"I fucking mind," I growled.
"Anyone can join if they've got a stake," Lepold replied and it was true. The rules of the gaming tables didn't care for personal feuds.
Josef pulled a half loaf of brown bread from inside his rags. It earned a few gasps and a lot of hungry eyes. The bread looked as fresh as any of us had seen in months, and brown bread was rare as gold down in the dark. I knew I wasn't the only one wondering where he had got it. I could have asked him. I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know what he'd been doing for the past month.
He obviously got it from the overseer. Payment for all your secrets.
"I'd say that's good enough," Lepold saying, licking his lips at the sight of the bread. The other players seemed to agree. "Highest stake chooses the game."
Josef looked at me and I knew what he was about to fucking say. I was already shaking my even as he said it. "Trust."
It was a new experience for me. Until that day I had only ever played Trust with both Hardt and Isen at the table. They knew me well enough to know I was far more treacherous than the roll of the dice could ever be. This group of players were different. They played differently. And they didn't know me. Josef, on the other hand, was trying to make amends. We both knew he was on my side and every time we were pitted against each other he picked friendship. The first time I took a dice off him. The second time, we both chose to shake hands though I railed at the false nicety.
One by one, the other players went out. I was ruthless where I needed to be, and unpredictable as well. More than once, I gave a dice away to confuse my opponents. There is a temptation in Trust to always pick betrayal, to leave fate up to the dice. Those players usually lose fast and hard, bested by their savvier opponents who are willing to wait out the aggression. For the first time I was one of the savvy ones. Josef, too, played a smart game. He was already friends with a couple of the other players and he used that friendship to his advantage.
Lepold was the last of the others to go out, losing his dice to Josef on a roll. By that point Josef had dice to throw away and he was more than happy to bully the rope maker out of the game. I had just one dice left myself, but Trust changes when there are only two players remaining. It no longer matters how many dice a player has accrued. Only one round is ever played where two players are concerned.
The other players didn't leave the table. They knew better than to forfeit their stakes by walking away. If both Joseph and I picked betrayal, then the game was reset for all to play again. If we both picked friendship then we would split the stakes, and there was only one item I really cared about. Though Josef's loaf of bread was tempting.
I stared across the table at Josef and he smiled back at me. I hated that smile, almost as much as I'd missed it. I knew then that he would pick friendship. He didn't care about the stakes, he just wanted us to be friends again. To be like we were.
You're not playing against Josef. You're playing against the overseer. He's trying to take it from you. He wants you to fail so you have no choice but to crawl back to the overseer and beg the Terrelans to let you be one of them.
I tried to ignore the thought, but it repeated itself again and again. Fear is a powerful motivator. Sometimes it motivates us to good, to run from danger or shy away from a flame. Other times it motivates us to evil, to take before it is taken, or to attack first. To mistrust those who are closest to us. Ssserakis fed on fear, nurtured it and drew strength from it. In me, it found a feast never-ending.
We each chose our faces and hid the dice with hands. For a long time, we watched each other. I had known Josef for most of my life, all of it that really mattered, yet I couldn't be sure what he was about to do. I knew him as well as I knew myself. I trusted him with my life. Or at least, I used to. I was no longer so sure. I wasn't certain if I trusted him with my life or my hope. I considered the possibilities again. Even if he did betray me again and took the rope I needed, I would have another chance. He might have even given me the rope. All I had to do was pick friendship and my victory was assured. One way or another I would get the rope. I had almost talked myself into it as well.
"Ready?" Josef asked, still smiling at me. I looked at that smile and didn't recognise it. I didn't even recognise the face he was showing me. A voice in my head whispered deception and I didn't know to ignore it.
I nodded and we both took our hands away. Josef's dice showed friendship and I breathed a sigh of relief. I glanced only once at his face too see the hurt there, but I couldn't bear more than a glance. With some empty platitudes about luck and next time, I gathered my winnings and fled before Josef could find his tongue.
Chapter 20
I found Hardt pacing back and forth near the crack. Tamura waved at me as I approached and I saw his eyes goggle at the rope, a grin lighting his face.
"Chains with which the moons are anchored to the world," Tamura said. "Lokar would be proud." Those words have stuck with me for some reason, and I have puzzled over them many times. I still cannot fathom their meaning. There are many tales of how our two moons became one, but I have always preferred the story of the Chase.
Millennia ago we had two moons. Lokar and Lursa. They were lovers, sharing everything but flesh. They passed through the night sky watching over us all so far below. Until one day Lursa broke away. The bards call her capricious, fleeing Lokar at a whim for no offence at all. I believe she wanted to strike out on her own, away from her lover for a time. Lokar gave chase, as jilted lovers often do. For a long time Lursa ran and Lokar followed, always gaining on his smaller counterpart. I have often wondered what it might have been like to look up into the sky and see two moons so close together and yet so far apart. Eventually, Lokar caught up with Lursa. The stories say he gathered her up into his arms, an embrace so strong they began to merge into one, and that is how they remain. Two moons slowly becoming one, spinning through the sky above our world. Some think it romantic, some think it a marvel. Personally, I think those people hopeless. They have clearly never stood on the ground amidst a moonshower, hoping not to be squashed by falling rocks.
Tamura snatched the rope from me and started tying knots into it. I stopped Hardt from pacing. He glanced up at me and I saw anguish on his face. Hardt was never one for undue worry.
Prig has killed Isen. The thought paralysed me, fear scaring me away from asking for the truth. I didn't just think it possible, but probable. In that moment I imagined never seeing Isen's cheeky smile again, never seeing the green of his eyes, or the brown flecks dotted throughout. I imagined never hearing his voice again, never hearing him say my name again. Never getting to feel his arms around me. Yes, I was a foolish girl who believed herself in love, but that is what we do when we are young, before life has ground the optimism out of us. We love hard and love easily, and then we turn the feelings of loss and rejection into sickening melodrama.
"...Eska?" Hardt's voice snapped me out of my daydream and I shook the lingering images away.
"What happened?" I asked.
Hardt shook his head. "Isen signed up to fight today," he said. "I tried to talk him out of it, pointed out we're getting close." The big man pointed to the crack in the ceiling. "We need him hale, not wounded. He signed up regardless, something about keeping up appearances."