The Great Game Trilogy

by O. J. Lowe

  He followed them through the maze of sterile corridors, trying to memorise the torturous route until finally giving up. The laws of physics didn’t seem to make any sense here, unless they’d purposely been disorientating him. It felt like they’d been past the same fire extinguisher three times, before finally they’d arrived at a room and the door opened to allow him access. Dressed in the unfamiliar black suit, he adjusted his tie and stepped into the room, stopping short from entering as he took it all in.

  Oh my…

  To say it was a far-flung shot from his cell was an understatement. A very drastic understatement. This was… This was gorgeous. He’d been in classy hotels which paled in comparison to this place. The carpet was a lush crimson that felt like walking across spongy moss, the support beams of the walls lined with gold trim. Diamonds hung from the chandelier, a dozen twinkling lights reflected a hundredfold. And the table could have seated fifty easily. Who had a place like this? He thought he knew the answer. Something had been going on around the Quin-C. They’d been following the patterns and that was indisputable. Someone was pulling strings, there’d been too many seemingly isolated incidents to not be worried. Someone had arranged the natives to be wiped out. Someone had sent that mercenary team the night of the storm. Someone had attacked Wade. Someone had arranged for the hospital to be attacked. Someone had killed…

  Sharon…

  For a moment he’d thought it was her. He’d been wrong. The woman across the other side of the room looked nothing like her. Wrong age, wrong build, wrong colouring. Maybe she was about fifty, tall but fighting a losing battle with age, brunette and pale. Too pale. Maybe she was sick. She looked tired. If she had enough money to afford a dining room like this, a terminal illness would be ironic. A tasteless thought, he knew that. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. And then she spoke and despite her outward appearance, he found himself surprised by the strength in her voice. The resolution strong.

  “Mr Roper,” she said. “My apologies and my condolences.” She didn’t look particularly apologetic; he had to admit as she approached. Her mouth thinned as if trying to look sorrowful, but it wasn’t a particularly effective effort.

  How to play it? The question rushed through his mind in that moment and he found himself momentarily perplexed. There was something about this whole thing that stank, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Grieving. Grieving and hurting. If he could pull those off, he could take it from there.

  “Who are you?” he asked quietly. Privately he was quite pleased with the note of self-pity in his voice. He’d buy it. “What is this place and why have you kidnapped me?”

  “Again, I apologise,” she said, coming to a halt. “But you’ve seen this place, I think it’s better you don’t know where we are. That way it can’t be taken from you by force and there are those out there who would. Besides, I think you’re being rather ungrateful considering the efforts we went to in securing your release.”

  She let it hang and Nick shrugged. “Just nervous I guess. Been a rough few days. But grateful, I am. Thank you.” He looked her up and down. The hurt in his eyes wasn’t false at all. Thoughts of what he’d lost kept battering away at the back of his mind, demanding his attention. He tried to ignore them. It was a losing battle. “Why collect me in the first place.”

  She sighed. “I wanted to offer you my condolences in person. It’s partly my fault that your fiancé died, you see.”

  It took considerable restraint honed over years of working for Unisco that stopped him from grabbing her by the neck and demanding answers. Restraint he’d made a big show of shattering when he’d smacked Ritellia in the nose. He took a deep breath. Another. And another. Anything to remain calm and composed. “Your fault?”

  A nod answered his question. “Partly. You see, I’m the one who arranged for this tournament to be here on Carcaradis Island. In a way, that makes it as much my responsibility as anyone else’s. Mr Roper, my name is Claudia Coppinger.”

  Ah… He owed Will Okocha credits, it would appear. “I’ve heard of you,” he said. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He closed his eyes and focused on her face. “Just there. You weren’t at the opening ceremony or something were you. Sorry, if you weren’t, I guess I got you confused for someone else.”

  She raised an eyebrow, a sudden flash in her eyes a little too quick for him to be sure he’d seen it. “There’s just one of me, I think you’ll find,” she said, suddenly haughty. “I am unique.”

  “Just like everyone else?” Nick quipped. That brought a small smile from her. It probably warranted the reaction. It was an old joke.

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re wrong though,” he said softly. “I can’t blame you for Sharon’s… I can’t blame you for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.” He gulped. Felt sick suddenly. Talking about it hurt like the hells and especially to a stranger. Double for one whose motives weren’t quite clear yet.

  They’d sat down and made small talk over dinner. The main had been a roasted leg of lamb seasoned in mint and nuts, served with honey glazed parsnips, fluffy potatoes cooked in rich goose fat and drenched in meaty gravy so brown it was almost black. It had been outstanding; he’d openly admitted he’d never eaten such fine food before. Claudia Coppinger had smiled and winked at him.

  “My own personal chef, Alphonse, came aboard,” she said, almost conspiratorially. “The best. I’ll be sure to see that he hears your compliments.”

  “He’s not for hire, is he?” Nick asked. “I mean… He doesn’t own a restaurant, does he?”

  She laughed. “I doubt you could afford him. And no, not yet. One day I mean to set him up with an exclusive establishment in one of the biggest cities in the kingdoms. For the time being, I enjoy him too much. Wine?”

  “Maybe one,” he said. He didn’t want to refuse. If the wine was as good as the food, he probably wouldn’t stop at one. He needed to keep a clear head. Something was up here, he couldn’t place what, but to say he didn’t trust her was an understatement. She’d given nothing away in her small talk, refusing absolutely to talk about business amidst the food. It would sully the food, she’d said, and he agreed politely. What sort of business she wanted with him, he couldn’t guess at. The plates had been cleared away and the wine had been served. He swirled it about in his glass before taking a sip.

  Wow… To say it was good wine was doing it a disservice. It was fantastic. Normally he wasn’t a big wine drinker, but this was something he could enjoy. He didn’t know much about the stuff, but he knew what he liked. This, he could cheerfully drink every day for the rest of his life. “Life has clearly been good to you, Ms Coppinger,” he said politely. One sip turned into another. She waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve been an excellent host here. Other than the whole kidnapping thing. And I can’t help but wonder why.”

  “Why?” she asked coyly. “Well, why wouldn’t I want an interesting dinner guest up? That whole thing with Ritellia, just marvellous. I truly despise that man, even if he does have his uses sometimes. Everyone does, you know? You’ll probably be remembered longer for taking that swing at him than if you’d won the tournament.”

  “It’s not really the sort of thing I’d like to be remembered for,” Nick said. “It was a dumb thing to do and well, I suppose I’m going to have to live with the consequences.”

  “Not necessarily,” Claudia said. “You see I happen to know President Ritellia quite well and after a quiet word, he’s dropped all the charges.”

  Interesting, very interesting. Nick let a relieved look flit across his face, even if inside he was maintaining a sense of icy calm. “You see he’s come to accept that everyone makes mistakes and you were grief-stricken…”

  “I’d prefer not to use that as an excuse. A lot of people were. Her brother was. He didn’t act like that.” Here, Nick had to admit that he wasn’t entirely acting. He’d genuinely considered all of this before putting his little charade into play.

  “Could you
not say that was down to your passion? Would you say you’re a passionate man? I’ve seen it in the way you fight.”

  “Passion unrestrained is like fire. Tough to control, harder to contain, difficult to stop,” Nick said. “I’m not proud of it. It’s going to be hard, but I’d like to move past this.”

  “Exactly. Life is tough, wouldn’t you say? There are no prizes, but living is its own reward,” she said.

  “All this is just a check-up on my well-being? You’re not worried I’m going to sue you, are you?” he chuckled. Apparently, she didn’t find it funny, her face didn’t change even for a second as she leaned on the table and made a pyramid out of her fingers. He genuinely couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Somehow, he felt he didn’t want to either.

  “Talk to me of faith,” she then said suddenly. “Are you devout? Do you feel that the Divines benefit from your supplication?”

  “Honestly, I think my supple has been vacated long since,” Nick replied. “I’m all out of it. If I wasn’t before, then I’m hardly likely to suddenly start believing because they took the one thing I loved beyond all other away from me.”

  “Or maybe they did that to punish you,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. But I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “It seems kinda petty to be honest.”

  “Pettiness is a human emotion; wouldn’t you say? You’d expect something so divine to be above it.”

  “If you’re wanting a debate on the nature of theology, I’m afraid you’ve probably picked the wrong dinner guest for it,” Nick said apologetically. “I don’t think I’m being punished.”

  “Just for the record,” Claudia said. “I don’t either. I think it’d be a cruel being who would punish someone for not seeing things their way by taking a life not theirs to take. All life is precious is what they teach us. Not to be taken in anger or revenge, not even in justification.”

  That’s me fucked then, Nick thought dryly to himself.

  She paused, truly thoughtful for a moment. He could see it in her eyes. There was something there, maybe not madness but not sanity either. “You know,” she said softly. “Once I met a holy man when I was a little girl and I spoke with him about faith. The nature of it and the reality. How we take so much of it on little more than a whim. I believe in Divines. I truly do. Yet at the time I found myself wondering why the secrecy. Why not reveal themselves, why not rule? All that power and yet they limit themselves to little more than the imagination. What was the point?”

  Nick said nothing.

  “He wasn’t your usual holy man. Had a decent church, nice office. And in the corner of the room, there was this old chair. He got up and pointed to it, asked me with a smile on his face what sort of proof would suffice. If he prayed to Gilgarus or Melarius and asked them to lift the chair up and down as a sign of their existence, some would regard it as a miracle. Some would see it as a trick. And some would be scared. Because power scares people. Especially when it’s used so brazenly. But with some subtlety, you can never know. Do just the right thing and people won’t be sure if you’ve done anything at all. So, what if everyone loved each other like family, if there were no more wars or sickness? Wouldn’t that be greater proof of a higher plan than this chair rising up and down?”

  “You seem to forget one thing with that argument,” Nick said. “Families fight all the time. That’s when it gets personal when the family is involved. I’ve seen some of the worst arguments ever spring from people who should know better.”

  “You’re missing the point, I see.”

  He felt the ire rise in him, a hot hard feeling in the base of his stomach. “You know, you’re not persuading me with this story. That’s just the story religion likes to perpetuate. You’re right. We’ll never know. We shouldn’t. Otherwise it’d be worship for the sake of it. We wouldn’t do it because we believe, we’d do it out of fear.”

  “I’ve always found fear to be an excellent motivator,” she said. “But only a fool uses it as their sole weapon.”

  “I wouldn’t disagree. There are forces stronger than fear.”

  “Greed for instance. That’s served me just as well,” Claudia said. “I’m a very wealthy woman. One of the five wealthiest in the five kingdoms. Well I was before all of this. You see to accumulate, you need to speculate. I’ve been hunting a dream for a very long time because I believe it to be attainable. I have thrown a great deal of credits towards this venture and my rewards are almost near. To acquire the priceless, you really have to pay through the nose for it.”

  “Oh yeah?” Nick wondered if he was supposed to sound impressed. Given she’d spilt very little information; he was probably entitled not to be overwhelmed with emotion.

  “You know the story of Ai-Yal’Sanhim?”

  He shook his head. “Sounds Vazaran though.”

  “Close but not quite. The gist of the story was how those who were exceptional found themselves elevated above the ordinary. The ordinary started to believe in them and thus they became extraordinary. They became more than mortal, they shaped the world in their image and did what we could not. In short, they became divine.” She smiled faintly. “I want that.”

  “And you want me to help you attain it?” Nick couldn’t believe his ears. As farfetched ideas went, this one took the cake. “I think you might be overestimating what I’m capable of there. Because…”

  “No, no, no,” she said. “You can’t help me there. But once it is attained, I must take steps to ensure it is kept. I will need those who are loyal to me to build a power base. Those who know how to use the weapons in my arsenal. Those who will ascend with me.” She smiled coldly. “I’ve been recruiting from the Quin-C, you know. I wanted those who had nothing to lose and everything to gain to come to my side. Those who wanted change, those with grievances against what had come before. I offer them what nobody else would. A chance for change.”

  “A noble goal,” Nick said. “But seriously, you don’t really believe that story, do you?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “And why would I not? There might be some fanciful elements to it, but I’ve always found there are some elements of truth behind the frippery of every tale. You have suffered, you’ve struck against the establishment, you are strong and capable. You are exactly the sort of person I want at my back when I ascend and bring my new world into being. It won’t be easy but nothing good ever is, I think you’ll agree.”

  Claudia Coppinger smiled at him. “So, what do you say?”

  Nick exhaled sharply, dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin and put on an expression of deep thoughtfulness. He leaned forward to look her in the eyes, trying to keep down the feeling of disgust he felt deep within him.

  “I believe you believe what you’re saying is true,” he said. “You seem so damn confident about it, I think you might actually have the stuff to back it up. That equal parts thrills and terrifies me. But it’s a big decision.” He paused to finish his glass of wine, made a big show of swirling the dregs down in the bottom of the glass before swallowing it. “Life changing even. Can’t just say yes or no like that. Allow me some time to think it over and I’ll get back to you.”

  She raised a hand. “But of course. I’d be more than a little worried if you just blindly accepted it. Return to your accommodation and perhaps we can arrange a tour of the facilities for the morrow. If you can see what we’ve already got, then it may change your mind.” It wasn’t so much what she said that caught his attention as what she didn’t say. He got the feeling she was omitting the part where if he didn’t sign up, he wouldn’t be leaving alive.

  He’d known the risks. He’d just have to try and get some sort of signal out before things went sour.

  Silas was already waiting for her as she entered the room. Amidst all the excitement she’d almost forgotten their little arrangement and he looked impatient to be kept waiting, a situation she could care less about. “Mister Lassiter,” she said. “Sorry to delay, t
here were circumstances beyond my control. This entire project is poised in a very delicate position as we speak.”

  “Hey,” Silas said angrily. “Don’t talk to me of delicate positions. I’m in a precarious one myself. I think Cyris suspects I’m trying to stab him in the back.”

  “Really?” She sounded amused, she couldn’t help that. “And pray, why would he think that? Have you been careless?”

  Silas shook his head. “No, I’ve been quiet as a mouse in my movements. Not a hint. So, how’s he…?”

  The curtain at the back of the room opened and John Cyris stepped out, no anger on his face but rather disappointment, a look of hurt disbelief. “Oh, I told him,” Claudia said nonchalantly. The look on Silas’ face was priceless, outrage, disgust and hurt betrayal all rolled into one.

  “You did what?”

  “See I have no wish to ally myself to promises from the bottom when I can get the same with a vow from the top.”

  “You’re making a mistake!” Any hint of cool in Silas’ voice had gone and he was starting to sound desperate. High and shrill, she could see his eyes darting back and forth as if looking for a way out. “He’ll betray you.”

  “I’ll have to watch out for that then,” she said sounding amused. “He has no sense of irony, does he John?”

  “Not at all, Madam Coppinger,” Cyris smirked. “Simon, I gave you everything when you had nothing.” His smirk faded and there was disappointment in his voice. “I treated you like a son and you do this?”

  Silas snorted. “Yeah, I know all about your relationship with your son.”

  He said no more as Cyris swung a fist and Silas went down with a yell, blood spurting from his lip. He tried to fight back, all to no avail as Cyris swept in, hitting him again and again, fists meeting flesh over and over until he stopped moving. There was nothing to say to that, she studied him curiously as he got to his feet and straightened his clothes. “You have a strong reaction to betrayal.”