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The Game	By : RTietjen Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 1956 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Authors Note: Having just finished Amber and Iron, I realized my Krell is far different from the one described in that novel. I will stand by my interpretation for two reasons. One, I refuse to believe that Ariakan would keep knights in his employ - even middel aged knights - with "sagging guts". Poor physical condition is not conducive to success on the battlefield. Second, Krell may be stupid at certain things, but Ariakan for some reason considered him a friend. Krell had to be clever enough to cover up his real intentions. Therefore, I stand by my presentation of him as perfectly valid if a bit different from the caricature offered at the end of Amber and Iron. Also, for those worried about such things, smut will be forthcoming within the next two chapters.
Chapter 8
Acts of terrorism? A few chicken feathers, some ladies underwear, and chalk? Of all the self righteous, arrogant, ridiculous... Rae let her thoughts and rage drive away the fear as she was returned to her cell.
The darkness was comforting after ... him. The eyes. Gray as storm clouds and so cold. She shivered, realized she still had the cloak, and burrowed into it as far as she could, feeling the stone wall against her back.
So she was to be “properly questioned” was she? Where did they store the rack? His bedroom probably, Rae thought bitterly. Where were Tristan and Irybis? Hatching some half cocked plan to break into the prison, most likely. She expected to hear them being dragged past the cell any time.
Rae could almost hear Irybis whining about the knights wrinkling his best vest, Tristan’s endless “I told you this would happen”... hysterical laughter took her, and she collapsed to the floor of the cell, laughing until tears came from her eyes.
When her meal came, she left it by the door.
Rae curled up in the darkness and willed herself to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time it came close, the image of storm gray eyes drove it away.
After several days, or perhaps it was only hours - in the darkness, there was no way to tell - they came for her again. She followed the pair of knights across the three streets and back toward the manor house. She glanced inside the audience hall as they passed to see Ariakas at his desk.
Her escort paused in the doorway. A scribe whispered something in the Lord’s ear. He raised his head and briefly met her eyes. The ball of fear which had been growing in the pit of her stomach dropped. She staggered in place and one of the knights caught her arm to steady her. A nod from their Lord and she followed them up a winding spiral staircase.
“Shouldn’t the torture chamber be in the basement,” she wondered, not realizing she’d spoken aloud until the knight on her left stifled what might have been a laugh. His companion gave him a stern glare and he fell silent.
The stopped outside a large wooden door. The knight who had laughed held the door open for her. She stood frozen in place, struggling to control a sudden urge to bolt madly for freedom. Rae took a deep breath and stepped through the door.
The door closed behind her. She waited to hear it lock, then laughed at herself. With a hundred of Ariakas’ Dark Knights between her and freedom, not to mention the thousand or so stationed in the city, they had no need for locks.
To her surprise, didn't see a whip, chain or other implement of torture anywhere. No racks of knives and rusted pokers.
Instead, she found herself standing in a thickly carpeted room.
At the center of the room was a square table with a khas board on it. Apparently someone was in the middle of a game. She gave it a cursory glance and stepped past it. There were two mirrors in the outer room as well as a set of book shelves, mostly hidden by stacks of papers. An empty armor stand stood in the corner as well as a weapons rack.
A small fire flickered in the fireplace. She saw extra wood stacked neatly to one side. The window was shuttered and the room felt uncomfortably warm. The fire gave off little light. The remainder of the room was lit by three delicate blown glass oil lamps.
Beyond the front sitting area, she could see another alcove, this one mostly taken up by a large bed. The headboard and footboard were carved with intricate intertwined dragons. She saw a chest of drawers here, and more mirrors, one over the head of the bed and a full length mirror on the opposite wall.
Off the sleeping chamber, she found a bathing and dressing room, with a large iron claw-foot tub full of water. Having lived on the streets all her life, Rae had never actually seen such a thing before. She’d heard of them, of course, and Mara had bragged that she bathed regularly when her lordling’s wife was off a-visiting. It was the most amazing thing Rae had ever seen, steam rising enticingly off the water. Almost enough to make her forget where she was and why.
She tentatively reached out a hand to skim it across the water. Beside the tub someone had laid out a pile of clothes. Women’s clothes. Apparently they wanted her to wash before they tortured her. Maybe someone didn’t like getting their hands dirty?
The rebellious part of her flared up and she almost left everything where it lay, but one more look at that marvelous tub made up her mind. If she was going to die today, she might as well be clean when she did. Rae stripped off her ragged robe and dropped it on the floor.
She slid into the water, which was just a bit too hot to be comfortable, but she didn’t care. She let herself sink to the bottom, dropping her head back, tendrils of hair brushing her face as they floated to the surface.
Sitting up, she reached around for a bar of spicy scented soap that lay by the pile of clothes. She couldn’t quite identify the scent. It made Rae think of elderflowers and myrrh. An odd combination. She scrubbed the dirt and grime from her hair first, then her body. By the time she finished the water was cool.
As she was squeezing the water from her hair, she heard the door open and leapt to her feet, wrapping a blanket around her. A man dressed in servant’s liveries entered, and mumbled an apology as he set a tray on the bedside table. He retreated before Rae could question him.
Her stomach wrenched as the smell of the food hit her. How long had it been since she’d eaten?
She stubbornly ignored the tray and dressed quickly, hoping to avoid greeting the next visitors in her skin. She donned the blue-green dress of tightly woven silk. With no shift to wear beneath it, the gown clung to her body in ways that were far from decent. As she picked up what lay beneath the dress, her breath caught in her throat.
It was her tunic. The one she had lost the day of Ariakan’s “triumphant” entry into the city. Her hand trembled as she held it. How much did he know? She dropped the tunic and rushed out to the window, clawing at the shutter, but it was locked.
She forced the panic down and started riffling through the drawers, under the bed, checking the bookshelves for anything that would help her escape.
She knelt by the edge of the bed, twisting the sheet in her hands, wondering what sort of rope it would make, if she could get the window open, if she could make it out onto the roof, she’d never get out of the yard...maybe she could just hang herself and save them the trouble.
She dropped the sheet, and crossed back into the sitting room. The door opened again and three servants entered, emptied the dirty bath water and left the room.
As time passed, Rae's panic subsided and she studied the board on the table in an attempt to calm her mind. It took her only a moment to realize the black player had already won. Six moves, seven at the most, and the white king was doomed.
She reached down and picked up the black king, careful to note where it was placed. The piece wasn’t actually black, it was green and carved from some deep green semiprecious stone. Up close, the skill of the craftsman became evident. She stood up and moved closer to the fire to see the detail better.
“Beautiful work isn’t it?” Rae nearly fainted from fright at Ariakan's voice a few scant inches from her ear. The piece fell to the floor.
Ariakan retrieved it, and inspected it for damage. The carpet had protected it. “We must be grateful for the decadence of this home's previous owner,” he said, as he replaced the piece to its position on the board. “Sit.”
He held out a chair for her. She obeyed automatically.
For a few long moments, he stared down at her. Rae refused to meet his eyes, taking in his appearance instead.
It was the first time she had seen him without his armor. He was dressed all in black, a black shirt of some loose material - probably silk. The lacings were open at the throat, revealing a dusting of dark chest hair. His trousers were likewise black, and blousy, tucked into knee high black boots. His hair hung loose, and straight. It shone in the firelight, still damp, as if he had just himself some from bathing.
He still wore his sword.
“A moment, milady,” he said, and hung the sword in its place, laying the belt over the armor rack. He stepped into the sleeping alcove for a moment, brought out the tray of food and made room for it on the table. “If the food is not to your liking, I can have something else brought up.”
She didn’t respond.
His eyes traveled the length of her body and something in his gaze made Rae acutely aware of how underdressed she was. Her thoughts went to the tunic. He had seen her in less.
“Eat. If I intended to poison you, I would have done it before now.”
She picked up a bit of cheese. He nodded in approval then went to survey the damage she had done to the bedroom. As she ate, he methodically worked his way around the room, replacing shifted papers and re folding the items in the drawers. He took a moment to smooth the twisted sheets then walked to the window and opened the shutters, letting cool air blow through the room. “The only thing I don’t care for about this room. It doesn’t face the harbor.”
She picked her way through the fruit and bread pretending to be terribly interested in the food.
He finished putting his things back together - his things - she realized with a jolt. This was...
“Perhaps there is kender blood in your line somewhere, dear lady? In less than an hour, you managed to ransack my room and find time for a bath. It would also explain how you came to be so utterly fearless.”
“Am not,” she muttered around a slice of salted pork.
“Fearless enough to rifle through my things.”
“I was looking for a way out.”
“Fearless enough to torment my knights without thought for the consequences.”
“Stupid enough, maybe.”
“I could send you downstairs, I suppose. My questioners are extremely good at their job, if a bit tasteless and unimaginative, much like Ausric.”
Rae choked on the bread she was swallowing.
Ariakan handed her a glass of wine. Wine? Where had that come from?
“By all rights I should have turned you over to him, but you would have been wasted on Krell.”
“I didn’t hurt him.”
He almost smiled. “Only his pride. As important as that may be to him, I have yet to see a man die from embarrassment.”
“I’m sure he’ll survive,” she said, attempting to sip the wine. Her hand was shaking so badly, the wine threatened to leap out of the glass.
Ariakan knelt beside the chair and placed his hand over hers to steady the glass, bringing the wine to her lips. “You’re right to be afraid,” he said softly. “When you play games, it’s best to know the rules before you begin.”
She drank deeply of the wine trying to ignore his hands. They felt rough where they touched hers, a soldier’s hands, callused from years of carrying a sword. How many men had died at those hands? He traced his fingertips lightly across the back of her hands as he released her, sending a chill through her entire body. She could feel his breath on her hair.
He took the wine glass from her and refilled it from a skin draped over the chair. After one more quick look around the room, he took the chair across from her and went to work resetting the board.
He noticed her watching him and a strange look crept into his eyes. “Khas is a fine game, and one I mastered years ago. Do you play?”
“A bit.”
“Perfect. Then we shall play at a game we both know. For us, tonight, we shall make it more interesting. There are things about you I desire to discover. Krell has told me that you harbor some curiosity about my life. I shall give you a chance to satisfy that curiosity and to win your freedom.”
“I don’t understand.”
“For each piece you capture, I will answer one of your questions. You will do the same for me.”
“How do I know you won’t just lie?”
“That would be against the rules.”
“And if I win, you let me walk out of here?”
“If you win.” He did not seem overly concerned about that possibility.
“And if I don’t...”
His eyes met hers. No longer cold, Rae saw a heated promise in those eyes. A brewing storm. “Then you remain as my... guest... until I am finished with you.”
“This makes no sense. You aren’t gaining anything you don’t already have.”
“I seek a diversion from the ponderous task of rewriting Palanthian law. One way or the other, I will conduct this interrogation. I thought this method may prove more pleasant for both of us. I do enjoy a good game of khas.”
“Servants of Takhisis are not generally known for keeping their word. How do I know you’ll keep yours.”
“You don’t.”
Blunt, but honest. “Fine. Let’s play some khas.” He had set the board with the white pieces in front of her. How gracious.
“White moves first.”
- 7
- 8
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The Game