The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  Sure, it wouldn’t have been a turnout like this. Not for some woman whose name wasn’t anywhere near as well-known as her husbands or, divines willing, her sons. But still, that was irrelevant. She was his mother and suddenly he found himself filled with regret. He’d been to the grave since but never stayed long. It made him feel things he was uncomfortable experiencing. “Some pain I just don’t need.”

  “You’re a complex individual,” Anne mused. “Stubborn too. Have you ever thought that the pain serves a necessary function? You can’t heal without it. Bottle it all up and you’ll suffer and burn far more over the course of time.”

  “I’ve done okay so far,” Theo said defiantly. She looked up at him, gave him the fish eyed look of disbelief. “And I’m not in pain over Arventino’s death. I didn’t know her that well.”

  “And you’re in denial.”

  “No, I am…” He almost fell into the trap, gave her a sarcastic grin. “So, if I deny that I’m in denial, doesn’t that make it true? Sort of?”

  “I think you’re thinking too hard about it,” Anne said. “All I’m saying is that you can’t cut yourself off completely. We all have demons in our pasts, we can’t always exorcise them completely. But you shouldn’t let them control you. That way lies ruin and the point of no return.”

  “The point of no return,” Theo said softly. “Used to think that sounded like a pretty good destination, if I’m honest.”

  “What do you mean?” Anne looked surprised at his words. “Are you mad when you say that?”

  “No.” He paused, not quite sure how to explain what he meant. “What I’m trying to say is that… it’s all about progress, right? You start on a journey, you mean to get somewhere and eventually you’ll either get there or you’ll fall up short, right? But there’s always a point where there’s no going back. As you go on the journey, you change, you mature. You’re not the same person come the end of it as you were when you started and sometimes I just wonder when the point is that you can’t come back. I wanted so badly to get away from who I was that I couldn’t wait to leave.”

  “But you’ll still be the same person. You’ll still have the same problems in your past, you’ll still be running from them…”

  “I’ve never run from anything,” Theo said suddenly, his voice cold. He didn’t like the way it sounded, he tried to temper it without much success. “What I mean is… Ah, I don’t know what I mean. We’ve all got things we’d rather forget.”

  “Yes,” Anne said simply. “And sometimes we have to face them rather than flee from them. You can’t outrun your past, it has a horrible way of catching up with you. You think she’d know that more than anything.”

  She gestured to the coffin, now almost out of sight. Some of the crowd were following it, others were already milling away. The funeral was being broadcast across the five kingdoms, it had dominated the media despite Ronald Ritellia’s desperate earlier attempts to steal back some of the lost limelight for himself. The actual service had been victim to only a limited number of places despite the heaving masses desperate to attend. Theo thought that was a little disturbing if he was honest. So many people so desperate just to do something a little morbid.

  Granted, it was part of the unofficial caller’s code. If someone dies, even if you don’t like them, it’s just good to honour their memory even if it is just briefly. He’d done his bit here, both him and Anne.

  “Did you know her?” he asked. “Arventino?”

  Anne shook her head. “Not well. But we have some mutual friends. I knew her vaguely, spoke to her a couple of times. Fought her once or twice…”

  “You win?”

  Anne scoffed. “Draw and defeat. She was one tough cookie.”

  The faintest embers of a fire started to burn in Theo’s stomach, a blister of pride mixed with guilt. “Yeah, she was,” he said. “She sure was something.”

  The zent conducting the ceremony had been flown in from mainland Vazara especially for the event, Stoatley, Pete thought he’d said his name was. Apparently amidst all the desperation to construct the resort, one thing the builders had conveniently forgotten to add was a church. Pete didn’t know if that was significant or not. There was all sorts of resort towns that had churches, like that place in Premesoir that was notorious for drunken couples getting married without thinking it through.

  He shot a glance over at Nick, he was pale in his face but keeping his face stoic. There’d been a few awkward moments between them. At least he hadn’t been the one to find her dead like Nick had, bones shattered and her body impaled. When he’d heard… Well he’d not taken it well. He wasn’t proud to admit he’d shed tears but at the same time he was glad Scott hadn’t used it as an opportunity to take the piss. Neither had Mia. He felt like the odd one out between them, a little like he had when Scott had been with Jess, but here they’d been good to him. He was grateful to them for that.

  The zent’s white robes shone in the afternoon sun, contrasting violently against his dark skin as his deep voice intoned powerfully across the space. He didn’t know many of the faces here, but there were some that he recognised. Many of the great and good names of the spirit calling world had managed to make their way here, some he didn’t even know Sharon had been on speaking terms with.

  “The Divines above have a way of operating,” the zent said slowly. Although his voice was languid, it was deep and had a way of drawing attention. “A way that many of us cannot claim to understand or even approve of. Their way can seem cruel, it can seem unjust and harsh but it is necessary. Without death, there cannot be life and it is often in the most painful of times that we find the strength to carry on.

  When Gilgarus took on human appearance and was subject to brutality and death to safeguard those who couldn’t defend themselves, future generations were reminded that although it may hurt now, there can be no pain without joy. Just as there can be no good without evil to counterbalance it. No good deed can be performed without opposing acts of depravity to weigh the levity of it.

  That is why we were given choice. Because the decision of what to do with that choice has been and always will be what gives humanity its place in this world of ours. Sharon Arventino was well loved, well known but at the same time humble. Nobody ever had a bad word to say about her and she was taken all too soon.”

  Long pause. Pete thought he heard someone sobbing in the background, he wasn’t entirely sure who it was. “But take solace in your memories of her, remember both the good and the bad for she is with the Divines now, away from the stresses of a world that ultimately she was too good to remain in. It’s a worse place without her, she might have gone on to reach even higher plateaus of greatness, she might have gone on to fall so, so far. Ultimately, we will never know.

  For she leaves this world as we would all like to, given a choice. At the top. At the peak. Greatness personified. Kind. Gentle. Unselfish. To honour her, take a moment to join me in prayer, to remember her as she was and to try and touch the Sharon Arventino in all of us. There is no greater privilege to be remembered and to try and live a life the way she conducted hers.” He cleared his throat and began to chant. This one Pete knew, he kept trying to blink back the wetness in his eyes.

  “Oh Gilgarus, high and mighty above, take her into your embrace for all of time. Let her not miss those that she has left behind, nor mourn for what might have been.

  Griselle, guard her shade from the blackest depths of eternity, let her never forget that which has been.

  Dainal, take the time that passes and let the pain lessen as the sun rises and falls, let her eternal spark never burn out, let her name never fall from history.

  Pellysria, as memories fade, let them hold strong and undiminished, let her inspire and keep her mark on a world, let future people hold her as an example.

  Garvais, let her body nourish the soil so that even in death, she will continue to do some good, that one final act might ensure the survival of others.

  Kalqus, let
the tears of those that have fallen nourish the kingdoms as final tribute to a beautiful soul, let us see a remnant of her face in every beautiful raindrop.

  Rochentus, skyrider, let her forever watch over those that she loved and that loved her, allow her the knowledge that she made a difference to sooth her passing.

  Melarius, mother of all, take your newest daughter under your wing, love her as we loved her and may she be the best of them all.

  Temperus, Stzorn, Incenderus, take the ice left behind where our blood once was and keep the snows falling, Stzorn, take our screams of pain and make thunder with them, Incenderus, take our pain and use it to fuel the fires ever burning.

  Leria, grant us knowledge that we might spare this pain ever again, Farenix, let her greatness be reborn anew

  Ferros, spare her your fiery punishment forever now.

  Divines, take this lost beautiful soul and see that what she left behind might never fade, that what she might have done yet still may come to pass. Divines above be praised.”

  The echo of the last four words rang around the funeral. Pete felt a little queasy. He’d never liked overtly religious ceremony, he was pretty sure Sharon hadn’t either. So, all of this felt a little… He wanted to say tasteless.

  Sure, it was nice and twee and all that stuff but given the choice he felt she’d have picked otherwise. Then again, given a choice he was pretty sure she’d have picked to keep on living. Bile threatened to rise in his throat as the zent continued to drone on and he found himself trying to pick out the bits that were relevant to her. He wanted to say a few words, they still hadn’t quite come into being yet in his conscious mind.

  He wasn’t sure he could plan something long and concise out ahead of time, just go up and say it off the top of his head. Not like that zent. He had no emotional attachment to the whole thing. It was just a job, do it, go home, go to bed.

  That time soon came before he was even close to being ready, he found himself making that walk up to the podium amidst the smatterings of applause, displacing the zent there with a heavy heart. He adjusted the microphone, straightened his tie and cleared his throat all while trying to avoid the dull ache in his heart.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. “My name’s Peter Isaac Jacobs and Sharon was my sister. Well half-sister. Or so we used to say. We used to joke about that but the truth of the whole thing is that she wasn’t my half-sister. She was my sister. We might have had different fathers but we shared a family. We were blood. I loved her in my own way and I like to think that she loved me. For my whole life, she was there, something to live up to. I always thought that was an impossible thing to do. Maybe part of me resented that, just a bit but you know what? Overall, I didn’t care. It’s in the past now, seems stupid a bit when I think about it. Whatever stuff someone may do when they’re alive, you’ll miss it when they go. Knowing you’ll never see them again makes it that much harder.”

  He tried to keep the quaver out of his voice, couldn’t quite manage it. He took a few breaths, managed to hold his composure. Breaking down here would be exceptionally embarrassing. And no matter how justified it might be, he’d probably not live it down. Best keep it short. “I’ll really miss her. A sister is like… Well you can say the same about family really. You appreciate them more the older you get. You never realise just how much having them being there for you if you need them means to you.” He turned to look at the coffin, grateful that they had closed it up. He’d been to see her before the ceremony, she’d looked so peaceful from the front. Pete was truly grateful that the wounds had been hidden from sight, that they’d fixed the back of her head up. “Life is short, I guess. Sometimes we don’t realise quite how short.” He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

  More applause followed him away from the podium as he made his way back to his seat, slightly more enthusiastic than it had been for the zent. Next, he announced Nick Roper to the podium, a sombre looking figure making his way up there. It was a very different Roper from the one he’d first met, he looked drained, older, tired, clenching and unclenching his fists as he strode past.

  “Thank you,” Nick said quietly. There was no emotion in his voice beyond pure control, keeping it together with supreme calm. In his position, Pete was sure he’d have been doing much worse. “Well I don’t want to have to follow what Peter just said for long so I’ll keep this short. Sharon Arventino was a wonderful woman, possibly the best I ever met and as much as this might cause some hurt around the five kingdoms, maybe the only one I ever truly loved. People like to dwell on her achievements, how she was this master caller, how she took on all challenges and often conquered them, but I’m not going to remember that. I’m going to remember who she was as a person. I have genuinely never met a kinder soul in my life. I remember there was a time when we were in Premesoir, she’d just won this tournament and I think the first prize was something like eighty thousand credits.”

  He managed a weak grin, looked like he was struggling to speak for a long moment. “She gave it all away to a local charity, a little girl who needed replacement lungs. Crazenbergs syndrome. The parents had been in touch, asking for some signed stuff to auction off. And I remember what Sharon said to me as she handed the credits over. She said, “It’s only credits but for them it’s a life,” It’s a true story that she asked to be kept out of the media because, as we all know there are those who try to turn a negative onto any positive situation. She was happiest with knowing what she’d done and that the parents were grateful. That was the sort of woman she was. That’s the sort of memory I want to keep of her. Thank you for hearing me out.”

  As he made to walk down back to his seat, he hesitated as the zent announced Ronald Ritellia was to say a few words next. Pete stiffened, he hadn’t heard about this. As far as he’d known, their mother was to speak next. What Ritellia had to say about Sharon, he didn’t know. The applause for Nick died down as Ritellia made his way down towards the podium, waddling his way down in a too tight suit.

  “Speaking of people who like to spin the facts,” Nick suddenly said loudly, startling everyone into silence. “Or ignore them completely.” He moved away from the podium, past his seat and towards Ritellia. “Who gave you the right to speak here?”

  For once, Ritellia seemed at lost for words. “As president of the International Competitive Calling…”

  “You’ve clearly misinterpreted what we’re trying to do here. It’s not about you, it’s about the woman whose death you’re indirectly responsible for!” Nick said viciously. Any hint of control he might have had earlier was dangerously failing. “You chose to have the tournament placed here, you ignored the earlier warnings and you carried on regardless.”

  “Is this the time and place for it?” Ritellia asked.

  Nick looked to be considering it for a moment. “Probably not.”

  And that would be that, Pete thought with relief. A dangerous situation relieved. At least until Nick stuck a punch straight on Ritellia’s mouth and things descended into chaos…

  Chapter Fifty-Five. Cubla Cezri.

  “Once again, Cubla Cezri comes up for discussion. Once again, we need to decide what to do about it. And once again, it seems like we don’t have a reasonable answer.”

  Leonard Nwakili, to his advisers and ministers.

  The twenty-fifth day of Summerpeak.

  An aura of silence pervaded through the cockpit of the Unisco hoverjet as they made their way first across the seas and then into Vazaran airspace, Leclerc and Noorland seating themselves behind the controls. They only conversation they made was to adjust to their surroundings, to communicate with the kingdom below or occasionally to the people in the back. Derenko, Aldiss and Fagan had nothing to say for the time being, just sat content to their own devices.

  The holding area of the ship was roomy enough for the three of them to be exceptionally comfortable. Fagan worked nonstop, cleaning the individual parts of his disassembled X7. Derenko lay back on a bench, eyes closed and oblivious to the world. N
one of them had been sleeping well recently, hard to find a peaceful night’s rest when the call to action might go out at any moment. Privately they envied him for being able to get away with it right now. And ever since Sharon had been killed, the level of tension around the island had only grown. People had started to leave, potential newcomers had stayed away, worried they might be next.

  Max Brudel, the first high profile victim had been ruled a suicide for the time being, given they’d never had a chance to fully interrogate Harvey Rocastle over any possible involvement. Darren Maddley’s cause of death had been deemed down to snake venom administered by a species not uncommon to Vazara. More than that, some nests had been seen on Carcaradis Island. He’d even had the bite mark on his body. It wasn’t impossible someone could have commanded a spirit to do it but the case was slowly spinning down into inactivity. Privately Fagan was halfway convinced Ritellia had done some begging to play them down for the time being, anything to avoid a hint of controversy on his precious tournament. The incredible nerve of that man…

  But when someone was brutally murdered in their hotel room without anyone in any surrounding rooms not having a clue, it really put things into perspective that maybe you’d be better off not being here. Aldiss was reading something, Fagan saw him out the corner of his eye and wondered what he found so interesting. He and Leclerc were taking point on this mission, Aldiss and Derenko backing them up if it went wrong.

  Given where they were going, that was always a possibility. They’d been flying above Vazara for a good hour, past most of the major cities as they left the coastland and were above the deserts when Leclerc suddenly jerked the ship out to a sharp left, the action bringing Derenko straight up into a sitting position. A lot of Vazara was useless desert wasteland, nothing but sand plains and faded scrub for miles. Looking at a map, the settlements were usually classed as the Vazara Ring of Cities, for they formed a large ring around the biggest expanse of desert. And of course, Cubla Cezri was over the other side. Fagan had been trying not to think about what would happen if they went down while amidst the worst part.