The Player of Games

concerned, annoying self, but it too hadn't spotted anything, and still inquired how he thought the game was going. He lied. The Limiting Factor thought things were building up to a head. He didn't bother to tell it. He'd expected more of the ship, though.

He ate alone, mind blank. He spent the evening swimming in a pool deep inside the castle, carved out of the rock spur the fortress had been built upon. He was alone; everybody else had gone to the castle towers and the higher battlements, or had taken to aircars, watching the distant glow in the sky to the west, where the Incandescence had begun.

Gurgeh swam until he felt tired, then dried, dressed in trous, shirt and a light jacket, and went for a walk round the castle's curtain wall.

The night was dark under a covering of cloud; the great cinderbuds, higher than the outer walls, closed off the distant light of the approaching Incandescence. Imperial guards were out, ensuring that nobody started the fire early; Gurgeh had to prove to them he wasn't carrying anything which could produce a spark or flame before they would let him out of the castle, where shutters were being readied and the walkways were damp from tests of the sprinkler systems.

The cinderbuds creaked and rustled in the windless gloom, exposing new, tinder-dry surfaces to the rich air, bark-layers unpeeling from the great bulbs of flammable liquid that hung beneath their topmost branches. The night air was saturated by the heady stench of their sap.

A hushed feeling layover the ancient fortress; a religious mood of awed anticipation which even Gurgeh would experience as a tangible change in the place. The swooshings of returning aircars, coming in over a damped-down swathe of forest to the castle, reminded Gurgeh that everybody was supposed to be in the castle by midnight, and he went back slowly, drinking in the atmosphere of still expectation like something precious that could not last for long, or perhaps ever be again.

Still, he wasn't tired; the pleasant fatigue from his swim had become just a sort of background tingle in his body, and so when he climbed the stairs to the level of his room, he didn't stop, but kept going up, even as the horn sounded to announce midnight.

Gurgeh came out at last on to a high battlement beneath a stubby tower. The circular walkway was damp and dark. He looked to the west, where a dim, fuzzy red glow lit up the edge of the sky. The Incandescence was still far away, below the horizon, its glare reflecting off the overcast like some livid artificial sunset. Despite that light, Gurgeh was conscious of the depth and stillness of the night as it settled round the castle, quieting it. He found a door in the tower and climbed to its machicolated summit. He leant on the stonework and looked out into the north, where the low hills lay. He listened to the dripping of a leaking sprinkler somewhere beneath him, and the barely audible rustlings of the cinderbuds as they prepared for their own destruction. The hills were quite invisible; he gave up trying to make them out and turned again to that barely-curved band of dark red in the west.

A horn sounded somewhere in the castle, then another and another. There were other noises too; distant shouting and running footsteps, as though the castle was waking up again. He wondered what was going on. He pulled the thin jacket closed, suddenly feeling the coolness of the night, as a light easterly breeze started up.

The sadness he'd felt during the day had not fully left him; rather it had sunk in, become something less obvious but more integral. How beautiful that game had been; how much he had enjoyed it, exulted in it… but only by trying to bring about its cessation, only by ensuring that that joy would be short-lived. He wondered if Nicosar had realised yet; he must have had a suspicion, at least. He sat down on a small stone bench.

Gurgeh realised suddenly that he would miss Nicosar. He felt closer to the Emperor, in some ways, than he had ever felt to anybody; that game had been a deep intimacy, a sharing of experience and sensation Gurgeh doubted any other relationship could match.

He sighed, eventually, got up from the bench and went to the parapet again, looking down to the paved walk at the foot of the tower. There were two imperial guards standing there, dimly visible by the light spilling from the tower's open door. Their pale faces were tipped up, looking at him. He wasn't sure whether to wave or not. One of them lifted his arm; a bright light shone up at Gurgeh, who shielded his eyes. A third, smaller, darker figure Gurgeh hadn't noticed before moved towards the tower and entered it through the lit doorway. The torch beam switched off. The two guards took up positions on either side of the tower door.

Steps sounded within the tower. Gurgeh sat on the stone bench again and waited.

'Morat Gurgeh, good evening.' It was Nicosar; the dark, slightly stooped figure of the Emperor of Azad climbed up out of the tower.

'Your Highness—'

'Sit down, Gurgeh,' the quiet voice said. Nicosar joined Gurgeh on the bench, his face like an indistinct white moon in front of him, lit only by the faint glow from the tower's stairwell. Gurgeh wondered if Nicosar could see him at all. The moon-face turned away from him, looking towards the horizon-wide smudge of carmine. 'There has been an attempt on my life, Gurgeh,' the Emperor said quietly.

'An…' Gurgeh began, appalled. 'Are you all right, Your Highness?'

The moon-face swung back. 'I am unharmed.' The apex held up one hand. 'Please; no 'Your Highness' now. We're alone; there is no breach of protocol. I wanted to explain to you personally why the castle is under martial law. The Imperial Guard have taken over all commands. I do not anticipate another attack, but one must take care.'

'But who would do this? Who would attack you?'

Nicosar looked to the north and the unseen hills. 'We believe the culprits may have tried to escape along the viaduct to the reservoir lakes, so I've sent some guards there too.' He turned slowly back to the man, and his voice was soft. 'That's an interesting situation you've got me in, Morat Gurgeh.'

'I…' Gurgeh sighed, looked at his feet. '… yes.' He glanced at the circle of white face in front of him. 'I'm sorry; I mean that it's… almost over.' He heard his voice drop, and could not bear to look at Nicosar.

'Well,' the Emperor said quietly, 'we shall see. I may have a surprise for you in the morning.'

Gurgeh was startled. The hazily pale face in front of him was too vague for the expression to be read, but could Nicosar be serious? Surely the apex could see his position was hopeless; had he seen something Gurgeh hadn't? At once he started to worry. Had he been too certain? Nobody else had noticed anything, not even the ship; what if he was wrong? He wanted to see the board again, but even the imperfectly detailed image of it he still carried in his mind was accurate enough to show how their respective fortunes stood; Nicosar's defeat was implicit, but certain. He was sure there was no way out for the Emperor; the game must be over.

'Tell me something, Gurgeh,' Nicosar said evenly. The white circle faced him again. 'How long were you really learning the game for?'

'We told you the truth; two years. Intensively, but—'

'Don't lie to me, Gurgeh. There's no point any more.'

'Nicosar; I wouldn't lie to you.'

The moon-face shook slowly. 'Whatever you want.' The Emperor was silent for a few moments. 'You must be very proud of your Culture.'

He pronounced the last word with a distaste Gurgeh might have found comical if it hadn't been so obviously sincere.

'Pride?' he said. 'I don't know. I didn't make it; I just happened to be born into it, I—'

'Don't be simple, Gurgeh. I mean the pride of being part of something. The pride of representing your people. Are you going to tell me you don't feel that?'

'I… some, perhaps yes… but I'm not here as a champion, Nicosar. I'm not representing anything except myself. I'm here to play the game, that's all.'

'That's all,' Nicosar repeated quietly. 'Well, I suppose we must say that you've played it well.' Gurgeh wished he could see the apex's face. Had his voice quivered? Was that a tremor in his voice?

'Thank you. But half the credit for this game is yours… more than half, because you set—'

'I don't want your praise!' Nicosar lashed out with one hand, striking Gurgeh across the mouth. The heavy rings raked the man's cheek and lips.

Gurgeh rocked back, stunned, dizzy with shock. Nicosar jumped up and went to the parapet, hands like claws on the dark stone. Gurgeh touched his blooded face. His hand was trembling.

'You disgust me, Morat Gurgeh,' Nicosar said to the red glow in the west. 'Your blind, insipid morality can't