Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

  He cast her a hopeful look. “Would rescuing you from Lady Enit do instead?” We choked on our drinks.

  But a sudden suspicion entered my mind. “Taren, it wasn’t you who wrote those additional verses to my song, was it?” I asked. One of the boys helping with washing Hami had sung them to me that morning and gathered quite an audience.

  Taren regarded me, all innocence. “Me? Of course not.” His eyes twinkled. “Though I might have given Wynn some rhyming tips.”

  Cerwen groaned. “Don’t tell me it was you who came up with rhyming ‘sharp beak’ with ‘kiss on the cheek’.”

  He shook his head regretfully. “No, that was Ceredig. I suggested using ‘loud shriek’.”

  The bard? How many of them were involved in this little masterpiece?

  “Let’s just hope Lady Enit never discovers the composers of those lines,” Cerwen said.

  “Shh!” he whispered.

  When I twisted round I saw what Taren had spotted: Rhys was just coming in, accompanied by the whole Lammergeyer family. He gave a short nod of acknowledgement our way, but sat down at the other end of the table. I looked away and watched the hall.

  “Oh, they’re playing Shah,” Cerwen commented.

  Shah? True enough, Rhys was setting out the board, while Lord Pellyn settled down opposite him. Imperiously, Lady Lammergeyer told the servants to fetch chairs for herself and her daughter. I felt Cerwen tense. It was hardly polite to order the servants about in the presence of the lady of the hall, no matter that Cerwen only filled the role temporarily and with little relish. Did Lady Enit consider her daughter’s succession to Cerwen’s position so certain? Owena certainly looked very pretty, dressed in a light blue gown that matched her eyes and had frills of lace all along the neckline. Yet she appeared rather pale and strained, though that only made her seem even more ethereal than usual.

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as they made the first moves, though I pretended to study the hall. Rhys’s other guests crowded round, so I didn’t get a good view, but I heard them comment on the playing.

  Our conversation had lapsed. Now Taren bent forward. “Let’s go and have a look.”

  He offered each of us an arm, and the lords gathered round the other end of the table courteously made room for us. Rhys’s eyes flickered up to mine and away again when I studied the board. Pellyn played white and had begun with one of the seven traditional openings, Strutting Rooster, a solid choice. Rhys seemed to have countered with a variation of Striking Viper, as far as I could tell, which surprised me. Caught up, I leant forward to discover what he had in mind. Striking Viper would gain the centre of the board quickly, but left your sides open to potential attack – a risky strategy against an experienced opponent.

  However, it soon became clear that Lord Pellyn was nothing of the sort, and Rhys must have known as much. Instead of varying his tactic to take advantage of Rhys’s temporary vulnerability, as I would have done, Lord Pellyn stuck to the traditional sequence of moves. When he shifted one of his pawns forward, plodding along on the road to ruin, a sigh of frustration escaped me, though I suppressed it at once. Why didn’t he use his chariot instead to press his opponent!

  Rhys noticed of course. Though he didn’t look up, the corners of his mouth quirked ever so slightly. He knew exactly what I was thinking: Pellyn had just bared his throat to the waiting knife. In response he moved one of his knights forward, jumping over Pellyn’s pawn into the gap opened up so conveniently.

  Owena clapped her hands at that. “How clever! I really don’t know how you keep all the rules clear in your mind, they’re so complicated.”

  Apparently unaware of his peril, her brother patted her hand. “You need not worry your pretty head about them. Shah is a warrior’s game and not for women.”

  I expelled my breath in a hiss at that. What a conceited prig!

  “Oh, some women play quite well,” Rhys drawled, his voice shaking with hidden laughter.

  “Yes, Arisha has beaten Rhys at Shah,” Cerwen threw in, sounding none too pleased either with this slight on our sex.

  Pellyn cast a dismissive glance my way. “Has she? I bet Rhys let her win.”

  “I never let anybody win,” Rhys purred at that, “not even my guests.” He nodded at the board for Pellyn to continue.

  My annoyance fled at these words, thinking how quickly Pellyn would find himself defeated. It served him right!

  Rhys looked up at me. “So tell me, Lady Arisha, what is your opinion of the game?”

  I put my head to one side. “Lord Pellyn will move this pawn forward next.” I indicated the piece, making Pellyn snatch his hand back and stare at me. “In response you will deploy your right chariot. He will either jump his knight forward to counter it or continue with his losing strategy and move another pawn. Either way, after taking out the knight or pawn, your other chariot has a clear line into the gap opened up. If he’s clever…” I paused here to make clear I did not consider that a very likely option. “…he’ll try to bring his elephant into play. If he were very clever, he would bolster his position by an attack upon the side weakened by bringing the chariot forward.” I demonstrated the moves while Lord Pellyn gaped at me. “But probably he’ll just continue with Strutting Rooster and lose in about…” I calculated briefly. “…twelve more moves, I believe.”

  Rhys nodded at Pellyn. “Your turn.” His voice quivered.

  Pellyn regarded the board as if the pieces might bite him, but nevertheless moved the pawn forward defiantly. I shook my head and backed out of the crowd. The result was a foregone conclusion, I didn’t particularly fancy watching the slaughter. Too bad for the man if he couldn’t take good advice.

  As I stood there undecided what to do next, Cerwen wriggled out of the crowd too. She grinned at me. “Come and play Tafl instead. It’s a Northlander game and very popular here.”

  Taren, Kestrel and my old friend of the missing tooth joined us at one of the tables, and everybody started explaining the rules at the same time. At first glance it looked like a Shah board, though with thirteen squares instead of eight along each side. In the centre stood a single white king, surrounded by his twelve men, while the opposing red forces ranged in four groups, one along each side of the board.

  “The king wants to reach one of the corners,” Cerwen explained, “but red tries to catch him first.”

  To begin with, it seemed simple enough, yet as I watched the two men playing, I soon saw the possibility for different strategies. Cerwen borrowed another Tafl board and set it up, while Taren heaped advice on me, but mostly just managed to confuse me.

  The group around Rhys at the high table meanwhile had broken up, and he began to make the rounds of the hall, talking to his men. Only Lady Enit and Owena remained seated, with the mother talking to her daughter in a low voice. Owena had her shoulders hunched and hands clasped in her lap. After a while Lady Enit rose, a smile fixed to her face, and moved away.

  Kestrel had noticed my interest. “That woman truly deserves the name of Lammergeyer,” he said, his voice savage.

  When we looked at him in surprise, he coloured. “She terrifies her whole family! Owena would do anything to get away.”

  “Well, she’s not succeeding too well,” Taren commented. “I don’t know why she decided to set her cap at Rhys.”

  “I’ve talked to her,” Kestrel answered. “And it’s all her mother’s idea, to gain influence with him.”

  Taren chuckled. “In that case she’s not going about it very cleverly. Somebody should tell Lady Enit that Rhys prefers being the hunter to being hunted.” The men thought that funny, but I suddenly felt sorry for the girl.

  Cerwen’s eyes danced and she nudged me in the ribs. “But at least she’s properly docile for the position of Rhys’s wife.”

  “Docile?” Taren asked. “Why would Rhys want that?”

  Cerwen turned to me. “Isn’t that what you said he needs?”

  I thought back on my last encounter with him. We didn
’t seem to be able to talk without ending up quarrelling! “Oh, definitely,” I said. “His ideal woman must be meek, biddable and without a thought of her own in her head.” They all laughed at that, though I didn’t see what I had said that was so funny.

  I began to consider how to best catch Cerwen’s king, but threw a last glance at Owena. She had risen too and now hovered near a group of women who were spinning wool and chattering. One of them had a baby sleeping in a basket by her feet that Owena was watching with a wistful expression. When the women invited her to sit with them, I saw the first natural smile on her face, lending her true beauty.

  Cerwen managed to avoid capture and gain one of the corners in our first match, but I slowly came to grips with the game. In fact I was so caught up in considering different tactics, I didn’t notice Rhys standing near us until Duach nudged me with a wet nose. Startled, I looked up, but Rhys was talking to the other men at our table.

  Taren called his name. “Rhys, do you want to join us for a game?” he asked.

  Rhys hesitated. “Only briefly.” He sat down next to Cerwen.

  “So how many moves did it take to defeat Pellyn?” Taren asked.

  “Twelve,” Rhys answered with a reluctant grin. He nodded at me. “That was a steep target you set me, but luckily he continued playing as he had started.”

  Despite myself I had to chuckle. “I was annoyed at the time.” And still was, I reminded myself. With Rhys.

  Taren set up the board in its initial configuration. “Shall we have a new game, all of us together? I propose best out of three.”

  “Four people can play?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  How did that work with only one king, I wondered. Would the other three try to catch him, with the first one to do so the winner?

  “Arisha, what colour do you want?” he asked.

  I preferred being the hunter too, so chose red. Taren finished setting up the board and nodded at me. “In that case Cerwen and I will play white. It evens the odds if a new player is partnered with the most experienced one.”

  Partnered? “Are you telling me I’m playing with Rhys?” I blurted out. “Not against him?”

  Taren looked at me quizzically. “Of course. Do you want somebody else? I assure you, he’s an absolutely deadly player.”

  “No, that’s fine,” I said quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed at my outburst. Rhys meanwhile didn’t comment, but just studied the board with his full concentration.

  We lost.

  Quickly and ignominiously.

  I bit my lip as Taren set up the white and red men again. No doubt, on his own Rhys would have beaten Taren and Cerwen with ease. Surreptitiously I watched him as he sat there, his stern profile turned my way. He said nothing, merely smoothed out the eagle feather in his hair, but I knew he didn’t like losing. No more did I. But he’d taken me by surprise, shifting one of the men right over to my side, and my hesitation had allowed the king to escape.

  In the second match we played white, but I soon realised our king would get caught in no time, unless we coordinated our moves somehow. Yet we could hardly discuss a common strategy with Cerwen and Taren sitting there listening. So I began to watch Rhys in order to try and guess his intentions. And suddenly I saw it, how he drew our opponents’ attention to one corner of the board. When the gap opened up, I was ready. Our eyes met, and I moved the king all the way to the other edge of the board. Two more turns and we were home, making Taren curse and Cerwen mutter something about beginner’s luck. I began to enjoy the game.

  The final match was a breeze. They never had a chance with Rhys pressing them from one side and me from the other; it was as if we had practised playing together all our lives. When Taren tried to break away in a risky manoeuvre, Rhys cut him off, and I moved in for the kill. We grinned at each in triumph and both reached out at the same time to push over the king. Our fingers met briefly.

  “Let’s have another match!” I exclaimed.

  Taren groaned. “I’m not playing against the two of you again!”

  “Oh please,” I begged.

  “I suppose we should have known,” Cerwen sighed. “Growing up with that cousin of mine should have taught me better than to challenge him.”

  “We could give them a forfeit of some men, couldn’t we?” I appealed to Rhys. “To make things more interesting.”

  He laughed. “If my lady wishes.”

  A small crowd had gathered round our table to watch us play, but suddenly somebody pushed through from behind. His clothes soaked from the rain and boots caked with mud, the man left a trail of dirt on the floor. Abruptly, silence fell.

  He presented a scrunched up piece of paper to Rhys. “Captain Selwyn sends me.”

  While Rhys scanned the paper, Cerwen called for the servants to bring the messenger something hot to drink. I leant over to Taren. “Who is Captain Selwyn?”

  He frowned. “The man in charge of the scouts guarding the road west.” West? Where Prince Bahram’s camp lay! The man was staring at me with open curiosity, and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  Rhys had finished reading and sat there, tapping his fingers on the table in thought. With his characteristic quickness he came to a decision. “Raven, Kestrel,” he said, “join me in the study. And have somebody fetch Owl.”

  “What is it?” Cerwen asked.

  His glance lingered on me for a moment. “I’ll tell you later.”

  As the crowd slowly dispersed, I was left sitting at the Tafl board, slowly turning over the king in my fingers.

  SEVENTEEN

  It was Duach who decided me in the end. He put his head on my lap, looking up at me adoringly, and I remembered the time he had led me to his master’s study. I’d been anxious when Rhys surprised me there, but really, what could he do?

  “You’re right,” I told Duach and rose. “At the worst, he’ll just throw us out.” Nothing but my pride would suffer.

  Even so I took a deep breath when, followed by the faithful hound, I knocked on the door to the study and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

  Rhys looked up from studying a map on the table with the others. “Arisha? What are you doing here?”

  I lifted my chin. “I believe whatever you’re discussing here concerns me too?”

  “What makes you think so?”

  I refused to be distracted. “Does it?”

  He crossed his arms on his chest. “What if it does?”

  “Then I would like to be involved in the discussion.” When he continued gazing at me with no sign of relenting, I spread my hands. “Please?”

  His face softened slightly. “Arisha…”

  “I’m completely powerless anyway,” I pointed out. “What harm would it do to tell me?”

  He snorted. “Powerless? You have a strange image of yourself if you think that.”

  What did he mean? He must have sensed my confusion, but when I opened my mouth to ask, he shook his head. “Never mind.” He paused a moment to think. “This does concern you, you’re right.” He exchanged a look with Taren, who shrugged in answer to an unspoken question.

  Rhys turned to me. “Arisha, I am willing to tell you. However, first I want your word.”

  “What for?”

  “Not to do anything stupid.”

  That gave me pause. “How do you define stupid?” I asked back.

  A corner of his mouth quirked. “I define stupid as, for example, running away without proper thought.”

  My cheeks heated up. Doing exactly that had resulted in my current situation. Suddenly it hit me: he thought that whatever I was going to hear would make me want to run away? I looked at the messenger, who was listening to our conversation with a look of consternation on his face, cradling a mug of hot tea. He did not seem keen to give me his news.

  “Rhys, you can’t expect me to promise to just stay here indefinitely!” I protested. Although in all honesty I had to admit that I hadn’t made any determined push to escape so far.<
br />
  He hesitated. “Well, let’s say a week or two.”

  “Two days,” I offered.

  “Arisha! I’m not haggling with you.”

  I grinned at him. “Why not? This is my offer: no attempts at escaping for two days in exchange for your news.”

  He put on his haughty Eagle face. “You won’t manage to escape from this place anyway.”

  “In that case, what have you got to lose?” I asked back.

  He regarded me unblinkingly. “A week.”

  “Three days.”

  That coaxed an unwilling laugh from him. “Arisha, you’re impossible! Five days is my final offer. It’s simply not safe out there for a woman, whether with an elephant or without.”

  I considered his words. A lot could happen in five days. And would it be any safer after?

  “Trust me,” Rhys said.

  I held his gaze for a long moment and to my surprise found that I did. “All right.”

  He blinked and suddenly smiled, as if he’d been given an unexpected gift. “Thank you.” Did he really care what I thought of him? For that matter, how did I feel about his opinion of me? However, I shied away from that question and put it down to his usual disquieting influence on me.

  Rhys beckoned to the messenger. “Angor, tell her what you’ve told us already.”

  “But Eagle,” the man stuttered, “she’s Sikhandi. One of them!”

  I saw Taren smother a grin at the man stating the obvious, as if he thought they hadn’t noticed my origin, but Rhys answered him patiently. “You are of course right. But I ask you to trust my judgement where Lady Arisha is concerned.” He gave the man a warm nod of approval, which made him straighten up in pride.

  “Always!” Still a little doubtful, but reassured by Rhys’s words, he turned to me. “My lady, I’m stationed with Captain Selwyn watching the road west. Yesterday, at the crossing of the River Terrig, we spotted a group of riders, a Sikhandi lord and two servants.”

  I took a step forward. “All alone?” Usually no Sikhandi travelled on his own in these troubled lands.

  “Yes, we made sure of it,” Angor answered, “for it could have been a trap. They were wearing white robes and the leader bore a white baton.”