The Lost Years (28 page)

“What the odds will be on their next wager. Yes, I know.”

Domnu’s feet slapped over to the rug of red and black squares. She bent low to face one of the pieces, the figure of a red dragon. Nonchalantly, she tickled under its scaly chin. In the quivering light, I could not be sure, but it almost seemed that the dragon’s head jerked slightly, and that two thin trails of smoke drifted out of its nostrils.

“Their little game is of no interest to me,” she concluded, even as she gave the dragon’s ear a tweak. “I have enough trouble keeping track of my own.”

Shim clutched tighter. “I is scared. Very, very, very scared.”

“I don’t know why you should be,” replied Domnu with a crooked grin. “Dying isn’t so bad after the first time.”

She placed her foot on the back of the dragon piece, reached for the figure of the black king, and grabbed it roughly by the neck. I could have been mistaken, but as she lifted the king off the rug, I thought I heard a faint, anguished squeal. Still grasping the neck, she began polishing the king’s crown on her sacklike robe. “I suppose we should play a game of some kind before I send you on your way, my pets. It will take our minds off your impending deaths and my impending loss. Do you prefer dice or sticks?”

“We need your help,” I pleaded.

She replaced the black king, dropping the piece with a thud. Then, feet slapping on the floor, she ambled over to the pile of sticks. She plucked a small bundle from the pile and contemplated it. “I think threes would be better than thirteens today, don’t you? I have the feeling in my bones that this is a low number day. Bones! Perhaps you would rather play bones?”

“Please! We need to get to the Shrouded Castle.”

“The Shrouded Castle?” She pulled a stick from the bundle and spat on it. “Why ever would you want to go there?”

“A goodly question,” muttered Shim, hugging my shin.

“Besides,” Domnu continued, all the while examining the stick, “if I send you there, then you will
certainly
die and I will lose my wager.”

“Won’t you please help us?”

“I am afraid not, my pet.” She twirled the stick in the palm of her hand.

I scowled. “If you’re not going to help us, then why don’t you just put us back in the Haunted Marsh and get it over with?”

Shim looked up at me with amazement.

“I may well, my pet. After all, I did promise Rhita Gawr that I would not keep you safe here all day. Rules of the wager, you understand. And I never break the rules.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, he would notice if I did.”

She inserted the stick back into the bundle, then tossed it carelessly onto the pile. “But why the hurry? We still have time for a game or two.”

“We do not have time!” I exclaimed. “Isn’t there any way we can convince you?”

“The only question,” she went on, scanning the room, “is which game to choose. Of course! Chess! Though I don’t suppose you know anything about the rules, young as you are. No matter. Just come over here and I will teach you a bit. And bring that brave warrior there. The one clinging to your leg.”

She walked back over to the rug and glanced around at the chess pieces. “Too tall, I think.”

With an expression of concentration, she placed the palm of her hand on the crown of the red queen. She muttered a phrase softly, then began to press slowly downward. To my astonishment, the red queen—as well as all the other chess pieces—grew steadily smaller, until they were only half of their original size. Now the tallest pieces were about the same height as Shim.

Proudly, Domnu waved at the chess pieces. “It really is one of my better inventions, this game. A great success wherever it goes. Even the humans, with their limited powers of concentration, have adopted it. Though it grieves me to see how they try to oversimplify the rules of the game. The only drawback is that it is best played with two people. And finding the right partner can be very difficult indeed.”

Raising her thin eyebrows, she sent waves of wrinkles across the top of her scalp. “Especially if you have as few visitors as I do. By the way, most of my visitors come by the front door. What ever possessed you to use the back door? I might never have found you, if you hadn’t knocked on the doorstep.”

“I didn’t knock.”

“Of course you did! Though I almost didn’t hear you with that awful din outside.”

“But I didn’t knock.”

“My pet, you are forgetful! You knocked with something hard. It must have been your head. Or perhaps that unattractive little pendant of yours.”

Suddenly remembering the Galator, I clutched it tightly. It was no longer glowing. Swiftly I replaced it under my tunic.

“I might have left you there, but I haven’t had any company for games in so long. Two centuries at least! Then, after I brought you in, I realized you must be the ones Rhita Gawr had wagered would not survive the day, if you should ever turn up here.” Her ancient eyes narrowed. “I only wish I had seen you before I agreed to the wager.”

Domnu started pacing around the rug, inspecting each of the chess pieces carefully. Although the wavering light made the whole room seem to vibrate, it struck me that each of the chess pieces trembled slightly as she approached. Then, when she passed in back of a gallant looking black stallion, the horse seemed to shift its hind leg ever so slightly. Instantly, Domnu whirled around.

“You wouldn’t be wanting to kick me, now, would you?” The black eyes flashed, as she ran her finger slowly down the horse’s mane. “No, your manners are better than that. Much better. You must be wanting a bit more weight on your back. Yes, I am certain that’s it.”

The barest whinny seemed to come from the stallion. Its carved muscles almost tensed.

Domnu bent over it and blew a long, gentle breath. Out of nowhere, a rough black stone, half the size of the horse itself, appeared on the middle of its back. While the stallion seemed to sag under the weight, it continued to hold its head high.

“There now,” declared Domnu. “That’s much better.”

She spun to face me. “Time for a little game of chess,” she said in a voice more threatening than inviting. “Before I return you to your, shall we say, friends waiting outside. You make the first move.”

33:
T
HE
W
AGER

My heart pounded. I could not bring myself to step onto the rug with Domnu.

“Come, my pet. I don’t have all day.” She smirked, baring her uneven teeth. “Neither do you.”

“Don’t goes near her,” whispered Shim frantically.

“I am waiting,” growled Domnu.

Perspiration beaded on my brow. What was I to do? Maybe, if I humored her, I could still find some way to win her help. Yet no sooner had I formed this thought than I knew it was impossible. Domnu would never send us to the castle, for she believed that to do so would guarantee that we would lose our lives—and she her wager. And, I admitted grimly to myself, she was probably right.

Even so, dragging a whimpering Shim with me, I moved toward the edge of the rug. I had no idea what to do next, either about Domnu’s game or my own quest to help Rhia. I only knew that we had traveled too far, survived too much, to give up before trying every possibility.

When I reached the edge of the rug, Domnu pointed to the black horse weighed down by the stone. “Make your move,” she commanded.

“But—but,” I stammered, “I don’t know the rules.”

“That has not stopped you before, I’ll wager.”

Unsure of her meaning, I tried again. “Can you tell me the rules?”

“The way I play, you can make up your own rules. Until you break one of mine, that is.”

I faltered. “I don’t know how to begin.”

“In the game of chess, unlike the game of life, you get to choose how you begin.”

“But what if I choose poorly?”

“Ah,” she said, wrinkling her scalp. “In that way the two games are quite alike. One way or another, your choice will make all the difference.”

Drawing a deep breath, I stepped onto the rug of red and black squares. Hesitantly, I laid down my staff. Then, with effort, I lifted the black stallion and carried it all the way over to the other side of the rug. I placed it on a square directly in front of the red king.

“Hmmm,” observed Domnu. “You chose a very risky move, my pet.” She eyed me curiously. “Though no more risky than storming the Shrouded Castle without an army.”

She shoved the red king to a square where he could hide behind a pair of goblins. “You must have some sort of reason.”

“I do. It is—”

“A terrible shame you are so eager to die. Especially when you are just learning how to play the game. Normally, I would be quite happy to help you die sooner. But a wager is a wager.”

“What if I made you a wager myself?”

Domnu scratched her hairless head. “What kind of wager?”

“Well,” I replied, my mind racing, “If you can get me to the castle—”

“Us,” corrected Shim. Although his whole body was quaking, he let go of my leg and stood on his own beside me. “We goes together. I is still feeling the same old madness.”

I nodded at him, then turned back to Domnu. “If you can get us to the castle, then I will wager you that . . . that we will
still
survive this day. Even with Stangmar and all his goblins and ghouliants there to greet us. You could wager the opposite, that we won’t succeed.”

Domnu pulled thoughtfully on one of her ears. “Ah, so you are raising the stakes, are you?”

“That’s right.”

“And what happens if you don’t survive the day?”

“Well, then you would have lost one wager, against Rhita Gawr, but you will have won another, against me. So at the end of the day, you will be no worse off. Whereas if you
don’t
wager me, you will finish the day merely having lost.”

She frowned. “Not a chance! What sort of a novice wagerer do you take me for, boy? I am giving you something of value by sending you to the castle. Whether or not you win, you get that much. And what do I get? Nothing.”

My face fell. “But I have nothing to give you.”

“Too bad.” Her head wrinkled. “Time for your next move.”

“Wait.” I pulled out the dagger from Honn. “You could take this.”

Domnu frowned again, waving it away. “A weapon? Why would I ever need that?”

“Then what about this?” I removed the satchel that Branwen had given to me. “These herbs are good for healing.”

Domnu hissed. “What use would I have for such a thing?”

As I picked up my staff, she declared, “I have no need of that, either.”

I knew well that my one truly valuable possession was the Galator. I suspected that Domnu knew it also. Yet . . . if I parted with that, my quest would be ruined.

“Here,” said Shim, starting to peel off his baggy shirt of woven bark. “You can keeps this. Made by my own mother, when I is a babesy.” He sighed. “A shame I never outgrows it.”

Domnu scowled. “Keep it yourself.” The black eyes probed me. “If you have nothing more to offer, then we have nothing more to discuss. Except, of course, the game of chess.”

My head was whirling. While I knew almost nothing about the Galator’s powers, they were clearly extraordinary.
Vast beyond knowing,
Cairpré had said. I could not possibly part with this, the last Treasure! It had already saved our lives once. It might well do so again. Besides, if Stangmar wanted it so badly, I might somehow be able to use it to bargain for Rhia’s life. Though I had no way of knowing if she was still alive, I could be sure that, without the Galator, I could never save her. Moreover, this jeweled pendant had been worn by my own mother. She had given it to me to keep, to protect. To give it away would also be to give away some of her love for me.

And yet . . . if I did not offer it to Domnu, she would never help me. And I could not possibly reach the castle without her help! So I, in turn, could not help Rhia. Then again, what good was it to reach the castle without the Galator?

“Your move.” She nudged me impatiently. “Make your move.”

“All right, I will.” Slowly, I removed the Galator from my neck. “You know this pendant, don’t you?”

Domnu yawned, showing all her unruly teeth. “I have seen it a few times over the ages, yes. What about it?”

“Then you also know its value.”

The hag remained dispassionate. “I have heard rumors.”

Shim tugged hard on my tunic. “Don’t do this! This is foolishly!”

Ignoring him, I declared, “I will wager you . . . with the Galator. If you can get us to the castle of Stangmar, I will . . .” I choked on the words. “I will give it to you.”

The black eyes swelled.

“No!” cried Shim. “We needs it!”

I took a step toward her. “But if either Shim or I should ever return to you alive, no matter how much time has passed, then you must give the Galator back.” Grasping the leather cord, I held up the pendant. Its jewels gleamed darkly in the shifting light. “Those are the terms of my wager.”

Domnu clucked, as if she were about to swallow something tasty. “And if you should ever return—which I doubt, my pet—you would trust me to give it back to you?”

“No!” protested Shim.

I regarded her sternly. “You said you never break the rules.”

“That is true.” Then she added in passing, “With minor exceptions here and there, of course.” All of a sudden her hand shot out and snatched the pendant. “You have a wager.”

My heart sank. The Galator was gone.

Domnu gazed briefly into the Galator, her eyes reflecting its green hue. She plunged it into one of the sagging pockets in her robe. Then she smiled the smile of someone who has just won a grand wager.

For my part, I felt sure that I had just given away my last, best hope. “You wanted that all the time,” I said bitterly.

“I suppose that is true, my pet.”

“Why didn’t you just take it from me, then? Why did you drag it out like this?”

Domnu looked offended. “Me? Take something that does not belong to me? Never!” She patted the pocket with the Galator. “Besides, the Galator must be given freely. Not stolen. Or else its powers are useless. Did no one ever tell you that?”

I shook my head.