The Prize in the Game

by Jo Walton

  “Not if you keep the law,” Orlam said evenly.

  “Of course we will keep the law,” Maga said. “But if we were to find our way undefended, then we might keep what we had taken. This would not be against the law. It would not be a feud where all must die and no prisoners be taken.”

  Conal could see it already. They were as good as dead. Or, possibly, enslaved if the curse did not kill them. But Inis turned to him and winked. Then Inis took a half-step forward. He took off his shawl, shook it, and settled it again on his shoulders. There was something about the way he did this which was compelling. Conal darted a glance away and saw that almost the whole room was watching Inis. The other priests, both of them, rearranged their own shawls. Nobody else moved at all. With one hand on his herald’s branch and the other outstretched, palm downward, Inis spoke at last.

  “Will you send many against one?” he asked.

  There was a silence. “Of course not,” Allel answered, glancing sideways at Maga, who looked uncomfortable but stared at Inis with the rest.

  “Will you skulk in the woods and go around defended roads?” Inis asked.

  “Never,” Allel answered. “We will fight by the rules of war. Do you think we have no honor?”

  Inis swayed a little as if he were absorbing the force of the direct question. “You have honor, Allel ap Dallan, but does your king?” he answered. “Will she stand by your words?”

  “Allel is my war-leader,” Maga said. “Such choices are his.”

  “Do you stand by his words, Maga ap Arcan?” Inis asked.

  “Yes,” Maga said. “We will not send many against one. We will not go around defended roads. Not that I think there will be many defended roads.”

  “There are only two roads from Connat into Oriel,” ap Carbad said, stating the obvious.

  “One with deep water and the other lined with thorns,” Inis agreed, which was more poetry than sense. Conal had come by the one with deep water this time. The ford had been very pleasant in the sunshine. He had gone home by way of the one lined by thorns last time, and found it an ordinary wooded road.

  “Two will be enough,” Maga said.

  Conal was afraid she was right. But Inis looked insanely cheerful, so maybe it had not been enough in other worlds. He couldn’t see how. Even if they had two people who could fight, who could fight all these champions, even one at a time? Maybe Inis was just too crazy to care.

  There was a feast for them that night. Conal kept trying to speak to Emer, but he couldn’t get near her. He was seated with Inis and Maga and Elenn. Emer was off in the opposite alcove with her father and Orlam and ap Carbad.

  “So nice to be able to talk to you again, ap Amagien,” Maga said as she served the meat. “How very kind of Conary to send a nephew, even if he couldn’t spare his heir.”

  Conal wondered if Maga could possibly know what Darag was doing right now. He smiled at her as best he could. “I will have to suffice,” he said. He glanced over at the opposite alcove. There was an advantage to this seating. Ap Carbad couldn’t possibly hear anything he said. “Besides, I had another reason for wanting to come. I want to negotiate with you about my marrying your younger daughter, my charioteer, Emer.” He took a bite of his venison and smiled at her around it.

  “Does Conary agree?” Maga asked.

  “He does,” Conal said. It had been a hard fought battle, and he had often wished Emer was there to help. Conary liked Emer. “He has written to you ceasing the negotiations for her to marry Darag and asking about this. Have you not received the letter?”

  “And what about your dear parents?” Maga asked, sidestepping that question entirely.

  Conal would rather not have been asked that. “They will raise no objection,” he said, stretching the truth a little thin. They would raise no more objections if faced with an actual marriage, anyway. At least he hoped not.

  “Then it is a pity,” Maga said, biting her lip as if she meant it. “Only this past month I have agreed a different alliance for Emer. I thought that since Conary was no longer offering Darag and since an alliance with Oriel didn’t suit my plans, I should look elsewhere. Might you be interested in Elenn instead?” She gestured to Elenn, who was eating neatly. She was dressed beautifully, as always. She gave him a look that had daggers in it, but said nothing.

  Conal raised his eyebrows to indicate that he didn’t believe a word of what Maga said. “You astonish me,” he said. Inis let out his high-pitched cackle.

  “What, ap Amagien, with the news that it is my ugly daughter and not my beautiful one who is first betrothed?” Maga asked. “But Elenn has not yet taken up arms.”

  Conal was so furious that he was almost glad to be freed of the constraints of politeness. “Why, you wrong yourself and the daughter who inherited your looks,” he said. “Elenn is something out of the ordinary, of course, hair like black night and eyes like stars as my father’s poem puts it. But Emer is not ugly, indeed she is better than plain. As you also must have been when you were young.”

  For a moment, he saw that he had really angered Maga, and rejoiced. Inis sat contemplating them, a smile on his lips. Elenn was shrinking back against the wall as if to avoid a blow. Then Maga leaned forward toward him and smiled. “Conal,” she said, and hearing his name on her lips was shocking, showing they had left behind even feigned politeness. “You have made me an offer. Now tell me what it gains me to marry my daughter to you?”

  “Peace with Oriel,” he said.

  Maga laughed scornfully. “That is not something I wish to gain. She could be a queen. She could give me a kingdom.”

  “She could yet be a queen married to me. The choice of the Kin of Oriel has not been made. There are many chances in the world.” Even as he said it, Conal realized that he didn’t believe it anymore. Darag would be king, and his sons after him. Nothing he could do would be enough.

  Maga raised her eyebrows in scornful doubt. “Is that the best you can offer?” she asked. “Then listen to me, Conal. Oriel is doomed. You’re clever enough to see that. It is mine already. It isn’t even going to exist when my cattle raid is over. Come and join me. You can be one of my champions, fighting for me and for Connat, living in my hall. This isn’t very much gain for a daughter, but I am prepared to accept it.”

  Conal looked away from Maga’s eager face. Inis was staring into the invisible distance. Elenn’s lips were parted in astonishment.

  He couldn’t possibly agree. He could hardly believe she thought he had so little honor that he might take her offer seriously. Nobody would. Still, saying that would gain him nothing. He looked across the room. Emer was talking to Orlam. He glanced at Inis and saw that his grandfather was bright eyed again, watching him. He took another bite of his venison, chewed and swallowed, then looked back at Maga.

  “I will say nothing now to your proposal. Let me talk to Emer.”

  “Then talk to her,” Maga said. “But this offer is made reluctantly and at her request.”

  “She has done nothing but beg to be allowed to marry you since she came home,” Elenn said. Maga spared Elenn an irritated glance and looked back at Conal.

  “You can speak to her after dinner,” she said.

  They continued their meal in silence, broken only by Inis’s occasional humming. When Conal got up to go to Emer, his grandfather put his hand on his shoulder. Conal looked at him, but he said nothing, just let him go again.

  The musicians were getting ready to sing, and servants were pouring out more ale as Conal crossed the room. “Your mother said I can speak to you,” he said, leaning on Emer’s shoulder. “Where can we go?”

  “Outside,” Emer said, rising at once.

  Allel smiled at them benignly. Ap Carbad frowned and muttered something quietly to Orlam. Conal bowed and followed Emer out of the hall.

  Emer greeted the guard at the door and led Conal through the village toward the stables. The night was overcast and damp and the ground was muddy. It wasn’t easy to see where they were goi
ng. They walked in silence.

  It was even darker inside the stables. There was a smell of horses and of hay and damp springtime, and then Emer was in his arms and he was intoxicated by the scent of her. They held each other for a long moment, murmuring nonsense and affirmations.

  “Did Conary agree?” Emer asked after a little while.

  “It wasn’t easy, but he did in the end,” Conal said. “And I see you got your mother to agree to something, but it isn’t something I can possibly consider.”

  “My parents have been fighting about it,” Emer said. “That you become a champion of Connat is supposed to be a compromise. I know how impossible it is.”

  “I feel terrible for having left you here all this time with them,” he said. “I didn’t realize until tonight how awful she is. We’ll have to run away. I think we could go to Muin, or, failing that, right away across the sea to seek our fortunes in other lands.” The thought was enticing. Traveling together had been a joy. He wished they could start at once.

  Emer hugged him tighter. “I never thought you’d say that,” she said, so quietly he could hardly hear her. “But we can’t, you know we can’t. Not now. Maga won’t turn aside for anything. You can’t desert Oriel now, and it would be the same if you agreed to Maga’s offer or if we ran away. You couldn’t live without honor.”

  “You’re right,” Conal said, his heart sinking. “Well, if I must die, at least you should know that I love you more than breath.”

  Emer kissed him, and if he had to die, he wished he could die in that moment. “I don’t think you need to die,” she said breathlessly. “I have been talking to ap Fial, our priest, and he seems to think that the most likely thing is that all the fighting folk of Oriel will fall sick for a span of time, three days, or maybe six or nine days. After that, they will be well again. And Inis ap Fathag, may the Lord of Healing let him see many more summers, has made Maga say in front of everyone that she won’t cheat. So it ought to be possible to hold the roads for that long.”

  “Who could?” Conal asked. A horse shifted nearby and another sent out a whuffle that sounded inquiring.

  “You and me, if you can fight. But if not, anyone who will fight. I’ve been thinking about it. There are bound to be exceptions. Probably it will only strike champions. Maybe the farmers will be able to fight. And then there are people like your father who would hardly count as fighting folk of Oriel but who can fight. And …” She hesitated, then kissed him again. “Ap Fial might be wrong, but he seemed to think that Darag would be able to fight because his father is a god.”

  “Darag’s father?” Conal asked blankly.

  “They’re calling him Black Darag here because of the way he was black with blood when he came down from the heights,” Emer said.

  “Why does ap Fial think his father was a god?” Conal’s voice seemed to echo in his ears in the darkness. He clutched at Emer as if he were drowning.

  “I expect he saw it across the worlds,” Emer said. “You should ask Inis. But he thinks Darag will be able to fight and hold one of the roads.”

  “And Atha can hold the other,” Conal said.

  “Atha? Can you trust her that far? She might take the whole country if nobody can stop her.”

  “She’s married to Darag. While we’re down here. Today, in Ardmachan. It should be done by now. She won’t be bringing troops from the Isles, her mother won’t countenance it, but she’ll be there herself. But could anyone hold a road for nine days? Against everyone, even one at a time?”

  “I will go and help,” Emer said. “As soon as the war starts, I will run away and find you, and help hold the road.”

  “Maga will be furious with you,” Conal said.

  “I will do it in disguise, so she doesn’t know who I am. If she did, she’s perfectly capable of kidnapping me, to stop me. Then afterward, when Oriel is safe, we can go right away and change our names and leave everything behind. We could go to Tir Tanagiri, to King Urdo. My mother has told me that his sister is plotting against him, we could tell him that and warn him and he might accept us as champions. After three years, we can marry without needing our parents’ blessings.”

  “Come away with me now,” he said. “When we leave tomorrow. Don’t stay here with her another day.”

  “She would call that an abduction and cause for a feud between Connat and Oriel,” Emer said sadly. “But once the war has started, she won’t miss me in the daytime as long as I am here to eat at night.”

  They held each other for another long moment. “You are so brave,” Conal said, already feeling the pain of the thought that she could die holding the road for Oriel. “I will always love you,” he said.

  “I love you,” Emer said. “What will you tell Maga?”

  “That I cannot in honor desert Oriel now, but that we shall see what time brings.” Conal shrugged. “It is not a lie.”

  “You must get Conary to bring his fighting folk south before the Feast of Bel, so that after the three or six or nine days, they will be there where they are needed,” Emer said.

  “Unless it is thirty days, or ninety,” Conal said. “Even nine days is a terribly long time.”

  “On the other side of it, we will be together,” Emer said. He squeezed her in silence, trying to believe in another side of the perilous gulf that lay ahead of them.

  22

  (ELENN)

  It should have been lovely. They were going to defeat Oriel, but Lagin was allied to them. Ferdia was here. The good thing about everyone in Oriel being struck down by the curse would be that nobody got hurt. They had a big army ready, her father said, in case the farmers came out to fight. Her mother said the big army was to keep their allies happy and to glorify Connat. But in any case, no champions of Oriel were supposed to die, and none of Connat either, none of her friends, none of the people who she had smiled at when they opened the gates for her. The army went out of Cruachan on the morning after the Feast of Bel, all in a long stream, chariots ahead and farmers following along behind in little clumps. The champions were painted and armored for war. Many of them had banners flying. Most of the banners were the naked man of Connat, black against blue, but among them flew the bramble of Muin, red on black, the raven of Anlar, black on white, and the green hill of Lagin. War seemed a splendid thing when she stood at the gate of Cruachan and waved them off.

  But it was all wrong already. By sundown, they were not even across the border of Oriel, and they had thirteen bodies to burn and sing the Hymn of Return for. She hadn’t known it, but it had all gone wrong from the moment that Inis tricked her mother into agreeing not to go around the two roads. That meant there were only two ways they could get into Oriel. That shouldn’t have mattered, but both roads were held against them. They were astonished when the news was first brought back to them.

  First they heard that the road through the woods was guarded by Atha ap Gren. It wasn’t such a surprise as it might have been, because they’d had the news that she had recently married Darag in a great hurry. The Isles had promised not to send support even so, they knew Connat was going to win. But Atha was there, and not alone.

  Allel told them about it at dinner. The family were eating in a tent out near the border, where the whole army was encamped. They were alone in the tent except for the champion Nandran ap Roth. Dinner was scant, bread and cheese brought up hastily from Cruachan. Maga had expected to be halfway to Ardmachan by now, living off the land.

  “They waited, hidden in the woods, until the army of Connat and its allies advanced onto the soil of Oriel. Then we heard cries, letting us know that the curse had fallen on the waiting folk of Oriel. But even as we rejoiced, Atha and her companions fired their deadly slingshots and some of our champions fell to the ground. Others had to stop as chariots up ahead collapsed as their horses stumbled, legs broken. Then Atha came out in her chariot, with a charioteer. I asked her why she was there fighting us, when we had no quarrel with the Isles. She said she was married to Darag. I asked about her chari
oteer and companions. She laughed and said that every bride may bring her handmaidens from home. She said she had brought twelve handmaidens, all chosen for such fine womanly skills as she had thought she might have need of in Oriel.”

  Allel sounded almost admiring. Nandran had a smile on his face, too. Mingor shook his head a little. Elenn didn’t see what was so good about it.

  “What did you do then?” she asked.

  “Oh, she waited in the middle of the road and called out for honorable single combats, one against one as we had promised ap Fathag. My nephew Bran demanded the honor of fighting her, which I granted. He went forward to fight her and died almost at once, a spear through his heart.” Allel paused. “Then a champion of Muin came forward and fought her, a woman called Samar ap Ardan, one of the war-leaders, very experienced, with many heads on her chariot, but old for a champion, with gray in her hair. They fought for quite a while before Atha killed her. This was discouraging for the rest of our champions. Atha has a formidable reputation. Nobody was pressing to come forward to fight against her. I decided to leave half the army there to keep her there and take the others to the other road.”

  “Dithering,” Maga snapped. “Showing weakness.”

  “It should have worked,” Allel said mildly. “We went on until we reached the ford on the other road. On the far side of it were some folk of Oriel, standing beside the road looking very weak and unhappy, and in front of them was Darag, fit and well, in his chariot. His charioteer was disguised, a scarf over her face. There was no way of telling who she was, not even by the way she moved or stood. She did not speak.”

  Emer opened her mouth, but closed it again when her father gave her a stern look. Elenn wondered who it could be and why she would need a disguise.