ruler. The tiles of the field themselves were all flavoured in aspects of Dark, Light and Shadow. The Grand City and Keep tiles were seen as corresponding to Black Coral, although Spinnock Durav knew that the field’s ever-expanding Grand City (there were over fifty tiles for the City alone and a player could make more, if desired) was in fact Kharkanas, the First City of Dark.
But no matter. It was the game that counted.
The lone Tiste Andii in all of the Scour, Spinnock Durav sat with four other players, with a crowd now gathered round to watch this titanic battle which had gone on for five bells. Smoke hung in wreaths just overhead, obscuring the low rafters of the tavern’s main room, blunting the light of the torches and candles. Rough pillars here and there held up the ceiling, constructed from fragments of the old palace and Moon’s Spawn itself, all inexpertly fitted together, some leaning ominously and displaying cracks in the mortar. Spilled ale puddled the uneven flagstones of the floor, where hard-backed salamanders slithered about, drunkenly attempting to mate with people’s feet and needing to be kicked off again and again.
The Seerdomin sat across the table from Spinnock. Two of the other players had succumbed to vassal roles, both now subject to Seerdomin’s opal-crowned queen. The third player’s forces had been backed into one corner of the field, and he was contemplating throwing in his lot with either Seerdomin or Spinnock Durav.
If the former, then Spinnock was in trouble, although by no means finished. He was, after all, a veteran player whose experience spanned nearly twenty thousand years.
Spinnock was large for a Tiste Andii, wide-shouldered and strangely bearish. There was a faint reddish tinge to his long, unbound hair. His eyes were set wide apart on a broad, somewhat flat face, the cheekbones prominent and flaring. The slash that was his’mouth was fixed in a grin, an expression that rarely wavered.
‘Seerdomin,’ he now said, whilst the cornered player prevaricated, besieged by advice from friends crowded behind his chair, ‘you have a singular talent for Kef Tanar.’
The man simply smiled
In the previous round a cast of the knuckles had delivered a Mercenary’s Coin into the Seerdomin’s royal vaults. Spinnock was expecting a flanking foray with the four remaining mercenary figures, either to bring pressure on the third king if he elected to remain independent or threw in his lot with Spinnock, or to drive them deep into Spinnock’s own territory. However, with but a handful of field tiles remaining and the Gate not yet selected, Seerdomin would be wiser to hold hack.
Breaths were held as the third king reached into the pouch to collect a field tile. He drew out his hand closed in a fist, then met Spinnock’s eyes.
Nerves and avarice. ‘Three coins, Tiste, and I’m your vassal.’
Spinnock’s grin hardened, and he shook his head. ‘I don’t buy vassals, Garsten.’
‘Then you will lose.’
‘I doubt Seerdomin will buy your allegiance either.’
‘Come to me now,’ Seerdomin said to the man, ‘and do so on your hands and knees.’
Garsten’s eyes flicked back and forth, gauging which viper was likely to carry the least painful bite. After a moment he snarled under his breath and revealed the tile.
‘Gate!’
‘Delighted to find you sitting on my right,’ Spinnock said.
‘ I retreat through!’
Cowardly, but predictable. This was the only path left to Garsten that allowed him to hold on to the coins in his vault. Spinnock and Seerdomin watched as Garsten marched his pieces from the field.
And then it was Spinnock’s turn. With the Gate in play he could summon the five dragons he had amassed. They sailed high over Seerdomin’s elaborate ground defences, weathering them with but the loss of one from the frantic sorcery of the two High Mages atop the towers of Seerdomin’s High Keep.
The assault struck down two-thirds of Seerdomin’s Inner Court, virtually isolating his queen.
With the ground defences in sudden disarray on the collapse of command, Spinnock advanced a spearhead of his own mercenaries as well as his regiment of Elite Cavalry, neatly bisecting the enemy forces. Both vassals subsequently broke in uprising, each remaining on the field long enough to further savage Seerdomin’s beleaguered forces before retreating through the Gate. By the time the game’s round reached him, Seerdomin had no choice but to reach out one hand and topple his queen.
Voices rose on all sides, as wagers were settled.
Spinnock Durav leaned forward to collect his winnings. ‘Resto! A pitcher of ale for the table here!’
‘You are ever generous with my money,’ Seerdomin said in sour amusement.
‘The secret of generosity, friend.’
‘I appreciate the salve.’
‘1 know.’
As was customary, the other three players, having retreated, could not par-take of any gesture of celebration by the game’s victor. Accordingly, Spinnock and Seerdomin were free to share the pitcher of ale between them, and this seemed a most satisfying conclusion to such a skilfully waged campaign. The crowd had moved off, fragmenting on all sides, and the servers were suddenly busy once more.
‘The problem with us night owls,’ said Seerdomin, hunching down over his flagon. When it seemed he would say no more he added, ‘Not once does a glance to yon smudged pane over there reveal the poppy-kiss of dawn.’
‘Dawn? Ah, to announce night’s closure,’ Spinnock said, nodding. ‘It is a con¬stant source of surprise among us Tiste Andii that so many humans have re¬mained. Such unrelieved darkness is a weight upon your souls, or so I have heard.’
‘If there is no escape, aye, it can twist a mind into madness. But a short ride beyond the north gate, out to the Barrow, and bright day beckons. Same for the fishers sailing Outwater. Without such options, Spinnock, you Andii would indeed be alone in Black Coral. Moon’s Spawn casts a shadow long after its death, or so the poets sing. But I tell you this,’ Seerdomin leaned forward to refill his flagon, ‘I welcome this eternal darkness.’
Spinnock knew as much, for the man seated opposite him carried a sorrow heavier than any shadow, and far darker; and in this he was perhaps more Tiste Andii than human, but for one thing, and it was this one thing that made it easy for Spinnock Durav to call the man friend. Seerdomin, for all his grief, was somehow holding despair back, defying the siege that had long ago defeated the Tiste Andii. A human trait, to be sure. More than a trait, a quality profound in its resilience, a virtue that, although Spinnock could not find it within himself-nor, it was true, among any fellow Tiste Andii-he could draw a kind of sustenance from none the less. At times, he felt like a parasite, so vital had this vicarious feeding become, and he sometimes feared that it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Seerdomin had enough burdens, and Spinnock was determined that his friend should never comprehend the necessity he had become-these games, these nights among the eternal Night, this squalid tavern and the pitchers of cheap, gassy ale.
‘This one has worn me out,’ the man now said, setting down his empty flagon. ‘I thought I had you-aye, I knew the Gate tile was still unplayed. Two tiles to get past you, though, and everything would have been mine.’
There wasn’t much to say to that. Both understood how that single gamble had decided the game. What was unusual was Seerdomin’s uncharacteristic need to explain himself. ‘Get some sleep,’ Spinnock said.
Seerdomin’s smile was wry. He hesitated, as if undecided whether or not to say something, or simply follow Spinnock’s advice and stumble off to his home.
Speak not to me of weakness. Please.
‘I have acquired the habit,’ the man said, squinting as he followed some minor ruckus near the bar, ‘of ascending the ruins. To look out over the Nightwater.
Remebering the old cat-men and their families-aye, It seems they are breed-
ing anew, but of course It will not be the same, not at all the same.’ He fell silent for a moment, then shot Spinnock a quick, uneasy glance. ‘I see your lord.’
The Tiste Andii’s brows lilted. ‘Anomander Rake?’
A nod. ‘First time was a couple of weeks ago. And now… every time, at about the twelfth bell. He stands on the wall of the new keep. And, like me, he stares out to sea.’
‘He favours… solitude,’ Spinnock said.
‘1 am always suspicious of that statement,’ Seerdomin said.
