The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  That her daughter wasn’t normal in that respect didn’t bother her. That the whole thing was going to end in tears did. Lydia was blatantly unsuitable and she’d not been ashamed in voicing that opinion. But she only did it because she cared. Meredith would have no part of this, she wouldn’t be the heir to everything that had been done here, that honour would go to someone else unless things changed. But it didn’t mean she didn’t love her. Meredith was her blood. And that was all that mattered sometimes. She would have done a lot for her daughter once upon a time. Still probably would.

  If Cyris would do the same, she didn’t know. Nothing about him spoke of the family man identity despite what he liked people to believe. It was common knowledge he made his son out to be the bad guy in their relationship despite the son claiming the absolute opposite. The two of them pathologically hated each other, the way she believed it. More than once in her research, she’d seen interviews where the son had dedicated victories and triumphs to the memory of his mother while shunning his father, sometimes mentioning him in derisory terms but never praising or thanking. That whole family was messed up.

  That the son had changed his name was suggestive, albeit it wasn’t an uncommon practice. Hadn’t her own brother done that just to get away from the weight of the Coppinger name? Alana had done well on that regard, in fact she had no complaints on the way she’d performed her tasks at all over the last few weeks. Fucking Ritellia had been the one thing she’d thought Alana would quibble over but she’d gone at it with gusto. Some of the footage was so vigorous that several times Claudia had thought Ritellia would be on the verge of a heart attack. That would deal with quite a few problems.

  “Do you love your son?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet and low. Up here, the engines couldn’t be heard. It had been a requirement for her office.

  “Of course,” Cyris said. He looked offended that she should ask. “He’s family. All I want is the chance to talk to him face to face. Would you deny me that? If you might never see your daughter again…”

  “The circumstances are different,” she said quickly. They weren’t that different but she didn’t want to hear more of his rhetoric. Too much of it would give her a headache. And reunions did happen. After all, Collison hadn’t wanted anything to do with the family until she’d extended the olive branch to him. They’d reconciled and he was prepped to join her in the upcoming war. “John, we are on the verge of something spectacular here. If we can keep the element of surprise and strike right at the very best moment, we might be able to win before anyone else knows they’ve got a fight on their hands. Because that’s key. Getting it done before the counterstrike. I want the five kingdoms; I don’t want a series of large smoking craters to be where they were following a long engagement. We have the firepower but I don’t want to use it unless it is needed. But I ask myself why I do this? These worlds are broken and I want to fix them. They can’t be allowed to evolve naturally for that will only give more of the same selfish interests of the people who run them time to flourish and that will not do.”

  He was nodding in agreement, an interested look plastered across his face but she got the impression he was bored with her arguments. He wanted an answer either way. “It won’t satisfy those who have power but it will benefit everyone else eventually. The people nobody cares about. Those who have nothing but their families and sometimes not even that. These kingdoms could be a utopia but for now they’re just so average. But those who fight to claim it, you have families too.”

  She bit down a sigh, she knew this was a bad idea but she couldn’t help it. If Meredith had known her father… Things might have been different. And she didn’t want to deny Cyris a chance of a reconciliation with a son who was savagely indifferent to him right now. It might make him more amenable, buy her more time until he eventually made the attempts to stab her in the back. She wouldn’t bet on it but at the same time, people were capable of surprising you.

  “You can go,” she said. She’d even surprised herself with that. “I’ll see that a transport and a pilot is arranged for you.”

  “I can fly myself,” Cyris said smoothly. That sent alarm bells jangling in her skull and she gave him a thin tight-lipped smile that made him recoil. Good. Nice to know she still held the capacity to intimidate.

  “I’m sure you can,” she said. “But you’re not.” You can get that idea right out of your nasty little mind. She didn’t say the last part aloud. She wanted to. Antagonising him unnecessarily was just dangerous, a risk not worth taking. “Our transports are unpredictable and the weather is treacherous on approach to Carcaradis Island. I can’t afford to lose you right now.” Especially now your second-in-command is in a coma as well, inflicted by you, and there’s no notable heir to commanding your men. “It is what it is.” Her face gave nothing away. Neither did Cyris’ but she got the impression from his body language he wasn’t happy.

  All one of a dozen little personal duels she needed to win every day with him and his ilk, those who each thought they’d be able to best her when making demands. The trick was to give them something, not everything, just enough to feel like they’d come out of the deal not quite winning but not quite losing either. It told them that she had claws, she would use them and if she did, they would go empty-handed. Already Boka Arturs, one of the Vazaran Sun lieutenants up here had asked for permission to bring his family up, his three wives and his dozen children. She’d flatly refused that request and he’d not been happy about it. She needed to talk to Mazoud about him. There’d been an ugly air about him and she didn’t like it. Last thing she needed was him causing trouble.

  “I suppose gratitude is in order then,” Cyris said eventually. He bowed his head. “Thank you Madam Coppinger. My eternal loyalty to you and your cause.”

  More like to the rewards it offers. And by eternal loyalty, you mean only until it suits you to throw me away. I wasn’t born yesterday, Cyris. Words she’d love to say. Instead she smiled graciously. “Of course, I reward those who serve me well. You should know that by now.”

  Just a little jab but one that reminded him of his place. Still it could have gone worse. He looked contented enough as he walked out.

  Seeing Collison again after all these years had been a thrill, one that still hadn’t quite worn off whenever he came into her presence. The years had been better to her than to him, it would appear but it didn’t look like it bothered him for the most part. Her brother had grown, not just older but physically, he was a girthsome man whose appearance hinted at a love for the finer things in life. He was running fingers through his ginger hair as he walked in, something he’d inherited from their mother. People had always said she looked like their father, he took after their mother. Weird how things worked out like that, she’d always thought.

  “Claudia!” he said jovially. With all the bowing and the posturing from men like Cyris, it was a little refreshing to hear him greet her so enthusiastically. None of that Madam Coppinger stuff from him, they’d grown up together and he wasn’t going to go on ceremony. And sometimes it was nice to be just Claudia. Something that probably wouldn’t happen again if this whole thing succeeded.

  When, she corrected herself. When it succeeded.

  “Col,” she said. She couldn’t help but smile. He’d always been the same, that sense of easy-going approachability that had infuriated their father. He couldn’t give an order to save his life, he always managed to make it sound like a suggestion. And hadn’t that just annoyed dear old dad? ‘A Coppinger is there to issue orders, to be obeyed!’ he’d said on more than one occasion. ‘We do not suggest; we do not bargain with those beneath us. We see that it is done.’ He’d been the only one immune to Collison’s charms, strangely enough. When Collison had left, she’d been the one to inherit everything. She’d had no problems giving orders. “What can I do for you?”

  “Ah just checking in on my favourite sister,” he said, dropping down into a seat. Never one for ceremony, her brother. “Because you neve
r know when the next reunion might be? Hey, when am I going to get to see my niece? Got like twenty years of birthday presents to catch up on, right?”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Claudia said smoothly. “She’ll take you up on it. Grasping little wretch. And it’s more like twenty-five.”

  “Ack, well I’m sure she’s not done without,” Collison said, spreading his hands out in front of him in a surrendering gesture.

  “You have no idea how right you are,” she replied, fiddling with the holocom. “Just stay quiet a moment, I have a call to make. Something important.”

  “Always the same, always so serious,” Collison laughed, but that aside he did oblige as the holographic image of Ronald Ritellia’s porcine visage appeared above the table between them.

  “President Ritellia,” she said airily. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Oh, it’s you.” Ritellia’s voice sounded thick and slurred, like he’d been drinking. Or maybe it was the damage to his nose, there was still evidence of the medical work that had been done to it there. When he breathed, the air could be heard whistling through it. Roper really had done a job on him. She hid her amusement at that, it wouldn’t do to insult him. The man’s pride only matched his stubbornness. To alter him from a pre-determined course often took a concerted effort and even more often, was just as costly.

  The president of the ICCC disgusted her if she was honest. The corruption, the hypocrisy and the selfishness, all of them were flaws that she could appreciate if not admire. But the way he’d sell out his own opinions for a few credits more was something that truly evoked her contempt. Before she’d met him, she’d always believed that everyone had their one true point of strength, something that they would cling to in attempt to salvage some of their conscience, a justification. As far as both she and dear Alana had been able to work out the man, Ritellia lacked it. Nothing was sacred to him other than the potency of the power he believed he wielded in his office.

  “It is,” she said, keeping the loathing free from her voice. “I believe my condolences are in order, Ronald. How is your nose?”

  “Sufferable,” he replied. “But sore. Worse, the bastard seems to have vanished from custody of my island.”

  Your island? It was on the tip of her tongue, she swallowed it down. Apparently Ritellia also found himself in habit of claiming people’s work across as his own. Yet one more stone in the path that would lead ultimately to his deposition. By the time she was finished with him, he would have nothing and she would have everything. She would have won and he would be ashes in the winds of memory. She’d like dearly to be the one to set fire to him herself.

  “Perhaps this is a warning,” she said, unable to quite keep the amusement from her voice. “Only the righteous should seek justice.”

  “That man…!” Ritellia almost sputtered. “He broke my nose!”

  “You sort of had it coming, Ronald,” she said, electing to ignore his elected title. “There are those who fail to appreciate that constantly reaching for the sun is the best way to get burned.” She enjoyed that analogy way too much, she had to admit. Maybe she was still thinking about watching him burn. “You intruded on a sensitive time, you poked the bear when the bear was hurting.”

  The look of outrage on his face at her words was priceless. How could a man with so much supposed power be so clueless as to the way he affected the world? “Do you see my point? What the hells did you actually think you were doing?”

  All the blood shot to his nose and suddenly she got the feeling she might have overstepped the mark. Of course, she did find herself paralysed with not caring as to what his reaction might be. They’d done all they needed to together, if he blew the whistle on what he knew about her now, he’d be going down himself. That would feel like anathema to him. He would never give up willingly what he’d attained, it would be taken from him eventually.

  “You… You can’t speak to me like that!” He sounded insulted in his wheezing outrage and she hid her smirk. “I’m the president…”

  “Of the ICCC, I know. I’m aware of that. Stop acting like a spoiled bloody child then. Your need to be the centre of attention at every given moment has long threatened to ruin what little shred of dignity you have in the real world.” She smiled sweetly at him. Sweet but poisonous. “You really want me to tell you how it is, Ronald? I don’t think you do. You won’t want to hear it. Your precious ego might never recover.” Still she smiled through every word. And she’d thought this might be a boring conversation. “They despise you. They think you’re a joke of a president, someone who shouldn’t be running a street cleaning business never mind one of the biggest organisations in the kingdoms. Most of them wouldn’t spit on you if you were on fire. Now, you might be able to deal with being hated, but not being taken seriously?” She laughed animatedly. “Oh, I imagine that’s the real kicker.”

  His lips had almost vanished into the slit of his mouth as he stared at her through heavily narrowed eyes and she folded her arms and leaned forward to stare him out. He blinked almost immediately. “You want to be taken a bit more seriously, start acting like you deserve it. The first thing you could do is not press charges against Nick Roper, admit you were in the wrong and apologise for ruining the funeral of that poor woman! If you want to keep your job, I’d do that.”

  Some of the bluster that had previously been lost returned to him in a flash. “Woman,” Ritellia said flatly. His choice of wording amused her. “If you feel that decision is in your own realm of personal power, you are flatly mistaken.”

  “For now, perhaps.” She put as much menace in her voice as possible, even Collison sat bolt upright at it, suddenly surprised. “If you wish to gamble on that in the long term, then do so. A fool’s gambit is named so for a reason. Think on what I’ve said. Is it really going to cost you anything to let something go and make a public apology?”

  She disconnected the call before he could say anything else, the disconnection tone being drawn out in the same mocking sound as her brother’s applause. “Damn, Claudia, way to put that guy in his place. That’s something I ain’t never going to forget.” Collison sounded impressed, a big grin on his face.

  “Ritellia is a parasite and he’ll be squashed like one someday soon,” she said furiously, finally letting her anger touch her. “Everything is falling into place, slowly but surely. My ascension is coming. Soon to break beyond the failures of the flesh and into the pages.” She noticed he was looking at her with something half bordering on worry, half on amusement.

  “Sounds good,” Collison said affably. “It’s important to have goals.”

  If he had any other thoughts on the matter, he didn’t voice them. Privately she was pleased. His lack of enthusiasm while unexpected wasn’t to be discouraged. He couldn’t depose her, plan to stab her in the back if he was apathetic about everything.

  She didn’t know how long Wim Carson had stood there before she eventually chose to acknowledge him. The man was like a spectre in the room, only the gentle rise of his chest and the flare of his nostrils showing any signs of life in him. His eyes remained closed, she turned her chair towards him and cleared her throat. Still he didn’t respond for a few moments and then his eyelids slid open to meet her gaze.

  “Madam,” he said. “I believe it is nearly time for our journey to start. I will help you with what you require, I have the power and the knowledge.” He bowed his head low, glanced around the room. She’d felt like she lived in this office for the last several weeks, the one aboard the Eye of Claudia being an almost exact replica of each of her offices in the many Reims buildings around the five kingdoms. Each of them built to the same design, awaiting her arrival. A bit of an affectation, an extravagant one she had to admit but she liked to know where things were.

  Of course, some things couldn’t be replicated. Not her most treasured possessions. She’d seen Carson eyeing them before but never with so much insouciance as he did now.

  “There are some puzzles that yet to ha
ve their pieces fall into place,” Carson continued, moving towards her collection of artefacts. She couldn’t afford to leave them away from her for any great length of time, the smaller ones anyway. It wouldn’t be practical to move the larger items around. The idea that some of them might get misplaced or worse, damaged was just too painful to contemplate. “Have you ever heard of synchronicity, madam?”

  It was a random question; one she hadn’t been entirely prepared to answer. Regardless she cleared her throat and gave him the answer. “The theory that everything in this life and any other is linked, that everything and everyone has a connection however trite?”

  “You are a learned woman,” Carson said, his voice lacking any of the patronising that Ritellia might have borne in it. “One of many qualities, it would seem. But in some areas of knowledge, you are decidedly lacking. That link is the Kjarn.” He smiled gently and moved across to her collection. “Without it, life cannot function as it does. It is the force which lets us command beasts to our will, it is the fuel for existence itself. Some believe that is what made the divines what they became. What we cannot deny for sure, is that we all have a path before us. Everyone has a purpose; they just don’t know it.”

  “I see.” She wasn’t quite sure what else to say. The man unnerved her a little with his proto-philosophical musings and non-sequiturs

  “But of course, sometimes they do know. Some people have the self-belief that what they do is the right course for their life, they move their ship off the vector their life should have taken by all rights. They forge something different. Will the new future affect the world around them? Invariably, yes. Such individuals are rare, most lack the force of will to do so. But those that do are famous.” He reached down, a sound of outraged died in her throat as she saw him touch her divine artefacts. “World changers. I see a lot of some of them in you, Madam Claudia.”