with them and, indeed, had been sorely tempted for some moments to ditch work. But then he had realised that a lot of the younger clerks would be doing just that. If Lex dutifully turned up to the office on a day when many of the staff were skiving off, it could only make him look good. So he had dragged his feet to the dry old law firm, pasted the usual enthusiastic smile on his face and tried to look like he was enjoying sitting at the reception desk when everyone knew full well that there would be no clients that day. He had sat there and thought longingly of the hustle and bustle of the stadiums, the buttery smell of freshly roasted popcorn, the shouts of bookies and the replies of gamblers…
He had no worries about getting a front-row seat this time, he thought with a surge of triumph. There was to be no mere observing with the other spectators, this time he was to be an actual player himself! As Jezra went on, Lex had to resist the urge to stuff his fist into his mouth so that he wouldn’t shriek with glee.
‘I, Jezra, God of Wit and Daring, and the current Gaming champion, hereby commence this Game between we three deities: the Judge, God of Emptiness, shall be using as his player the prophet known as Alistari.’
Lex glanced at the opposite circle and saw the black-robed prophet standing beside the feared, nameless God known only as the Judge. A tall, imposing figure — he was dressed in grey, golden-edged robes and he wore a golden mask shaped with a human’s features. Of all the Gods, the Judge was the only one who refused to show his true face in the Lands Above. No one knew whether he took the mask off in the Lands Beneath, but one thing they did know was that even the other Gods seemed to be a little afraid of him. It was said that his face must be so hideous, so grotesque, so monstrous, that he didn’t want humans to see it. But in some ways that expressionless golden mask was even more terrifying. The gold lips did not move when the Judge spoke, and there was only the thinnest slit for the eyes to look out of. You couldn’t see them. Not unless you really stared, in which case you might have caught a faint glimpse of… something… behind that mask… But no one wanted to look the Judge in the face too closely for fear of what they might see.
Stood beside the Judge in the circle was a black-robed, black-masked prophet, covered in black from his boots to the ends of his gloves and the hood drawn up over his face. The only parts of him that were visible were the blind whites of his eyes, staring out blankly from behind his mask, and the thin lines of his lips. Prophets always wore a lot of black, possibly because they didn’t like people looking at them when, being blind, they couldn’t look back.
All blind people became prophets eventually, for their lack of sight was compensated by the advanced sense of precognition that allowed them to see where they would be a few seconds from now, almost like a bat sending back echoes to itself. Prophets were also dumb — their tongues were cut out at birth to stop them from blabbing all the secrets they knew about the future. For it is a well-known fact that children are incapable of keeping secrets, and ones like that can do a lot of damage. The prophets were then shipped off to an isolated town in the desert inhabited only by other prophets for it was felt that they belonged with their own kind. Technically there was nothing to stop the prophets from leaving once they grew up, but very few ever did. They disliked the ordinary human population — perhaps it had something to do with the whole cutting-out-the-tongues business. At any rate, they mostly kept themselves to themselves.
At Jezra’s mention of his name, the prophet bowed stiffly. Lex could practically hear the thunderous applause from the stadiums even though the nearest one was many miles away.
‘I, Jezra, God of Wit and Daring, shall be using the farm boy, Lucius Trent,’ Jezra went on.
Lex felt almost sick with envy. Of all the Gods, Jezra was the one that Lex had always admired the most — the one whose church he had been a member of before Lady Luck bribed him into hers. Jezra was the God of Wit and Adventure and Daring and Recklessness and yet he had chosen Lucius — Lucius — Lex’s vapid, spineless, gutless, wet, perpetually placid brother as his playing piece! Why? Why, why, why?
At the mention of his name, Lucius glanced up from his kneeling position, saw his own frightened image staring back at him from the crystal ball and hurriedly ducked his head once again to stare in petrified fear at the floor. No thunderous applause for him, Lex thought with a gleam of satisfaction. Spectators could spot a loser a mile away.
‘And Lady Luck, Goddess of Fortune shall be using the thief, Lex Trent.’
Lex leapt to his feet and bowed with a flourish. He had the look of a winner, he thought with satisfaction when he straightened up and saw his image inside the crystal ball. All right, he was small and a bit on the thin side, but he was determined — surely anyone could see that just by looking at his face! He was probably the favourite to win already! He dropped back down on to one knee as Jezra continued, ‘The first round of the Game, then, shall be Sky Castles.’ He glanced round at the players and added with rather a smirk, ‘Players be aware that there are no rules and that we will do all we can to prevent you from reaching your goal. Your lives may depend on how capable your Gods and Goddesses are.’
Lex glanced doubtfully at his own dim-witted Goddess. Would flighty, unreliable Luck really be able to triumph over Jezra’s sharp intellect or the Judge’s cold determination? You’d have to be very lucky indeed to triumph against such opponents. But Lex had always been lucky, even before the Lady came along. And, more than that, he was a winner. He didn’t play games to come second place. In fact, the words ‘second place’ didn’t even register with Lex’s inner vocabulary. Why play a game if you didn’t fully intend to win it?
‘The round commences at sunrise tomorrow,’ Jezra said.
And with that the crystal ball in the centre went blank, and the announcement was concluded. The Judge disappeared from the tower without a word, taking his prophet with him. Lex and Lady Luck were left alone with Jezra and Lucius.
‘Well, well, well,’ Jezra said, eyeing Lex up and down. ‘If it isn’t the famous thief himself.’
‘It is an honour and a privilege, my Lord,’ Lex replied, bowing deeply.
‘You seem to bear more than a passing resemblance to my own insipid player,’ the God of Wit remarked with a slight sneer in Lucius’s direction.
‘Only on the outside, my Lord Jezra, I assure you,’ Lex said quickly.
‘You really should have seen it coming, Jezra,’ the Goddess of Luck smirked. ‘Now you’ve gone and crippled yourself from the start.’
‘I am familiar with your work, Mr Trent,’ Jezra said, ignoring her. ‘I am, in fact, something of an admirer of yours and I’m aware that you were once a follower of mine. It will therefore give me no pleasure to destroy you in the course of the Game. But I do not intend to relinquish my place as Master Gamesman simply because I have been lumbered with this incompetent country hick.’
He slapped his hand across the back of Lucius’s head carelessly as he spoke and Lex saw, to his immense satisfaction, the expression on his twin’s face become even more resignedly miserable.
‘Until tomorrow then, my Lady,’ Jezra said, nodding at Lex’s benefactress.
She returned the pleasantry and the two deities disappeared from the castle, depositing their players outside in the snow at ground level once again.
‘All right, how did you do it?’ Lex asked irritably. ‘How the hell did you get Jezra to pick you?’
‘This is your fault, Lex, you idiot! Your Goddess tricked him! Jezra thought I was you! That’s why he picked me!’
‘Seriously?’ Lex asked, feeling pleasantly flattered. ‘Oh. Well that’s all right then. For a minute there I thought I might have horribly underestimated you all these years. But where are my manners? Monty, this is my dear brother, Lucius. He was born two minutes before me and therefore believes himself to be superior in every way. And Lucius, this is my employer, Montgomery Schmidt, one of the few people in the Wither City who I never actually cheated or stole anything from, but he only seems to hate me all the more for that.’
Lucius winced at Lex’s words but he politely held out his hand anyway. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr Schmidt,’ he said.
Lex pulled a face inside his head. Wet! It really was the only word. Schmidt hesitated a moment before shaking hands with Lucius, perhaps instinctively wary of anyone who bore such a close blood tie to someone as reprehensible as Lex Trent.
‘I’m so sorry for any displeasure or expense my brother might have caused you, sir-’
‘Don’t apologise for me!’ Lex snapped.
By the minute he was remembering more and more things he disliked about his brother. He took a breath to reassert his control. How irritating these little lapses were. He smiled brightly.
‘You’re being extremely rude, Lucius. Have you not noticed how cold it is out here?’
‘Of course I have. It’s Mahara’s sun.’
