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CHAPTER TWO

A Game of Fiedchese

As Neil sank through the emerald waters, he heard the draugs begin to sing. It was a far-off song with no words, but he could still hear the bitter loneliness of it, the avarice. They sang from Breu-nt-Toine, the land beneath waves, where the only things of light and love were those that sank there to be devoured.

Now they sang of Neil MeqVren and his coming.

Neil beat against his slow fall, kicking with his legs and rowing up with his arms, but his armor took him down like an anchor, and he had little experience with swimming anyway, having grown up around seas far too frigid for such exercise. He couldn't even tell which direction was up anymore, so mirk was the water. He reached for the catches of his armor, knowing he would never get it off in time, wondering why he hadn't thought of it earlier.

He held on to his last breath, but it was gone, turning black inside him. The sea wanted in, and the sea could never be long denied.

You have me, foam-father, he thought. I have always been yours. But there is more I need to do here.

Yet Lier did not answer, and the dirge of the draugs grew nearer, until they were all around him. Still, he could see nothing of their cold eyes and shark's teeth through the lightless depths.

A Game of Fiedchese

His lungs opened and the sea rushed in. At first it hurt, like nothing he had ever felt, but the pain was brief, and he felt a peace settle. He had failed the queen for the last time.

He was done.

His fingers had gone numb, and he could no longer feel the fastenings of his armor, but strangely, it felt as if it were falling away, as if someone else were taking it off for him, and a pale light rose around him. He felt himself settle upon a surface as soft as a down mattress, but as cold as winter breakers. Fingers traced across his bare back and down his arm, and though they had no more warmth than the sea, he knew the touch.

'Fastia,' he groaned, and found it strange that he could speak when he was full of water.

'You have forgotten me,' she whispered. It was her voice, but brittle and somehow distant, though she spoke in his ear.

'I have not,' he said. 'My love, I have not.'

'Have. Will. It is the same.'

The light was stronger. He grasped her hand and pulled, determined that now, at least, he should see her.

'Do not,' she said. But it was too late. When he saw her, he screamed, and could not stop screaming.

He was still screaming when yellow light struck, and a face before him appeared as if in a sunrise. It was a woman's face, but it was not Fastia.

At first he saw only her paradoxical eyes. They were so dark a blue that her pupils were lost. She seemed both blind and capable of seeing to the heart of anything. There was a nearly unbearable sadness there, and at the same time an uncontainable excitement. They were the eyes of a newborn and of a tired old woman.

'Be calm,' she said. Her voice had a faint husk to it. She was holding his arm, but suddenly she let go and stepped away from him, as if he had done something to make her fearful. Her eyes became shadows beneath her brows, and now he saw her face was strong, with high, broad cheekbones carved of ivory and hair like spider silk,

cut very short, just beneath her ears. She glowed like a brand in the light of the lantern she held in one pale hand, but her gown was of black or some other dark color, and seemed not to be there at all.

Confusion gripped him. He was in a bed, and dry. It was air in his lungs, not brine, but he was still in the belly of the sea, for he could feel it all around him and hear the creak of timbers. He darted his gaze about the bulkheads of dark lacquered wood and understood that he was in a ship's cabin.

'Be calm,' the woman repeated. 'You are alive, if not entirely well. You only dream of death.' Her free hand went to her throat and fingered a small amulet there.

He knew he was alive. His heart was thundering, his head ached, and his side felt as if it had been split open.

Which, if he remembered correctly, it had.

'Who are you?' he managed.

The question seemed to perplex her for a moment.

'Call me Swanmay,' she said at last.

'Where'?' He tried to sit up, but something in his head whirled, and the pain in his side became overwhelming agony. He swallowed a howl so that it came out only as a grunt.

'Be still,' Swanmay said, starting forward, then stopping again. 'You've had many injuries. Don't you remember?'

'Yes,' Neil murmured, closing his eyes, trying to keep his stomach from heaving.

'Yes, I remember.' He remembered her now, as well. This was the face he'd seen on the docks, the woman peering from the strange ship.

Which ship he was now likely on.

'We're at sea,' he said. His thoughts were unschooled boys refusing to be brought to task. Fastia's dead touch still lingered on his shoulder.

'Yes,' she said. 'We put to sea two days ago.'

'Two days ago?'

'Yes. You've been unconscious that whole time. I was starting to fear you would not wake.'

Neil tried to think. Two days. What had happened to Anne?

A Game of Fiedchese

Swanmay moved nearer again. 'Do not think to harm me,' she said. 'If I call, my men will come in and kill you.'

'I have no reason to harm you, lady,' he said. 'Or none that I know of. And I would not even if I knew a reason.'

'That's very sensible,' she said. 'But in your sleep you made most violent sounds and motions. You fought whole battles, I think. Do you remember those dreams?'

'Nothing of battle,' Neil said.

'A pity. I'm sure your dreams would be interesting.' She paused. 'I'm going to trust you. I'm going to sit here a moment, for I'm sure you have questions. I know if I awoke in a strange place, to a strange person, I would. I would be terrified.'

She sat down on a small stool.

'I'll tell you this first,' she said, 'in case you're afraid to ask. The people you were fighting for'the people you were protecting'they escaped.'

Neil sighed, and felt something in him relax a bit.

'You were right,' he said. 'I was afraid to ask that.'

She smiled tentatively. 'They cast off safely. One was calling after you and tried to leave the ship, but the others would not let her.'

'They escaped,' Neil repeated, relief coming like an eastern breeze.

'Yes,' she said, and her tone became inquiring. 'I wondered if I was aiding in some crime.'

'I am no criminal, lady, I promise you that.'

She shrugged. 'Vitellio is not my home and I hardly care if you violated some law of their country. But I admire the way you fought. I admire the way you went to your doom singing. I've read stories about men like you, but never thought to meet one. I could not leave you to the depths.'

'So you'how did you'?'

'Some of my men can swim. They dived with a stout rope and pulled you up, but by then you were senseless.'

'I owe you and your men my life.'

'Yes, I suppose you do, but I shouldn't feel too uncomfortable about it.' She cocked her head. 'Who was she?'

'Who?'

'The girl with the red hair. She was the one you fought for, yes?'

Neil didn't know quite how to answer that, and he suddenly realized he shouldn't. From the moment his body struck the sea, he had no certain idea of what had happened. Perhaps everything Swanmay said was true. Perhaps none of it was. Perhaps he was captive of the very people who had attacked him. They were, after all, from Hansa, or at least some of them were. Swanmay had a Hanzish look about her, though she could as easily be from Crotheny or Herilanz. Her flawless king's tongue told him nothing.

Her ship, he recalled, was unmarked.

'Lady,' he said, reluctantly, 'please forgive me, but I can tell you nothing of why I fought.'

'Ah,' Swanmay said, and this time her smile seemed stronger. 'You're not stupid, then. You've no reason to believe anything I say, do you?'

'No, milady,' Neil allowed, 'none whatsoever.'

'Never mind, then. I just wondered if your battle was a matter of love or duty.

I see now that it is somehow both. But your love isn't for the girl on the boat.'

He could see her eyes again, and this time they did not seem blind at all.

'I'm tired,' he said.

She nodded. 'You need time to think. I'll leave you for now, but please don't try to move. My physician says you will start to leak like a broken boat if you do, and you interest me. I'd rather you lived long enough to find a little trust in me.'

'May I ask where we are bound?'

She clasped her hands on her knees. 'You may, and I will answer, but how will you know I do not lie?'

'I suppose I don't.'

'We're sailing west, at the moment, to the Straits of Rusimi, and from there to Safnia. After that, I cannot say.'

She stood. 'Fair rest, for now,' she said. 'If you need anything, pull that rope on the other side of the bed.'

Neil remembered Hurricane then.

A Game of Fiedchese

'Lady? What of my horse?'

Her face saddened. 'I last saw him watching us depart. We have no berth or provisions for beasts aboard. I am sorry. I am certain so fine a beast will find a good master.'

That was just another dull ache for Neil. Crow was destroyed, his armor damaged probably beyond repair, and Hurricane was lost. What more could he lose, except his life?

'Thank you, lady,' he murmured.

He watched her leave. For a moment, before she closed the door behind her, he caught a glimpse of a ship's deck in moonlight.

He tried to pull his thoughts back together. He still had his duty.

Swanmay had said they were sailing west. Anne was supposed to be sailing east, toward Paldh.

If she was sailing anywhere.

Neil inspected his wounds as best he could, and discovered that Swanmay had told the truth about them, at least. The glowing sword had cut through his armor and two of his ribs. It hadn't gone into his vitals, but it had been a near thing.

So he wouldn't be walking, much less fighting, for a while. For the time being, whether she was lying or telling the truth, he was at Swanmay's mercy.

In fact, he was already worn-out, and though he tried to remain awake to ponder the situation, the sea'the one familiar thing around him'soon lulled him back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was to the soft strains of music. Swanmay sat nearby on a stool, strumming a small cherrywood harp with golden tuning pegs. The cabin window was draped, but daylight leaked through, and without the glow of fire she was like a creature from a children's story, a woman made from snow.

'Lady,' he murmured.

'Ah. I did not mean to wake you.'

'The sound of a harp is not the worst thing to wake to, especially one played so beautifully.'

To his surprise she seemed to color a bit at that. 'I was only passing the time,' she said. 'How do you feel?'

'Better, I think. Milady'I wonder if it is proper that you watch over me, so. I promise you, I will lie quiet. I have little choice.'

She cast her eyes down a bit. 'Well, it is my cabin,' she said. 'And I tire sometimes of being on deck. When it's bright like this, the sun hurts my eyes and burns my skin.'

'You aren't Sefry, are you?' he joked.

'No. Just unused to daylight.' She looked back at him. 'But you've met Sefry, haven't you?'

'I have. It's not difficult to do.'

'I've not seen one yet. I hope to, soon.'

'I should not be in your cabin, lady,' Neil persisted. 'Surely there are more suitable quarters for me.'

'There are none more suitable to someone in your condition,'

she replied.

'But this is not appropriate. Your men''

She lifted her chin. 'My men wished you left to the sharks. My men do not command here. I do. And I think I am in no danger from you. Do you disagree?'

'No, milady, but still''

'I can change my clothes there, behind that screen, and wash, as well. There is a cot for me to sleep on.'

'I should sleep on the cot.'

'When you are better, you will. When you are better yet, you will sleep with the men.'

'I wish''

'What is your name?' she asked suddenly. 'You have not told me your name.'

'I'' He fumbled for a moment. 'My name is Neil,' he said finally. He was sick of lying.

'Neil,' she repeated. 'That's a good name. A Lierish name. Or perhaps you are from Skern. Do you'do you know the game of fiedchese?'

Neil raised his brow in surprise. 'I know it, lady. My father taught me how to play when I was a boy.'

'I wonder'would you like to play it? No one on the ship knows how, and they're too busy to learn. But you''

A Game of Fiedchese

'Well, it's something I can do from my back,' Neil said. 'If you have a board.'

Swanmay smiled a little shyly and crossed to a small cupboard built into the cabin. From it she produced a fiedchese board and a leather bag full of playing pieces. The board was beautiful, its squares made of inlaid wood, one set red-brown and the other bone white. The throne in the center of the board was black.

The pieces were of matching beauty. The king was carved of the dark wood, and he wore a sharply peaked helm for his crown. His men were figured with shield and sword, and they were tall and slender like their king.

The raiders were of all sorts, no two pieces alike, and they were a bit grotesque. Some had human bodies and the heads of birds, dogs, or pigs. Others had wide bodies and short legs or no legs at all, just long arms that served the function. Neil had never seen a set like it.

'Which would you like me to play, lady?' Neil asked. 'The king or raiders?'

'I have played the king far too often,' Swanmay mused. 'But perhaps I should play it again, to see if there is an omen in it.'

And with that opaque statement she began setting up the board. The king went in the center, surrounded by his knights in the form of a cross. The raiders'Neil's men'were placed around the edge of the board. There were four gates, at each corner of the board. If the king reached any of the gates, Swanmay would win.

Neil would win if he captured the king.

She took the first move, sending one of her knights east, but not so far as to strike one of his men. He studied the board a bit and countered by capturing the man.

'I thought a warrior might take that bait,' she said. She sent another knight across the board, this one to block one of his pieces.

Five moves later, her king crossed through the north gate and Neil was left wondering what exactly had happened.

'Well,' he said, 'if it was an omen you were seeking, you found a good one.'

'Yes,' she replied. 'In fact, I am nearly to my own gate. I hope to pass through it soon.' She began placing the pieces back on the board.

Leshya