The Sports Captain's Tale

Chapter Three

“Well,” Sergeant Wills said. “That was an interesting disaster, wasn’t it?”

I tried not to glower at him. We’d been left in the arena, unable to move, until the three remaining teams had whittled themselves down to one. The sergeant and his crew had tracked us down, freed us from the binding spells and directed us back to the common room, where hot chocolate and biscuits were waiting. I’d been in too black of a mood to appreciate his consideration. The only upside to the whole affair was the announcement that Drusilla had been kicked off Blair’s team and put in the stocks. Apparently, she’d been the one who’d cast the blinding spell.

Blair probably had to dismiss her on the spot, I thought. The sergeant might have done worse to him if he hadn’t, pointing out that the team captain was responsible for his players. But she won’t suffer any worse consequences … will she?

I scowled. A week in the stocks could be nightmarish, if one happened to be a poor and friendless commoner, but Drusilla was an aristo who had a small army of cronies and supplicants. They’d probably surround her, just to make sure her stay in the stocks wasn’t any more uncomfortable than strictly necessary; anyone who tried to hurl rotten fruit or eggs or anything else would be driven away, then have their names noted for later revenge. I suspected it wasn’t going to do her any favours in the long run, but who knew? The experience might be good for her.

“Blair won,” Sergeant Wills continued. “He had four players in the field when the other three teams were wiped out. The remaining …”

My mind raced as he blathered on, telling us what we already knew. Blair had won. He’d earned so many points that he’d have a clear shot at victory, unless he lost the second match so badly his score plummeted back down to single digits. The other two teams hadn’t done too badly, although … I looked at the two captains and knew they wouldn’t be signing up with Blair again, not like that. He hadn’t quite knifed them in the back, but from his victory it was fairly clear he’d positioned himself for the endgame. It would have been quite impressive, I conceded sourly, if he hadn’t won against me.

Sergeant Wills cleared his throat. “Kai? Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, Sarge,” I lied. A titter ran around the room. “We lost.”

“Quite,” Sergeant Wills said, coldly. “Your team will take part in the third match, unless you wish to back out.”

“Better had,” Blair called. “You don’t want to embarrass yourself again, do you?”

The titters grew louder. I clenched my fists. Blair had a face in need of a fist and … I bit down, hard, on that impulse before it overwhelmed me. The sergeant would not be amused if I smashed my fist into Blair’s face and …

“If you win, you’ll still have a chance to come out ahead,” Sergeant Wills said. “But you’ll have to win by a quite considerable margin.”

I nodded, sourly. The points scoring system was arcane – no one knew why; the joke was that the original rulebook had been lost long ago – but we needed to up our score by a lot next game or we could win and yet lose by not having enough points to proceed to the final match. Blair would never shut up about it, damn him … I wondered, idly, if he’d try to poach one of my players to replace Drusilla. It would be one more knife in the back for me.

“Good,” Sergeant Wills said. “You may go.”

“And don’t come back,” Blair called. His team brayed like mules. “You lose like that again, you’ll be naming your team the Losers!”

I gave him a completely sweet, completely fake, smile, then led the way out. Jane was standing outside, writing in her notebook. The Whitehall Times would have a full analysis of the match tomorrow, if I was any judge. I wondered who she’d get to write it. She had quite a bit in common with Mildred, starting with the fact she’d little real interest in games. I hoped she chose well. Asking Blair or any of the other team captains to write the analysis would not end well.

“That could have gone better,” I said, once we were in a meeting room and the door was firmly closed. “But we did better than I feared.”

“Hah,” Karen said. Her eyes looked as if she’d come off worst in a fistfight. The sergeant had done what he could, but there were limits. “We got our asses kicked.”

“Yes,” I said. There was no point in trying to pretend otherwise. “But we would have done better if they hadn’t ganged up on us.”

Jerry scowled. “How the fuck is that not cheating?”

“It’s technically legal,” I told him. “But it won’t happen again.”

Mildred raised her head and looked at me. “How can you be sure?”

I took a moment to consider my answer carefully. Mildred wasn’t a natural sportswoman. I was surprised she hadn’t already thrown in the towel and quit, after Blair – I was sure it had been Blair – had threatened to strip her on the field. He wouldn’t have taken it all the way – he’d be lucky if he was merely expelled, when the Grandmaster found out – but she had to have found it terrifying. The people who spoke in awe of Jane streaking across the field would be laughing at her, damn them.

“Blair talked the other two captains into it, somehow, but he also positioned himself to take advantage of our defeat,” I said. It reminded me of Conquest, where a skilful player could work with his allies one moment, all the while preparing to turn on them when his enemies were wiped out. Blair might have played it too. “He used us to weaken them as much as he used them to wipe us out.”

“So what?” Jerry glared at the blank wall. “We got fucked. We can’t win!”

“Next time, we go after Blair and kick his ass first,” Mark said. “Why don’t we try to ally with the others?”

“Because no one wants to ally with a loser,” Mildred said. Her voice dripped bitterness and regret. I understood, suddenly, why she’d stuck with us. We were probably the first people who’d willingly spent any time with her. “We lost, badly. They won’t work with us when they think we’ll drag them down.”

“So we forget victory and concentrate on making sure Blair loses,” Mark said. “Fuck him.”

“That’ll earn us a bad reputation,” I said. “I have one year left at school – Karen and Bill have three. We don’t want to go down in history as spiteful bastards.”

“And he’ll go down in history as a cheating son of a bitch,” Jerry muttered.

“It’s only cheating if you lose,” I pointed out. “And really, no rules were broken. He just … came up with a clever interpretation and put it into action.”

Mildred looked cross. “Can we win? I mean, can we earn enough points to get into the third match?”

“Yes,” I said.

“In theory,” Mark added. Bastard. “In practice … I don’t know.”

I rubbed my nose. Each team played two matches. The four teams with the highest points went on to play the third match, with a slightly different set of rules. The winner of that match would be on their way to the big leagues, giving the team captain all the influence he needed to recruit players from the beaten teams. I’d hoped to reach that spot myself, but … I ran through the calculations, mentally checking and rechecking the figures. Our only hope was to win so decisively we got almost all the points.

Which isn’t going to happen, unless the other teams just roll over for us, I thought. Blair had the money and contacts to bribe the enemy teams. There’d been a lot of horse trading before the match or I was a monkey’s uncle. Who knew what Blair had offered them? It was certainly nothing I could match. What am I supposed to offer that they can’t get for themselves?

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Blair would be wise to tone down the bribery as much as possible – if he bribed his way to the big leagues, he’d lose his first international match – but he could still use what he had to give him an edge. I wanted to think he’d weaken himself to the point he’d lose as badly as I had, yet … it wouldn’t happen in time to save me. It would be great to point and laugh from the sidelines, but it wouldn’t be anything more than petty spite. It wouldn’t make me a sporting champ.

“I’ll give it some thought,” I said, clearing my throat. “The rest of you, go get some dinner and rest. We’ll practice more tomorrow afternoon.”

“Evening,” Karen said. “Some of us need to keep up our grades.”

I pretended to be shocked. “Are you … are you saying there’s something more important than sports?”

Karen met my eyes. “What are the odds of any of us – anyone at this school – going on to a sporting career?”

“Never tell me the odds,” I said, firmly. “And I’ll see you all tomorrow evening.”

Mildred stayed, as the rest of the team filed out. I wondered if she wanted to give me her resignation now that we were alone, rather than doing it in front of the entire team. She might enjoy having friends, or at least people who hung out with her, but she’d been publicly humiliated in front of the entire school. Again. I knew people who couldn’t possibly match her at theoretical magic, yet constantly tormented her with childish hexes and jinxes. I didn’t understand it. She was capable enough to protect herself, surely? And yet she was the only older student who was regularly harassed by younger students.

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her gaze. “I let you all down.”

“You lasted longer than some,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to deal with her. Every last player I knew was arrogant as hell … and half of them deserved it. The others generally made fools of themselves, if they didn’t piss off their teammates to the point they were kicked off the team. “I never expected Blair to do that.”

I ground my teeth in frustration. Blair wasn’t a bad tactician. He’d done pretty well, first in convincing everyone to gang up on us and then knifing his former allies in the back. I’d come up with pretty good tactics myself, but they hadn’t worked against all three enemy teams. Somewhere, Blair was laughing … if he wasn’t shielding Drusilla against her enemies. I doubted it. Blair wasn’t known for being loyal to anyone. Perhaps I could use it against him.

But I have nothing to offer, I thought. There was no point in making noises about offering players a place on my team if it was worthless. What can I give them?

Mildred took a breath. “Can I trust you?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Can I trust you to keep a secret?” Mildred didn’t meet my eyes. “I … I have something that might help, but I need you to keep it a secret.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. If there was one thing that had been drummed into my head, as the son of a merchant and a student of magic, it was to be careful what you promised. I found it hard to imagine Mildred telling me something that would make me regret keeping it a secret, but people could surprise you. There was one girl, down in Dragon’s Den, who … I put that thought out of my head. Mildred wasn’t going to ask me anything like that … probably. Sure, there might be stories of girls looking for boys to help them lose their virginities, but most of those stories were made up by teenage boys. They were about as real as Blair’s sense of human decency.

“I will,” I promised, hoping I wasn’t making a terrible mistake. “What is it?”

Mildred waved her hand in the air, casting a pair of privacy wards. Strong wards. I was mildly impressed – and perplexed. If she could do that, she could defend herself against younger assholes … couldn’t she? I knew how to deal with bullies. One good beating and the bully backed off, two and the bully never bullied anyone again. The trick was to give the bastard the first beating.

“I’ve been working on chat parchments,” Mildred said, carefully. “Do you know how they work?”

“I understand the basic theory,” I said, puzzled. Mildred hadn’t invented them. Everyone knew how to make at least a basic chat parchment. “Why is that a secret?”

Mildred hesitated, noticeably. “I was trying to figure out how to improve them,” she said, after a long moment in which I could see her arguing with herself. “There’s a way to cast spells through the chat parchment, to get them through wards and other protections … provided the parchment is already inside the protections. I was working on ways to improve the process, to the point I could … I could channel magic through the parchment from a safe distance. And … I had a working set of spells when you convinced me to join you.”

My eyes narrowed. “You can make it work …?”

I understood, suddenly. Mildred had no friends, no allies … I suspected her family didn’t have any political or magical power. No wonder she was so careful. I could take her technique and tell the world it was mine, daring her to prove otherwise. It might not work, if the right people started asking questions, but how could she rely on it? She couldn’t. She might lose everything if I stole her work and called it mine.

“I see,” I said, carefully. I had no interest in becoming a charmsmaster, or things might have been different, but … I didn’t see her point. “Why do you think we can use it? We’re not allowed to bring parchments onto the field.”

“It doesn’t have to be a parchment,” Mildred told me. “Parchments work because people write messages on them, which are then sent to the reader. The parchments are actually entangled together, so what is written on one appears on the other … but it doesn’t have to be a parchment. I could do it with a tunic.”

“Right,” I said. “This isn’t going to help us …”

I stopped, dead. “You’re saying you can cast spells through the parchment … through whatever we entangle into the spell?”

“Yes,” Mildred said. “It should work.”

“Should?” I raised my eyebrows. “Didn’t you test it?”

Mildred coloured. “I had no one to test it with.”

“We’ll test it now,” I said. I didn’t hesitate. Mildred was a teammate, and you looked out for teammates. “And if it works …”

I smiled, broadly, as we left the chamber and headed up to the dorms. The technique might fail, but if it worked … I didn’t think we’d be breaking any rules. There were limits on what we were allowed to take into the arena – I recalled friendly matches that had been ruined by creative attempts to get around the rules – but none of them banned entangled objects, particularly if both sides of the entanglement were inside the arena. It could certainly be debated, unlike permanently harming or killing members of the other team. If it worked …

My smile grew wider. We could give the enemy one hell of a shock.

We might lose, I thought. But at least they’ll remember us.

A shadow detached itself from the wall as we approached. Blair. I stepped forward, motioning for Mildred to stay behind me. The bastard looked gleeful … I was surprised he wasn’t in the town, partying with his teammates and other cronies, if he wasn’t taking care of Drusilla. It was unwise for magicians to drink heavily – or at all – but sports teams tended to drink heavily after matches and to hell with the consequences. They also tipped heavily, which made up for vomiting, groping, and forced transfigurations. Or so everyone said.

“Well,” Blair said. “How’s your ass feeling after that kicking?”

“Oh, very witty,” I said, dryly. “You overpaid whoever slipped you that line.”

Blair snickered, then leered at Mildred. “Coming up to celebrate with your teammate?”

I clenched my fists. One solid punch and he’d be nursing a broken nose for a few hours before the healer fixed it. Or … one kick in the right place and there’d be no hope of having kids …

“What do you want?” It crossed my mind to wonder if he’d planned to ambush Mildred. It was possible. “We have work to do.”

“Work,” Blair repeated. “Studying biology, are we?”

He snickered, again. I met his eyes, silently daring him to push me one more time. “What do you want?”

“Juliet is gone,” Blair said. “And I am tipped to be her replacement. Here’s a tip – resign now, give up your team and stop wasting everyone’s time. You’re just clowning around while some of us are going to the big leagues.”

“Juliet is gone,” I agreed. “But there’s no guarantee you’ll take her place.”

“There is, if I win the tournament,” Blair said. “I don’t have to go to the big leagues to take her place.”

He strode past us, then stopped. “Sure, keep wasting your time if you wish,” he said. “But you’ll just get your asses kicked again.”

I watched him swagger down the corridor. His butt made a very tempting target. I deserved a medal for not hexing him in the back.

Mildred caught my arm. “What was he doing here?”

“He just wanted to taunt us,” I said, keeping my earlier thought to myself. “And I guess that means he’s scared.”

And I hoped, as we slipped into the spellchamber, that I was right.