The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,70

that!

And, judging from the appraising look he gave her, he was intelligent. Good. She hated stupidity.

She met his gaze. He grinned, confidently. She disliked him on instinct but, before she could speak, her father indicated the board game which sat on a low table in the bay window.

'Why don't we play Duelling Kingdoms? You have probably played a version of this game, warlord Rejulas. The way we play it here at court is more complex. The rewards are greater but then so are the risks. Will you play?'

Was her father being subtly cryptic? Piro wondered, and glanced to Rejulas to see if he thought so.

'How can I refuse?' he replied, with a smile that said he would rise to the challenge.

'Would you like to be the Elector of Ostron, Piro?' her father asked. The ruler of Ostron Isle was in charge of the wild cards, Unknowables. The elector could not win, but neither could he lose, since the real battle was between the two kings. 'I'll take King Rolence the First's piece. And you can play King Merofyn the First, Rejulas.'

Piro's father smiled grimly as he sat down at the triangular table. She took her seat and studied the familiar board. Rolencia and Merofynia were two crescents, one opened to the north, the other to the south. They were linked at their closest ends by the Snow Bridge. In real life this was a series of high ridges where the air was so thin only the locals could live comfortably. The people of the Snow Bridge formed fiercely independent city states, which monitored the three passes between Rolencia and Merofynia, taking their cut of all land trade.

From the mountains that bordered the outer crescents, long spikes stretched into the sea. In real life these ridges were broken, with small islands scattered about them.

Piro picked up the piece she was to play. The carving of the Elector of Ostron was as tall as her shortest finger and engraved with lifelike detail. Tiny jewels were set in his turbaned crown. Judging from Lord Cobalt, this style of clothing was well out of date. The wild cards were stacked on Ostron Isle which lay to the east of Merofynia.

'Turn over the first Unknowable, Piro,' her father said.

When the game began, each king was evenly matched with the same number of trained warriors, plus five warlords and their warriors. The object of the game was to invade the other kingdom.

There were three ways to attack. One was over the Snow Bridge which linked the two kingdoms. Snow closed the passes from autumn to spring. The thin air and exertion could wipe out half the army, or the inhabitants of the Snow Bridge could open the gates of their city states and turn on the men, to loot the army.

The next way to invade was to sail around the warlords' spars and navigate the outlying islands where the ships were prey to storms, Utland Raiders and wyverns. All these obstacles had to be overcome to reach the two kingdoms' vulnerable crescent valleys.

The last and least used way, because it entailed bribing a warlord to betray his king, was to march across the spar nearest to the invading king's harbour. In Merofynia's case, Cockatrice Spar.

That made Piro wonder. If her brother was betrothed to the Merofynian kingsdaughter they did not need to ensure this warlord's loyalty, did they?

It struck Piro that the game assumed the two kings would always seek to conquer one another. What if they were both content to rule their own lands? He father certainly was.

'Ready, Piro?' her father prodded.

She stacked the cards neatly. As the Elector of Ostron Isle, she held the Unknowables, factors beyond the kings' control, storms that sunk ships, Utland Raiders that destroyed fleets, treacherous warlords who betrayed their king, or the elector himself might support one king against the other.

Piro picked up the top card and read aloud. 'The city states of the Snow Bridge refuse to open the passes to the king's army.'

It was a setback for the warlord. Her father smiled and his eyes gleamed. 'Your move, Rejulas.'

The warlord rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

'Piro, we will have our wine,' her father said.

She pulled the trolley closer and poured two elegant silver goblets of the gleaming, rich wine. Its celebrated colour appeared on the royal emblem. She loved the fruity smell, associating it with winter nights, festivals and story telling.

King Rolen accepted his wine and Rejulas did likewise.

'To Rolencia, may her borders always be free from threat,' her