Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

A Losing Game

Faye eyed the pieces on her board, but her vision seemed to glaze, looking past. She was playing a game with Odaren. They'd finished their game of cyn. He'd lost. Now they were playing elements. The board was interchangeable—a slat of checkered wood could be slid out and flipped over, exchanged for the many-squared board of elements. Inside the hollowed wood she'd found the colored glass pieces of elements. They weren't flawless like some she'd seen—they still had the bubbles, an imperfection she rather liked, but it made her think of the fat innkeeper she'd killed. He must have filched the board from some rich patron, and then she'd borrowed it in turn. She was glad to be playing elements over cyn. Both were tactical games, but cyn was a short, rough game of betrayal and death. Elements, on the other hand, was a game of long-term planning.

Elements was a game that took after si'tu'ah, which in sand tongue translated to 'the way of the sword,' but most considered it a manual to life and living. Just like si'tu'ah, elements had strategy and planning, and required reading the clues in your surroundings, and more specifically in your opponent, to gain an edge. And there were always clues.

In truth, she felt both games stirring inside her. The rage inside her wanted nothing more than blood and death, but she'd need to think long ahead of the Shadow King's plans if she hoped to save Leah. "So... What's the Shadow King have planned for me when we arrive in Narim?" she asked her partner and opponent in a brusque tone.

Odaren looked up from the board. "Planned?"

"Surely he doesn't expect me to come bound and gagged like some stuffed pig ready for the Harvest Festival."

Odaren scratched his chins. "Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? He sent you, my little pudgy friend."

The thief grimaced, turning his attention to the board. "So?"

"So you're no great assassin—"

"But I—"

"—or handsome prince—"

Odaren growled.

"—or handsome anything for that matter."

He grew silent at last, pouting, eyeing the glass pieces with sullen anger. "Your tongue is crueler than your blade. I'm not sure if I should be impressed or sorry for you."

She sighed, leaning back and kicking up her feet. "That's just because you've only tasted my blade, but you had the fortunate and rare chance to feel the full breadth of my tongue." She didn't mean the words to be interpreted erotically, but Odaren turned red, somewhere between lust and anger. She rolled her eyes. Always sex first with men, even in the face of impending danger. "Why you?" she questioned again, "and what's the Shadow King planning?"

"You've already proved I'm an ignorant fool to his plans—why keep harassing me?"

"Because you're shrewd, and because you know him, and because..." she hesitated, glancing around the deck, seeing only deckhands moving to and fro, gulls cawing and passing by in the thick briny air. "Who else am I to ask?"

"By the gods you have a way with compliments."

She sighed again, leaning forward and grabbing his grubby hand. She felt the dirt, but it was surprisingly warm in her cold, slender fingers. And a little sweaty. "I'm not one for compliments, and I'm not..." She didn't know how to phrase her next words. Her heart was never warm, but now? It felt like ice in her chest. Still, Odaren didn't deserve her lashings. "Forgive me." Then she sought the truest words she could. "I need your help, Odaren. You know the Shadow King and his ways. I need to prepare for what's to come if I'm going to save Leah."