The Prize in the Game
by Jo Walton
Free ebook download: The Prize in the Game by Jo Walton, legally licensed and available in PDF, and ePub formats.
When war comes, Emer has two choices: perform her duty to the homeland to which she owes everything, or protect the one she loves and be branded a traitor.
When a friendly competition leads to the death of a beloved horse and incurs the wrath of the Horse Goddess, the kingdoms of the island of Tir Isarnagiri are doomed to suffer. As the goddess' curse chases them down the years, four friends destined for kingship-Conal, Emer, Darag, and Ferdia-are forced into conflict as their countries build towards war. Matters are complicated when Emer and Conal fall in love, and dream of escaping together from the machinations of their respective families. But Conal and Ferdia are rivals for the High Kingship of the island, and Conal cannot simply leave. The contest between them will lead to a visionary quest on a mountain sacred to the gods-and terrifying to men. Yet Emer faces an even greater struggle. For when war finally comes, Emer has two choices: perform her duty to the homeland to which she owes everything, or protect the one she loves and be branded a traitor forever. The path she takes will become the stuff of legend, and forever alter the destiny of Tir Isarnagiri.
Set in the world of Jo Walton's previous fantasy novels, The King's Peace and The King's Name, this book takes us to a shining era of dark powers, legendary heroes and passionate loves-all of them ruled by the hand of Fate.
Excerpt:
“My parents are always fighting,” Elenn said.
Conal looked at her. She really was a distractingly beautiful girl. He had thought so even when she had first arrived in the king’s hall, wet and bedraggled, with her huge-eyed little sister standing beside her. Here in the sunny orchard with the blossoms around her she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. His father, the poet Amagien, had already written about her looks in extravagant terms. But it was very hard to look at her and deny that her hair was reminiscent of black night or her eyes of stars. She looked like Nive herself come down to walk among men for a season. It was a pity she didn’t have wit to match her looks. All she seemed to care about was having everyone adore her. This was the first time she had said something that wasn’t directly about her, and even this wasn’t far away. “Always?” he asked.
“All the time,” she confirmed, smiling a little as if she could see something Conal couldn’t.“
“What about?” he asked, mildly interested despite himself. He knew she was only walking with him because Ferdia and Darag couldn’t be found and she didn’t want to walk alone.
“Everything,” she said. “Anything at all. What weapons the three of us should be taught. What colour my sister should wear for the Feast of Bel. What crops the farmers should plant and in which fields. Whether the hall needs new rushes yet. If we are to go to war with Muin this summer. If my brother should marry Atha ap Gren. Who is the father of the white cat’s kittens.”
Conal swallowed hard. He was glad they were alone. He knew that if anyone were to catch his eye at that moment, even Darag, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from laughing aloud. Elenn looked as serious and as beautiful as ever. In the month she had been at Ardmachan she had already reproached him for laughing at her at least a dozen times. “Some of those matters are of great import, and others are very trivial,” he said, as calmly as possible.
“I know,” Elenn said, composedly. “Sometimes they will fight about whether this is the way a king should behave.”
“My uncle Conary would say that it is not,” Conal said, definitely. He had heard Conary’s lectures on kingship often enough. They were always made to all the royal kin, though it was Darag he always looked at, and Darag whose questions were answered first.
“My parents have very different ideas about kingship from King Conary,” Elenn said, looking up at him under her lashes in a way he would have found enchanting if he could have believed for a minute that she liked him.
“Which of your parents is the king of Connat anyway?” he asked, realizing that he did not know for sure. “I think I have always heard them mentioned together.”
“Both of them are of the royal kin,” Elenn said. “My mother, Maga, was the daughter of the last king, Arcon. My father, Allel, is her cousin. When the kindred came to choose, many of them wanted Maga, for her wisdom, and others Allel, who was remarked as a warleader when he was young. So it was agreed that they should marry and give each other the benefit of their skills.”
“And they’ve been arguing ever since?” Conal asked.
“Oh yes,” Elenn said. They were almost through the orchard. Conal could already see the oak tree his grandfather used for a school. Emer was there already, pulling a flower apart intently. Leary and Nid were playing fidchell with leaves in the dust. There was no sign of Darag, or Ferdia and Laig, or of Inis himself. “I think marriage of cousins is very wrong, do not you? I think marriages work better when people know each other much less well to begin with.”
“No doubt,” Conal said, politely. Then he thought of his own parents, who had known each other since his father had been fostered here as a boy. “Definitely. But as for your parents, which of them holds the kingship from the land?” he asked. “Only one person can hold it, that I’m sure about.” They passed the last of the apple trees and slowed their steps to salute the trees as they passed through the grove.
“My mother does,” Elenn said, bowing to the birch tree. “But it is something else they argue about incessantly. My father says that the kingdom would be nothing if not for his leading armies, and my mother says it would be nothing if not for her alliances.”
“Are those two paths?” Inis asked.
Conal jumped and Elenn gave a little squeal. His grandfather had a habit of doing that and it never failed to disconcert him. Conal tried to be aware of people and movement. Inis was the only person who had managed to surprise him in half a year, but he managed it almost every time. He strove not to let his surprise show on his face or in his movements. Most of a year ago he had asked Inis for advice on how to deal with Darag and Inis had told him that he had already learned how. That meant his way of taking things lightly and not showing when he was wounded. He had learned that from his father’s constant prodding, not from Darag. He had a shrewd idea that Inis knew that too. Now he tried to keep his reactions to himself as much as he could, while smiling and speaking airily. He bent his mind to what Inis had said as if it were a riddle he was using to teach them. Were Maga’s alliances and Allel’s warleading two paths? “I think you mean that Connat needs both their strengths to be strong, Grandfather,” he said, phrasing his answer carefully.
Inis looked pleased and began to walk with them towards the others. “Do you see it, girl?” he asked Elenn. She raised her chin affirmatively, but Conal didn’t think there was room for much thought behind her pretty face.
“Where are Ferdia and Darag?” she asked.
Most of a month in Oriel and she hadn’t learned yet not to ask Inis questions. Not to mention how much that one gave away. Even the order of names revealed her hidden preference, he would guess. Elenn had spent most of the month letting Ferdia and Darag act as rivals for her favours, offering each of them the hero’s portion in turn, with the occasional shred of meat thrown to Leary and Conal. She hadn’t managed to spoil the friendship between Darag and Ferdia. There was no friendship between them and Conal to spoil, even if he had cared, but he hated to watch what it was doing to Leary. Conal had originally thought it might be a good thing for the two princesses of Connat to be fostered with them for a while. He remembered the time he had spent at Cruachan fondly. But he had forgotten the great distance that stretched between eight and seventeen. He would have begged his uncle not to invite them if he had guessed how disruptive rivalry for a beautiful girl could be. Conal realised that Elenn’s question had fallen into silence, which meant his grandfather was looking for the answer across the worlds. He turned to him in concern, just in time to see the emptiness in Inis’s face before he spoke.
“Acting on what I taught you this morning,” Inis said. His voice sounded different, full of the echoes that meant he was speaking from the depths of his oracle-knowledge. His eyes met Conal’s without recognition for a moment.
Conal felt disgusted with Elenn for pushing his grandfather away from sanity. Then he took in what Inis had said, so suddenly his head spun. “This morning we were learning how to recognise a fortunate day,” he said.
“And you said that all days were fortunate, but there is an art to telling for what they are fortunate, for some day fortunate for one thing might be unfortunate for another,” recited Elenn in a monotone, as they came up to the oak tree where the others were sitting.
“And you read the signs for today and said that it would be a good day for a great warrior to take up arms for the first time,” Emer said, enthusiastically, jumping up and taking Inis’s arm. “Sit down now, sir, and teach us how to read the signs. I could almost see it, but not quite.”
Inis blinked at the girl, rubbed his eyes and sighed. “You would have made a fine oracle-priest,” he said.
Emer looked down and smiled.
