“Try to ignore it, dear,” Ligne ordered, an irritated smile gracing her elegant features. “It’s your move.”
Rosha tried to turn his attention again to the game a difficult task, since he felt as if some invisible presence stared over his shoulder.
They played a game of Green Dummy Drax, the weak, two-handed version of the three-sided table game so favored by the Queen. Rosha, while not an expert, felt himself a competent player, for he and his father had often shared the winter nights playing Green Dummy next to the fire.
But he pretended now to learn the game anew, and Ligne had eagerly assumed the role of instructor,
“No, no, not like that!” she scolded lightly, as he purposely made an impossible move. “Your column can’t take my disc while it’s still on the base triangles! Look, I’m on the inversions here! Remember, base triangles are white, Inversions are yellow. It’s simple!”
“Oh,” Rosha replied. “I g-get it n-now.” He replaced his column, made a proper move, and pegged the expended move on the reference plank.
“Very goodl” Ligne cried, clapping her hands in delight Her eyes sparkled as she made her answering move.
His suggestion that she teach him to play was proving a shrewd ploy.
Thus far, the game had kept her mind off his body. She seemed to be receiving this sudden thaw in his feelings for her as the natural result of her invincible charm. She could think what she liked he didn’t care. He was determined to make this sacrifice for Bronwynn’s sake. Moments before, he’d made a convincing fuss over the Queen in the presence of Jagd. Perhaps too convincing, for the merchant had popped into the throne room only for a moment and had popped out again a moment later with the speed of a nervous rodent. Before he could get away, Ligne had wrung from the merchant a promise that he would soon return. Rosha hoped he would hurry, for while he’d sworn his determination to convince the Queen of his affection for her, he didn’t know how he could endure it if she started pawing him again. He had always solved his problems violently, and though his hands were still bound before him, it would take little effort to break the woman’s pretty neck. Pelmen’s words convinced him there was little to be gained from such a rash act, and much to lose. He had to resist the temptation.
“It’s your move,” Ligne chirped, and without thinking Rosha skillfully attacked her cube and removed it from the board. Ligne gasped. “That was… very good.” She frowned. While she wanted him to learn this game, Ligne did not like losing. Suddenly he threatened to defeat her.
“It was?” Rosha covered. “J-j-just lucky, I g-guess.”
“Yes,” she replied evenly. “Very lucky.” With a sweep of her hand she cleared the board of all pieces, then she turned to look at the door.
“This game really isn’t worth finishing. It *s only Dummy Drax, after all. Where is Jagd? I expected him to come join us in a full-sided game!”
Rosha shrugged. He hoped the man returned quickly. He couldn’t hide his disgust from her forever,
The Imperial House bellowed. It was happening again! The miserable runt in the violet knickers had resumed his torture! Oh, the House had been prepared for it, of course, for the verminous merchant had never taken his laundry off the walls. Only once had he left his room, and that only for a moment, to give the Queen some lame excuse for his absence. Then he’d raced back to that sparkling shape on the table that commanded his constant attention.
All morning long, the House had watched Jagd watching the pyramid. The feeling of dread grew during the afternoon, until the House decided that the pain would be preferable to the suspense. But when the object finally flickered to life, the Imperial House immediately changed its mind. A new round of cursing had set off less confusion in the castle than before, for the servants had grown accustomed to these outbursts.
This unfeeling, blase attitude on the part of the help incensed the castle still further. Who did they think they were working for, after all? The Queen?
That’s exactly what they think, the Imperial House said bitterly. In the ancient past, the House had frequently despised its occupants, but this supposed monarch seemed exceptionally stupid. The House sighed for a return to the good old days…
Then it jerked, causing doors on every floor to slam mysteriously. The conversation between Jagd and the blackguards who held the other pyramids grew heated, and the magical energy released was building up an excruciating bubble of gas in the castle’s bowels.
A lot of good that did! the castle moaned, for the servants were used to its wincing now, too, and they casually reopened the slammed doors without another thought.
You! Powershaper! Can’t you tell you’re desperately needed? Wake up!
The castle was not entirely pleased with its clownish power shaper performance. AH the lazy lout had done so far was snore. It had cost the House enormous effort to save the fool, and what had he done in return? He’d made use of magic, that’s what, searing yet another painful hole in the House’s inner lining and then had promptly gone to sleep!
Oh! The House cried out. Wake up! it yelled at Fallo-mar the fool.
It really wasn’t sure why it had moved to save the rascal in the first place. The possibility was there.
The Wizard tn Wailing of course, that this Fallomar fellow might wake from his deafness and offer the House some fellowship. But even if the fool did learn to speak, there was no assurance of his help. The House had dealt with many power shapers through the ages, and the majority had been only selfish thieves, greedy for new ways to swell their powers. Some had even tormented the House for spite, so great was their cruelty. The House chuckled through its pain the last sorcerer to try such got a chandelier implanted in his fore-head!
Any chandeliers? the House wondered, running a quick check of Jagd’s room.
No such luck, it groused. The lighting fixtures had all been replaced in the last twenty years besides, Jagd was twelve feet away from the nearest one.
A lot of bells rang in the castle.
Wake up! the House shouted, but the power shaper slept on. This one might be different, the House said, hoping desperately for some relief.
If only he could be roused! The castle remembered how the man had responded to its teasing with a polite but confident warning. That he was truly a power shaper he’d proved in his wrestling match with the old fish.
True, your magic proved painful, the House pleaded with the sleeping magician, but at least it dissipated out the grating. Not like this agony!
For Jagd’s heated conversation continued still, and his room was shut up tight!
Arise! The Imperial House screamed, agonized. The Imperial House wants you!
Tohn’s hall hummed with power, as the two pyramids on the front table crackled with brilliant blue intensity. Many merchant mouths hung open in disbelief, as the recognizable voice of Jagd, Elder of Uda, echoed off the giant beams overhead. Jagd and Flayh had abused each other for a quarter of an hour already, and neither seemed ready to stop. Poor Pezi rubbed his broad forehead feverishly the stress had given him a splitting headache.
“Naturally you hold me responsible!” Jagd screamed. “You always hold me responsible for all your misfortunes!”
“This is not a misfortune!” Flayh screamed back. “It’s en impossible situation deliberately created by your complicity with this strumpet of a Queen!”
“The entire ruling Council agreed to our plan to place Ligne on the throne! Can I help it if you and some of the other houses so overplayed your power that she’s come to favor Uda alone?”
“Yes, you can help it! You were the representative of the whole Council in the court, not just of your own organization! You’ve demonstrated your disloyalty to your brethren here by siding against us. Your very absence from this meeting indicates your true loyalties!”
“That’s a lie, Flayh, and you know it! You think I take pleasure in sitting around this castle doing nothing? It’s your assassins who have imprisoned me here, dooming me to interminable games of Drax with a vain Queen and her stuttering young warrior! You think I ”
“What!” roared a female voice from one side of the dais. The assembled merchants tore their eyes from the mesmerizing crystals to see Admon Faye holding a kicking, screaming Bronwynn in the air. He’d been holding onto her since early in the conversation, for in the exchange between Jagd and Flayh she’d learned more about her own kidnapping than in all the months since it happened. She’d known, of course, that she’d been ripped from the Imperial House with Ligne’s aid. But the cold-blooded ness of it had enraged her anew.
Now that rage exploded into new dimensions. “What did he say?” she shrilled. “I want to know what he said!”
“What’s going on there?” Jagd asked, holding his head.
“Don’t distract us!” Flayh ordered. “You’ll make us break the link!”
“Oh, my head…”
“Shut up, Pezi!”
Bronwynn broke loose and rushed over to crowd between Pezi and his uncle. “I want to know what he said!”
“Said about what?” Jagd asked, as a disembodied woman’s voice lanced painfully through his head.
Admon Faye suddenly understood, and a grin spread from one ugly ear to the other. He stalked up behind Bronwynn and spoke to Flayh, “Ask what he means by a stuttering warrior.”
The object’s lock on Flayh’s mind made these other voices intolerable.
It seemed a thousand people clamored for his attention at once. Pezi, feeling the pressure too, moaned aloud. Flayh relayed Admon Faye’s question to Jagd, hoping to end this bitter interruption.
“Some young bruiser from the north is all I know!” Jagd shot back.
“Name is Rosha, and he stutters. He’s the Queen’s latest paramour! Can we get back to business? My head wants to explode!”
“Yours isn’t the only one,” Pezi added mournfully.
Admon Faye, still grinning, led Bronwynn back to her chair. There she sat, stunned and shaken, throughout the chaotic events that followed.
Perhaps it had been only an interruption to the others in the room, but this news crashed in on Bronwynn with the suddenness of a death message. It took much the same toll on her heart They talk about pain! the Imperial House roared. This is painl A strong wind whistled through the subterranean passageways, the only audible evidence of the castle’s screaming in these caverns.
Powershaper! Wake up! the Imperial House pleaded.
Pelmen jerked to awareness. The dream was gone, but not the blue light. He identified it instantly, for he’d heard these three way conversations before. “Of course,” he Whispered aloud. “Jagd has his pyramid with him he rel He wondered momentarily why he’d not heard Jagd using it before then he recalled for the first time the bright blue dreams that had plagued his sleep and understood. Pelmen thrust all thoughts from his mind except those he heard issuing from the bright azure ball behind his eyelids.
“Wait!” Jagd yelped. “Someone is listening!”
“Of course someone is listening!” Flayh bellowed. “There’s a room full of people here!”
“This is someone else!” Jagd said anxiously. He felt a pair of eyes fixed on his back, and longed to turn around to see if one of his cloaks had fallen from its peg.
“I feel it too!” Pezi wailed. “Someone powerful is listening! Ohhb…” he moaned, his head spinning. “I can’t take any more of this…” Pezi reeled, rocked forward, banged his forehead noisily on the table, and passed out beneath it
The link broke immediately, with a flare of light and a loud snap.
Flayh cried out in anguish, then ordered Pezi: “Get up from there, you dolt!” The fat merchant didn’t budge. “You swine! Can’t you manage to do anything right?”
“Of course he can’t,” Tahli-Damen said as he leaped from his chair and swiftly circled behind Flayh to seat himself over Pezi. “He isn’t qualified! Jagd! Jagd!” Tahli-Damen peered into the pyramid as he’d seen the others do. “What are you doing?” Flayh shouted hoarsely.
With a vicious shove, he pushed Tahli-Damen off the seat and onto the floor. Or rather, onto Pezi, who didn’t seem to notice.
“I’m claiming what’s rightfully mine!” Tahli-Damen yelled back, jumping nimbly to his feet “You’ve been so busy manipulating people that you haven’t been keeping up your business! Uda has just this month edged Ognadzu in total Mari sales, so this pyramid is mine!”
Klaph started to suggest that since his house was now dominant in Lamath, he should get one, too. He never got the sentence out.
Suddenly a savage dog leaped out of nowhere for Tahli-Damen’s throat The young man threw up his arm in shock. With a snarl, the dog ripped his sleeve to tatters, taking with it a strip of flesh. The dais emptied immediately, save for Pezi, who smilingly slept on, and Bronwynn, who continued to stare dully into space. Tahli-Damen clubbed the ferocious beast with his free hand and tried to scramble over the table, but the dog caught his leg in its jaws. Tahli-Damen’s purple pants turned the color of his crimson tunic; but despite his wounds, he kicked the beast off and rolled on across the head table, dropping onto the dais floor. He kept on rolling until he dropped off the dais, into the waiting arms of family members who’d rushed past the scattering merchants to his aid.
As quickly as it had appeared, the dog was gone. Flayh stood on the table in its place but this was a different Flayh from the bald Elder these merchants had traded with through the years. The figure who stood astride the two pyramids was awesome. Gone were his blue and lime garments. Gowned in gleaming white, with a red cape flowing from his shoulders, Flayh the power shaper tossed multicolored balls of energy at his enemies as they all plunged wildly for the doors.
“By the dragon!” Klaph swore, using an outdated La-math ian oath.
“He’s become a power shaper Then a ball struck Klaph in the chest, and he raced down the line of emptying tables and grabbed a pitcher of ale to douse the sudden flames.
Tahli-Damen’s cousins bore him rapidly from the hall, ducking the burning missies and shoving other merchants aside. As they passed through the door, Tahli-Damen turned his head to gaze back at Flayh, He watched the power shaper lips move, and saw how a pointed finger could snuff out fires created by a thought mere seconds before. Tahli-Damen was bleeding, but it wasn’t his wounds that concerned him. His heart wanted to pound its way out from between his ribs. Tahii-Damen was terrified.