“My Lady, as you say. I am flat of purse.”
Ligne looked at the painted fool and smiled scornfully. “You see the kind of stakes I play for? We might as well wager handfuls of dirt!”
“Ah, yes.” Fallomar sighed. “There’s a price to be paid for owning everything. Of course, that means you can always afford it ”
Ligne stood and brushed past him, toward the double doors of the game room. “It’s boring, playing for nothing! What I want is a real game, with real wagers! Fortune riding on every move!”
Hear hear! cried the House in absolute agreement Ligne cocked her head, and looked at the door frame. “Did you hear this thing crack?”
“This castle is full of curious noises lately,” the maid observed, clearing the reference plank of pegs.
“It’s a very old House,” Kherda snorted, looking at the ceiling. “Looks as if it could all fall in any minute!” The castle said nothing. But it had heard. “Pity it doesn’t fall on you, Kherda,” Ligne said. She couldn’t know the House was contemplating such at that very moment.
“Don’t you agree, clown?
“If it crushes Kherda, I hope it’ll crush me as well.” Ligne looked at him. “Why would you hope that?”
“Why, if he were gone, you might make me your Prime Minister, and any fate is better than that.” It was a skillful remark, one designed to chop either way. Ligne took it as more abuse for Kherda, and threw back her head to laugh aloud. The Prime Minister, however, caught the fool’s wink, and just for an instant remembered how to smile. He was coming to like this clown.
Ligne slapped her hands together. “Very well. Kherda, you may go bury your nose in your bureaucratic burrow. I have my clown back!” Kherda left the room quickly as Ligne walked over to seat herself at the board again. “Well, fool, what will you wager on a game of Drax?”
“Only my antics. They’re all I own.”
“Then plant your antics in that seat and let’s begin,” the Queen commanded.
Pelmen’s mind raced. He was gauging the quickest way to lose.
“You want me to play what?” Carlad asked incredulously.
“just give it a try,” Danyilyn coaxed him in candy-coated tones. “You don’t know, you might find you like it.”
“But do I have to put that white stuff on my face? No. No, not for me. My sergeant would take one look at that and ”
“He’ll never see it.” Danyilyn smiled. “Come on, try it. It’s a large part…”
“It is?”
“One of the most critical roles,” Gerrig broke in.
“Well… all right,” Carlad grumbled, but he was smiling as Danyilyn started coating his face. “You know, I’d kinda like my wife to see this…”
Yona Parmi and Rosha had drifted toward the door of the room, and now Parmi whispered, “The clown has informed me of who you are, Rosha, and your connection with him.”
“Oh?” Rosha responded guardedly.
“Your secret is safe. I wish I felt the fool himself was.”
Rosha studied Yona’s face. “I’ve heard them call you Yona. Are you the Yona Parmi who’s travelled with this fool all over Chaomonous?”
“I am. Unfortunately, he’s not allowed me to help him as much as he has your father. I suppose he hasn’t needed help… But I have a sinking feeling that this business is too large for him to handle alone.”
“He’s not alone,” Rosha said flatly, his eyes on Carlad. The guard was laughing now as Danyilyn read him his lines.
“You mean the Power, of course.” Yona nodded.
“You know the Power?” Rosha asked him, shifting his dark eyes to Yona’s face.
“I know of the Power, only.”
“So far,” Rosha grunted, and Yona smiled.
The door clacked open, and Maythorm popped his handsome head inside. He was grinning. “There you all are.” He glanced around the room. “But where’s Pelmen?”
Yona stiffened in shock. “Where’s who?” he asked quietly, glancing at Carlad to be sure the guard hadn’t heard.
“You thought I wouldn’t catch on, didn’t you.” Maythorm smirked. “Who were you trying to deceive? Me?” Maythorm showed them his dimples.
“Surely not the Lord of Entertainments! I’m the one who discovered you, Parmi, in the days when your Pelmen was but a pitiful, penny less playwright with verses to flog.” Maythorm sneered. “You may fool Ligne, and you may fool Joss, but you’ll not fool the premiere critic of Chaomonous with your little masquerade!”
Yona had caught Danyilyn’s eye and jerked a thumb at Carlad, and the actress quickly picked up the cue, hiding her anxiety as she walked the grinning guard to the far side of the room. Now Yona turned back to face the arrogant court ling “What do you want from us?” he growled.
“From you? Why, nothing, little Parmi. What I crave is the head of your pompous Pelmen! Oh, I don’t know how he did it his special effects were excellent! But he’ll pay for that particular performance!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Parmi rasped, his round body trembling with rage.
“Oh, I think you do.” Maythorm grinned. He nodded toward Carlad. “Be glad you’ve found another clown. After I meet with General Joss, you’re going to need him!” The Lord of Entertainments swept his cloak aside and left the room.
Parmi whipped around to Rosha. “Do you think we could ” He stopped.
Rosha was gone.
Maythorm swept past the closed door of the game room and around a corner. That was as far as he got. Rosha clubbed him once in the gut, twice in the face, and a final time across the back of his neck. A crackling of bone assured him Maythorm would say no more. He caught the man as he fell and lowered him to the floor, then glanced around for a place to hide the body.
His eyes met those of a startled slave, who stood five feet behind him, leaning on his broom. Rosha gazed up at him a moment, slack jawed, the blood draining from his face. His muscles tensed, and he prepared to spring.
“Was it your wife or your sister?” the slave whispered. “What?” Rosha asked.
“No matter. I’ll sweep up the remains.” The slave swiftly leaned his broom against the wall and stooped to grasp Maythorm’s body under the arms. Then he glanced up. “Well, get on!” he snapped. “You waiting for someone to give you a kiss?”
Rosha blinked, then slipped around the corner and back into the throne room. A quick glance around relieved him. Carlad was still busily engaged in learning his lines.
Yona Parmi drifted around in front of him, anxiety etched in his face.
Rosha sighed. “Relax, Yona Parmi. He’s made his last speech.”
It didn’t take long for Pelmen to lose the first game nor for the House to begin abusing him for it.
Stupid move! Stupid move! jangled the bells on the wall.
“Ignore those silly bells,” Ligne instructed. “Just play.” That was easier said than done. The castle’s comments were starting to effect his concentration. While Drax was a rough game frequently associated with fistfights and murders, there were some things one simply didn’t do. One of these was to mock a player at the board.
Insipid, pasty-faced actor! Too proud to accept expert advice when it’s offered you!
Pelmen shifted in his seat as the bells clanged on. Finally he clamped his hands over his ears. “They’re a nuisance, to be sure,” he admitted to Ligne.
“What difference does it make?” She shrugged. “You’re going to lose anyway. Move.”
Why not sweep your cube, the Imperial House suggested sarcastically, and slit your own throat? Pelmen smiled to himself, and did just that.
And you did! Oh! Fool! You’ve lost it now, though doubtless you’re too dense to know it!
“Got you!” Ligne crowed, as she slammed her disc into Fallomar’s sole remaining piece, sending it flying off the table. That was another of those things one didn’t do at Drax, but Ligne had already demonstrated that she had little concern for manners.