by Larry Niven
“Then let the games begin!”
* * *
Jade traveled along packed streets down to the docks. The other boatwomen smiled and bowed, dressed in identical blue uniforms that matched Jade’s own boating dress.
Her female attendant bowed respectfully. “A good day for a race, mistress.”
Jade smiled. “Oh, I’m quite certain that my husband has arranged for it to be anything but a race. But at my stage in life, I have to admit that I enjoy the fact that he bothers.”
The assistant helped her onto the ship, coiling rope around her arm. “The general adores you.”
“I grow tired of this charade,” Jade said. “However entertaining it has been. I know the message: my husband loves me and wishes me peace. I will win this one last time and then retreat from the field.”
The assistant paused. “If you win … will you ask the same question? The question you’ve—”
Jade cut her off. “Is there another?”
* * *
The crowd parted before General Silith’s carriage and heeled behind it, a ship plowing through human waves. The horses pranced as the coachman brought them to a halt at the castle’s side entrance. As soon as Silith disembarked, it pulled out toward one of the four stables.
As Silith entered, the guards clicked to attention up and down the corridor. They could not, he thought with a smile, have responded more briskly had he been the monarch himself.
His smile broadened but then flattened to a mere trace by the time he reached the throne room.
King Corinth hunched upon his grandfather’s throne, a massive work of gem-encrusted gold and silver, intended to overawe supplicants, whatever their status or intent. Corinth was an old man, almost child-like against the massive throne. At first glance, he might have seemed imperious, but if you looked more closely there was a vagueness to his eyes, an unkempt bird’s-nest quality to his hair that suggested something … a bit off. His advisors clustered on every side.
The general bowed deeply. “Your Majesty. How can I serve you?”
“General Silith,” the king said, voice shaking. “Cousin. Good for you to come.” He paused, then with a thin smile, said, “Bishop to king three.”
“Knight to rook four, Your Majesty.”
King Corinth chuckled. “Well played. Now to business. I know that you and your wife celebrate this holiday … religiously.” The king chortled. “Yes, religiously. Oh, my, I made a joke!”
The room tittered with polite laughter.
The general’s mouth curled upward, but his eyes were unchanged. “Yes, Your Majesty. You did indeed.”
“Yes. Well … I wanted to speak with you because the accountants say that you have made several large withdrawals from the treasury and purchased…” He turned to the slight young man beside him.
“What was it he purchased?”
“Slaves, Your Majesty,” the younger man said. “He purchased two boatloads of slaves, mostly natives captured in war by the Aztecs.”
The king frowned. “Those fellows who tear the lungs out, aren’t they?”
“Hearts, sir,” the general said.
“Yes, of course. Hearts. Nasty.”
He looked away a bit distracted and unfocused.
“Your Majesty?” General Silith nudged.
“Oh, yes! At any rate, I wished to know what this influx of labor represents. My minister of labor is concerned that it represents a threat to the honest working men of Shrike, and I wished to be certain this was not the case.”
“Your Majesty,” the general said, “it is not. Your previous minister of finance, regrettably ill, had no issue with the expenditures. These bondsmen do not threaten the honest working folk of Shrike and are merely helping us to build the workshops in which the Thousand can produce some of the luxuries Your Majesty enjoys.”
To the side of the throne was an ornate clock with a broad, hand-painted face. In the momentary silence, it clicked and whirred merrily.
“Oh, yes, marvelous. Marvelous.”
“Like this,” the general said. He produced a cylinder of hard yellow material, the size of his forefinger. “It’s a pen that never gets your fingers dirty. Look, the point pulls back when you do this—”
“Your Majesty,” Minister Kang said. “Perhaps the general would be kind enough to explain more about the children.”
The rotund minister and the general locked eyes. It was a war of wills, and Kang never blinked.
“The children?” the general asked.
“Yes. There are so many things afoot in the kingdom these days. The general manages not only the army, but this … spiritual group as well.”
Something about the way he said “spiritual” indicated that he considered it anything but.
“In addition, there are many new vessels in the fleet, new weapons in the army, all from the workshops hidden in the black forest. The secretive workshops.”
“Secrets!” the king shrieked. “Secrets! The Thousand agreed to supply us with the fruits of their labors, but the conditions were too extreme! None of us get to see what they’re … ah…”
Again his attention seemed to drift.
“Your Majesty?” Lord Kang’s young assistant said politely.
“Oh, yes.” His eyes refocused. “What was I saying?”
“I believe you were asking what they are doing in the black forest, Your Majesty.”
General Silith stepped into the breech. “Since we gave them the land in the black forest, our army has lost not a skirmish. Our coffers are full. Our trade ships travel without fear of piracy. And all they ask is their privacy, Your Majesty. We can revoke our agreement, but all that will happen is that the Thousand will travel where they can work their wonders without interference.”
“We have no wish to interfere with them,” said Lord Kang. “But it is reasonable for us to wonder what is happening in the black forest … or even the Tower.”
The two locked eyes again.
“Your Majesty,” the general said. “I remind you that Your Majesty’s sixtieth birthday is in but a month. The Thousand are preparing a wonderful celebration gift.”
“A gift?”
“A wonderful gift. And if you can but wait until then, I promise that Your Majesty … and as many of his advisors as he wishes … will be free to travel into the forest and learn whatever he wishes to learn.”
“My birthday, yes. I so love a surprise.”
“I can promise you a wondrous one.”
“Very well. Until my birthday. But then—”
“And then, Your Gracious Majesty, dear cousin,” General Silith said, “All your curiosity will be satisfied.”
The king’s eyes sparkled. “That is wonderful, General Silith.”
“And now, with Your Majesty’s permission, there is a celebration to tend to. My wife, Jade, is competing once again.”
The king nodded. “Well, please offer my wishes to your good lady wife.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He turned to leave. As he did, Lord Kang leaned closer to the king, jowls quivering. “Your Majesty, may I have a private word with the general?”
“Of course,” the king said.
Lord Kang and the young scribe hurried after General Silith. “General!” Kang said, trying to match the general’s long, effortless strides.
“Yes?” he said, continuing to glide toward the entrance.
“Can you wait a moment?” He panted. “I have difficulty talking and matching your stride at the same time.”
The general gave that slight smile again. “My most sincere apologies, but I am late and wish to make up time. How can I help you?”
“We both know, General, that what happens in the black forest is more than merely providing shelter to some group of monks or magicians you saved on a whim.”
The general glanced at him. “Oh? And what exactly do you think?”
“We have seen wonders emerge from the forest. Strange devices. Magic of a very d
ifferent kind.”
The general sniffed. “Magic has weakened in our world. This is the time of steel.”
“But even there,” Lord Kang said. “You clashed with pirates just a moon ago. And … destroyed them.”
Silith’s eyebrow arched. “Is that not a good thing?”
“More slaves enter the forest than leave. I have heard the word … necromancy.”
“Have you?” Silith asked. “And what are you implying?”
The general had stopped. Lord Kang backed up. “Nothing. As yet. But there are whispers. If the king was himself…”
The general seemed shocked. “The king is not himself? What are you implying? And are you aware that such speech is seditious?”
They looked at each other coldly, and then Kang backed down. “I … meant no disrespect.”
“See that you don’t.”
Lord Kang bowed and scraped his way away, eyes seething. The general waited in the empty hall. “Yes?”
Kang’s assistant slipped out of the shadows. “My Lord. I don’t mean to keep you from your duties. But you should know that I am responsible to my superiors, who will question everything I do and say.”
“You are new, are you not?” the general mused.
“Yes,” the assistant said. “I am Seff Janir. I came in after the unfortunate death of Seff Hesenshir.”
“I see. And you are taking up where he left off? Counting every bean, being certain of every gold piece in its place. Admirable.”
Seff Janir simpered. “Thank you, sir.”
“It is important to be on the lookout for malfeasance, incompetency … and greed.”
The assistant nodded. “Greed is always a problem, sir.”
Silith’s eyes were piercing. “Your predecessor certainly considered it so. A major sin, one he was quite mindful of in others. Have you ever observed that people tend to be more attentive to flaws in others than in themselves?”
“No, never. I am a humble accountant and just beginning down my road. I would appreciate any words of wisdom from a man such as yourself.”
The general regarded him carefully. “You have reports to make, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Many accounts will be placed in proper order, very soon. By, say, the king’s birthday.”
Seff Janir paused. “If there are temporary imbalances until that time, I’m quite certain it would be possible to … focus the light elsewhere.”
“For a moon.”
“Just a moon,” the little man repeated. “After which, I assume, many things will have changed.”
“Yes. And in the midst of change, those who provide service may be assured of position.”
The assistant met his gaze squarely for the first time. “I would assume that the general prizes loyalty.”
“And rewards it. And punishes the lack of it.”
Seff Janir smiled. “It might be remarked that I had great loyalty to my predecessor, who mentored me. But none to Lord Kang, for instance.”
“Those undeserving of loyalty might be discussed without concern for transgression. What becomes important … is truth.”
“In that spirit, I thought you might wish to know that he has bribed a guard and intends to travel within the black forest very soon. Perhaps tonight.”
The general mused. “That … is indeed a valuable thing to convey. I will not forget.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” the accountant said, and backed away, bowing.
EIGHTEEN
The Race
Even before the rising sun had set the bay to sparkling, the crowd had gathered on the sands and wharves. The titanic stone likeness of Shrike’s two-headed avian goddess smiled down upon them from outside the harbor.
Almost two dozen sailboats bobbled for position on the waves.
A bearded, graying judge addressed them from a platform erected on a jetty lancing into the harbor like an accusing finger. “… And the first to circle the lighthouse and return wins the laurel and will be the guest of honor at the parade this evening!”
The crowd roared, chanted. “Jade! Jade!”
The boatwomen hauled ropes, set sails, caulked cracks, and waxed oars, singing and laughing with anticipation.
Jade’s first mate grinned. “Listen to them! The crowd is with you!”
Jade nodded with satisfaction. “Let’s make it a good day. There’s a last time for everything.”
The judge climbed down from his platform, which was itself composed of dried, aged timbers wrapped in oiled linens, an enormous torch.
The torch was lit!
The sailboats began their journey, canting their triangular sails to catch the wind.
* * *
A section of the crowd was marked off from the others by a line of armed men. In that group were red-robed monks and nuns, in a single file, chanting, eyes closed.
* * *
Deep in a crowd of cheering drunks, Aros and Neoloth watched the action in the bay with intense interest. Aros watched the boatwomen. Neoloth was watching the monks.
“What do you think?”
Aros held the odd spyglass, twisting its beveled rim to adjust focus. It really was a miracle, like being reborn with an eagle’s eye. “I think that I could have used these things, back in another life.” He stopped. “Oh, you mean the sailors? They look very good.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Neoloth said. “Look at the priests.”
Aros trained his attention upon them. “Chanting. Hands folded.”
Neoloth’s eyes narrowed. “Look at the way they are folded.”
Aros focused on their hands. They were folded in odd configurations. He shrugged. “What of it?”
“Those are Kryrick hand signs,” Neoloth said. “Those haven’t worked for many years.”
“The magic went away?”
Neoloth nodded. “Yes.”
“But if they did work, what would they accomplish?”
“Weather control, I think.” Neoloth refocused the spyglass, moving from red robe to red robe. “Wind.”
“So … if they had a source of magic … and knew these signs…”
“It could make a difference,” Neoloth said.
“The rumors would be true.”
Neoloth took the glass back, continued to scan the magic users. And then … held his breath. Most of these were strangers, unknown to him. But one strong feminine jawline and set of angular cheeks he recognized. “Shyena,” he whispered. Her cowl concealed the spill of red hair as her robes concealed the lush form he knew so well, but it was Shyena. The Red Nun was here in Shrike.
* * *
As the boats left the harbor, Jade and the strong, sinewy woman at her side worked hard.
Even through the glass, Aros could see that much. “Well done,” he murmured.
* * *
The sailboats reached the statue of the two-headed goddess and circled it. The other boats’ sails seemed to be having trouble catching the wind. Neoloth smiled to himself.
“Very nicely done.”
“What?”
“I thought they might control wind sprites, give the sails a boost. Or deny wind to the other boats. But that could be seen from shore: the sails would be fuller.”
Aros humphed. “What, then?”
“The water,” Neoloth said. “The current. They are creating a separate thread of current for the general’s wife.”
Aros was surprised. “You can see all that?”
Neoloth smiled. “Yes. What do you see?”
“That, if you’re right, I think that General Silith loves his wife.”
“Yes,” Neoloth said. “Very good.”
* * *
Jade worked the sails with her crew with ferocious enthusiasm. Born to leisure in one world, married into wealth and power in another, she had grown so soft that at times she barely recognized herself. This race, with the excitement, the sun and salt, the chafed hands and bruised bones, was the high point of her year.
The schooner smacked a wave, reared up out of the water, and then slammed back down.
All of her crew managed to hang on for dear life. Her nearest competitor fared more poorly, capsizing entirely.
Jade shrieked with delight, spared only a single glance back at the thrashing crew, and bent herself back to the glorious task at hand.
One of the other boats, with a different shape of sail, was pulling up next to her. And then … she pulled ahead just a little.
She paid no notice to anything but the water, the wind, the ropes and sails. None to the roar of the crowds as they drew ahead or crossed the line two seconds before the closest competitor.
After they slowed to an easier pace and were gliding back into the harbor, Jade’s crew bowed to her. “My lady. You have triumphed again. Again, you can ask a boon of the goddess. Every year you have asked the same thing, with no answer. Perhaps … this year…”
She shook her head. “The heart wants what it wants, my friend.”
And she went to her knees. Bowed. And prayed. Her crew watched respectfully. The wind was quiet, and then …
Something came crawling up over the edge of the boat.
A sailor pointed. “My lady!”
At first just a tentacle. Then several. Then the oddly human-looking eye of a sizable octopus appeared. Then its flank, spotted blue.
“Oh!” Jade said.
“What is it?” her lieutenant asked.
“It is a sign.”
Brown on brown now, the side of the octopus showed a cartoon face, the face of a man in his thirties, square of jaw, handsome but a bit battered.
Jade was entranced. The octopus … posed?
She reached for the octopus. It turned away, quickly. Before it dropped into the water, Jade saw its other flank. That was blurry, but she could make out the flag symbol of the state of Hamnos.
“They say those creatures are sometimes magical,” her first mate said. Clymnos nodded.
* * *
Crowds thronged the streets of Hamnos as the winners of various events paraded the avenue on platforms carried by costumed bearers. The crowds, perhaps somewhat encouraged by troops, cheered boisterously. Jade waved to the crowd, smiling, but she searched faces.
Something caught her eye: two men, apparently paying little attention to the show.