Mother continued, “Anyway, Dina has many other talents, if you’re concerned about the completeness of her education.” She grinned widely, then walked over and placed a hand around my shoulder to dissolve the tension.
Haben interjected, “Yes, yes, I hear you are also adept at chutrang, Princess Anasahara?”
“Adept? I do not lose games,” I replied with a smile.
Haben raised an eyebrow, nodding to the people around him.
Mother’s fingers tightened around my shoulder with the same pressure as a spider. If she had used even a tiny bit less force, less than the weight of a blade of grass, I would not have noticed.
I was beginning to go too far, I knew. It was Mother’s way of telling me, but there was no stopping it. I was doing so less out of ignorance than a lack of self-control. As playful and childlike as I was acting, my uncle’s comment had me seething on the inside. I did not want to take the high road. I did not want to prod subtly like the way might’ve demanded.
“Ahh yes, your Taa says you are something of a prodigy, Dina?” Queen O’nell asked. She gulped her entire wine glass in one go as the people around her watched, hiding astonished expressions behind approving nods. She brushed the hem of her golden dress with a careful hand, then held out her wine glass for a passing server to fill. She waved her hand just as the server was about to pour, and pointed to a different jug of wine. The tinesault. The restless fingers of her free hand tapped against the side of a chair. For all she had drank, her eyes looked more alert and aware than my father’s, who was still on his second glass. I had stolen a few sips of Taa’s drinks in the past months and years, but none of it was ever to my liking. I did not trust adults when they said spirits were an acquired taste—anything was an acquired taste if you were steadfast in its consumption and determined to like it. I doubted the cannibalistic Serpentine tribes of Adhib started off with an appetite for their cousins.
Queen O’nell said, “We must play one day, Dina, you and I. I have not had a challenge since the high priestess left Xenash. Have you beaten your grandmother yet? I remember when I was here I used to be obsessed with beating her. I’d write down all the moves in our games and replay them myself for hours to study what she did. She just knew the pieces far too well. And the way she plays. Slow and deliberate, building a fortress that moves ever so slightly toward your side of the board. She breaks you down here,” she tapped her temple, “before going in for the kill. I remember playing against her while she had every handicap you could imagine. Still, I only won once or twice in those days.” Her eyes wandered away as she turned the wine in her glass. “I bet I could give her a run for her money now.”
Father interrupted, “Dina has not lost a game since she was eleven. Not even against her Taa. I’ve offered Chaya a reward of a hundred gold marks to anyone who could humble her.” He turned to Mother with speckled eyes. “Whole lines around the palace would form.” He drew a wide circle in the air. “Young people, old people, self-proclaimed experts, scholars and beginners. She could play them all, two or three at a time.”
I expected Queen O’nell’s eyes to go wide again or for her expression to change to disbelief, but all she said was, “Interesting,” in a blank tone. Not that I was disappointed. Quite the opposite, in fact. I wanted to know what she was thinking.
“A hundred gold marks?” Haben whistled. “Might have to try my luck at that. Could buy a Mehrin Shire with that kind of money.” He lowered his voice to speak just to Queen O’nell. “The two horses I had just passed away. Had ‘em for almost a decade. Loyal things. Could go forty miles a day, hard riding, no problem. Both sons were mourning all of last month.” He shook his head in quiet dismay. “It’s a cruel thing, you know? Saying goodbye to an animal.”
Several people near him nodded in agreement, though I was quite sure they hadn’t really heard what he said.
“In some places, they eat horses,” Yephi said. “Like for instance—”
“I don’t think now’s the time to share that,” Iris whispered.
“What piece do you play with?” Queen O’nell asked, turning to me sharply.
“The prince,” I said. “Sometimes the knight. The priest, if I wish to be creative. Taa told me about the times you and her played together.”
“Interesting,” Queen O’nell repeated. “Not the assassin? Or the witch?”
“I do not play with the assassin much, though I know how to. I learned the prince first, from Taa, copying her strategy. The witch...” I traced my fingers into the shape of the piece in the air. “I save for challenging opponents.”
“I must see it,” Queen O’nell said. “I must see you play with the witch, Dina.”
I bowed but said nothing. Chutrang was played on a board with four hundred squares in total. Pieces were moved using a handler, allowing you to reach across a board with ease. The way the pieces moved and interacted on the board, and the way they were setup when the game started, changed depending on which piece you chose to lead with. There were five you could pick from. Each piece catered to a different play style. The prince for defensive play, the assassin for deceptive plays, and the knight for offensive play. The witch and the priest were a bit more complicated. They could be played aggressively or defensively. When you played the priest, you had to know the board well. Pieces relied on working together to pull off multi-turn plays. When you played the witch, you had to know your opponent well. Pieces relied on predicting your opponent’s moves and gambling on counter-offensives. You could tell a lot about a person based on the way they played chutrang.
“Really, board games are what impresses the Royal Court now?” a voice interrupted. Not yet raspy like my uncle’s, but with the same flavor of sarcasm.
My cousin did not carry the Anasahara name, but he looked the part. That always bothered me. Aymeer Speight was a year and a half older than me. He was a few inches taller. A full five feet. He had hard features sculpted into a round face like his mother but a lazy expression like his father. He had a metallic laugh, and a butcher’s wit. Where I tried to dance around meanings, my cousin was biting and crisp. His hair was a medium dark, cut into a crop, and his skin a bit lighter than mine, somewhere between a tanned Xenashi and a pale Chayan. Taa did not train him, but he was not dull like his father. He could see meaning in words, even if he could not see their depth. My aunt passed away when he was six. When he was seven, his father got him a wolf. She had mottled fur, white and green like a winter forest. She passed away two years ago. He had been attached to the creature, with that kind of dark and yearning attachment that crushed him so deeply when she passed he had her stuffed and sewed and decorated just to keep her alive a bit longer.
To the distant right of my cousin, standing against the closest wall, were three masked men. From head to toe, they wore all black. They had no sigils, no expensive subtleties, no ornaments hanging from loose ends. Their clothes were all rough cotton, not worn but woven tightly for durability. These men were something of an oddity. Right now they were here just for show. Mother had not wanted to allow them in, but Father insisted no harm would come of it, and it was good for the other houses to see Chaya take a military initiative outside of the seas for once. Eight of these men existed in total. They were called Ivory Hands, after the color of their masks. Uncle threw elaborate contests and performances to show off these creatures to the lords and nobles of other kingdoms. They could run as fast as horses. They could bend steel with their bare hands. They were trained in Riduan and were masters of every weapon. On several occasions, our army had rented them like mercenaries to other houses, kingdoms, or private buyers with extraordinary means and needs. Chaya had not been in a major conflict for more than two decades, so they had never been disposed for war from our end—though they did help protect our borders from Narkissa’s daemons. At most, every other year we had border conflicts with nearby Serpentine tribes.
Uncle would not reveal how they were trained, and Father turned a blind eye to their creation. It w
as another example of the layers of complexity in the relationship between a royal family and their noble houses, between kings and their lords. Father would never vocalize support for training men in uncanny and occult ways, but he could not say no to all the people of Chaya if this was what was keeping their city safe during a blue moon. At the same time, these men might’ve allowed uncle’s army to flourish, but even a thousand of them would not let him become king of Chaya if he declared mutiny.
The five kingdoms and their royal families went back for more than five thousand years. People had gotten used to the way things were, and they were afraid of change. If any single noble house took arms against the royal family that ruled over them, the other four kingdoms would come to the aid of their kin without hesitation. A system as old and stable as this one could not be uprooted so easily. If my uncle wanted my father’s throne, he would have had to conquer all of Mirradalia from the Bidetha Moor to the Silsipia Desert. At the same time, no royal family could ever take arms against one of their own noble houses without due cause. They would’ve gotten no aid from other kingdoms if all their lords rebelled against them, demanding a change in the rule of law. It was dangerous to set that kind of precedent for their own kingdoms. See now, how deep the layers went? There was a certain kind of guile and insight needed to navigate the intricacies of Royal Court. A smooth and seamless grasp of the way.
My cousin continued, “A queen should focus on learning the art of real war, not playing games on a board with pieces that try to replicate it in a safe way. How can you learn about something as big and complex as a battle on a board you could walk across in two steps?” He straightened his arms in front of him, like he was showing us how big a chutrang board might be. My uncle twisted in his seat to look away, laughing with anxious dignity.
Queen O’nell bristled with enthusiasm, as though she had been waiting for someone to say just this. “Teach your silly boy how the world works, General Ojin,” she chided, not in irritation but with genuine concern.
My cousin leaned back to disappear behind his father. I was certain he hadn’t expected his words to entice a response from her. His eyes glanced over me, looking for a reaction.
“Chutrang is the essence of all strategy,” Queen O’nell continued. “It translates quite literally to war games in both Angpur and Hulnesh. It is what the first people played to teach themselves how to rule. How to defend borders. How to think.” She centered two fingers around her forehead. “In the days of the sultanas, they used to play in an attempt to read the strategies of others, discern the thinking and methodologies of their enemies and competitors. At Xenash’s military academy, all of our teachings center around this game, and the history of war. The entirety of the Sisterhood plays it with great fervor, using it to teach new initiates how to be clean and precise in their thinking.”
Uncle Speight cringed, squinted his eyes, then sighed doubtfully. “Well, he does have something of a point, you know. I mean, in a general kind of way.” He spoke to no one in particular, letting his eyes dart around the spaces between people. “It is a rather outdated mode of learning about war. And where has all this thinking so much about war and defending kingdoms gotten us?”
Next to him, my cousin nodded patiently.
Uncle continued, “War has changed. Battles have changed. The way we fight has changed. What good will it do against Narkissa? What good has it done against Narkissa? You do not strategize against vampires and werewolves and ghouls.” He enunciated the word strategize as though he had just discovered it in the middle of this conversation. He gestured toward the Ivory Hands standing against the wall behind him. “You need brute force for that. When you’re facing a daemon army with endless hordes of vampires, what good will quick thinking and a knack for strategy do for you? Gods help you if you’ve got a mind for memorizing battlefields but no courage or aptitude to fight in them.”
Father caught Mother’s glance, asking her with his eyes to interrupt the conversation. Mother blinked, reluctantly beginning to look for a way to break into the exchange. Like me, she was rather enjoying the discussion. It wasn’t often that we got to see my uncle chastened in an argument. Especially not on my behalf. He wasn’t the quickest with words, but he was stubborn, and would say anything to keep an argument going. It was only because he was speaking to Queen O’nell that he was acting more subdued now. And even then, I could not’ve said he was losing. He wasn’t really trying to win, nor did I think he even truly believed his own words. He wanted to get a rise out of Queen O’nell, and he had been remarkably successful in doing so. Queen O’nell, on the other hand, had a familiar opaque look around her eyes, and while she was still sharp, had been tempered with the sweet melancholy and grapefruit accents of tinesault wine.
Queen O’nell half rose from her chair. “Outdated? My kingdom is three times the size of any other in Mirradalia, and I owe all my success to chutrang. To strategizing. Will you tell me that my methods are ineffective?” Her eyes bore upon my uncle intently. He avoided her gaze, smiling absent-mindedly at the space next to her head. “We are not animals. We are not mindless ghouls. We are kings and queens, generals and commanders.” She spoke while holding a firm hand out, pressing at the air like she was placing the words in front of her for my uncle to see. “This is what separates us from the things that roam the lands tonight with nothing but hunger. It is the essence of what the new gods brought to man when we could do no more than hide in caves while the old gods and their daemons roamed the earth. If we didn’t think about how to keep Narkissa’s legions at bay, the five kingdoms would have fallen three centuries ago, when the first tower of Rhauk rose in the Shaed.” She sat back in her seat, then wrapped her chin with a hand, tapping her pointer finger against a cheek.
My uncle’s smile widened, but he did not respond. His thin lips curled downward into a cynical look. He turned his drink in slow, tempered movements, looking down into the faded colors like he might find an answer in their burgundy hues.
Queen O’nell continued, “Do you think daemons ravage the lands I rule? Xenash is the one kingdom even Narkissa would not touch. And how do you think we defend our borders so effectively? By wearing masks and putting on athletic shows for other kingdoms?”
Mother cleared her throat. “May I suggest we change the topic to something a bit lighter before war breaks out between Chaya and Xenash?” She bowed a few inches, tugging at the side of her dress.
Laughter broke out around us. Even Queen O’nell cracked a smile. Father was the loudest, trying to ease away any lingering suspense with boisterous chuckles.
“Oh come now, Lord Speight knows I mean this all in good fun,” Queen O’nell said. She brought her wine glass up for a toast, then stared into it for several seconds with a lost expression after realizing it was empty. She looked suspiciously to her left and right, then called for another. Her cheeks had turned a rose red and her lips a deep purple. She loosened the knots around her hair, then leaned back with a tired yawn that spread to Haben a few seconds later.
“Bring Queen O’nell the whole cask,” Mother called to a server. “May as well bring enough drink to keep her occupied a good half-hour.”
“All in good fun,” Uncle said, tipping his drink toward Queen O’nell.
Next to him, my cousin looked pleased for having incited so much debate. He was drinking a spiced cider blended from pears and apples and seasoned with sautéed pumpkin skin that lined the inside of his wooden mug. He had a plate of boiled squid set aside on a nearby table with a bowl of salted butter and caramelized onions to flavor it with. He blew on his cider, sending threads of orange smoke in my direction. I could not say with an honest conscious that my uncle was a good person, but my cousin had redeeming qualities about him. As ironic as it may sound, it was the qualities he got from his mother that made me dislike him the most. It is threatening, I think, to see the things we value in ourselves in other people, even if they do not share them to the same degree. As an analogue to my own story, I am sur
e that I was the villain in his.
“I enjoy these arguments. They are good to have,” Queen O’nell said, tugging absently on a knot of silver-blonde hair. “Good exercises for the mind and heart. Anyway, Ojin, I’m actually quite happy you have a differing opinion. It’s good to hear other viewpoints once in a while.”
“Precisely,” my uncle said, offering an agreeable nod while holding a finger up. He called a server to bring him the same tinesault wine that Queen O’nell was drinking, curiously eyeing the contents of the glass when it came. Several others had done the same, wanting to try whatever had made the Queen of Xenash so eagerly forfeit all the other flavors available tonight. Father finished his own glass, then hit his chest and belched into the silence that had settled between everyone. Mother scowled, looking away.
I had remained quiet all this time, not because I had nothing to say, but because I wanted to listen as carefully as I could to the conversation between Queen O’nell and my uncle. They had minced words, but there were still layers of depth in their exchange. It showed me the things that Queen O’nell valued. How she approached war and what she thought of Narkissa. It showed me how uncle approached someone of a higher political and social status than him. My own family was not a good example of this as our relationship with him was not as simple and unblemished as Queen O’nell’s. It wouldn’t have been enough to listen to the conversation and think through its details over the next several minutes. I had to commit their words to memory and think on them later. I had to unfold the meaning in words that were emphasized, unpack all the subtleties of their body language, and think about the other things they had wanted to say but didn’t. This was why Mother was paying so much attention, and why she hesitated at first when Father suggested she interrupt. If it went on for longer, we would have learned much more. I wished Taa were here, but I was sure that she would know about the argument in even more detail than Mother or me.
Vermilion Dreams (Book One of A Vampire Fantasy Epic) Page 21