The Lion Tamer, meanwhile, can send out its lion to find secret paths between circles, which it can use to advance or go back and retrieve the Knight.”

Fin smiled. He’d never really played a board game before. At least not with other people. It was kind of hard when he kept getting his turn skipped because no one remembered he existed. He wondered if the same was true for Fig or if the Fade even played games.

He picked up the last of the pieces and studied it. It depicted a shadowy figure, crouched and masked. Very thiefy, he noted with a smile. “What about this one? How does it move, and what does it do?”

Ardent took it from him and twirled it around in his fingers. “The Blackguard’s move is its power. It can go in any direction, taking any path it finds, so long as no one sees it moving.”

Neat, Fin thought. That was totally his piece.

“That’s totally my piece,” Fig said under her breath.

Fin’s jaw dropped. “I thought you didn’t want to play.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I will if I get to play someone cool.”

“Hmph,” Fin grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Now, there’s one thing we must all remember before we begin,” Ardent continued. “Margaham created this game to satisfy anyone who might come to play it. Thrill-seekers have played to find the ultimate entertainment; kings have used it to battle to the death. Because of that, there is only one central rule, and you must never forget it: The more seriously you take the game, the more deadly it becomes.”

There was a beat of silence as they took in this information. Fig was the one to break it. “What do we get if we win?”

Ardent winked. “Whatever we seek! We shall state that ahead of time, and if our opponent can give it, the game will begin.”

“What will our opponent be playing for?” Marrill asked.

“We have no idea. Only that it’s something we have.”

Fin met Marrill’s eyes. Her expression mirrored his own discomfort. They had some pretty valuable cargo on board. He shot a glance toward Fig. Good thing the Rise weren’t playing this game, he thought.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Marrill asked Ardent.

He waved a hand. “I’ve played against Margaham more times than I can remember, and his wager is always the same. If he wins—which he won’t—he’ll want me to admit he was right about disproportionate intertime transpositioning—which, of course, he wasn’t. No real risk. Besides, if that’s what it takes to uncover the Master’s identity, I’m willing to sacrifice.”

Fin felt the need to point out the obvious. “But if we think Margaham might be the Master, then won’t his stakes be higher?”

Ardent lifted an eyebrow in Fin’s direction. “Since you’re obviously new to the crew, I won’t hold your ignorance against you. But understand, I am one of the most powerful wizards on the Stream—far more powerful than Margaham. I do not intend to lose.”

Ardent plucked a card from out of thin air and scribbled something across its surface. “Our stakes,” he announced, slipping it into a crisp white envelope before Fin could see what he’d written.

“Now let’s begin, shall we?” With a swift motion, Ardent tapped the flat space in the center of the castle. In the moment Fin blinked, a round metal piece appeared. It was a wizard, no doubt; the robes were a dead giveaway, though its hat looked far more like a jester’s than like Ardent’s floppy cap.

“Welcome, players!” said a reedy voice coming from the game piece, though it was just as motionless as the others. “Welcome to my Great Game. It is I, the Inevitable Margaham!”

“And I am the great wizard Ardent,” Ardent called in response. “Come to play your game.”

There was a pause before the pewter wizard answered. “You should not have come here, old friend.”

“He was always one for dramatics,” Ardent whispered behind his hand.

“Obviously,” Fig said drolly, scanning their surroundings.

Ardent raised his voice. “Margaham, listen—we’ve come on a mission seeking the identity of the Master of the Iron Ship. What do you know of him?”

“As I told Annalessa,” the game piece answered, “you may find some answers here. But they may be answers to questions you should never have asked in the first place.”

“Annalessa?” Ardent stood abruptly, knocking against the game table and causing the pieces to rattle. Any trace of humor drained from his face. His eyes turned cold, serious. “She was here? When?”

“Those are not questions you should be asking,” Margaham responded. “You should turn back now.” His voice escalated, growing more insistent. “Leave, and be safe; find some kind of happiness in ignorance. Trust me—” His voice cut out abruptly.

This did nothing to dampen Ardent’s ire. The whole board—the whole table—seemed to shake with his anger now. He snatched the envelope from the game board and tore it open, yanking the card free. He scratched out what he’d written earlier and furiously scribbled something new. “I will have my answers!” he shouted, holding the envelope aloft.

Suddenly Fin had a very bad feeling.

There was a pause. “Ardent the Cold.” Margaham sounded almost resigned. Even a little sad. “Who can’t leave the past behind.”

“Maybe we should listen to him,” Fin suggested. “He doesn’t seem to be the Master. Let’s move on to the next name on the list.” But it was like he’d never even spoken. As soon as Margaham mentioned Annalessa, the stakes of the game had changed. Ardent had been searching for her for years—if he had a chance to learn what happened to her, he was going to take it, and there was nothing any of them could say to stop him.

Fin couldn’t blame him for that. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to find his own mom, after all. If there was one thing that linked Fin and Ardent, it was their continued search for someone they loved.

“We will play your game,” Ardent insisted, waving the envelope. “And these are my stakes.”

Margaham’s pewter piece let out a sigh. “Very well. Welcome, player one.” And with that, the envelope clutched in Ardent’s hand disappeared in a snap of light.

Ardent resumed his seat before the board and took a deep breath. Then he raised one of his pieces into the air. “Game on,” he said grimly.

Almost instantly, the world seemed to explode in noise and motion. Around the Kraken, the painted water changed color. In front of the ship, dark lines raced across the flat bay, resolving into the circles of the game board.

But unlike the flat game board on the table before Ardent, the rings in the bay began to twist and turn against one another. Margaham’s castle rose, pulling the rest of the board up after it so that it turned into a vertical, terraced spire.

It looked like a massive tiered cake, each layer peppered with its own obstacles and spinning in different directions at different speeds. It towered before them like a mountain, the castle perched on the very apex. Squinting, Fin could just barely make out the outline of Margaham inside.

“Okay, that looks a lot more like your sketches,” Marrill conceded to Ardent. “Only a bit more—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence because at that moment the Kraken shuddered, her deck tilting. A massive stone hand thrust up from the bay, clutching the ship and lifting her into the air.

Fin raced to the railing to get a better look. Through the fingers of the statue, the golden waters of the Pirate Stream poured down in a torrent.

“What’s happening?” Marrill yelled. Fin shook his head. He glanced back to Ardent. The wizard’s jaw was clenched, his eyes intense.

He was taking it seriously, Fin realized. His gut clenched. The wizard himself had warned them not to. “Ardent, don’t take it—”

“KNIGHT, GO!” Ardent shouted, slamming one of the pieces onto the board.

And the next thing Fin knew, he stood on the bottom layer of the game. The giant stone hand clutching the Kraken towered above him. “Shanks spinning!” he cried, darting away from the flow of golden water still running off the ship. One step, two—

And then he stepped into nothingness. He twisted backward as he fell, landing against the ground with a harsh smack that took his breath away. Fin rolled, staring at where he’d nearly fallen.

He was lying on the checkerboard pattern of the outermost ring of the game. But the square he’d just stepped on was missing; below it, the magic waters of the Pirate Stream glimmered, threatening. If he hadn’t controlled his fall, he could have been turned into a winding country lane or a common domestic pinch wren.

Understanding dawned. He was the game piece. The game was real. The board was real. Which meant the danger was real as well.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He didn’t see anyone else around, which meant his move probably wasn’t over yet. He popped to his feet and was about to start toward the next tier when he remembered what Ardent had said. Knight, go.

Fin closed his eyes and struggled to remember the rules. The Knight moved in an L pattern. He toed the square before him carefully. It vanished at his touch.

He gulped. “Okay, I’m the Knight, then.” He skittered sideways four squares and stopped, holding his breath.

“End of movement!” Margaham’s voice cried from far above.

Fin let out a sigh of relief.

“LION TAMER, GO!” Ardent yelled.

With no warning, Marrill popped into existence in front of him, the orange fuzz of her cat balled up in her arms. “What the—oh, hi, Karny,” she said.

“Marrill,” Fin said, grabbing her. “Be careful. We’re the pieces! We have to move like the pieces!”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘we’re the pieces’?” She looked down. Then back up. Their eyes met. “We’re on the game board,” she said. “We’re the pieces!”

Fin nodded. “Right. I’m the Knight. I’m pretty sure you’re the Lion Tamer, which means you have to move in a Z.…”

Just then, his eyes locked on Fig, creeping across the squares nearby. As soon as he saw her, the square she was about to step on vanished, dropping away to the Stream below. “Fig, watch out!”

She froze, staring back at him, her mouth twisted with fury. “Brother! I’m the Blackguard! I can’t move if you see me!”

Of course she’d ended up as the Blackguard. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to mess up your move.”

“End of player one’s turn!” Margaham announced.

Fin let out a long breath. They’d made it through one round pretty easily. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. He rubbed his hands together, studying the board and planning his next move. “Okay, so it should be my turn again. I think maybe this time we should try to—”

He was cut off by the boom of Margaham’s voice announcing, “Welcome, new player!”

“New player?” Fin glanced uneasily toward Marrill. “I thought we were playing against Margaham.”

Marrill chewed her lip. “Ardent did say there could be more than one attacker.…”

“Maybe another player will liven things up a bit?” Fin offered. “Make the game more fun?” The reassurance sounded hollow even to him.

“Somehow I don’t think so,” Marrill said, pointing into the distance.

Past the great arm, past the rain of magic falling from the Kraken, a ship raced down the last torrent from the Ravingorge. Fin recognized it instantly. The broad bow, the square sails. He didn’t even need to see the side of it to know the Salt Sand King’s sigil would be etched there.

The other half of his people were coming. The unstoppable army, who existed for one reason: to conquer all of the Pirate Stream.

The Rise had joined the Great Game.