Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles (32 page)

“
Hardly,” Meshel snorted
softly as he bent over Sigrid’s opposite shoulder. “We’ve been
pretending confusion while we lure him out into the open. Now we
pounce.”

“
Time,” called the War
Master.

“
Non team members off the
field, please,” Sigrid’s War Master liaison said sternly.

“
She is my lucky charm,”
Sigrid said, putting a protective arm around her. The liaison
shrugged and signaled the War Master that Ramhorn was ready. The War
Master nodded and set the clocks back into motion.

“
Do it,” Sigrid said to
his team, sending them out with a lift of his chin, “just like we
discussed. Step by step.”

Ramhorn Pack moved out onto
the playing field and took up positions beside the ranks of armies.
They all watched as Breyden took a piece that represented a unit of
light cavalry and set it to charge Xander’s defensive troops
arrayed around his city dome. As an opening ploy, it left a lot to be
desired. Breyden moved two more beside it before he joined Meshel and
Iroc with the main attacking units of Ramhorn’s offensive line.
Light cavalry was a strong piece but three of them were not powerful
enough to take out a walled and defended city. It was a puzzling
strategy.

The rest of Sigrid’s
troops split and tried to envelope the opposing army. It was to be a
land war, Cheobawn saw, looking around for Sigrid’s ships. Soral
and Erin were valiantly trying to save the few remaining ship pieces
he had left. He must have lost most of his fleet in the early part of
the game, the pieces out of play and resting on the verge of the
plaza.

Xander’s team, the Red Oak
Pack, responded to Sigrid’s attack, spreading his line of warriors
wide across the land part of the board, choosing to ignore the three
light cavalry pieces that raced across the chalky plain towards his
city. Instead he turned his full attention on the remaining land
troops Sigrid had arrayed against him.

Xander attacked.

Sigrid retreated in a
frantic attempt to protect his King as Xander’s armies curled in
around him. Xander had turned the tables and used Sigrid’s tactic
against him. The crowd began to hoot in anticipation for the coming
carnage.

Cheobawn did not watch. She
was preoccupied by the doomed trilogy as it neared the city defenses,
Breyden dashing between the two battle fronts to move the pieces with
every call of the time keeper. It was an expensive sacrifice for an
obvious feint, a ploy Xander had chosen to ignore.

“
It has not worked,
Sigrid,” she whispered. “Bring them back before you lose them.”

“
Shh,” he said softly
out of the corner of his mouth. “This is your fault, you know. I
think I will call this the Little Mother Feint when I become War
Master.” His console beeped. Sigrid touched an option. His liaison
looked up from his own screen.

“
If that was a mistake, I
will reset the game for you,” the liaison said.

“
It was not a mistake,”
Sigrid said calmly. “Play it as entered, please.”

“
The Luck odds are two
hundred thousand to one against,” the liaison said pointedly.

“
I have studied the game.
I know the odds. Play it as is,” Sigrid insisted calmly, but he
reached out and took Cheobawn’s hand in his own, squeezing it as he
watched his console, the dampness of his palms belying his outward
calm.

Something in the read outs
made Sigrid shout for joy, which was not wise for someone healing
from a couple of broken ribs. He gasped and clutched his side,
muttering imprecations under his breath. Connor knelt down beside him
to offer a supporting arm. Sigrid grabbed it, a grateful grimace on
his face.

“
Your Queen is taken, Red
Oak. Your dome has fallen,” the War Master intoned. “Concede or
continue?”

“
What!” screamed Xander.
“That is not possible!”

The crowd around the plaza
erupted into a frenzy of noise. Cheobawn cringed, not sure whether it
was rage or pleasure that fueled the outburst.

The War Master’s aides
began tying red checkered ribbons around the necks of the defensive
army arrayed around Xander’s dome. His green and yellow striped
flag was taken away along with his Queen. The crowd was now beside
itself.

Xander stormed across the
chalk covered plaza towards Sigrid. Ramhorn Pack sprinted to
intercept him but the aides got to him first, grabbing him by the
arms to guide him towards the War Master’s table. Erin and Soral
joined Breyden and Iroc for a celebratory dance around the fallen
city.

“
What did you do?”
Connor asked. It was a question Cheobawn wanted answered as well.

“
There is an old tradition
written into the rules of the game concerning the power of the Queen
piece. Some Masters leave it in, some purposefully take it out. It is
a long shot that works maybe once in every thousand games. I actually
had to check this morning to make sure the War Master had left it in
and given it a Probability ratio,” Sigrid said softly, his voice
almost lost in the general hubbub around them. Xander and the War
Master were in a very heated debate that was growing louder by the
moment. “If you can get a minor game piece within the circle of
influence of the dome, you can opt to use the strategy called Castle;
with one random number you can turn a piece into a Queen, battle the
opposing Queen and if you win, she converts all the defenders into
your own troops.”

“
But the odds are against
it,” Cheobawn reminded him, appalled at the risk he had taken.

“
Yeah, you would be a fool
to risk everything on that,” Connor said, his voice full of
admiration. “Nobody would expect it.”

“
How could I lose?”
Sigrid said serenely. “I had the luckiest person on the planet
sitting next to me.” Cheobawn smiled up at him, grateful for his
confidence in her.

The rest of Ramhorn came
back to Sigrid’s side, huge grins painted on their faces.

“
Try not to gloat,”
Sigrid growled softly, “At least until after Xander concedes.”

Everyone laughed. Xander was
still arguing with the War Master but his team was busy assessing the
damage and running the numbers on their game consoles to see if it
was possible to counter move with the pieces they had left. They
looked grim. Xander’s Second came over and consulted softly with
Xander. Xander closed his eyes, a look of suppresses fury on his
face.

“
That is not a happy man,”
Soral said softly.

Xander threw his hands up in
disgust, turned and stomped over to his King, knocking it flat with
an ill-tempered kick. Turning he strode towards Sigrid, his Pack
running to fall in line behind him. Breyden and Meshel moved to flank
Sigrid while Iroc herded Erin and Soral behind him to stand as honor
guard.

“
Clever, Ramhorn,”
Xander said with a slight bow. “I concede. You have beaten me
fairly. But it was a bluff that will only work once for you. You will
have to show more skill to get to the final round.”

There was angry muttering in
the crowd around them. As concession speeches went, this one was
hardly gracious.

“
Thank you for pointing
that out, Father,” Sigrid said to the older man, nodding his head
in the barest of bows, his arm pressed against his side to ease the
pain of such a motion. “I will try not to shame your legacy in the
coming games.”

Cheobawn frowned as she
looked from one Alpha to the other. What Sigrid said sounded polite
but the words could be misinterpreted as insult. Xander’s eyes
narrowed but he said nothing more. With another slight bow, he turned
to stomp away, his Pack in tow. Sigrid watched him go, his lips
pinched and pale. The crowd moved in, wanting to embrace the winning
team. Ramhorn Pack had their hands full keeping Sigrid from being
jostled. Cheobawn grew weary of the endless parade of admirers.

“
I’m hungry. Somebody
promised me steak pie,” she said to Connor as she rose to her feet.
“I think I am going to sit in the courtyard behind the common room
while you wait on me.”

“
OK, a promise is a
promise,” Connor agreed, offering her his arm. Sigrid rose, as
well. “That sounds like a nice way to spend the rest of the
afternoon,” he said. “Sitting like a conquering hero while being
fawned upon by my vassals.”

“
What vassals might those
be? You are not War Master yet,” Soral said lifting her nose into
the air in mock offense.

“
Really?” Sigrid said,
clutching his ribs theatrically. “I am wounded in battle. I deserve
a little tenderness, don’t you think?”

“
If I did not like you so
much,” Soral sniffed in disdain, “you would go hungry, injured or
not.”

“
Ah,” Sigrid said with a
smile, “that’s my Soral, always playing hard to get.”

Soral turned and flounced
away, a rosy flush on her cheeks. Meshel grinned at Sigrid and then
ran to catch up with her. He caught her hand and stopped her with a
few whispered words.

“
You’d better get well
quickly,” Erin said with a smile as she wrapped an arm around
Sigrid’s waist. “The longer you wait the harder she will punish
you in the first sparring session.”

Iroc took Sigrid’s other
arm and the threesome joined Soral and Meshel and headed towards the
breezeway along the side of the communal dining hall. Cheobawn and
Connor followed behind.

“
What was that all about?”
Cheobawn whispered softly into Connor’s ear.

“
I have no idea,” Connor
said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think Sigrid has to work
very hard to keep Soral happy. If it were me, I would have let her
walk out of my Pack long ago.”

“
I think that sometimes
older kids say things that mean something else entirely, like they
have secrets that can’t bear the light of day. Do you think it is
part of the mating ritual?” Cheobawn asked softy. “Like the dance
of the carrion lizards?” She was remembering the Spider battles
that preceded the egg maker’s transition into seed bearer; the
intense emotions of battle surely must be part of the trigger for
transfiguration.

Connor choked and then burst
out laughing. Sigrid and Erin turned to see what was so funny.
Blackwind’s Third tugged her along, catching up with the Ramhorn.

“
I cannot wait until Tam
gets out of Temple,” Connor said to Sigrid, “so he can answer all
these impossible questions.”

“
You don’t know, do
you?” Cheobawn accused him.

“
Is it a question we can
help you with, Little Father?” Erin asked.

“
Her questions will make
your head spin,” Connor groaned. “She thinks humans have mating
rituals.”

“
Of course we do,” Erin
said with an inscrutable smile and a quick glance from under her
lashes towards Sigrid. “But it is a more subtle game than War and
neither side discusses their strategy in mixed company.”

“
Girls,” snorted Iroc.
“They would make us dance for them like the fen cock.”

The male half of Ramhorn
laughed at the joke, the two older girls exchanging amused and
knowing looks. The young Fathers, filled with good humor over their
win, began to dance around Soral, cooing like fen cocks. By the time
they reached the small kitchen courtyard and Connor had pushed
Cheobawn into a chair there and gone in search of real food, Iroc had
been persuaded to show Cheobawn his impression of a fen cock dancing
for his lady hen. The young Father bent down low and tucked his hands
into his armpits. Elbows flapping, and feet stamping out a beat, he
strutted around the small courtyard, his parody eerily accurate.
Ramhorn roared with laughter while Cheobawn watched in puzzled
amusement.

“
See,” Erin said softly
as she leaned close to Cheobawn’s ear, “they deny they dance for
us, but do it anyway. Such is the power of love, to muddle even the
strongest Father’s mind. But never point it out. Their egos would
become bruised and the joy would go out of their displays. Some
secrets must never be revealed.”

Cheobawn smiled, pleased to
be included in the older girl’s confidences but she truly did not
understand the complicated undercurrents that lay at the base of the
young Pack’s actions and motivations. It was a puzzle to be studied
when there was more time.

The thought was banished
from her mind when, in the next moment, Connor returned with Nedella,
half a dozen kitchen helpers in tow bearing trays heaped with food
and drink. Iroc and Meshel pulled up two more tables just to hold all
the plates and bowls of food and scrambled to find more seating. He
had to settle on using two empty crates and a barrel.