The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  “Put it out of your mind,” Maga said firmly. “Conal ap Amagien is not for you. If you truly will not marry Darag, well, I am considering other offers, ones that would make both of you queens.” Elenn blinked. Where was there for Emer to be queen of, apart from Oriel? Muin had a queen already, and the royal children there were babies. Lew ap Ross of Anlar was quite old, wasn’t he? Not Lagin, surely not Lagin? She suddenly had the awful vision of Maga marrying them off to the wrong men, Emer to Ferdia and her to mocking Conal.

  “I don’t suppose either of you have given any thought to Tir Tanagiri?”

  Elenn blinked. She certainly hadn’t. She shook her head. From Emer’s blank face, it was plain that the big island to the east hadn’t crossed her mind since she left home.

  “An alliance?” Elenn asked, knowing she had to say something, had to keep her mother talking about it until she came to what she wanted to say. What could Tir Tanagiri have to offer them?

  “An alliance, perhaps, but with which side?” Maga smiled again and stroked the white cat, which rolled onto its back and purred. “Urdo ap Avren is High King, for as long as he can stay on top. He wants fighting folk, and in exchange, he offers gold and a marriage alliance. Would you like to be High Queen of Tir Tanagiri, my dear? But can we spare the champions to send across the water? He might lose in any case. As well as the Jarnish enemies he knows about, his sister, the Queen of Demedia, has been looking around in secret for alliances against him. She is sitting up there at the north of his kingdom plotting against him, and will rise when she is ready. She also has sent to me.”

  “What does she offer?” Elenn prompted.

  “Gold, and a promise to fight with us in our need. Urdo does not offer that, it is his sticking point. If he did … well, with cavalry, war with Oriel would be practical. But the queen of Demedia does not have cavalry, whatever she says, and without that, what are a few Demedians more or less? And she can offer no marriage alliance. Her older son, the one who will be High King should they win, is married already, to some Jarnish princess.” Maga rolled her eyes. “Her younger son is not yet ten years old, as if younger sons were good enough for my darlings anyway.” Maga made her voice caressing.

  “How old is Urdo?” Elenn asked, her heart sinking.

  “Twenty-five or six. He’s never been married. He was betrothed to one of the Crow of Wenlad’s daughters, but she died in a plague. He is holding out for a good alliance, but he will not wait much longer, he has no heirs. He would be ideal for you, if only we could be sure that he would survive.” Maga frowned a little.

  “But I don’t want—” Emer began, tears in her eyes.

  Elenn decided to interrupt. All Emer would do was make Maga more and more set on a course that so far, however awful it appeared, was not settled policy. If Maga could be distracted, she might change her mind another day and forget about these suggestions as if they had never been mooted. Tir Tanagiri was far away from everyday affairs. If she became angry, she would never forget.

  “You said war with Oriel,” Elenn said, straight across her sister’s voice. “Did you mean a raid, or a real war?”

  Emer shut up and glared at her across the fire between them.

  “That would depend, darling,” Maga said. “Certainly a raid next summer, to test them. As for war, I think we’re too well matched. Everyone will fight in a raid, but a war takes people who really care about it. Nobody minds dying in battle, but they like to be taken prisoner if they lose, not like in war. So I don’t think so. Unless … did you notice any weaknesses when you were there, anything that would give us an advantage?”

  “Mother!” Emer burst out. “You know you can’t ask us that! We were fostered there. It would be enough to put us under the Ban, and you, too.”

  Maga trilled the laugh she laughed when she did not mean it, the laugh she had taught Elenn. Beauty cowered down on Elenn’s lap at the sound. “Darling, despite what they may have taught you, the priests aren’t quite so urgent about enforcing that sort of thing as you may think. You have to do considerably worse than that to be put under the Ban. Besides, who would ever know? What have you discovered, Emer?”

  “Nothing,” Emer said, looking down and biting her lip.

  Maga raised her eyebrows. “Extraordinary. Elenn?”

  Elenn could think of nothing anyway. She shook her head. “They don’t always guard the lower gate at Ardmachan,” she said, remembering Leary swinging on it. “But everything is at the top of the hill, and they always guard the upper one.”

  Maga didn’t seem to be listening. She wasn’t looking at her but at Emer, who was staring defiantly at the rushes on the floor. Maga got up, dislodging the cat, who hissed. Beauty scrambled down from Elenn’s lap and stood between Elenn and the bed, as if to defend her from the cat. Elenn put her hand down onto Beauty’s head, willing her to be still and quiet and not draw Maga’s attention. But Maga did not even glance at them. She walked across to stand before Emer, who continued to stare downwards. Elenn stayed calm and silent, hardly moving, keeping her face tranquil, making herself untouchable inside herself even if Maga should turn on her. Maga put her forefinger on Emer’s chin and tilted her face up. Emer met her eyes defiantly.

  “What did you learn?” Maga asked softly.

  “Nothing. I told you, nothing,” Emer said. Her voice sounded too loud in contrast and was full of the stubbornness Elenn had come to recognize.

  “Will you put your new friends above your own mother?” Maga asked, her voice now reproachful.

  “I saw no weaknesses,” Emer said.

  “Then why this talk of the Ban, of a fosterling’s duty? Someone has told you that, to stop you doing your real duty to me and to Connat. Who told you?”

  “Nobody. Ap Fial taught me about the Ban when I was seven years old and he was teaching me the law.”

  Elenn had no idea what Emer was trying to hide, but it was completely obvious that she was keeping something back. Maga stared down at Emer for a moment. Elenn kept having to remind herself to breathe. She kept her hand on Beauty’s head. Having her puppy with her helped to make her brave.

  “I know you’re hiding something,” Maga said, anger creeping into her voice now. “And now I know there is something to find, I will find out what it is whether you tell me or not, so I will know anyway, but it will be the worse for you.”

  “No, Mother,” Emer said steadily.

  “Then there is something, some weakness that would let me conquer Oriel, and you are keeping it from me?”

  “There’s nothing,” Emer said, passionately and emphatically.

  “You’re lying,” Maga said, and caught hold of Emer’s braids and pulled her head back by them, twisting them hard, so hard Elenn was afraid she might pull them out by the roots. Elenn’s own scalp hurt in remembered pain. “I can tell you’re lying to me. Tell me now.”

  “If I would ever have told you, I wouldn’t now,” Emer screamed, tears of pain and chagrin on her face. She stood up, wrenching her hair free. A hank of it stayed in Maga’s hand, blood on the ripped-out roots. Emer’s hand went to her waist where her sword would be if she was wearing it, and Elenn thanked Damona, Lady of Wisdom, for making the law that no weapons must be brought into the hall. She didn’t trust Emer in this mood to remember that she would fall under the Ban just as much for kinmurder. Emer pushed Maga away from her, forcing her mother to take a step back. They were almost equal in height, and standing glaring at each other, they looked very alike.

  “I see you have gone very far away from me,” Maga said coldly. “I thought my daughters had come home, but I see I have been rearing snakes to betray me.”

  “I am your daughter, yes, but not your property,” Emer said, taking a step toward the door. “It might be as well for you to leave me out of your schemes from now on, Mother.”

  “Where are you going?” Maga asked, her voice like ice.

  “Back into the hall,” Emer said.

  “Oh, don’t be such a fool,” Maga said. “
Do you think your father will take your part against mine?”

  “If I tell him you wanted me to betray my foster-father? If I tell him I have a marriage alliance arranged with Conal and that Conal will be king of Oriel? He might.”

  Elenn looked at her sister with horror. Could Emer really be proposing to start another war between their parents? War between Connat and Oriel would be nothing in comparison.

  “With Conal, not with his parents and his uncle?” Maga’s tone ridiculed the notion.

  “Sometimes, when I am away from you, I almost forget how impossible you are,” Emer said. “If I have to run away with Conal and live in a ditch, then I will.”

  “His parents and his uncle will just adore that,” Maga said, her voice dripping scorn. “If you are anything to him, it is as princess of Connat, as you would soon find out if you tried that. But you are my daughter, my blood. I bore you and suckled you and named you.” Maga’s voice softened. “If you truly want to marry Conal this much, if that’s what all this is about, then just tell me what weakness you saw in Oriel and I will see what can be done.”

  “You should have said that before,” Emer said. “What sort of fool and traitor do you think me?” Then she grabbed her torn hair from where Maga still clutched it and threw it into the fire, where it flared up quickly, filling the room with the harsh funeral smell of burned hair.

  Maga did nothing, just watched the hairs shrivel and burn until Emer left the room. Then she sang her charm to make the fire stop burning. The room was very dark suddenly, with only the flickering candlelight. She reached down into the cold gray embers and took up what was left of the hairs. She shook her head over them.

  “Ashes. But I’m her mother. Doesn’t she realize I have enough of her hair and blood for anything I might want?” Then she looked at Elenn for the first time in a long time. The look made Elenn feel cold inside, made her wish she had stayed in Ardmachan even though she had been so lonely. “Go after her. And try to do better than you have for the last year at stopping her doing stupid things,” she said. Elenn stood, her legs shaking a little. Then she stooped to gather up Beauty. “No, leave the puppy here,” Maga said.

  Elenn tried to speak and swallowed, finding her throat too dry. “But she’s scared of the cat,” she said. The cat’s eyes shone very green in the dim light.

  “Nothing but defiance on all sides,” Maga said, shaking her head. “Take her, then. But I take it you haven’t told my secrets to anyone, or contracted any alliances, and aren’t keeping any secrets from me?”

  “Oh, no, Mother,” Elenn said, hugging Beauty. It was true, she hadn’t any alliance, only a hope. As for telling Maga’s secrets, she’d have thought Emer’s refusal to tell Oriel’s secret, whatever it was, would have made Maga realize how unlikely that was.

  “And you at least will do as I tell you?”

  “Oh, yes, Mother,” Elenn said fervently. Beauty was getting heavy and trying to lick her face, but Elenn held her tight.

  “Then get after her,” Maga said. “Find out what she knows about Oriel, if you can. Stop her going straight to Conal and pouring out my secrets along with her silly infatuation.”

  Elenn raised her chin and made for the door. She didn’t have any idea how she was going to do it, but at least she’d be away from Maga and the chances were good that by tomorrow, Maga would be back to being sweet to her.

  “Come back afterwards,” Maga added as Elenn opened the door. “I want you to tell me all about this silly contest, how it was declared and what everyone thinks about it.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Elenn said and went out after Emer, shutting the door quietly behind her and not sighing at all, not on the outside where anyone might see.

  19

  (EMER)

  Emer was shaking. She had been through a battle and it hadn’t made her shake the way she did after a quarrel with Maga. She stood and forced herself still, taking deep breaths. Her father would, as always, be drinking in the hall. She couldn’t go to him like this. There was nobody around. These rooms belonged to the Royal Kin. She didn’t know if one of them was still hers and Elenn’s. She didn’t want it to be.

  It was dark and shadowed, the only light coming from the fires in the open part of the hall. Emer put her hands up to her head and loosened her hair. She shook it out around her head for a moment. She almost wished she could keep it like that, mourning her hopes. But she had known Maga would not be easy. Maga always got her way by being impossible. When you thought you knew how impossible she could be, she surprised you by seeming to be sweet and reasonable, only to twist around and be more impossible than ever. She made you lose your temper, or she co-opted you. The only way Emer could deal with her was to get right away from her. Emer pulled her hair back hard, ignoring the pain. Elenn said it was possible to learn a lot from Maga, and so it was. It was possible to learn by bad examples. She would be a mother and a ruler and never act like that, never.

  She was old enough to fight back. She was a warrior. She wouldn’t strike Maga unless she had to, but she wouldn’t let her pull her hair and slap her face anymore either.

  Deep, calming breaths made her feel more like herself. The horrible things Maga had said were still going around in her head. There was just enough truth in them for them to sting. Conal didn’t only want her because she was a princess of Connat, but she had known her threat of running off to live in a ditch was hollow even as she made it. Conal wanted to be king of Oriel, and that meant everyone would have to agree. Why did Maga have to be so impossible? It was a good alliance, or it could be. Could have been. Emer gritted her teeth. She had lost a battle, but not the war yet. She would stand up to her. She would win. A year, Conal had said. A year! She had only been home an hour so far.

  She wiped a last few angry tears from her face and took a few steps toward the hall.

  Maga’s door opened, and Emer spun around, expecting her mother. She would be cooing now, making any opposition sound like the sulks of a baby. But it was only Elenn, saying “Yes, Mother,” as she closed the door. She was doing what Maga wanted, like always. She had a hound puppy in her arms. Emer had half noticed it in her mother’s room but paid it no attention.

  “I’m here,” Emer said, not wanting her sister to fall over her in the shadows.

  “Why do you have to be such a complete idiot?” Elenn burst out angrily.

  Emer blinked. This wasn’t the perfect princess act Elenn usually showed the world. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Deliberately tightening all Maga’s threads to breaking point like that. You’re as bad as she is, worse, because she does use diplomacy and you just go head-on like a bull. If you want to marry Conal, you’ve gone exactly the wrong way about it, antagonizing her like that. You need to make her think things are her idea, or a good idea at least, or you need to get her so tangled up in the complications of several ideas that she loses sight of where the whole thing is going.”

  “But that’s so dangerous,” Emer said.

  “Oh, and getting her furious so she loses control is safe?” Elenn must have been squeezing the puppy too hard, it gave a little whine of protest and Elenn set it down at her feet. “Or sensible?” she went on. “Or good strategy? Because when she gets furious, it makes her more and more set on what she wants to do, when otherwise she might change her mind.”

  “What got her so furious is my refusing to betray my honor,” Emer said stiffly.

  “You should have told her whatever it is. It’s probably nothing, anyway,” Elenn said scornfully. “What could you have found out that would really make a difference?”

  Emer thought of Beastmother rearing up and her terrifying curse, and said nothing.

  “All right, maybe you do have something,” Elenn said after a moment’s silence. “But whose side are you on?”

  “Oh, stop trying to do Maga’s work for her,” Emer said. “It’s disgusting. She may have no honor, but you do. They treated us well at Ardmachan, and you know how sacred the laws of f
ostering are. You know the Hawthorn Knowledge as well as I do, that breaking them is under the Ban.”

  “That’s harming a fosterling,” Elenn said uncertainly.

  Maybe she didn’t know the Hawthorn Knowledge as well as Emer. Emer had always found a certain fascination with the idea of cursing, and of the Ban in particular. There was something quite horrible about the thought of putting someone under a curse that stopped them reaching the gods at all, so that they could not even light a fire or clean their wounds or keep food fresh. It had always seemed worse than killing someone. And the things that could bring it on had a gruesome fascination as well, or they had when she had been a child. Maybe Elenn had shut her delicate ears to them.

  “Yes, harming a fosterling, but also using anything you learned when fostered against your foster family,” Emer said. “Think about it. It has to work like that or fosterlings couldn’t be sacred guests, because they’d be little spies. Nobody could trust them.”

  “Harm, yes, but remembering what you’ve seen, whatever it is, and telling your mother can’t possibly count,” Elenn said. “What is it, anyway?”

  “I’m not going to tell you,” Emer said straight out. “And you ask anyone about the Hawthorn Knowledge. I’m not making it up. You ask ap Roth. Ask your friend ap Ringabur.”

  “Orlam’s in Rathadun,” Elenn said, sounding desolate. “Talking about the decision she made and whether she can be Conary’s lawspeaker. Everyone was gone except me.”

  “Ask her when you see her,” Emer said, feeling a little sorry for her sister despite everything.

  “I will. But even so, you ruined everything defying her head-on like that. She won’t let you marry Conal now, you know.”

  “Not right now, no, but it might seem like a better idea in a little while,” Emer said as positively as she could. “When Conary sends to her about it. When Conal has won.”

  “You’re the one of us who’s supposed to be grown up,” Elenn said. “Don’t be so silly. You heard what Maga said, as if you didn’t know already. Conary wants Darag to be his heir. This contest will only change anything if it goes the way Conary wants.”