Graeme Talboys - Players of the Game

The further west they went, the more opulent it became. Well-tended public garden squares, people sweeping the paved roads, servants moving in that well-practised way that made them look busy even if they were doing nothing, a slight and cooling breeze taking the edge off the perpetual heat. It was toward the western edge of the city that they finally arrived at the residence of the Qasireu.

A lot of words sprang to mind. Palatial was the one that stuck, especially when Tohmarz announced: ‘The Palace.’

He led them to the main entrance where guards let them in. As the high gates closed behind them with the sound you would expect of heavy, well-maintained defences, Jeniche realized they had lost their escort. She also realized that ‘fortress’ would have been a better description.

Tohmarz led them across an outer courtyard toward a second set of gates. The yard was well maintained but bare. Not something you could cross unseen or without resistance from the narrow windows in the imposing building that faced them. The only concession to any other use was the line of benches set against the outer wall. Perhaps a place for supplicants, those awaiting an audience, or where those awaiting justice could sit before being admitted. Alltud and Jeniche were led straight through.

Beyond the stern façade and the reinforced inner doors, the wealth of the place became apparent. Cooling breezes blew, channelled by the architecture into the interior. Fountains could be heard splashing in verdant courtyards glimpsed through doorways along the main corridor. Water ran in a narrow channel along the centre of the floor with its dazzling mosaic of intricate patterns. Staff walked at a sedate pace on their errands. One of them caught Alltud’s eye as he passed by an open window. The man seemed vaguely familiar, although Alltud could not think why.

Within an arched way through a wing of the palace, Tohmarz stopped them and knocked lightly on a door. After a few seconds it opened, an elderly woman looking them up and down.

‘Good morning, Laila. Please see the Qasireu’s guests to a room where they can freshen themselves.’ She nodded. To Jeniche and Alltud he said: ‘I will return in an hour. If there’s anything you need in the meantime, please ask Laila.’

‘The way out?’ muttered Alltud when Tohmarz had gone and they were following Laila along a corridor to a room.

She held open a door. ‘There is water and fresh clothing in the suite. When you are ready, go on through to the garden where you will find food.’

They stood in the room as the door closed behind them, silent out of habit, listening to see if it was locked. After a few minutes, Jeniche tried it. It was open. The corridor was deserted although she could hear domestic sounds from nearby, people talking quietly, water pouring. Further away, someone laughed.

Back in the room, she took stock. Four doors led off the small space. One to the corridor. A second that was open and clearly led out into a garden. Standing in a third doorway was Alltud, shaking his head with a smile. He pointed across to the final door. ‘You’ve got your own room through there.’

It wasn’t large, but there was a chair in the corner with a neat pile of fresh clothes on the rushwork seat, a bed frame, a bench with ewer and bowl, soap, a sponge, and some towels. In the corner, behind a low dividing wall, a large shallow tray was set in the floor with a small hand pump to one side. The water was clear and cool, running away in a small drain. No wonder Alltud had been grinning. What a luxury. She wedged the door with the chair and began to undress.

Alltud was already sitting at the table in the garden, helping himself to the food that had been set out. Clean shaven and in fresh clothes, he almost looked like a respectable merchant. Almost. His wary eyes and the hilt of his sword within easy reach spoke of a different role.

‘That’s something I could get used to,’ said Jeniche as she crossed to the table.

‘Washing? Well, it does suit you. But I doubt it will figure highly in whatever they have planned for us.’

‘As long as we get to eat this.’

She saw his eyes flicker to the hilts of her own swords where they jutted in their familiar position above each shoulder.

‘I see you have as much confidence in their hospitality as me,’ he said in an undertone as he leaned forward for more bread.

Settling opposite him, she began to load a platter with food, surveying her surroundings as casually as she could. It was a quiet meal after that. They both had the feeling, communicated through looks, that they were being watched, but neither of them could spot from where.

As if in deliberate confirmation of their suspicions, the moment they pushed their plates away, Laila appeared and cleared the table. And the moment she had disappeared back inside, Tohmarz approached through an arched entrance, followed by a small elderly man in a simple white robe who might easily have been mistaken for a clerk or dockside tallyman were it not for the deference with which a chair was placed for him in the shade of a jasmine-laden bower.

‘Will you join me?’ he asked as he sat.

Alltud and Jeniche had stood when he appeared. As they crossed the garden, Tohmarz set out two more chairs at a small table and Laila re-appeared with a tray of drinks.

‘I am Dahbeer.’ He lifted a delicate jug and poured a pale liquid into three glasses as they pulled back the chairs and settled themselves. ‘Lemonade. Always useful to have a drink to hand to cover those awkward silences between strangers.’ He smiled. ‘And you are Jeniche and Alltud,’ he added, nodding to each in turn.

There was an awkward silence and all three lifted their glasses, sipping the sharp and refreshing drink.

‘It would seem that we are to be blessed with some proper sunshine this morning. Shadows on the ground for the first time in a week.’ Alltud and Jeniche exchanged a quick glance, both of them wondering where this was leading. ‘It has not been good for trade, especially in these difficult times. A city full of refugees from the south. Rumours of war. Travellers stuck. Employment difficult to find, particularly for strangers; especially those down on their luck.’

‘Or,’ said Alltud, remembering where he had seen that member of the Qasireu’s staff before, ‘those whose luck was lifted along with their purse.’

‘Tohmarz,’ called Dahbeer, raising his voice for the first time.

Tohmarz appeared.

‘Please bring our guest’s “lost” property.’

A few moments later, Tohmarz re-appeared and placed Alltud’s purse on the small table. Alltud left it where it was.

‘It is all there,’ said Dahbeer. ‘With a bonus for the inconvenience.’

‘You could have just asked,’ said Jeniche. ‘Sent Tohmarz with an offer of work. I assume that’s what is happening here.’

‘Do you play chess?’ Dahbeer asked.

They both shook their heads.

‘I have been known to win the odd game of Fidchell,’ said Alltud.

‘Ah. Yes. I have read about it.’ An indolent wave of the hand was perhaps meant to indicate an extensive library somewhere within the palace. ‘A similar game. Strategy is important. Keeping your overall plan to yourself whilst testing your opponent, finding their strengths and weaknesses, protecting your king.’

‘And how is your game going?’ asked Jeniche.

‘Please, do not be annoyed. Consider it part of the interview process. Consider it evidence of how anxious I have been to persuade you here.’

‘For what?’

‘That is an interesting pair of swords you carry, young woman.’

The Qasireu reached forward as if he intended to take one of them. Jeniche sat back and Alltud drew his own sword a few inches.