206 - A game of mrik

“Before you start, have you eaten?” he asked me. That was a better sign.

I wasn’t hungry, but if I had to force it down to fake calm, I would. “That would be welcome, thank you.” I remembered, it would be kri; maybe the fire on my tongue would take my mind off my anger and my fear.

“I knew about the one on Haiu Menshir,” he said, when I was done recounting the two battles. “Though to be absolutely honest, I thought it must be an… exaggeration. Sailors… you know. But there you are holding that bit of clear rock all the way through, which is a Yeoli’s most solemn oath, I know. It’s… very impressive. And you did a good thing for all the world, even if the Haians don’t like to admit it.” I thanked him. “Then the Niahs took twenty one ships… I never knew to take them into account.”

“Second Fire come if I lie,” I said, just for assurance. “They had help, but just from one person, me.”

A servant came with a platter of little dishes of various kri’s, fruit and yoghurt and so forth. “These have been tasted... I’ll have a dog or piglet fetched to taste in front of you if you like, J’vengka.”

As if you couldn’t have had me seized and shredded by any number of guards by this point, I thought. “It’s all right,” I said. “I trust you.”

In between tongue-melting bites, I gave him my estimation of Arko’s true strength as I had Kranaj, and laid out their traditional practice of taking one nation at a time. “It’s a treaty that he signed intending to break it whenever the time was right for his ends,” I said. “He might invent some pretext to tell his own people; you’ll find out by reading in the Pages about Laka’s barbaric violation of the treaty by some border raid or attack on a ship that you didn’t order, if it happened at all. And there will be lengthy pontifications about how a Lakan, even a king, isn’t to be trusted, being savage Hayel-spawn and so on. I read enough of this sort of thing about Yeola-e.”

“Yes.” He was silent for a while, eating. “You have the Niahs in an alliance with Yeola-e, then?”

“I do. They are already fighting together with my navy. But I have other allies too, now; Hyerne and Tor Ench. And I will hire mercenaries in Brahvniki.”

Start feeling left out, Az. “Truly…” I wrapped my hand around my crystal again, though, same as with Kranaj, I was lying by omission, not saying the alliances were conditional. Semana kra.

He heaved a long breath, then jumped up suddenly from his chair. “Curse you, J’vengka; the moment I read that letter, I knew how it would be. I put my name to an agreement! When a king signs an oath, in particular, the Gods keep record. I have other plans, of course; but they involve no forswearing. I shouldn’t have let you in here to try to persuade me; I know how cursed persuasive you can be!”

I tried not to let my knuckles go white on my chair arm, then let go in case I did it without noticing, and said, “What do the Gods make of an oath of a king who laughs them off as the comforting fancies of fools?”

He whirled and stared at me frozen, not knowing whether to take mortal offense in the high Lakan style or not, since I hadn’t been clear who I referred to. That was purposeful. I had his undivided attention, now.

“I am athye,” I said, “but you know my way of praying. Kurkas is an atheist in the starkest sense of the word: one who believes in the sacredness of nothing whatsoever.” I gripped my crystal yet again. “Second Fire come if I lie. He and I had a number of philosophical discussions.”

He heaved another huge I-wish-this-load-was-off-me breath. “So you’d have me be the same? You have more Lakan blood on your hands that he does, by far!” More than he knew; I was very glad now I’d never confessed to him about my part in the deaths of the ten thousand. “J’vengka, my Arkan ambassador, who is an honest man for a diplomat, begged to speak with me just before you got here. Of course they have spies, right in this Palace; no doubt you do, too. The sum he offered me for you would feed my cavalry for a year.”

The kri turned cold in my stomach and prickles went all down my arms and legs. With Ivahn or Kranaj or Segiddis, you’d know this was a test, to see how afraid it made you; Astalaz, though, often thought aloud. It was a test anyway; if I showed fear, he’d never trust me.

“Why are you telling me that, Az?” I said. “Do you want my opinion on whether you should sell me to them? Well, speaking utterly free of bias or prejudice and only with consideration to your own interests, I say, no. Don’t. It’s an awful idea. Terrible. Unthinkably bad.”

All-Spirit’s blessing, he broke into laughter. “Feed your cavalry for a year?” I added. “You know what that amount is? It is the truest measure of his fear of me.”

He paced back and forth. No fair, I thought, that you can and I can’t. He froze, and turned to me suddenly. “J’vengka... how are you?”

I stared back, baffled. “Fine, thanks, how are you?”

“I mean… how are you?” Understanding came even as he was saying, “I’d heard you were on Haiu Menshir for a long time, months. In the House of Integrity.”

If he decided I was mad, it would be the handiest and most unassailable excuse. He need not even credit anything I’d said, since the oath of a lunatic is the oath of a lunatic. I had this sudden feeling like the dream in which you throw all your strength into running but can’t move a finger-width, your feet somehow bound to one place on the ground.

“Do you still have time for mrik these days?” I said. “It’s been a long time; what do you say to a game?”

He looked surprised, but relieved at the chance of a bit of escape from this unpleasant business. I could see him think, ‘I’ll ask him again later.’ “Come upstairs,” he said.

Blessing of blessings, he brought me to his true office. The mess had gotten heaped higher and mustier in two years. Apologizing for it as usual, he dug out the mrik board and in another long while all the stones, and called for incense and a musician.

“You got good enough to be down to a two-stone advantage, as I recall,” he said, as we sorted them. “I give you two more, for being out of practice, and all that you went through in Arko.”

“One only for that,” I said. “It hasn’t been that long, and it wasn’t that bad.”

“I will take your word for it,” he said, and let me hand him the one back.

“What say we put a stake on it?” I said, as I placed the stones on the board, in three of the key spots. “If I win, you join me in an alliance. If you win, I leave without another word or grudge.”

He stared at me, blinking, wanting to burst out laughing, but held back by his knowing me well enough to see I might be serious. “I’m serious,” I said. “The question is my mental competence, isn’t it? This is a good test of that. If I can beat you, you’ll know I’m all here and you can trust what I’ve said; if not, I haven’t a hope against Arko.”

His cheeks went ruddy under the brown. There was no arguing with the logic; but I might beat him. He didn’t want to face it, that was all; I’d come out of nowhere, like a meteorite out of the night-sky that crushes a house. Sometimes, Az, I wanted to say, life does that.

He looked down at the board, with my three stones on it. I wanted to urge him, but it might make him think I had some ruse. Silence was stronger.

Finally, suddenly, he sat down at the board. His eyes were lighter now; he might beat me, but I might beat him, he was thinking. “Very well, J’vengka. Without another word or grudge—or I ally with you. Parshahask strike me if I am forsworn.” He made the signs of slashing himself almost absently, his eyes fixed on the board. I swore on my crystal. He sent out an order, no disturbances, and placed his first stone.

So it was, in sweating darkness full of the Lakan smells of sandalwood, spice and bougainvillaea, to the soft weaving strains of the zinarh, I played mrik, for my people’s lives and freedom. I so much would have preferred clean blade, my first skill, in which I had utter confidence, but life hands us what it hands us.

Of course I started out prevailing, since my stones outnumbered his, but he came back strongly, with his greater experience. Had I been a fool, to turn down that fourth handicap-stone? It was too late to undo that. Even if I just made a good account of myself, had I still not proved my point? But that was not the bet I’d proposed, and he’d accepted. All-Spirit… what if I have to go back to the ship, and then home, with our alliance plans ruined, because I lost a game?

Not the thoughts to think, while I was playing; I should think about nothing but where to place my pieces. The ideal state of mind, I knew, was the same as one should have fighting: calm as a pond with a surface like glass. But that was so much harder to do, while sitting still. Even as I thought that, I saw how the last stone I’d placed had been bad, by what he did to counter it.

I can’t make one more mistake, I thought. How do I manage that? What do I do when I am fighting—aside from know how good I am at it—that keeps these snake-thoughts away? In my first three fights in the Mezem, I failed at it, and so got wounded; what was the difference between them, and how I usually am? I was not seeing clearly then, as I am not now, whereas usually when I fight everything is absolutely clear; why?

Something that Azaila had said long ago made it come to me. “You must be rya to yourself when you fight.” Nothing. In those first three fights I had been thinking, what am I doing, why am I doing this, I should not be here, all thoughts about myself, not the fight. Usually I had only the fight in mind. This cannot be about me at all. It must be entirely about the game. The beauty of its nuances; the subtlety and elegance of the gambits possible; the cleverness by which it allows pure strategy; the cut and thrust of the logic of his moves and mine. Relish that, I told myself. Enjoy it. A tightness in me let go.

I played without error from then on, at least while I maintained that state; when the snake-thoughts came, I’d repeat these words to myself. I stopped sweating so much. He began sweating more.

It was a long game, at least two beads. We both thought very carefully, about where to place every stone; sometimes he would get up to pace while deciding his next placement; sometimes I would. Fatigue entered into it, which should be to his advantage, since we were in his waking hours, and my sleeping; but I had a feeling his fight against fear was harder work than mine, even though he had so much less to lose. We said barely anything, the only sounds the notes of the zinarh like long-ringing brass bells, the tap on the table of the bottom of his cup or mine as we placed it down after sipping, the stone-on-stone click of another piece placed.

It went very evenly. In the end, when the board was full, we couldn’t tell the winner just by looking, but had to count up.

I had two more stones on it than he did.

He sprang up out of his chair, almost throwing it, over like a Lakan lord making duel challenge at the dinner table, and paced, his heels ringing on the floor. “Well, you have it, J’vengka,” he said bitterly. “May it benefit you. Only the Gods can see how it will turn out; may it be to Their taste.”

“Astalaz, I release you of it,” I said. He spun around, stunned, and stared at me frozen. “You are thinking the fate of nations should not rest on a game. I cannot dispute that. It should be your choice alone, to reconcile with your Gods, and your people, as you see fit. I just wanted to show you that my mind is clear enough to do well even as I was certain my nation’s fate did rest on it.”

He let out a long deep breath, half between his teeth, then came near to me, looking down at me. I stood up. Having grown as much as I ever would, I’d always be shorter than him. He took my face between his hands, gazing into my eyes.

“Kazh rule your soul,” he said, finally. “You are capable of so much. At such a young age; so much life you have left, the Gods only know how you will change the world. Name the terms you propose.” He called the servant for wine.

He pledged me seven thousand foot under Arzaktaj now, and then, when we reached the plains, five thousand horse and fifteen mamokal. It was conditional on my sending thirty ships to aid him in taking back the Diradic Tongue from Arko, brokering an end to Enchian raids across the Lakan border, and contracting seven thousand mercenaries. “I’d have made it conditional on alliances with Kranaj and Segiddis, except you already have them,” he said. Now I do, I thought. And he would, of course, re-open the embassy.

As he was pacing tensely in the mess, kicking things out of his way, he told me, “One of my old titles was Spider-King… I have ten thousand men in the hills of central Laka, recruited and trained over the past six years, with horse and mamoka both, in addition to my known armies.” Six years? I counted back. He’d started that a little before he’d overthrown Astyardk, then, no doubt without his knowledge. Despite being in a cage; you had to admire that. “I thought Kurkas would come after us before you, tell the truth, and meant to surprise him with them...” He smiled. “Looks like I still will.”

When I told him I had meant only to stay in Tardengk two days if I had to wait to see him, and would prefer to leave tonight—for one thing, the Arkan ambassador knew I was here—he had the papers done up right then, and we signed them all off. Having no demarchic signet, I had to replicate the mark by drawing it as best I could, with the promise that I would seal them properly once I had another one carven. Brahvniki was a good place for that.

Done here except to set sail and snatch a bit of sleep out of what was left of the night, I cast my mind ahead to Brahvniki. When I went out from the office into its ante-room and got Chirel, there was a Yeoli slave there, a woman, stunningly beautiful as usual with Palace of Kranaj slaves. Just as I was thinking that if the alliance went well enough, I might be able to talk Astalaz into freeing more Yeolis, she gave me the tongue-twister you have to have grown up in Yeola-e to say, adding quietly, “Ikal. I have a letter from the summit person.” She handed it to me.

She’d picked her place well, as there were no Lakan guards here, nor my own. “Thanks, best we stay here for me to read it,” I said. I opened the paper, which was just folded, and seemed a little damp, oddly. Even more oddly, I tasted oysters on the back of my tongue, which was still recovering from the kri, strongly, out of nowhere. Most oddly, there was no writing on the paper. I stared at her; she stared back at me, her face horribly blank. From behind an arm wrapped around me, pinning my arms, and a hand clamped across my mouth.

--