“And if you lose?”
“Then I can answer your questions on the other side of the gate.”
Brandt growled at that.
Regar laughed. “Sorry, Brandt. But it’s easier this way. Trust me that you have nothing to fear tonight. Sleep well, and enjoy your wife’s company.”
Regar turned away, leaving Brandt standing alone and uncertain. He shook his head, then found Ana.
In time, Weylen introduced him and Ana to their host family, and as the sun set Brandt found himself a guest of the very people he once fought against, being treated to a savory meal. Fish from a nearby stream made up the heart of the meal, but they also enjoyed fresh bread and carrots. After so many days traveling, the meal was a feast.
Their hosts were kind, but their kindness didn’t make the meal feel any less awkward. Neither Brandt nor Ana spoke Falari, and their host family didn’t speak imperial. There were smiles all around, but the meal was eaten in silence.
After the meal, the family ushered them into a room filled with cushions. They poured drinks into tiny cups. Brandt accepted, then sniffed at the clear beverage. The aroma stung his nostrils. He must have made a face, because his hosts laughed at him. The father threw the entire drink down his throat at once and smiled, gesturing for them to do the same.
Brandt and Ana glanced at one another. Ana shrugged, smiled, and threw her drink back.
She coughed, and his hosts laughed harder. The laughter wasn’t unkind. The father poured Ana another drink.
Brandt frowned, then followed suit.
The drink burned all the way down his throat. He coughed hard, not nearly prepared for the strength of the drink.
Ana joined in the laughter, and Brandt soon lost track of the night.
After a few of the drinks he couldn’t find it in him to worry. Their hosts played music on stringed instruments and the moon rose overhead.
That night Ana guided him to bed. Their lips met, and between the drink and the abstinence of the road, Brandt’s inhibitions disappeared. She pushed him down onto the bed, and the rest of his memories dissolved into a pleasurable blur.
Nightmares woke him, and a splitting headache prevented him from returning to sleep. He watched the sun rise over the mountains, the sight almost making his suffering worth it.
Ana woke up much later. She grimaced as she did. She sat up and held her head in her hands, the covers slipping from her, reminding Brandt of the previous night. A groan escaped her lips. “Who hit me?”
Brandt grinned and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you would have noticed if someone did last night.”
She punched him lightly in the leg. “You’ve been up for a while?”
“Yeah.”
“Nightmares?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
He massaged her scalp, hoping it would do some good. As he did, he brought up the subject that had troubled him throughout the morning. “Do you ever feel useless?”
“Not often. Do you?”
Brandt nodded. “First it was with the emperor with the gates and the queen. Now it’s Regar. He planned all of this, but he’s not saying anything. Which means there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
“This was always his task, Brandt. The emperor made that clear. We’re here to keep him as safe as we can. And now it’s clear we had no reason to worry about him meeting with the Falari again.”
“We should be doing more.”
“No, we shouldn’t. We should be supporting Regar, in whatever way we can. You don’t always have to be the hero.”
“I—” Brandt stopped. He was no hero. He just believed in doing all he could.
Just then, a wave of nausea passed over him. His whole world twisted for a moment, bending and expanding. He held his head in his hands, waiting for the spell to pass. This was no hangover, but something far worse.
“Brandt?” He could hear the worry in Ana’s voice.
“Something’s happening to Alena.”
After a few long moments, the sensation passed. Brandt took a deep breath, then cursed. If he wanted to know what happened, he’d have to soulwalk again.
He could tell that she was still alive, though, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind. They had more important problems right in front of them. Regar had only promised them safety until today.
They met with their host family to break their fast, enduring the knowing smiles of the family, then joined a growing crowd near the center of the village. A table had been set there. Three wooden boards rested upon it, as well as two containers of stones, one painted black, the other white.
“The boards,” he whispered to himself.
Before long, Regar came into the square and seated himself at the table. Weylen came and sat across from him. Each man raised a fist to their heart and the game began.
The rules of the game were beyond Brandt. Each player, with Regar starting, took turns playing a single stone on the board. There did seem to be exceptions where one player could place two stones, but Brandt didn’t understand. Stones could also be moved and captured. The game was played simultaneously on all three boards, and it seemed as though each board played by slightly different rules.
The crowd around the table grew closer as the game went on. Parents whispered to their children, pointing to moves each player made.
After some time, Brandt stopped trying to understand the game. The rules didn’t seem too complex, but there were just enough exceptions he couldn’t piece everything together. Instead, he watched the crowd.
The Falari were some of the greatest warriors he’d ever seen. Though he understood little, he did know that much of their society was bent toward warfare.
But it was easy to forget that even a society devoted to warfare would be a complex affair. Brandt didn’t think of families, food, and entertainment when he thought of the Falari. But they possessed all this and more.
Brandt hoped he made it
