Robert Hughes - The Wizard in Waiting

Ligne clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, let’s do!”

THE PLAYERS WERE HELD ONSTAGE by a circle of guards while the Queen preceded them up the stairway. They watched helplessly as Rosha was dragged up the grand spiral after her, kicking and jerking all the way.

Serphimera, too, was led up the stairs, followed by Naquin. The pitiful skyfaither looked puzzled. Though he’d lived his entire life in the presence of political power, never had he witnessed such eccentric behavior as that he’d been exposed to in this court.

Pelmen watched them out of sight, then glanced at Yona Parmi. “What do you think?”

“What can I think?” Yona mumbled, shrugging. “Winning at Drax is hard enough when all three are battling each other. Two against one is impossible.”

“Why doesn’t she just kill us and get it over with?” Dan-yilyn muttered.

“What?” Gerrig snorted. “And forfeit her afternoon’s pleasure?”

“I’m sorry,” Pelmen said quietly, and they all turned to look at him.

“What for?” Yona asked him. “We all chose to come.”

“Gerrig didn’t.”

“I did, too!” Gerrig blustered, and Pelmen looked up at him in disbelief. “Before you go thinking this is your fault, you just remember it was I who led the battle in the caverns. And I’d do it again this morning.”

“We’re here,” Danyilyn broke in, her temper flaring. “What concerns me is how we’re going to get out. Pelmen, you’re a power shaper Is there any ”

“What you don’t realize is that he’s exhausted,” Yona Parmi interrupted. “There are limits to what a power shaper can do and he’s reached his.”

Danyilyn looked back and forth between them. “That’s it, then? It all depends on Drax?”

Yona Parmi looked at Pelmen. “Maybe not”

Pelmen read his mind. “The Power works through people, Yona. Perhaps there are limits even to what the Power can do.”

“Well,” Danyilyn said glumly, “I hope you’re on your game.”

“The Queen is ready for you now,” announced a servant from the stairway.

“I’ll bet she is,” Danyilyn snapped, and, herded by their guards, they all plodded up the stairs.

Spectators crammed the game room full and spilled out both its doors in the hallways. The troupe’s escort had to shove people aside to get the players through. Once inside, guards were no longer necessary, for the mob of court lings crushed back together in their wake, leaving no possible avenue of escape. The press of jabbering people, combined with the visual impact of their multicolored garments, served initially to disorient Pelmen, and he twisted around in confusion, looking for Ligne and the game table. The clamor prevented him from hearing Ligne’s summons, and a servant was sent to grab his hand and fetch him into the open space in the center of the room. His appearance there served as a cue for the gathered host to hush. Pelmen happened to glance at his feet, then stared down at the intricate patterns that had been painted on the floor. He’d been in here only two days before, but the room had been altered considerably in that short space of time.

This section had formerly been covered with mats, and had served as a kind of gymnasium for the practice of throws and falls and of fencing.

A glance at the walls told him many of the practice swords still hung there, a fact that would probably do him no good, since he’d never be able to get to one. His eyes were drawn back to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asked, as the Queen gave instructions to her guards to clear the throng back off of the design.

“What does it look like, fool?” she replied. “You’re standing on a giant Drax board. You think these people could witness my triumph if we played on that tiny table?” He recognized it as the crowd surged back out of the way and noted, too, that Ligne’s throne had been positioned along the red flat. Rosha, a gag in his mouth, sat in the smaller throne next to her, struggling against the bonds that secured him to it. “I take it you’re playing red,” Pelmen murmured, his eyes on the lad.

“You did offer me the choice,” the queen sneered. Not only had she teamed herself with Kherda to outnumber him, she’d claimed the advantage of the first move.

Pelmen turned to his left to look at Kherda. “And the Prime Minister is green.” Kherda gazed back uncertainly.

“Which leaves you with blue.” Ligne smiled. “I thought that might please you, since you seem to have a certain affinity for the color.”

She turned her gaze in the direction of Serphimera, whose expression of dismay hadn’t changed,

“Where are the pieces?” he asked.

Ligne grinned, and clapped her hands. Guards blazed a new path through the crowd, leading ten tired looking creatures into the open area. Half were clothed in robes of bright crimson, the other half in kelly green, and each wore strangely shaped headgear. One man of each color wore a tri-cornered hat, another pair wore tall, conical caps, and so on. It was clear they had been costumed to represent Drax pieces. “Intriguing, isn’t it?” the queen purred. “I call it my living Drax set.”

“I must say, Ligne, you’ve stage-managed your triumph quite professionally,” Pelmen murmured.

“Why thank you, fool. It took me several days, but I did so want it all to be right.”

“But where are the blues?” Pelmen asked. “Kherda and I drew our pieces from the dungeon, but I thought it might be fun to assemble yours from the ranks of those dearest to you. Perhaps it will add dimension to your play to realize that every move you make risks the life of that piece.”

Pelmen gazed at her, his face as calm in defeat as if he had won. “How very fitting. For to you, it’s all a game, isn’t it? Your power, your crown just a game to while away your time.”

“And a splendid game it is.” She smiled, her teeth flashing. “Pity Admon Faye couldn’t be here to enjoy it with us. Robe Gerrig in blue,”

she ordered her servants, “and put the tri-corner on his head!”

Pelmen glanced around the game room as he took stock of his own energy level. There were some things he could do he just couldn’t guarantee the results. Shaping was dangerous in any case and weariness made it more so. Still, if he could make the act explosive enough, perhaps someone could get away.

“The round-faced one,” Ligne said, pointing at Yona Parmi. “Make him the column. And make this actress the disc,” she continued, grabbing Danyilyn’s wrist, “in appreciation of her miserable impersonation of me.”

“Of course it was miserable,” Danyilyn snarled at her, fiery to the last. “I had such a miserable subject to imitate.”

Fire would be the most compelling, Pelmen thought. He could probably empty the hall in a moment. Of course, they’d all be consumed along with Ligne, but perhaps it was worth their lives, to rid the world of this dangerous Queen…

Ligne paced across the floor toward Bronwynn and jerked the heavily bound Princess out onto the board. “I’d thought to make Naquin the cube ”

“I say,” Naquin gasped. “I’m not with the man.”

“ he is, after all, dressed in blue already and is block-headed enough.

But since you’ve so kindly brought Bronwynn to me ” She shoved the girl toward a servant. ” we’ll make her the cube instead.”

An explosion of wind? Pelmen reasoned. Blow out the ceiling and crush all the spectators. That was the trouble with magic it killed indiscriminately.

“And of course, Serphimera.”

Pelmen whipped around to stare at her, “Serphimera?” he said aloud.

“Certainly Serphimera,” Ligne snarled.

“She never threatened you.”