The Prize in the Game (9 page)

I touch turns to wonders?" He shook his head. Elenn saw Leary and Ferdia coming back slowly, talking to a pretty girl she didn't know, laughing with her. "I know I'm not a normal man.

Strange things happen to me.

Omens. Portents. And I keep dreaming such strange dreams."

"About your mother and a god?" Elenn asked gently.

"No. Not that. I keep dreaming about how they built this dun," Darag said. Elenn blinked, surprised. "There wasn't even a hill to start with. They brought all the earth here, piling it up and up, little horses pulling it up.

It's this place, this dun, before it was a dun." He gestured around him, as if he could see it. "One of the horses is a mare, and she's pregnant, worse, she's actually giving birth, shuddering with it, and the man, the king, keeps on driving her up with load after load, whipping her, whipping all the horses, forcing them. And then she stops and gives birth to a filly, just over there, where the Red Hall is now. And the king takes the filly and draws his knife to cut her throat. And then, talk about mysteries, then the filly changes and grows and it's Beastmother he has hold of, Rhianna herself, and she's huge and powerful, like a horse but not, like a woman too, and black, black as night, flecked all over with blood and sweat. And she shakes the man in her great teeth, and then the hill is built, all finished, but the people are clutching themselves and crying out in pain, and the horses are gone."

"That's horrible," Elenn said and shivered.

"I don't know why I keep dreaming it," Darag said miserably. "I don't know what it means."

"Have you asked ap Fathag?"

"It's impossible to ask Inis anything," Darag said. "I haven't told him. Maybe I should try. But he always looks at me as if he isn't really seeing me, or he's seeing too many of me."

"I think you should try," Elenn said. The others were nearly up to them. She wondered who the girl was.

Ferdia seemed to be paying a lot of attention to her. "And tell me what he says. Now, quick, stop being upset about it. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. You and I, we know who our mothers are, and for both of us that's the important thing. Don't let anyone see you're upset."

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"I have to fight anyone who says anything against my mother's honor," Darag said.

"When you'd kill them? Where's the honor in that?" Elenn asked. "Besides, what's against her honor to say she lay with a god in the fields on the Feast of Bel? She was the king's own sister, after all."

"Thank you for understanding," Darag said. Elenn gave him one of her best smiles. She wasn't at all sure she understood, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

7

(EMER)

She thought the best thing would be if she could provoke him into saying something disparaging about

Connat. Anything would do. Then she could fight him in honor, without making Conal a cause.

She thought she could do that without causing Conary to throw her out or Maga to summon her home. Maga's words had seemed almost scorched into the paper as it was, demanding to know what she thought she was doing. She wouldn't tolerate any more independence right now.

Defending Connat's honor, or better, Maga's own honor, would be ideal. Ama-gien didn't guard what he said at all. She thought she could kill him quite easily. He was slow, and he rarely came to practice. The only problem then would be the impiety of marrying Conal after she'd killed his father. No, she couldn't do it no matter how much he annoyed her. It would be a bloodfeud, and people with a bloodfeud between them couldn't marry. That would be a disaster. She'd heard of a bloodfeud being reconciled so that people could marry, but only after six generations. Though maybe she could provoke a quarrel between Amagien and another warrior. Only she wouldn't do anything so dishonorable.

Emer had never thought Maga's lessons in how to smile sweetly whatever you were thinking would come in useful. She'd never been as apt a pupil as Elenn. Yet now she found herself doing it every time Amagien opened his mouth. He didn't seem to be able to say anything at all without making Conal squirm. It didn't matter than Conal didn't show it. It was just the same as standing by while someone stuck little knives into him.

The clouds in the western sky blazed purple and red. The sun was down and Conary had made the sunset vow. They were waiting to catch sight of the first fire. Conary was standing alone by the piled wood that would be the fire. Near him were Elenn and Ferdia, arm in arm. Elenn had been ignoring Emer all day. Emer had almost repented of not wearing her new overdress when she saw how unhappy her sister was. It wouldn't really have made any difference. The one she was wearing was just as much Maga's gift if she stopped to think about it. She just didn't want to take a gift from her mother right now. Also, she didn't want to wear the same colors at the same time as Elenn ever again. She was tired of being dismissed as the ugly sister.

She wanted to be seen as herself. No, she had made the right choice and been right to stick to it.

It was strange to feel pity for Elenn. But now her sister couldn't do anything to stop her. Even what she said didn't hurt. It just sounded like a weak echo of Maga.

Her eye moved on through the crowd. Elba and Ringabur stood with Leary, who caught Emer's eye and grinned. Next to him was a woman Emer didn't know. She was stocky and well balanced, and her face marked her as obviously kin to Leary. Darag was next to her.

"I didn't know Leary had a sister," she said to Conal.

"Where?" He turned to look.

"The elder ap Ringabur came back from Rathadun of the Kings today," Amagien said. "She has been there nine years learning the law."

"She's back to stay?" Conal grinned. "You'll like Orlam, Emer. Let's go over and I'll introduce you."

Anything that got them away from Amagien was all right with Emer. She raised her chin
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affirmatively.

"You're not to waste her time," Amagien said. "She won't want to be bothered now she's a lawspeaker. Let her see that you're a man now, don't behave like a puppy dog."

Conal froze. Emer decided to change the subject before one of them said anything they regretted.

"Have you ever been to Rathadun?" she asked.

"Never," Conal said.

"You'll go there one day," Amagien said. "I went there for my initiation, and you'll go there when you're chosen to be kingmdashif you ever shape up enough that you are chosen. Rathadun of the Kings is a wonderful place, very holy. The nine hills have a peace like nowhere else. The Hill of Ward, where even now the fire will be alight, is the very heart of it.

And nobody stays there but priests and initiates, and they make no difference between initiates for law or poetry or priesthood or kingship. It is a wonderful way to live."

Emer smiled another excruciating Maga smile and wanted to scream. She hadn't exactly forgotten that

Amagien was a poet. How could anyone, when he went on about it all the time? Nor had she forgotten that poets were, like kings and priests and lawspeakers, immune to challenge.

But she somehow hadn't connected it up. He didn't act like a poet. Even when he sang his stupid song about how pretty Elenn was, he just seemed too full of his own importance. Still, she should have remembered, and it ruined everything. He could say anything in perfect impunity and nobody would be allowed to challenge him over it. At least this solved the riddle of how he had lived to grow as old as he was. He could say whatever he liked and nobody could even kill him. It really wasn't fair. What was so sacred about poets anyway? A king, yes, or a lawspeakermdashof course they shouldn't be challenged, because then they might be afraid to judge fairly.

As for priests, challenging them insulted the gods. But poets? Nobody would challenge someone because they didn't like their poetry.

"There!" Conal pointed, and a rustle went through the crowd as everyone craned to look. The first faint spark of fire blazed out to the south, looking distant as a star. "That's Mornay," he said. "And now watch to the west, we'll see Lusca next."

"Nemglan next," Amagien said. "Then Lusca."

It didn't matter. But if she said it didn't matter, it would make Conal feel worse. The points of light spread, like red flowers bursting into blossom. Conal named them all for her until at last it was time. Conary raised his hand and the bonfire beside him burst into flame. People stepped back from the sudden heat. The drummers began to play, and the harpists joined them. From somewhere came the sound of a pipe, the music twining around the harps.

"I must join Finca," Amagien said. "Take good care of ap Allel, Conal. And make sure you take her safely to the Red Hall after the dance."

Emer smiled a farewell. Conal raised his cup and took a relieved sip. "Why are poets sacred anyway?" she asked him.

He choked on his ale. "To keep words free," he said when he had recovered. "But why were you thinking about that?"

"Your father made me wonder," she said. "Look, the fires are spreading north."

Thankfully, Conal accepted this distraction and turned to look. The fire was indeed still leaping from hilltop to hilltop across the darkened countryside. "That's Edar," Conal said, pointing at a nearby blaze to the northeast. "My father's farm."

"I didn't know Amagien had a farm so close," Emer said.

"We used to live out there," Conal said. "But since my mother is Uncle Conary's keykeeper, we have all moved into the dun."

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"Do you ever go out there now?"

"All the time," Conal said. "Not so much recently, but whenever my father can find an excuse to send me with a message or something to do out there, he does." He laughed. "Don't tell Amagien, because he thinks it a punishment to send me. But I like going. I like the farmers theremdash and see what a great blaze they have made."

"Why does your father think it's punishment?" Emer asked. "Like 'Pleeeease don't turn me into a bird, Uncle

Math'?"

"Partly that," Conal said, grinning at her Little Wydion voice. "But I used to be afraid of the bull, a few years ago. He's a huge creature, and fierce. My father made me lead him about and take charge of him."

"Your father is a monster," Emer said before she could help herself.

"Well, but it worked. I'm not scared of the bull anymore. And he isn't a monster. He means well.

He wants to help me grow up to be the best."

Emer knew she couldn't say what she wanted to say. She knew too much about parents who wanted things for their children. Instead, she looked away at the distant lights. "I wish we were out there," she said. "Away from them all." The music was getting louder; people were forming up for the dance around the fire.

"It's a pity we didn't think of that earlier," Conal said. "We could have gone out to Edar. The farmers there are good people. They'd have been glad to share their feast with us."

"We still could go," Emer said, all at once eager for it.

"It's two hours' walk," Conal said. "And it's nearly dark already."

"We could take the chariot," Emer said. "We'd be there much sooner. And people won't stop celebrating tonight until late."

"Do you mean stay the night out there?" Conal asked.

Emer felt her cheeks heat. Elba came by before she could say anything and gave Conal a little push. "Take your places, we're starting," she said. Emer realized that almost everyone was lined up ready to begin the dance. Conary was at the head, with Orlam ap Ringabur. Elenn was with Ferdia, and Darag with Nid. Conal and Emer hastily took up a place as the music grew insistent.

Some of the champions grinned at them and made teasing remarks.

"Yes, I did mean stay the night, but not what I said before," Emer whispered under the music as they started to move. "I believe what you said. But if nobody minds where we sleep, then we could just sleep out there, in a storehouse or something, and come back in the morning. No parents, no Darag, no Elenn. Strangers are lucky on the Feast of Bel, they'll be glad to see us."

Conal danced in silence for a moment, looking torn. They circled the bonfire, then Conary led the chain of dancers around the wall of the dun. "Can you drive in the dark?" Conal asked at last.

Emer raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Of course." "Have you done it?" Conal persisted.

"It won't be very dark," she said. "There's light in the sky still, and the moon is rising. And you know the way."

Conal shook his head and grinned. "All right," he said. "Let's do it. Straight after the dance."

Emer felt as if they were escaping as they made their way down the hill. Nobody noticed them in the general confusion. People were preparing food and hurrying children to bed and bringing animals to be led around the fire. They could still hear the merriment as they came to the stables.

There was nobody there, and no horses either except for one strange horse. "That will be Orlam's horse,"

Conal said. He dragged out the chariot while Emer went out to the paddock and caught the horses. She had been afraid they might be hard to catch, but they all came running as soon as she whistled, and the problem was separating out the pair she wanted. She had to light a
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lantern to see what she was doing with the harness, but before long, she had them safely yoked to the chariot. She looked up. Conal was watching, smiling at her in a way that made her feel warm all through, despite the chill of the night.

"We should have brought cloaks," she said. "The wind's cold, even if it is the Feast of Bel."

"Our armor coats are down here," Conal said. "They'll be warm."

As they were coming back with the coats, they heard the sound of someone whistling a plaintive tune. They glanced at each other guiltily. The chariot was waiting outside; there was no sense in trying to hide. The whistling stopped as they came out. Meithin ap Gamal was looking at the chariot. She laughed when she saw them. "Oh, so it's you two new champions?