The End of the Game (14 page)

Answer. I don’t know. But wouldn’t I like to have known!

Truth. I didn’t. The Demon shrugged, gestured, and they sent me away again. About noon they were back. Did I think the flitchhawk that had delivered me to Xammer was in any way connected with hawk as in Daggerhawk Demesne?

This surprised me. I had not really thought of this connection, but when one stopped to consider the matter, it was curious. Curious, I mean, that Daggerhawk should be so near to Chimmerdong Forest. Curious that a particularly giant flitchhawk seemed to frequent that forest. Curious that the Demesne seemed to find some special significance in the killing of a hawk. I mentioned these curiosities to Queen Vorbold and the Demon, and they looked at me in a bad- tempered way. Obviously they wanted answers, and all I was giving them were enigmatic suggestions. They couldn’t be angry with me, however, for I was trying to be helpful, and the Demon knew it.

They sent me away again. Two days later they found a woman’s body out in the fields east of Xammer. The face was mauled and unrecognizable. There were Basilisk bites on her arms and hands. The body was presumed to be that of Dedrina-Lucir. From the School tower, I saw the Pursuivant riding away west. He would have no good news for those at Daggerhawk Demesne. I wondered if Murzy would have any news for me.

I think she did.

But she refused to tell me anything about that.

Actually, she refused at first, but then she and Cat and Margaret got into an argument in the kitchen that I overheard. Murzy was saying something about “trust” and “complete confidence”, and Cat was being firm as any Gamesmistress about “the rules’ and “the covenants”.

I was sitting with a book in my lap when they came back, and Murzy told me, with some consternation and head shaking, that there was certain information vital to me. That I might have it if I were truly a member of a seven. That I was not yet really a member of a seven. That there were certain oaths, certain vows, certain initiatory rites ...

“By Trandilar the Glorious,” I said, peevish enough already over the whole thing, “stop this muggling and mubbling and tell me what you want to tell me!”

“You’ll have to take an oath of celibacy, Jinian,” said Margaret in her usual calm voice. “Murzy’s worried about that.”

“Well, I should think so.” I thought it over. While it wouldn’t be a problem just now, the thought of the boy in Schooltown still turned my insides soft, and while he certainly was some years from being concerned with my virginity, still ... “Forever?” I asked, my voice wavering a little.

“Three years,” said Cat. “From the time of the oath taking. And it’s not a vow can be broken.”

“It seems a little silly,” I said. “Mother always said it was much fuss over nothing.”

“That’s not the point,” snapped Cat, annoyed. “The point is that for three years from oath taking the maximum possible time and attention needs to be on the art. There is simply no time for lolgagging.”

“And you won’t tell me until ... unless ...”

“We can’t,” said Cat. “It would be dangerous for us.”

That was their final word on that.

Three years. I would be eighteen. I couldn’t really imagine wanting to ... needing to ... before I was eighteen. So, I thought about it for a day or two, then told them I’d do whatever needed to be done. At which Murzy sighed deeply, and they all went into Tess’s bedroom (she wasn’t really able to be up much anymore) and got into one of their six-way conversations with me on the outside.

The first thing that needed to be done was get me out of Xammer for ten days.

It wasn’t easy, especially not right after the Dedrina-Lucir affair, which was still boiling. Daggerhawk had threatened to declare Game against Vorbold’s House. Vorbold’s House had replied very stiffly through the Referees. Schools were simply not Gameable, and everyone knew it. Fines could be assessed on behalf of Schools, however, and that’s what Vorbold’s had requested—a fine against Daggerhawk for sending someone to School under false pretenses. According to Cat, if the Referees did their usual concentrated job of consideration, no decision would be offered for several years.

The fact that a student had lately disappeared and a body had been found was of immediate concern. All the security around the place was doubled up, and it became impossible to get in or out without six people asking for your pass or your reasons. Finally, after we’d tried several other things, Murzy gave me some fever-leaf, and I retired to my bed.

The Healer came, of course, and fixed me up. The next day I was in bed again. And the Healer came again. The third time, Queen Vorbold herself came to visit the invalid, considerably annoyed. She was beginning to suspect, I think, that Jinian of Dragon’s Fire was more trouble than she was worth.

“Well, Jinian,” she said. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“I think it’s Breem fever, Gameswoman,” I said. “If you will let old Murzy come nurse me for a few days, I’m sure it will pass.”

“We don’t allow outsiders in the School, girl. As you well know. Which is why we have three times sent the School Healer to you. Little good has it done.”

I shook my head sadly. “I’ll be glad to go down to town, ma’am. I’m sure it will pass, given a little time. And at far less expense to the School than these constant Healer visits.”

“No doubt,” she said dryly. The Healer came yet again, but, when I still had the fever the following day, I got a pass to go down to Murzy’s place “until sufficiently recovered to engage in normal student activities”. Murzy shook her head over me and said it looked like Breem Hills fever, which was endemic in our part of the world. She said she thought I would be fully recovered in about ten days, and the School servants who brought me accepted this. As soon as they were out of sight, we started packing for a journey. Murzy, Cat, and Margaret were going with me. Sarah, Tess, and Bets Battereye were staying behind, partly to cover for me and partly because Tess couldn’t travel. She was becoming very feeble, and I’d heard Sarah saying that we might be seeking another seventh soon. I didn’t like to hear that. Tess Tinder-my-hand had given me the star-eye, and fed me cookies, had told me many fascinating and wonderful things. I went to the kitchen and cried about it for a while, then put it out of my mind as I lay in the bottom of the wagon with the other three as Bets and Sarah drove it out of Xammer, across the bridge to the south, and then away southeast. After a time, they let us out and returned to Xammer.

We proceeded on foot, down the south fork of the Gaywater, which emerged from the walls of a narrow canyon that we soon entered. There was a good path, though not wide enough for two of us to walk abreast. Other paths fed into it, paths coming down from the heights and from little, windy side canyons. Cautioned by Murzy, I did not say anything when the first fellow-traveler came down the path and joined our procession. Silence was the rule on the canyon walk. Others came, from time to time. When it grew dark, we lighted lanterns, and the others who came down the paths carried them also. Looking ahead, one could see a procession of fireflies winding along the canyon, the lights reflected in the still waters of the river, which lay utterly quiet between the rocky walls.

Just as I was beginning to feel both terribly hungry and thirsty, I saw the fireflies disappearing into the rock wall ahead. When we came to the place, it loomed open, a great mouth in the side of the wall, carved around with vine leaves and grain and starshapes, birds and beasts and little moons. At the top of the door was a pair of lips, a long, carved dagger thrust through them to shut them. I took this sign as was intended, as a warning.

We went in. To our left a hooded woman was busy taking small sacks of grain from the travelers. We each carried one, which we turned over to her without a word. Next was a stop at a rack where robes and hoods hung in long, dark array, arranged from long to short. We put these on over our clothes. While the hoods didn’t hide our faces, they did shadow them, and I had the feeling no one was supposed to pay much attention to faces while we were here. I wanted to ask. I didn’t.

Finally there was a journey down a long corridor lined with doors. All of them were open that we passed. When we came to the first one shut, we turned back and took the next two, closing the doors to the corridor and opening the one between after bolting the connecting doors on each side.

“Now,” said Murzy, “if you’re starving, I’ve brought some fruit, which is allowed. Other than that, you’ll get only the porridge they serve morning and night.”

I was starving. I took my fruit and lay down on one of the cots, wondering what was coming next and not certain I should ask. Murzy, meantime, was at the door looking at a printed sheet posted there, one I had not even noticed.

“All right,” she said, “anyone have anything on the Eesties? Shadow tower? Storm Grower? The questionable alliances? Daylight Bell? That’s you, Jinian. Room four oh five, second bell in the morning. Ah. Let’s see. Chimmerdong, Chimmerdong. Nothing. It will be under Miscellaneous Topics, I guess. Cat, you and Margaret go to two oh three at the third bell tomorrow. I’ll be in initiation application all morning. Fourth bell, we can all gather here.”

“What do you mean, “That’s you, Jinian”?” I complained. “What’s me?”

“The topics under investigation as part of the wize-art are posted here.” She pointed to the list. “New ones are added from time to time, and old ones removed. Each day, there will be someone—sometimes one of them—at a particular time, in a particular room. Anyone with new information is asked to come there and give information. That’s all.”

“So how come I’m Daylight Bell? How come I’m not Chimmerdong?”

“Well, you could be either. We’re going to be here for several days, and the Auditor who hears you tomorrow may ask you to speak to someone else about Chimmerdong later on. Cat and Margaret have some other information about Chimmerdong gleaned from ... ah, someone we knew. So. You go along and tell whomever about acting out Little Star and the Daylight Bell and about the giant flitchhawk. That’ll be new to them. One interview may lead to another. Then, there are some reports on new things that have been discovered—listed here under State of the Art. There are one or two of those that might be interesting. We may not need to stay longer than a day or two, or we might be here for eight or nine. I’ve never had to be here longer than that, not even going to every lecture I could sit through.”

“And that’s all?” I said, unbelieving. “That’s all there is to it?”

Cat snorted, Margaret made a shushing noise, and Murzy stared them both down. “Now. It’s the first time for the chile. You may have forgotten how you both reacted, but I haven’t.” Margaret flushed a little, smiled, and turned away to hide her face. “No, I haven’t forgotten about you, either, Cat Candleshy, though it was twenty years ago, almost. You just relax, Jinian. We’ll get some sleep, now, and at the second bell tomorrow, I’ll show you how to find the room ...”

Late as it was, and tired as we all were, I forgot to ask about “them”. I was, therefore, utterly unprepared to meet one of “them” in the morning.

12

The first bell rang in pitch darkness. Of course it did, we were underground. I heard Margaret stumble out of bed, saw the hall door open and light coming in. She brought back a spill to light the lanterns, and we dressed by lantern light before going on to the privies and wash places, all of which were very clean and steamy and crowded with women and quiet. Oh, there was noise. Shuffle and splash and a voice saying, “Excuse me.” That was about it. Then down to a vast, cavernous refectory, where we shuffled in a long line to get our porridge bowls, then in another long line to leave them off again. After which Cat showed me where the stairs were, and how the rooms were arranged, and whispered to me to wait outside room 405 until the bell rang, then go in.

“There may be some other people there as well,” she said. “In that case, you’ll all go in at once. The person or persons inside will tell you to wait, or sit down and listen, as they choose.”

I did as directed, all by lantern light, beginning to feel more and more like some burrowing, night-living creature, like some gobblemole, perhaps. The bell rang, and I went in.

There was a top spinning in the room. Humming. Quietly twirling. Silver. I backed against the door and waited, wondering what to do next. Gradually it slowed, slowed, and I saw it was a person. Long silver fringes covered it from the edge of its wide hat to its toes. I could not see its face. I knew what it was, of course. No one who had received a first in Index could not have known. It was a Dervish.

I have heard many strange things about Dervishes.

Oh, they say things about Wizards, too. “Strange are the Talents of Wizards.” Mostly that’s a joke Wize-ards made up among themselves. Whenever we do something egregiously wrong, or silly, we say, “Well, strange are the Talents of Wizards!” and everyone laughs. But the things they say about Dervishes are not merely jokes of the trade, so to speak. When people speak of Dervishes—even when Gamesmen speak of Dervishes—it is with awe and mystery. They have the Talents of the Flesh, Shapeshifting, and Power Holding. I have read, also, that some of them have Seeing the Future, though that is not in any Index. So they are said to do strange things to others. To change others, perhaps.

They are, in short, frightening. When I realized I was alone in a room with one, I wanted to wet my pants.

However, I took a deep breath, reminded myself that Murzy would do nothing dangerous for me, and bowed. That seemed prudent, under the circumstances.

“You may sit down,” said the Dervish in an absolutely toneless voice. “Over there.”

Over there was a hard bench. The Dervish did not sit down; merely stood concealed in its fringes, like a silver column. “You have something to tell about the Daylight Bell.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “You may begin.”

So I told about going into Chimmerdong, about the edge of the forest turning to mush, about the flower in the sun, the cone in the brook, the bed that moved, and finally about the bunwit and tree rat who took me into the great tree. Then I told the Dervish about the story, the way we had played it out, the flitchhawk and I. And then I sat very quietly, waiting, because the Dervish didn’t move, didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure it was breathing, even.