by Jo Sparkes
He watched her brows draw down, her lips purse. “I believe Agben had sworn to keep the secret. Not many of the sisters even know.”
“Did you know?”
“I’m a mere student! The first I knew of this was stepping into Tinge’s garden.”
Of course she wouldn’t know of Agben’s traditions. Relieved, he touched her arm.
“You,” she glared, “let me believe Drail had decided he didn’t need me.”
A protest rose to his lips - but he realized she spoke truth. Drail couldn’t tell her because he’d sworn him to secrecy.
Tryst had been angry at the gamesman, seemingly abandoning her in a comet game, leaving her behind with that look on her face. He’d wanted Drail to make her feel better, to offer some pretty lie. But Drail would not dishonor her by lying. Only Tryst could have spoken to ease her hurt that day. And he’d just stood by.
“I am sorry, Marra.” Perhaps his sincerity came through, for she lost her frown. “It was deemed secret. Of course we couldn’t take you.”
She nodded. “I wouldn’t have been of use.”
“You’d have been extremely useful! I couldn’t put you in danger,” he corrected.
“And you feared Agben’s involvement.”
She was no fool, he admitted. “Yes. They come into this tale in too many places. But I trusted you - even with my father’s life.”
And when her eyes flew to his, seeking to confirm the truth, he smiled.
“Let me tell you all that has occurred. I would value your insight.”
And despite her astonishment, he did just that.
Marra sat quietly as Tryst told her about his grandsire’s treaty, about Creesby and the gate. Until the Gathering was called before its time, he’d found no real sign of any plot.
She told him of Tinge, and the false tower where they were welcomed as friends of Rain by junior acolytes. And the tiny scrolls declaring ‘the war is upon us’ and ‘we will return when the Trumen are gone’.
Tryst stared in astonishment. “Our Rain has been very busy.”
She nodded. “Kirth is here to follow her trail.”
“To discover all she’s done? Or to find Rain herself?”
Marra grinned. “We did find her - she’s in the Tower.”
The Prince gaped. And in a blink of the sun, beckoned to someone behind her.
The Defense Master sat a moment later, his mug steaming with fresh poured tea. He frowned several times as she retold her tale.
“Rain…and Kratchett?” he hissed when she finished.
Marra nodded. “He knew Tryst were here. I didn’t believe him until I saw you. He said - he begged - for you to pardon him. In exchange he’ll tell you their plans. And give the layout of the Tower, I think.”
“Why would he do that?” Jason growled. She noted Tryst’s quick gesture, commanding the man to control himself. Thinking her timid of the man’s temper. But after dwelling in a dungeon for some days, she found the Defense Master’s gruff ways no longer threatening.
“I think he doesn’t like what he knows. Rain relishes her role, but Fox Boots…he’s scared.”
“What do you think it means?” Tryst looked at Jason.
“Likely the man was well-paid to do what he did. Perhaps the pay has ceased…or lost its luster.”
“Skullan coin would be useless if Skullan civilization were gone,” the Prince murmured.
“But….” Marra gasped, trying to understand. “It’s Trumen who are in danger. Skullan far outnumber us.”
Jason shook his head. “If Terrin speak of the race war, I doubt they are mere spectators. If they allow the two sides to fight - destroying what then remains would be easy.”
As the sun climbed higher, the Terrin and gamesmen woke.
Tryst finished his solo practice. He’d preferred to practice defense drills, but knew it might rouse suspicion.
He saw Marra kneeling by a sitting Kirth, offering her a hot drink. Across the way Drail stood to stretch, smiling as Adeena joined him. The two talked softly.
Marra’s eyes narrowed when she noticed the pair. Tryst strode to her.
“Adeena is our guide,” he explained. “We had to hire her out of Creesby, to pass the gates.”
Adeena touched Drail’s arm, guiding him towards the teakettle. Raising her eyebrows, Marra said, “We came a different way.”
“Men sometimes….” Tryst failed to find the right words. He relaxed when the small smile curved her lips.
“They do,” she murmured.
“You are not…concerned?”
She gave him an odd look. “Concerned?”
“Jealous,” Tryst prodded.
Marra stared at him. “Jealous? I’m just his Brista.”
Tryst studied her face carefully. Those deep blue eyes held nothing back. “Drail likes you. Very much.”
She shrugged. “But not that way. No one will ever want a mere desert girl.” And before he could respond, she rose and strode away.
Marra honestly believed that - he’d read sincerity in her eyes. She was very calm about it.
And with all the emotions stirred by her words, Tryst realized his grandsire had been right all along. The old man had never been afraid of Marra trying to entrap a prince. He’d recognized Tryst’s own feelings towards a little Trumen nobody.
Apparently three days had passed.
Drail had lost count after Marra appeared out of nowhere, but Olipp had not. The leader approached as he finished his breakfast of grain balls and tea.
Towering over them, red sparkles snapping the surrounding air, Olipp growled, “Have you recovered enough to meet my challenge?”
Drail managed to swallow his drink before nodding.
“After the noon meal digests,” the Terrin rumbled, and spun on his heel. “We shall chance our play.”
Adeena, perched on a log, beamed at him. “You lack no courage, Drail Gamesman. Olipp’s confident of Yute’s favor.”
“I am confident of my skill,” Drail grinned.
“Now you play Terrin?” a familiar voice asked. Marra approached, peeping round from behind him.
“Tis why we’re here,” he told her with a glance at Adeena.
He felt relief as her open lips stilled, pressing together.
“Brave skins, to stand near the darop cone,” the guide smiled.
“Darop cone?” Marra asked. And looked at him.
“Rules,” he sighed, “are somewhat different on the Dim Continent.”
Marra watched the men stretch.
Drail, with the sweat already glistening on his shoulders, joking with Manten. Olver, smiling grimly at whatever the two said. She’d seen it many times, although the tension felt higher.
And Tryst, speaking softly with Jason as he eased one leg into his hamstring stretch. She hadn’t seen Tryst with the team since the first game in the Black Arena.
Preparing to face Terrin when they’d yet to beat a Skullan team in Missea. On a giant field of moss, with the cone guarded by poisoned teeth. Drail hadn’t even wanted the Birr Elixir - or he had, but changed his mind when Tryst whispered something in his ear.
Marra jumped at the girl guide’s voice. “This is their third game.”
Adeena joined her, beaming proudly at the gamesmen. “They are brave, these skins. Very brave.”
“They have already faced two Terrin teams?”
The blond nodded. “Acquitted themselves well.”
“They won?”
Adeena sneered at her. “Of course not.”
Four Terrin approached from across the field, mountainous creatures striding in that awkward gait. Fangs gleaming, as if they salivated at the chance to sink into hairless flesh.
Of course not, Marra realized.
Jason approached, jovially setting an arm around her shoulders, tugging her towards the men. To Adeena it would appear she was Jason’s girl.
His mouth pressed into the hair covering her ear. “Marra, see if you can make anything out of this b
rew.”
Drail drank from a waterskin, ominously colored scarlet, and passed it on to Manten. When Manten had swallowed, wiping the dredges from his mouth, he handed it to her.
“No, little Marra,” Jason laughed aloud, while his eyes insisted she sniff it. “That drink is too potent for females.”
The Terrin gamesmen laughed - at least, she thought it laughter - as she held the opening under her nose.
A familiar odor assailed her - of earth and grass, with that horrid layer of charred flesh beneath. Kwitt. That ingredient Rain had used to alter the appearance of a Terrin.
A single drop remained on the lip of the waterskin - her finger caught it before she passed the thing to Tryst. Dared she taste it?
Eyes locked with hers, the Prince lifted the thing, drinking despite her quick head shake. And handed it on to Olver.
Without conscience thought, she stuck the captured drop in her mouth. The Kwitt aroma tripled on her tongue - along with a different, more subtle taste. Different, yet familiar. Evoking images of the Agben School, of slipping in through one of the hidden entrances.
Wiskett Bramble. The potent vine by the doorway that Leah said held no purpose.
Tryst watched her carefully - but she couldn’t say anything with Adeena nearby. With the tiniest nod, she gestured it likely wouldn’t kill him.
What it would do, she had no clue.
A Terrin with a white cloth tied on its arm appeared by the tooth ring, dropping comet balls upon the moss. The Terrin surrounded by the red dust - she didn’t know what else to call it - shuffled out to join him. Drail did the same.
Marra turned toward Tinge and Kirth, but Jason held her firmly in place. To maintain the pretense, she decided, and slipped out from his arm altogether.
“Come,” she smiled as Leah would smile at her beau Fallon. Grabbing the defense master’s hand, she hauled him along after her.
She took a seat next to Kirth. After a blink of a sun, he sat beside her.
“Kirth,” Marra asked quietly. “What is that red dust surrounding that Terrin?”
The elder shook her head.
“Halo,” Tinge rumbled. “Males feel the need to distinguish themselves from time to time.”
Indeed, as Marra watched, the Terrin seemed to swell before her, looming larger on the field. The one called Olipp towered over the shrinking Terrin judge.
To her astonishment, she realized Drail also swelled in size. Not to Terrin gamesmen proportions, but his head was now above the shoulder of the smaller Terrin judge.
“Stars,” Jason gasped.
Marra rubbed her eyes and looked again. Truly, the judge looked smaller. And even as she pondered this, Kirth stared at her.
“By the Great Goose, child. I believe you’ve grown larger.”
Tryst strode across the field, flanked by Manten and Olver.
The waterskin drink had tasted odd, and unlike the Birr Elixir he felt…something. Different. As the Terrin approached, he realized he found them less intimidating. Smaller somehow.
No - for Olipp loomed larger than ever beside the tiny judge. Yet the nervous qualms at the sheer size of the creatures did not rise from his gut as they had the first game.
A bark rang out. The Terrin sprang into action, and Drail sprang with them.
Immediately Olipp shot for the cone; immediately Drail jumped to block him. Drail missed, though Tryst couldn’t see how. His aim seemed perfect.
Olipp’s aim had also appeared true - yet the ball sailed over the teeth and beyond.
Shaking himself, Tryst launched toward another Terrin with a ball. He leapt to intercept its shot.
The sphere hit not his hands but his forearm. He barely managed to catch it, stumbling slightly before sprinting toward the teeth.
A Terrin raced to block him. Tryst shot past, intending to graze the hairy thing to break its balance. Yet he missed, feeling nothing but air.
Drail sprang up from one angle; Olipp from another. Tryst took his shot -
- and the Terrin caught it. And spun, galloping toward the teeth. The crowd reaction told him the comet was sunk.
Manten sped across the field, another ball in his grasp. He aimed -
- and was trampled from behind by a Terrin who halted immediately, as if concerned for an injured skin.
Even as Tryst digested this, Olipp sunk a second comet. The game, barely begun, was over.
Running to the fallen gamesmen, he was still the last to arrive. The Terrin - all four of the Terrin - were already there, staring down anxiously.
“Is he alive?” Olipp rumbled softly, as Drail checked the man’s pulse.
“At the moment.”
Marra was hauling Kirth to her feet when the Terrin bore Manten across the field.
“Fools,” the elder mumbled beneath her breath. It would have been better to leave him where he’d fallen until Kirth examined him. Drail and Tryst knew this - but they’d failed to convey the information to Olipp.
Marra spread a sleep-sling on the moss, and observed as the injured man was gently laid upon it. No limbs hung awkwardly at least, though he winced when his head touched the ground.
Kirth ran hands over his arms and legs, felt his forehead, rested palms on his chest. “Can you hear me, gamesmen?”
His head moved slightly, stopped. “Yes,” he gasped.
“What do you feel? Pain or confusion?”
“I feel both,” Manten opened his eyes. Marra worried until he grinned at Drail. “Did we win?”
Olipp threw back his head and howled with what, she was sure, was Terrin laughter.
That evening Marra had good news for Drail. “Manten is bruised,” she explained. “But no serious damage anywhere. He could play in two days, if that was necessary. If not, four would be better.”
The Leader of the Hand of Victory sat by a fire that Marra had carefully watched being made. A sprinkling of powder had been added to the wood, resulting - she was sure - in a less heated flame. Perfect for a warm night.
On first glance she’d thought the Terrin of the Dim Continent primitive, but they used Agben studies to do many things that had never occurred to those in Missea. She was no longer sure who was truly the more advanced.
“Thank you,” Drail smiled. “Sit, Marra. Tell me how you came to be here.”
Beyond their fire - beyond several fires - two robed figures moved through the Gathering. They spoke to one group, causing a sort of stir, before stepping on to the next.
“You have been working since you came, healing Kirth or Manten,” Drail added. “We haven’t had a chance to swap stories.”
“Kirth brought me….”
Tinge and Qwall loomed up, blocking her view of the two figures. “Marra, lay down beside Kirth. And cover yourself with a sleep sling,” Tinge hissed. “Now.”
“The other skins?” Qwall murmured, as she hurried off to obey.
“All know they are here,” Tinge told him. “Best to let them be seen.”
She felt Drail stir, leaping to his feet. “What is happening?”
“See that the girl - both women - are hidden,” Qwall told him.
Her sleep-sling unfurled, Marra dropped down beside Kirth, tugging the cloth over them. Then she held still, hardly daring to breath.
“Marra?” Kirth asked sleepily.
“We must be still and silent,” she whispered back.
Peeking from beneath the sling, she saw three Terrin approach. At least they wore no robes. Their quiet conversation was difficult to hear - words like ‘skin’ and ‘tower’ stood out, but the linking phrases were lost in the night. For an instant the Terrin loomed closer.
And then dispersed. Whatever they’d told Qwall, they were not searching the camp.
Waiting, her nerves trembling through her body, she gasped aloud when Tinge approached. The Agben sat very close, sipping from a steaming mug, and motioned Marra to stay when she would have sat up.
“It seems,” she spoke quietly, “that we have a problem.”
“You do indeed,” Kratchett said.
Tryst was chomping at the bit by the time he finally got to question Kratchett.
To think he’d traveled so far to find this traitor, only to watch him calmly sit across a campfire. Qwall, however, insisted on waiting till most of the Gathering slept. And, he realized in surprise, Qwall’s village also slept. Either they didn’t know what was happening, or they didn’t want to know.
With Drail and Jason flanking Tryst, Qwall took a place beside Tinge.
“The Tower seeks the missing skins,” the Terrin leader growled softly. “The priests instruct they are to be found and returned.”
“But…the others know we’re here,” Marra said softly. She and Kirth had finally been allowed to sit up, hunkering behind the two Terrin so their forms would not be visible to stray eyes.
“The Tower is feared rather than trusted,” Tinge rumbled. “And with the brave gamesmen skins already winning approval, they are hesitant.”
“So they will protect us,” Kirth sighed.
“Let us say rather, they prefer not to be involved.”
“How safe are they - we - precisely?” Tryst looked to Qwall.
The creature’s shoulders rose and fell in the shrugging gesture. “All is…unprecedented. A Gathering between Gathering times; shaka skins challenging Terrin. Tower priests roaming among us, making demands. It is unsettling.”
“You can give them this skin,” Jason turned to Kratchett.
Tryst watched the prisoner’s face, looking for any hint of cunning or guile. Instead, he would swear, there was naught but fear.
“They push the race war,” Kratchett spoke hoarsely. “The Black Tower plots to stir it, to set it off. They think it will eliminate vast numbers of us.”
“Eliminate Trumen?” Jason frowned. “Or do they intend to support them against the Skullan?”
Kratchett shook his head. “They do not distinguish between us at all.”
“Then….” Jason exchanged a look with Tryst.
“Eliminate skins,” Tryst realized even as he spoke the thought aloud. “They care not which side survives. They care not if either side survives.”