Lord of Lies

Chapter 12

The next morning, to the sound of trumpets blaring in the cool morning air, I rode forth with Maram and the others of our incampment in our columns of whinnying horses and watchful Guardians, and we made our way toward the Tournament Grounds' main road. There our company had to pause while long lines of Lagashuns and Taroners passed before us. King Kurshan, resplendent in his diamond armor and blue surcoat showing a great Tree of Life, led his men past the Sword Pavilion and then on to the fields reserved for the long lance. King Waray and the more numerous Taroners followed them in a brilliant stream of flapping banners and knights displaying their emblems: gold bears and white wolves, crossed swords and sunbursts and roses, and many others. We of Mesh — and my Ishkan knights — joined this great procession. We paraded west more than a mile to the area given over to lance throwing. There we joined the companies of Waashians, Atharians, Anjoris, Ishkans and Kaashans who also converged there. An open pavilion, covered with a great red cloth, held the stands where the Valari kings and other luminaries would sit and bear witness to their knights' feats of arms. Other stands, lower and uncovered, adjoined the pavilion on either side, and these were already full of the many townspeople of Nar who had arrived before dawn. They had come in such numbers that most had to take seats on the grass beside the stands or keep to their feet in hope of being able to see what occurred before them.

On fields of grass still sparkling with dew, many targets had been set up in a long line running north and south. The targets were nothing more than open circlets of wood attached to poles planted in the ground. And the lance-throwing competition was a very simple, if very difficult, one: knights would spur their horses and gallop towards the targets, loosing lances at set intervals in hopes of seeing theirs pass through their circlet, eight inches in diameter. A long blue line, parallel to the line of targets, had been painted across the grass at a distance of ten yards. Any knight failing to loose his lance before reaching this line, or failing to transfix his target, would be eliminated. Those who succeeded would advance to the next round and would ride toward the next line, the yellow one, at a distance of twenty yards. And so with the orange line ten yards farther out and the white one beyond it. Any knights who remained in competion after riding at the red line at fifty yards would then ride at each other.

'And that,' Maram said to me as we made our way toward the staging area with Asaru and Yarashan, 'is the very part of this competition that makes no sense.'

'How so?' I asked him. I reached down to pat Altaru's neck, and my great black warhorse whinnied with excitement.

'Think of it, my friend. A knight such as you, or I, against all the odds, succeeds in a practically impossible feat. And his reward is having to face another knight throwing a lance at him.'

'But the lances are blunted,' I pointed out.

'They're not blunt enough. They can still crush a windpipe or an eye. It's happened before.'

'You worry too much.'

'And you worry too little. I'll never understand you Valari!'

I noticed him gripping his lance with his sweaty hand; the two diamonds of his ring sparkled in the early light. I said, 'Perhaps you should understand us then, since, as you have said, you are now one of us.'

I clapped him on the shoulder and then rode over to Sunjay and Baltasar. They were two of only twenty Guardians who would be competing in the tournament; the rest of our companions would carry out their duty while they watched from beside the stands. With Asaru and Yarashan and the forty other knights of Mesh who had journeyed here before us, the number of my countrymen casting their lances that day would be sixty-two — sixty-three if Maram were counted as riding for Mesh.

The other Valari kingdoms fielded similar numbers of knights. We assembled in the staging area, Meshians with Meshians, Taroners with I Taroners, and so on. But when it came time to line up for our ride toward the targets a hundred yards away, we took our places according to the drawing of lots and not by our respective kingdoms. Once, long ago, the tournament had been a proving ground where each Valari kingdom tried to gain pre-eminence. But for many centuries, the competitions had been dedicated only to the proving of an individual's prowess: that a knight might gain glory and thereby demonstrate the magnificence of the One's most glorious creation.

While the judges took their places near the targets across the field from us, the first wave of knights was called to line up. This they did to the cheers of the thousands of people in the stands behind us. Each knight turned his mount toward his distant target; as it happened, Maram and Yarashan, with Skyshan of Ki, were three of these. And then the heralds gave the signal for them to charge. And fifty knights, in their polished armor and surcoats hearing their bright emblems, urged their mounts across the field. They quickly gained speed as one whole line of knights; it marked a man for shame if he sought advantage in a slower charge and lagged behind the others. Across that hroad field they thundered, past the long red line at fifty yards, and soon crossing the white line at forty yards, and then the orange and yellow lines. The boldest of the knights — and Yarashan was one of these — reached the blue line first and cast their lances first. But moments later the other knights caught up and cast their lances as well. The judges held up flags to proclaim the knights' success or failure A white flag signified that a lance had sailed smoothly through its wooden circlet; a black flag denoted a miss. And red was the flag of disqualification, indicating that hit or miss, a knight had loosed his lance after crossing the blue line. It seemed a great, good omen for the success of the tournament that in this first wave of knights, only white flags were raised to herald their prowess.

'Well, that wasn't so bad,' Maram said to me, as he and the other knights of the first wave rejoined us in the staging area. Both he and his horse were covered in sweat. 'There's no danger at these distances at least — unless you fall off your horse and break your neck'

I was called up in the fourth of the ten waves to ride toward the blue line. At the heralds' signal Altaru leapt forward as if he understood deep in his bones the task that must be accomplished. Knights on their mounts to either side of us galloped toward the targets, too. Wind whipped into my face and fought its way between my helmet and sweat-soaked hair. I felt Altaru's huge hooves beat into the ground and churn it up in clumps. His great body was heavy with muscles that bunched and exploded with a tremendous power. For a few glorious moments, my horse and I moved together across the field as if we were a single beast encased in a shining black hide and diamond armor, fused together in our purpose and in our love. Hundreds of pairs of eyes transfixed us like lances, for Altaru would not suffer any other knight or rider to outpace him, and he insisted on taking the lead in the charge. And so we were the first of this wave to reach the blue line. Seconds before Altaru crossed it, I set my boots in my stirrups ind loosed my lance; the thrust of Altaru's hindquarters and the perfect coordination of his body with mine helped me. I had never been particularly good at this act. But I watched with a wild joy as my lance sailed cleanly through its wooden circlet.

Nearly all the knights of this wave were successful as well. But young Sar Eshur of Waas, who had never been tested in a real battle, waited a moment too long to cast his lance and was disqualified. So it went with a few other knights in the succeeding waves. By the time all five hundred and thirty-three of us had charged the blue line, thirteen knights had been eliminated by such fouls while another nine missed their targets altogether.

The next rounds, marked by their respective lines at ever greater distances, took an increasingly greater toll. More knights were eliminated at twenty yards and many more in their ride toward the orange line at thirty yards. At forty yards, I missed my target while Maram fouled. He complained that the trampling of so many horses preceding him had nearly obliterated the white line so that he couldn't see it. It saddened me that I had come so close to riding toward the last line, the red one, and thereby gaining a chance to point at this competition. Maram professed to share my disappointment, but I sensed that he was really quite pleased with himself for lasting longer than most of the other competitors — and avoiding the dreaded riding of knight against knight.

We met in the staging area with the other Meshians to watch this climax of the day's feats. Only four knights faced the red line successfully, and these were Asaru, Yarashan, Lord Karathar of Lagash and Lord Dashavay. I watched this last famous knight ride slowly among the other Waashians in their part of the staging area. He seemed a perfectly proportioned man and more handsome in face than even Yarashan. Although he couldn't have been more than forty years in age, his hair showed streaks of white along with the battle ribbons tied there. His emblem was white lion on a green field; around his neck he wore the gold medallion of championship that he had woo at the last tournament.

At last the heralds blew their trumpets, and Lord Dashavay rode out into the field to face Asaru. They charged each other, loosing their blunted lances at each other as they pleased, lord Dashavay managed to catch Asaru's lance on his triangular shield; with perfect inning, he waited until Asaru was unbalanced from his cast, and then aimed his lance so that it sailed straight and caught Asaru's shoulder with a loud clack of wood against diamond. The judges awarded the victory to Lord Dashavay. Asaru congratulated him, and rode back to join us. 'Lord Dashavay is a great knight,' Asaru said as he pulled off his helmet and wiped his sweating brow. 'Three years ago I rode against him as well, and his skill at the lance has only grown.'

By the time that Yarashan and Lord Karathar rode out to face each other, the sun was low in the western sky. Lord Karathar quickly vanquished Yarashan as everyone expected, and then Yarashan lost again to Asaru in the fight for third place. In the culminating battle, Lord Karathar and Lord Dashavay charged each other three times before Lord Karathar succeeded in casting his lance straight against Lord Dashavay's chest. It missed his throat by an inch, and Maram looked at me in silent reproof even as the many people in the stands cheered Lord Karathar and hailed him yet again as the victor of the first competition.

'Five times he has won the lance throwing,' Yarashan complained. 'He'll have to die in battle or of old age if anyone else is ever to prevail.' While the judges awarded points — ten for first place, five for second, and three, two and one for third, fourth and fifth — all the knights who had competed that day made a procession and rode past the pavilion where King Waray and the other kings were seated. He bowed his head to honor us. Then he called forward Lord Karathar, Lord Dashavay, Asaru, Yarashan, and Sar Tarval of Athar, who had won fifth place. He presented each of them with finely made lances bearing gold plaques that told of their feats. I pressed Altaru through the mass of men and mounts in front of the pavilion so that I could congratulate my brothers. As I clasped hands with them and tested the balance of their new weapons, I noticed King Waray looking at me as if to ask when it would come my turn to be honored.

'Ah, that was a day,' Maram said to me as we rode back to our encampment near the woods. 'I'm ready for a long glass of beer.'

'You did well,' I said to him.

'I did, didn't I? So did you. But not quite well enough to satisfy King Athar. Or King Waray. Did you see the way they looked at us?'

'Tomorrow is wrestling. We'll do better.'

'You'll do better, my friend. I'm afraid I've never wanted to practice much at that particular art.'

'That's because you've been too busy wrestling with Dasha Ambar and the other ladies.'

As our horses walked along the Tournament Grounds main road Maram eyed a beautiful silk-seller hawking her wares in a stall and then a haruspex at another who smiled and beckoned him closer. He turned to glance at Behira riding with Lord Harsha behind us; he sighed and said to me, 'And that is a better exercise of my talents.'

'You could excel at wrestling, if only you'd apply yourself. It's said that practice makes perfect.'

'No, no, my friend, practice makes only broken bones. When I was a boy, I smashed my knuckles wrestling my eldest brother. And, by bad chance, my cousin dislocated my jaw and nearly gouged out my eye. And the truth is, I'd rather look down and find a woman in my arms than some strange, sweating man.'

I smiled because I shared this particular sentiment. The next day we gathered with all the other knights and witnesses in the great Sword Pavilion, which also housed the wrestling competition. There Maram and I, with the knights of Mesh, faced those of Taron, Ishka and the other kingdoms; we also faced each other. It was a long day of grappling with opponents: locking arms and trying for choke holds and throws, as well as strikes with knuckle, elbow and knee at the body's various vulnerable points. By the noon meal break, many knights had been eliminated from this savage competition and too many suffered from various injuries: jammed fingers and crushed noses; boxed ears and popping joints and concussions.

My brothers and I sought sustenance to endure the coming rounds, and so we walked into the area to the north of the Sword Pavilion, where a small city of stalls and kiosks was laid out along narrow lanes. As I was eating cherries with Asaru and Yarashan at one of the fruit sellers' stalls, Lord Harsha and Master Juwain hurried through the crowds straight toward us. Lord Harsha, his hand on the hilt of his sword, limped up to me and asked, 'Have you seen Sar Maram?'

I looked past a hatter's stall at a line of vendors preparing roasted pheasants, mutton joints and other sizzling viands. I said, 'He told me that he was off to look for a slice of cherry pie.'

'That's not all he's looking for, it seems,' Lord Harsha said. He went on to explain that Behira had caught him exchanging whispers with a beautiful woman from Lagash, and she feared that he had made an assignation. 'My daughter is very worried — and so am I.'

Yarashan, eating a cherry almost daintily as if he didn't want its juices to stain his fine face, let loose a little laugh. 'You'd do better to worry that Maram doesn't find his pie. How that man can eat! Hes likely to stuff himself so full that he won't be able to compete this afternoon.'

'If he doesn't present himself soon,' Asaru said, looking up at the sun, 'he'll miss the next round and be disqualified.'

My brother held a plum to his puffy, split lip as if its coolness might soothe it. I rubbed my sore elbow, which had been pulled straight and nearly bent back the wrong way. Master Juwain looked at us with all the compassion he could summon, for he had spent all morning tending such injuries — and much worse. And then he said, 'Disqualification might be exactly what Maram seeks.'

'That would be a pity,' Yarashan said. 'Who would ever have thought that he would do so well? Vanquishing five fine knights, and him taking hardly a scratch.'

In fact, one of Maram's opponents that day had managed to jam a fingernail into Maram's eye, leaving him with a rather serious scratch that Master Juwain had been able to treat only with difficulty. 'Let's look for him then,' I said. 'He can't have gone very far.' 'Unless he's gone back to the Lagashuns' encampment with that woman,' Lord Harsha said. 'But why don't we hope for the best and at least try the pie-sellers first?'

Without waiting for agreement, he clamped his hand around his sword again and pushed off into the crowds. I positioned myself close to him, while Asaru, Yarashan and Master Juwain hurried after us. As quickly as we could, we searched around the stalls of every pie seller, baker and pastry cook in that area of the Tournament Grounds; knowing Maram as we did, we also searched amongst the beer-sellers, vintners and brandy kiosks — to no avail. And then the first warning trumpet sounded from the Sword Pavilion behind us.

'Surely he'll hear that and make his way back to the competition.' Asaru said.

'If Sar Maram is doing what it seems he might be doing,' Lord Harsha said, 'he'll be hearing other trumpets — calling him to his doom.'

So saying, his eyes narrowed, and he drew forth his sword a few inches so that its steel caught the light of the sun.

Finally, following an intuition that flashed through my mind, I led the way toward the edge of the kiosks in that area. And there, at one of the dice stalls, we found Maram standing before a table and casting a pair of cubical, carved bones. A pile of coins was heaped up on the table before him. Many people stood watching him — and his pile of coins — as if they hoped his luck would hold and would magically be bestowed upon them.

A sigh of relief broke from Lord Harsha's tight, old lips as he beheld this sight. But Asaru was less forgiving. He stormed up to Maram and said, 'Didn't you hear the trumpet?'

'Ah, what trumpet?' Maram asked, shaking the yellow dice in his huge hand.

'It's nearly time for the next match. You don't want to be late.'

'Don't I,' Maram said as he glanced at his pile of coins.

'No, you don't,' Asaru said, reaching out to close his hand around Maram's. 'What's wrong with you? Playing dice at a time like this? You're a Valari knight and you shouldn't stoop to such vice.'

'Well it's said that every man needs one vice.'

'Yes, but you drink and make a glutton of yourself. You womanize,' Here Asaru cast a quick look at Lord Harsha whose hand remained clamped around the hilt of his sword. 'And now it seems you gamble as well'

'Ah, I'm still deciding which vice will be mine.'

I couldn't help smiling at Maram's incorrigibleness, and neither could Yarashan. Even Asaru seemed amused by this comment — but he kept his face stern even so. And he told Maram, 'You should concentrate on your virtues instead of your vices. You might point at wrestling, you know.'

Maram looked at his pile of coins and then at the other dice throwers around the table. He rubbed his red eye and said, 'I prefer to gamble gold pieces rather than body parts, which are more precious to me.'

Just then the second warning trumpet sounded as if from far away.

'Are you ready to withdraw from the tournament then?' Asaru asked.

'What if I am?' Maram said, staring at him. 'I've been injured, haven't I?'

Yarashan scoffed at this, saying, 'If you call a scratch an injury.'

The sudden fire in Asaru's eyes warned Yarashan into silence. And Asaru said to Maram, 'Don't you want to give the lie to King Mohan's insinuation that you are unqualified to judge Val's feats of arms? Don't you want to help Val?'

'Help him be acclaimed the Maitreya?'

'Yes, if that is what it takes — to help all of Ea.'

Asaru stood staring at Maram, and so bright did his eyes become that Maram was finally forced to look away from him. He gripped the dice in his fist and muttered, 'Ah, well, let's go and wrestle, then.'

Angrily, he cast the dice one last time across the table. The six-sided bones tumbled about and then came to a stop. One of the other dice-throwers examined their carved faces and shook his head in defeat as he called out, 'Double dragons! This knight has too much luck!'

After the tables owner took his share of Maram's winnings, Maram scooped up his coins and dropped them into a leather purse. He gave a few of them to some tatterdemalions standing nearby, and then began walking back toward the Sword Pavilion even as the last warning trumpet blared. That afternoon, it seemed that Maram was touched by the angel of fortune herself Four sturdy knights he faced on the wrestling mats, and he sent each of them tumbling down or managed to demonstrate a kill with some vicious strike, or choke hold. Thus d,d he vanquish even Asaru. As Lord Harsha sat in the stands with Estrella and Behira they watched these moves with great concern — and even greater surprise. From my place at the edge of the wrestling ring, I overheard Lord Harsha say to his daughter, 'How is this possible? It would take more than luck alone for Maram to defeat lord Asaru.'

In the final round, however, Maram lost to Sat Rajiru of Kaash. At the ceremony afterward, they stood before King Waray to be honored — along with Yarashan, Asaru and me, for we had won third, fourth and fifth places. It was a great day for the knights of Mesh, and even King Mohan offered his grudging appreciation as he glared at us and shook his head in wonder.

Before dinner that night, Maram, Asaru, Yarashan and I bathed our battered bodies in one the wooden tubs set up at the edge of our encampment. As Maram laved handfuls of steaming hot water over his mountainous frame, Asaru seemed to look beneath his layers of fat, and he said, 'You've grown stronger since you set out on your quest.'

'Fighting dragons,' Maram said, 'will make a man so.'

'So it seems. But that doesn't explain your skill on the mats. Strength alone never prevailed at wrestling.'

'No,' Yarashan added as he poked his finger into Maram's big, hairy belly, 'it seems our guest from Delu must have been practicing.'

'Maram,' I said, 'has given me to understand that he doesn't practice wrestling.'

As we all looked at Maram, his face flushed bright red whether from shame or the heat of the bath, it was hard to tell 'Ah, Val, I said only that I didn't like to practice wrestling. When I was a boy, my father made me drill at hand to hand because he was always afraid that an assassin would jump out from behind a curtain and stick a knife into me.'

Despite the water's permeating heat I shuddered as I thought of how close Sivar of Godhra had come to murdering me. To Maram I said, 'You learned well.'

'Well enough, I suppose. At my father's court, no one could beat me.' Maram held up his knight's ring and shook the water from its two diamonds. 'Then, too, ever since your father gave this to me, I've engaged Ser Garash to renew my skill.'

So, I thought, the mystery of Maram's second in wrestling was finally explained. Old Sar Garash, years ago, had won firsts this savage art many times before retiring from the competitions to teach young knights such as Asaru, Yarashan and myself.

'You've been practicing in secret then?' Asaru asked him. 'But why?'

'Because of Valari pride, that's why,' Maram told him. 'Think of it: if it became known that I was any good at wrestling, every knight in Silvassu would have wanted to challenge me to a match.'

I smiled as I said to him, 'You'd rather your other talents become known so that women challenge you to other more pleasurable matches.'

'Just so, my friend. Just so.'

'Lecher,' I said to him.

Maram laughed as he splashed a handful of water at me and said, 'At least I practice my talents. At least I keep my sword sharp, if you know what I mean.'

This sentiment seemed to touch upon Asaru's righteousness and familial pride. He turned to look at me through the bath's steam and said, 'You should practice with your sword, Val.'

'Perhaps,' I said to him. 'But the woman I love dwells far away, and will not marry me in any case.'

Asaru frowned at this; with too-great a seriousness, he said, 'I'm not speaking of that sword, as you know well enough.'

I looked over the edge of the tub, where Alkaladur in its lacquered sheath rested against the tub's cedar staves, ready to be drawn at an instant's warning. Every morning and every night, in the privacy of my room, I drew it forth to practice the forms that I had been taught as a boy — and to renew the lessons that the incomparable Kane had drilled into my bones. But since the quest, I hadn't crossed swords with another, in combat or in practice.

'In the end,' Asaru said to me, 'the tournament will likely come down to the sword competition. But how can you hope to win it, Val? Have you given up, then, as King Waray has said?'

'No, not yet — our father taught us never to give up, didn't he?' I lathed some hot water over my aching elbow and added, 'besides, it's premature to speak of swords when we all have to survive tomorrow's mace-work.'

At the mention of this brutal competition, Maram groaned and looked down into the water's steamy surface as if hoping to catch sight of his reflection. And then, to himself as much as me, he muttered, 'Ah, my friend, perhaps you should have left me alone with my dice after all. I confess I've always loathed the mace ever since the day that assassin nearly brained me. Survive, indeed.'

The next morning, on the wide fields also given over to the long lance, Maram did quite well for three rounds of the mice competition. But I did not. in the very first round., riding against Arthan of Lagash, fortune betrayed me. Or rather, my gift did. Arthan was scarcely twenty years old, untested in battle and of no renown. In fact, he was a simple warrior who had yet to win the two diamonds of a full knight. But he was a fury with the mace. As the Valari kings and five thousand witnesses watched from the stands fifty yards away, he charged across the green grass straight toward me wielding his mace with a mighty and tireless arm. His horse nearly collided with mine. Five times, as we wheeled about as our horses panted and tore up the turf with their great, driving hooves, he swung this cruel club like weapon at me. And five times I either evaded the heavy iron head or deflected it with my shield even as I aimed blows at him. Although some said that mace-work was much like fighting with a sword. I had always found the mace to be a cumbersome and ill balanced weapon, impossible to wield with finesse and difficult to check. The truth is, I loathed the mace and had no feeling for it. Arthan sensed this about me. Thus he urged his horse in too close to Altaru to press his advantage. This was a mistake. Altaru, who loved the snorting violence of battle would suffer no other horse or rider to hurt me if he could help it. And so my fierce stallion whinnied in wrath as he drove his shoulder against Arthan's exposed leg, nearly breaking it. Arthan cried out from the sudden pain, and so did I, for it had been too many months since I had wounded another in battle and I was unprepared for the sudden agony that poured through me Arthan recovered more quickly than I did. As I was gasping for breath, he feinted toward my side, and then with great power, changed the arc of his blow. The mace's head stopped in the air only inches from my temple. I should have given thanks that Arthan had enough restraint to check the mace before knocking my brains out. But with this difficult maneuver, he had demonstrated a kill and had knocked me out of the competition.

His victory cast doubt upon my will to do battle For King Waray and King Mohan, and many others watching in the stands, saw my moment of debility as hesitation. As I rode back toward the compe-tition's staging area, King Mohan shook his head at me and spoke words to king Waray that I was sure I did not want to hear

It gained me no favor that Arthan, despite his injured leg, to the astonishment of all, went on to win the competiotion. He was the youngest man in two hundred years to do so. To honor his feat King Kurshan bestowed upon him his double diamond ring and knighted him right there on that field before the cheering multitude.

Of the knights of Mesh, Yarashan was the only one to win points that day, taking second place. This put his tally for the tournament at ten points, even with Lord Karathar, Sar Rajiru and Arthan (now Sar Arthan), all of whom had won firsts. Some there were who said that the tournament's scoring system was unfair, that a knight such as Yarashan who had pointed at three successive competitions should have more honor than single winners. But that was not the way of things in the Nine Kingdoms. When it came to battle, victory was honored above all else save honor itself, and such pre-eminence was accorded the greater proportion of points.

That day saw the first deaths of the tournament Sar Ishadur's horse, in his wild charge against Lord Marsun of Ishka, stumbled in the churned-up earth and threw his rider headfirst into the ground, which broke his neck. Not even Master Juwain, with his healing crystal, was able keep him alive. And later that afternoon, a very tired Sar Sharald of Anjo failed to check a savage blow aimed at Athar's famous Lord Noladan. The mace sank deep beneath Lord Noladan's forehead with a sickening crunch and a great gout of blood, killing him almost immediately. For his failure to exercise restraint, Sar Sharald was disqualified and banished from the tournament. His shame was great, but all the knights witnessing this horror, including myself, knew that such misfortune might some day fall upon them.

Pilgrims and other wayfarers in the Morning Mountains were often shocked by the violence of the Valari and our triennial tournaments. But in centuries past it had been far worse. In the Age of Law, when the men of other lands had beat their swords into spades to build the great Towers of the Sun and had bowed to the will of the Council of Twenty Kings, the Valari had mistrusted this peace. And so we had kept our swords — and kept them sharp. Although war among the Valari, for a while, died as it did in Alonia and Galda, its spirit did not. Kingdom vied with kingdom in elaborate war-games in which entire armies would take the field to maneuver against each other and strive for victory. Sharshan these games were called — but the Valari had prosecuted them with a deadly seriousness. Warriors, like living chess pieces, moved and fought each other across designated battlegrounds according to precise rules. Unlike chess pieces, however, a wild sword or a chance spearthrust might lay them low or kill them outright. Many were the wounds and deaths at Sharshan.

Overtime, as darkness fell upon Ea and the Age of the Dragon began, Sharshan had developed in two directions. The Valari took to meeting in Nar to display their prowess at arms, in melees in which companies of warriors and knights from each kingdom fought each other. When these brutal affairs stll killed too many, they were finally disbanded to be replaced by competitions between individual knights. The Valari, when disputes between kingdoms grew too acrimonious, also took to meeting on real battlefields, in Ishka, Anjo, Taron or Athar, to fight real battles. At first, for a few centuries, many of the rules of Sharshan carried over to ameliorate the worst consequences of war. But gradually these rules became fewer and simpler. Now, in our formal battles, the Valari agreed only on a very few things: that the battle would commence at a set time and place; that opposing kings would give each other a chance to negotiate; that prisoners would not be harmed and would be released after the defeated king surrendered; that the battle would not overflow into other parts of the kingdom and so become a real war in which lands might be plundered, women ravished or men murdered or enslaved. It was my fear that even these rules would one day break down as war's essential savagery took hold of men's hearts and burned away all restraint — and then burned the beautiful lands of the Morning Mountains from Mesh to the Alonian Sea.

Everyone at the tournament, I thought, from King Waray down to the lowliest groundsman or groom, was glad when the day of the mace ended. The next two days were given over to the chess competition. This was meant to be a time of rest before archery the following day and then the very strenuous long lance and sword competitions. And rest it was, for our bodies. But the intricate play of ivory and ebony pieces across sixty-four black-and-white squares sorely vexed the mind. I won five of my games and fought two others to a draw. Yarashan lost only a single game, to Lord Manamar, who took first place. After Yarashan had received his gift for taking second — a silver knight as long as a man's open hand — he pulled me aside by the rows of chess tables to speak with me. He held up his prize, and with uncharacteristic graciousness, he told me, 'This should have been yours, you know. Or even Lord Manamar's gold knight.'

'Perhaps it should have been,' I said. 'But prizes aren't given for ninety-ninth place.'

'You played brilliantly,' he said. 'As you always do, for twenty or thirty moves, you played like an angel. But then, as you almost always do, you made a weak move or blundered outright. Why, Val, why?' Why indeed? I shook my head because I had no answer to his question.

But Yarashan did. With a surprising gentleness, he laid his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. 'Might it have something to do with this gift of yours? You're so used to closing yourself off from others to protect yourself that you fail to perceive their plans to defeat you. And so in trying to checkmate them so single-mindedly, you overlook obvious threats to your own king.'

I looked at my handsome brother in wonder. For a man I had always considered to be vain and rather shallow, this was a penetrating insight.

'And as it is with chess,' he added, 'so it is with life. It's our weaknesses that defeat us, not our brilliance that saves us. Take care, Little Brother — take care.'

As he walked off, holding high his prize so that the day's witnesses might applaud him, I thought deeply upon what he had said to me. I vowed to examine myself for weaknesses and flaws, as I might my armor before a battle. I sensed that some day, and soon, the fate of many beside myself would depend on my ability to avoid blunders and the traps of my greatest enemy.