“He calls himself Haplo, Sire,” said Pons, bowing low. A dangerous man, the chancellor might have added aloud. A man who lost control once, but who won’t be goaded into losing it again. A man who kept to the shadows, not furtively, but instinctively, as if he’d learned long ago that to draw attention to himself was to make himself a target.
The dynast leaned back in his chair. He gazed at Haplo through eyes that were slits only. Kleitus appeared bored, lethargic. Pons shivered. His Majesty was at his most dangerous when he was in this mood.
“You do not bow before us. We suppose you’re going to tell us that we’re not your king either,” he remarked.
Haplo shrugged, smiled. “No offense.”
His Majesty covered twitching lips with a delicate hand, cleared his throat. “None taken.. . from either of you. In time, perhaps, we will come to an understanding.”
He sat silent, brooding. Prince Edmund began to fidget with impatience. His Majesty glanced swiftly at him and raised his languid hand, gesturing at the table.
“Do you game, Your Highness?”
Edmund was taken aback. “Yes . . . Sire. But it has been a long time since I played. I have had little leisure for frivolous activities,” he added bitterly.
The dynast waved such considerations aside. “We had thought to give up our game tonight, but we see no reason to do so now. Perhaps we can come to an understanding over the game board. Will you join us, sir? Forgive me, but are you a prince … or … or any sort of royalty that we should acknowledge?”
“No,” said Haplo, and volunteered nothing else.
“No, you won’t join us, or no, you are not a prince, or no, in general?” the dynast inquired.
“I’d say that pretty well describes the situation, Sire.” Haplo’s gaze was fixed on the gaming pieces, a fact that did not go unnoticed by His Majesty.
The dynast permitted himself an indulgent laugh. “Come, sit with us. The game is complex in its subtleties, but it is not difficult to learn. We will teach you. Pons, you will make up a fourth, of course.”
“With pleasure, Sire,” said the chancellor.
An inept rune-bone player at best, Pons was rarely called on to game with his dynast, who had little patience with the unskilled. But the true game tonight would be played on a far different level, one with which the Lord High Chancellor was vastly familiar.
Prince Edmund hesitated. Pons knew what the young man was thinking. Might such an activity reduce his dignity and dilute the seriousness of his cause? Or would it be politically expedient to give in to this royal whim? The chancellor could have assured the young man it didn’t matter, his doom was sealed no matter what he chose to do.
The Lord High Chancellor felt sorry for this prince for a brief moment. Edmund was a young man with heavy burdens, who took his responsibilities seriously, who was obviously sincere in his desire to help his people. A pity that he couldn’t see he was just another game piece, to be moved where it suited His Majesty, or removed … if it suited His Majesty.
The prince’s well-bred courtesy won out. He walked over to the gaming table, sat down opposite the dynast, and began arranging the bones in the starting position, which required that they be lined up to resemble the walls of a fortress.
Haplo hesitated, as well, but his reluctance to move was perhaps nothing more than a reluctance to leave the shadow and venture into the strong light. He did so, at last, walking forward slowly to take his place at the table. He kept his hands beneath the table, lounged back in his chair. Pons seated himself opposite.
“You begin, sir,” said the chancellor, acting on a cue from the dynast’s upraised eyebrow, “by arranging the pieces thusly. Those marked with the blue runes are the base. Those with the red are stacked on top of the blue and those with both blue and red markings form the battlements.”
The dynast had completed building his wall. The prince, frustrated and angry, was halfheartedly constructing his. Pons affected to be interested in putting his together, but his gaze crept to the man opposite. Haplo moved his right hand out from beneath the table, lifted a rune-bone, and slid it into place.