"I understand," Gurgeh said;
"I'm sure you do. Tell me; are you looking forward to your trip to Echronedal?"
"Very much so, especially as the honour is extended so rarely to guest players."
"Indeed." Olos looked amused. "Few guests are ever allowed on to the Fire Planet. It is a holy place, as well as being itself a symbol of the everlasting nature of the Empire and the Game."
"My gratitude extends beyond the limits of my capacity to express it," Gurgeh purred, with the hint of a bow. Flere-Imsaho made a spluttering noise.
Olos smiled broadly. "I feel quite certain that having established yourself as being so proficient — indeed gifted — at our game, you will prove yourself to be more than worthy of your place in the game-castle on Echronedal. Now," the apex said, glancing at his desk-screen, "I see it is time for me to attend yet another doubtless insufferably tedious meeting of the Trade Council. I'd far prefer to continue our own exchange, Mr Gurgeh, but unhappily it must be curtailed in the interests of the efficiently regulated exchange of goods between our many worlds."
"I fully understand," Gurgeh said, standing at the same time as the apex.
"I'm pleased to have met you, Mr Gurgeh," Olos smiled.
"And I you."
"Let me wish you luck in your game against Lo Wescekibold Ram," the apex said as he walked to the door with Gurgeh. "I'm afraid you will need it. I'm sure it will be an interesting game."
"I hope so," Gurgeh said. They left the room. Olos offered his hand; Gurgeh clasped it, allowing himself to look a little surprised.
"Good day, Mr Gurgeh."
"Goodbye."
Then Gurgeh and Flere-Imsaho were escorted back to the aircraft on the roof while Lo Shav Olos strode off down another corridor to his meeting.
"You asshole, Gurgeh!" The drone said in Marain as soon as they were back in the module. "First you ask me two words you already know, and then you use both of them and the—"
Gurgeh was shaking his head by this time, and interrupted. "You really don't understand very much about game-playing, do you drone?"
"I know when people are playing the fool."
"Better than playing a household pet, machine."
The machine made a noise like an indrawn breath, then seemed to hesitate and said, "Well, anyway… at least you don't have to worry about your Premises now." It gave a rather forced-sounding chuckle. "They're as frightened of you telling the truth as you are!"
Gurgeh's game against Lo Wescekibold Ram attracted great attention. The press, fascinated by this odd alien who refused to speak to them, sent their most acerbic reporters, and the camera operators best able to catch any fleeting facial expression which would make the subject look ugly, stupid or cruel (and preferably all three at once). Gurgeh's off-world physiognomy was regarded as a challenge by some camera people, and as a large fish in a small barrel by others.
Numerous paying game-fans had traded tickets for other games so they could watch this one, and the guests" gallery could have been filled many times over, even though the venue had been changed from the original hall Gurgeh had played in before to a large marquee erected in a park only a couple of kilometres from both the Grand Hotel and the Imperial Palace. The marquee held three times as many people as the old hall, and was still crowded.
Pequil had arrived as usual in the Alien Affairs Bureau car in the morning, and taken Gurgeh to the park. The apex no longer tried to put himself in front of the cameras, but busily hurried them out of the way to clear a path for Gurgeh.
Gurgeh was introduced to Lo Wescekibold Ram. He was a short, bulky apex with a more rugged face than Gurgeh had expected and a military bearing.
Ram played quick, incisive lesser games, and they finished two on the first day, ending about even. Gurgeh only realised how hard he'd been concentrating that evening when he fell asleep watching the screen. He slept for almost six hours.
The next day they played another two of the lesser games, but the play extended, by agreement, into the evening session; Gurgeh felt the apex was testing him, trying to wear him out, or at least see what the limits of his endurance were; they would be playing all six of the lesser games before the three main boards, and Gurgeh already knew he was under much more strain playing Ram alone than he'd been competing against nine others.
After a great struggle, almost to midnight, Gurgeh finished fractionally ahead. He slept seven hours and woke up just in time to get ready for the next day's play. He forced himself awake, glanding the Culture's favourite breakfast drug, Snap, and was a little disappointed to see Ram looked just as fresh and energetic as he felt.
That game became another war of attrition, dragging through the afternoon, and Ram didn't suggest playing into the evening. Gurgeh spent a couple of hours discussing the game with the ship during the evening, then, to wash it from his mind, watched the Empire's broadcast channels for a while.
There were adventure programmes and quizzes and comedies, news-stations and documentaries. He looked for reports on his own game. He was mentioned, but the day's rather dull play didn't merit much space. He could see that the agencies were becoming less and less well-disposed to him, and he wondered if they now regretted standing up for him when he'd been ganged up on during the first match.
Over the next five days the news-stations became even less happy with "Alien Gurgey" (Eächic was phonetically less subtle than Marain, so his name was always going to be spelled incorrectly). He finished the lesser games about level with Ram, then beat him on the Board of Origin after being well down at one stage, and lost on the Board of Form only by the most slender of margins.
The news-agencies at once decided that Gurgeh was a menace to the Empire and the common good, and began a campaign to have him thrown off Eä. They claimed he was in telepathic touch with the Limiting Factor, or with the robot called Flere-Imsaho, that he used all manner of disgusting drugs which were kept in the vice den and drug emporium he lived in on the roof of the Grand Hotel, then — as though just discovering the fact — that he could make the drugs inside his own body (which was true) using glands ripped out of little children in appalling and fatal operations (which was not). The effect of these drugs seemed to be to turn him into either a super-computer or an alien sex-maniac (even both, in some reports).
One agency discovered Gurgeh's Premises, which the ship had drawn up and registered with the Games Bureau. These were held to be typically shifty and mealy-mouthed Culture double-talk; a recipe for anarchy and revolution. The agencies adopted hushed and reverent tones as they appealed loyally to the Emperor to "do something" about the Culture, and blamed the Admiralty for having known about this gang of slimy perverts for decades without, apparently, showing them who was boss, or just crushing them completely (one daring agency even went so far as to claim the Admiralty wasn't totally certain where the Culture's home planet was). They offered up prayers that Lo Wescekibold Ram would wipe the Alien Gurgey off the Board of Becoming as decisively as the Navy would one day dispose of the corrupt and socialistic Culture. They urged Ram to use the physical option if he had to; that would show what the namby-pamby Alien was made of (perhaps literally!).
"Is all this serious?" Gurgeh said, turning, amused, from the screen to the drone.
"Deadly serious," Flere-Imsaho told him.
Gurgeh laughed and shook his head. He thought the common people must be remarkably stupid if they believed all this nonsense.