The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

Part of him felt fucking brilliant at the whole thing. The other half wanted to run off into a corner and groan. Nothing about this felt like it had been a brilliant idea in hindsight. Yet back when it had been happening, he couldn’t have gotten enough of it. Way to go Pete, think with your crotch all the time. Look where it ends you up.

  He must have stiffened at that though for she brought her head up and looked him through sleepy eyes, stifling a yawn.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “Thought you were asleep.”

  “Same,” he said. She furrowed a brow at that.

  “You thought you were asleep?” she asked before grinning. “I know, I know. So…”

  By the look on her face, Pete would have sworn she was just as uncomfortable as he was. Maybe she hadn’t planned it. Not that he’d have her down to plan something like this. That hadn’t occurred to him until literally that moment.

  “So…” he said, genuinely lost for words. If there was anything he could say to break the ice, he wasn’t sure what it was. “That was… Nice, I think.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t it. He flinched visibly, even more so as she focused her eyes at him, colour flushing into her cheeks. Not in a good way either. He’d seen that face before and it usually meant one thing.

  “Nice?” she asked incredulously. “That was nice?!”

  “Well I enjoyed it,” he said, his cheeks flushing. “You were pretty good. I hope you got something out of it.” Her expression was a picture and he genuinely didn’t know how he could keep looking her in the eyes. “Yeah, I’m not going to bullshit around the truth here. I’m feeling a little uncomfortable.”

  “Why?” she asked, wriggling up closer to him. He could feel she was still naked under the sheets. Somewhere during the whole thing, she’d lost her dress. Even despite what they’d just done, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to bring himself to sneak a look when she got up. Some things you just didn’t want to see. Not because they were horrible, just because… You didn’t want to see them. End of.

  “Gee, why do you think?” he said, a lot more abrupt than he’d expected it to come out. “Which part of what we just did do you think makes me feel uncomfortable? Was it the first, second or third time?”

  “It might have been the fourth,” she said, grinning at him. “Got to say, you’ve got more endurance than Scott…”

  “Yeah you just killed any chance of round five,” Pete said. “That really makes me in the mood for it, I got to say. Being compared to my best friend in bed.”

  “Why? You measure up a lot better.” She winked at him and snaked a hand across his body, toying with him. “A lot better. Think I might be walking funny the rest of the day.”

  Nice… He smirked sardonically at that. “What can I say? I’m a blessed man. Some guys get length; some guys get girth. I got it both. Gilgarus loves me.”

  “I think Gilgarus has more on his celestial mind than the size of your cock,” she said dryly. “Me on the other hand…”

  “Hmmm…” Pete said, suddenly not quite able to suppress a grin. “I never had you down as a nympho.”

  “Nah, I like fucking,” she said, her hand still teasing him to hardness. He tried to control his breathing, finding it more and more difficult by the second. Her hands were so soft. “Really, I do.”

  “That why you played me?” he asked breezily. Just for a moment he felt her hand stop, still around him but not moving. Maybe having this conversation while she had her hand on his cock wasn’t the best idea.

  “What?” She looked a little confused, more than a little insulted and he got the feeling that it wouldn’t take long for her to catch on. “You think I planned this?” Anger was creeping into her voice. He wondered if he could yank himself free of her grip before she got it into her head to start squeezing, without her realising what he was doing.

  “That thought had crossed my mind,” he said lightly trying to roll away from her. Maybe he could make a break for the door… And go where exactly? This was his room. Running naked out into the corridor possibly wouldn’t be the best idea he’d ever had. “I mean; you can’t stand me…”

  “Yeah and now you’re reminding me why,” she said. The tiniest amount of pressure started to give on his cock and he tried to bear it out without flinching. “Just for the record, Pete, don’t think you’re a divine’s gift to women and that I’d go to all this effort to try and entrap you.”

  The tiniest flicker of affront crossed his mind and he glared at her. “Not the reaction I was expecting. You seemed keen on it, you initiated it. Can’t blame you really.” His glare faded and he returned her wink from a few moments ago.

  “Gods, can you be any more self-absorbed?”

  “I think I could,” he said. She’d stopped squeezing, thankfully. She hadn’t resumed other activities yet though unfortunately. He leaned his arms back behind his head. “So, it just sort of happened then?”

  “I think the correct term,” she said. “Is taking advantage of a situation.” She saw his face and grinned. “No, not like that. I’m not about to shout rape. I was low, you were quite kind, for you and I just thought why not. You didn’t exactly say no, did you?”

  “I couldn’t. My mouth was busy.” He wasn’t exactly without charm and he turned it on, grinning at her. “I’m glad it was.” He blew out his cheek and sighed. “But you know what? I can’t help but wonder where we go from here?”

  “We?” She sounded incredulous. “There is no we, Pete. Don’t ever forget that.” She threw the covers back, he did the gentlemanly thing and averted his eyes. He could hear her getting dressed. “This was a onetime thing, I’m sorry to say.”

  “That bad huh?” he asked. She finished adjusting the straps of her dress and he met her eyes. “Kinda adds credence to my ‘you planned this whole thing’ theory’ doesn’t it?”

  “Well I didn’t,” she said. “Pete, there’s a thousand reasons why we wouldn’t work. Scott and I weren’t really… We didn’t work, okay. You’d have to be blind not to realise that. You and I would be even worse together. Give us a month and we’d be throwing punches at each other. And I don’t want to put you on your ass. And besides, do you even want to date me?”

  He couldn’t lie when she put it like that. “No offence but no, not really. Like you said, we’d grate each other too much. You think this sounds like the quitter’s way out?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not quitting if you never started. It’s avoiding it. And plus, if we did start something, it’d be a bit awkward around Scott, right?”

  Ah… She’d brought it up.

  “I wouldn’t mind keeping it quiet actually,” he said slowly. “You know; he might take it the wrong way.”

  “Or he might rib you for getting his sloppy seconds,” she said. No part of the smile as she said it looked real. “He can’t say anything to you about it. He and I are finished. I was missing him earlier, I wanted him back… Part of me still does I think, but I’ve got to remember that it wasn’t always good. A lot of it wasn’t.”

  Pete nodded. “You know; I don’t think of you as sloppy seconds.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but you know how Scott’s mind works. It starts at the bottom and goes a little deeper every time he opens his mouth.”

  “That’s true,” Pete replied, a little hint of relief going through him. She was right, he hadn’t technically done anything wrong but you couldn’t always work out the way that people were going to react in any given situation and this was one of those. Scott’s mind did work in a funny way; she was right about that. Things that any normal person might find offensive, he laughed at and stuff the same person might brush off he had the potential to get in a state about. He hadn’t done it as much since they’d gotten to the island but it was there beneath the surface of his being.

  “You know…” She’d gotten her shoes on now and was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and relief. “If I’d seen this Pete Jacobs more often, our travels together might have been more pleasant. Bye, Pete. I�
�m sure we’ll see each other again someday. Until then, enjoy. Good luck in the tournament.”

  And with that, she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

  The meeting had finished and Anne had originally planned to walk out with Lysa. Yet like all plans, it had been subject to failure on the first part of human interaction. Lysa had made some excuses about last minute practice she needed to engage in, Anne hadn’t detected anything in her emotions other than a sense of overwhelming apology that wasn’t faked, at least not in her opinion.

  She’d done what any friend would have, smiled and said it was fine. If Lysa had other things to do, then that was fine with her. Anne would find something else to do. They’d missed the Steven Silver bout; it had been on in the background of the bar but she hadn’t been paying attention. She knew he’d lost but that was about the full extent of it. Maybe she’d try and track down the highlights package, see if she could see what had gone wrong for him. She knew of Steven Silver and he wasn’t a pushover. Irrow on its own was a formidable opponent. His conqueror must be a fierce competitor.

  For a while she wandered across the promenades. From the night the people had started to arrive on the island, the sideshow attractions and vendors that had once been so prominent were slowly starting to fade out. Still people milled but the marvellous was starting to become mundane to them it would now appear.

  A shame that. Wonder came in many forms yet it appeared that only that which became spectacle drew on the hearts and minds of those who could appreciate. For many minutes, she strode the streets until she found herself at the Clinton Abedi Training Complex. She’d been by a few times, never entered. She’d met Clinton Abedi, the man for whom it had been named, in the past and had been impressed with the force of nature he’d been. A Vazaran spirit caller turned politician who had fallen foul of the Vazaran Suns for openly condemning their acts in the kingdom. He’d called them a blight on the sands and made every effort to get them outlawed.

  It had been an act of defiance that had ultimately cost him his life but he’d made his point. Had he not made the sacrifice, the Vazaran Suns might be running the kingdom by now. At least with Nwakili in charge, he wasn’t going to take any shit from them. That was the theory anyway. It was good to see that even though you might be gone, you got some recognition in some small way somewhere. Would Abedi have liked it? She couldn’t say. She hoped he would have. He’d given his life for his beliefs. No doubt they’d thought they were honouring him by naming this for him. Maybe he would have hated it. Who could say?

  She’d like a building named after her. The Annabeth Sullivan something for something-something. That’d be awesome.

  She pushed the door open, grinned. Was too long since she’d had the chance to practice her technique. Her crystals were getting a little too dusty for her liking. It might be time to change that. Besides, she had a good feeling about it. Somewhere beyond the doors, she could feel the tug of a familiar mind.

  Him.

  She’d have laughed were it not so unexpected. He hadn’t noticed she was there yet, his back to her and an anklo out in front of him firing great sharp leaves at targets. They’d really put their all into developing this centre, a state of the art place for callers to work on their techniques in a controlled environment.

  Yet she’d always felt that was a bit of a misnomer. You couldn’t have controlled environments where spirits were throwing around attacks. The best you could do would be put in safeguards and hope for the best. Wade had told her the story of that boat ride he’d taken over here, how one of them had failed and he’d nearly been hit by an unconscious gytrash. Even now as she watched him with his anklo, she could see those leaves were likely capable of cutting an opponent in half given a clean hit. Without shielding and thick walls, a miss could smash through the building and really ruin someone’s day outside.

  Still, Theobald Jameson looked like he knew what he was doing. He’d beaten the boss’s kid to go onto the next round, but he was keeping his eye in. He wasn’t resting on his laurels. Training hard to stay sharp.

  She came to a halt, had to steady herself in surprise as she watched him. For once, she couldn’t sense naked anger in him. That was new. This time, it was more controlled aggression. Focused. Useful. He’d listened to what she’d said then.

  Somehow that pleased her. It was a feeling she couldn’t explain the reason behind but it was a little surge of warmth deep in her stomach. He’d listened to her. She’d never fancied herself as much of a teacher before but then again, she’d gotten the impression Theo had never fancied himself as much of a student. He’d seemed like the sort who’d take a dozen kicks until he worked out how to stop it on his own, rather than be told after the first one. Stubborn. Really stubborn. Never backing down. Never admitting defeat.

  If she was honest, she found that an attractive quality. What did that say about her? She liked people who stuck to their convictions.

  Why had he agreed to let her give him some pointers? It was not something he’d been willing to share with her. She’d not even been able to get an answer off his emotions. Empathic abilities only went so far. Maybe she didn’t want to know the answer.

  Sometimes things had a way of working out. He’d been here practicing. She’d been stuck for something to do. They’d been drawn together. It was unlikely they’d be friends. They’d never associate in the same circles. She wasn’t even sure if he did have friends. And the strange thing about that was he seemed happy with that.

  “Ms Sullivan,” he said without turning around. “Are you going to stand there all day?” She stiffened up. How’d he known she was there? She made a habit of being stealthy. His emotions didn’t change, not even a little. Part of her was disappointed by that. He could at least be happy to see her. “Or are you going to come over here and show me what you’re capable of.”

  This time his aura twitched and she smiled, pulling out her caller as she strode forward. He turned to greet her and the corners of his mouth shifted a little as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite get the expression out.

  “I should be saying that to you,” she said. “How about you show me what you’re capable of instead.”

  “Standard bout?”

  “How about we make things interesting?” she smiled. He caught her expression for a moment and then looked away.

  The tenth day of Summerpeak.

  The breakthrough had come. Sinkins was there, as were both Domis and Rocastle as the four of them studied the man sat in front of her desk. He didn’t look well; he had clearly suffered for some time. Dark skinned, his hair long and unkempt he stared back at her with eyes that were far too bright. They were mismatched, one brown and one blue. His clothes were stained and torn, too old by far. His jacket was missing a sleeve and she could see his toes through the left of his mismatched shoes. Several months-worth of beard marked his face and his entire body shook every time he moved.

  His voice sounded hoarse but like it had once been authoritative with that rich accent whose origin eluded her. The call had come in not too long after her meeting with Cyris and Montella, one of her operatives had managed to trace back the payment that Jeremiah Blut had made in regards of his inquiry to the Kjarn. That operative had been heavily rewarded for his efforts in bringing the destitute before her. If he’d been paid well for the information, he looked to have squandered it. Yet for all the grime and filth that had accumulated about him, there was something she couldn’t quite place.

  “Your name,” she said. He stiffened and didn’t reply, yet still stared at her as if he could see through her. “What is it?”

  Still no answer. She resisted the urge to order Domis to slap him around until it loosened his tongue. As pleasant as it might be, she doubted it’d make him chattier. He looked like he was made of stern stuff. To survive on the streets of Xandervool, one of the more unsavoury cities in Canterage meant he had something about him.

  Time to try a different tactic. If the stick wouldn’t w
ork, then perhaps he’d bite down on the carrot. He looked gaunt enough to eat a field full of them.

  “If you don’t want to talk,” she said. “Then don’t. That’s your choice. But it’s all I wanted to do. Nothing more at first. Are you hungry? You look hungry.”

  Still no reply. He hadn’t even blinked for as long as she’d observed him.

  “Strong silent type, huh?” Rocastle said. Speaking of people whom she wouldn’t mind seeing Domis slap around, she thought with a small smile. That was something long overdue. But again, she held the order against her tongue. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. “See plenty of those around here. But they’re never usually that…” He wrinkled his nose as if searching around for the right term. She knew exactly the word he wanted to use. But he wouldn’t. Rocastle had a thing about him, he’d never use a basic word when a more cutting one would suffice. He dug under people’s skin like that. “Odorous, I must say.”

  The smile that broke across the dark-skinned man’s face might once have been majestic, but now the teeth had yellowed and broken, his lips were black and cracked on the inside. She shuddered inwardly with revulsion, her stomach twisting. If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t comment on it as finally she heard his voice again.

  What was that accent?

  “You’ll have to forgive my appearances of dishevelment,” he said. “Times have been hard and I am perhaps not as formidable as once I might have been.” He didn’t sound like your average street bum. And given what information he might have, she hadn’t expected him to somehow. “But, my dear ponce, never mistake the surface as a true reflection of what lies below.”

  Rocastle bristled at that. “Scratch your surface, honey, I think I’d have to spend a week cleaning my fingernails.”

  “Domis,” she said. “Please remove Mr Rocastle from the room.” She’d grown tired of his presence already; she didn’t want him aggravating their guest. Domis was already rising to his feet, Rocastle was already opening his mouth to protest. “If he can’t be civil…”