Andross played Cloak of Darkness, making Kip’s gambit much less likely, and said, “That slave girl.” He seemed to be at a loss to remember her name. Kip didn’t supply it, for fear that he was being baited. Andross snapped his fingers.
“Adrasteia,” Grinwoody said quietly from the darkness. Kip looked at him. The man was wearing odd, heavy spectacles Kip hadn’t seen before.
“Adrasteia,” Andross said as if he had remembered it, as if Grinwoody were an extension of himself. “I’ll buy her, and if you win, I’ll give her to you. You can take her as your room slave. I don’t imagine your village gave a boy of your dubious charms many opportunities for the pleasures of the flesh, did it?”
Kip’s stomach turned. “And if I lose?” he asked, hoping to steer far away from those topics.
“She’ll be my slave. Worry about that as you will.” His mouth twitched in a shadow of a smile.
Kip, I’m a slave, Teia had said. You don’t even know what that means.
He did now. Kip was a fat bastard from the armpit of the Seven Satrapies, but he had choices. Teia didn’t. Other people might look down on Kip, but they didn’t even see Teia. Or when they did, it might not be in the way she’d want to be seen.
“What’s your plan for me?” Kip asked.
Kip couldn’t see the old man’s eyes through his dark, dark spectacles, but Andross’s head cocked to the side, brow twitched, surprised. “A question my own son would never have dared to ask. Are you bold or stupid, boy?”
“Both. And you’re avoiding the question.”
Andross Guile’s lips pursed. He lifted two fingers, waved them forward.
A fist crashed across Kip’s cheek. Grinwoody. May Orholam scratch out his eyes with sand.
Kip had fallen out of his chair and dropped his cards. He picked them up slowly, regaining his composure.
“It’s amusing once in a while, Kip, but I don’t tolerate much disrespect. Remember, or be reminded.”
“So are you going to tell me or not?” Kip asked. He was treading the line, and he knew it, but Andross Guile let this one pass.
“It depends on how good of a Nine Kings player you are.”
Kip was too smart for once to follow that up with, But what’s the endgame, Rossie? Sure, the Guiles nearly rule the world, but Prisms don’t last forever. Your family’s almost gone. What do you want?
Maybe Andross Guile had been scheming so long that he didn’t know how to not scheme. Maybe there was no winning, and he knew it, but losing was definitely possible, and his pride wouldn’t allow him to lose. So he’d fight and fight and tear down a hundred other families and keep clawing until they finally nailed shut his crypt under the Chromeria.
“I don’t have that much left that you can take away from me,” Kip said. “So how many more times can we play?” After a while, with nothing to lose, I’ll only be able to win.
But it was impossible to imagine Andross Guile putting him in a position where only good things could happen.
“Three more times,” Andross said.
He had thought of it, the old shark.
Kip said nothing, and lo and behold, silence actually paid off. “Once we play for who owns Adrasteia. And then we play again, for your future.”
“I don’t think I like you very much,” Kip said.
“That’s a cryin’ shame, because I mean for you to hate me as much as you hate your mother.”
“Don’t,” Kip said, suddenly cold.
“Excuse me?” Andross Guile said.
“Don’t,” Kip said.
Again, the head tilt, weighing Kip. “Your move,” the old man said.
Kip made a mistake on the seventh round, not correctly calculating the cascading effect of the cards’ abilities on each other, and watched Andross put together a brilliant series. Kip lost on the next turn.
With a sigh, Kip collected his cards. It was, as Andross Guile had said, a practice round, without even timers. But Kip could have won. With luck, he could win against Andross Guile. It was possible, even with Andross Guile’s decks. Just unlikely. Kip flipped through the deck, seeing what cards would have come next, what might have happened if he hadn’t botched it.
“How long do I have?” Kip asked.
“A drafter of your abilities? Maybe fifteen years,” Andross Guile said. But he was grinning. He knew that wasn’t what Kip meant.
So Kip didn’t take the bait. For once.
“One week, then we play the first game. I’ll arrange it with her present owner. And you can fantasize about what you’ll do with her if you win. Of course, you have to win first.” Andross Guile chuckled. “You think you’ll free her, don’t you? Truth is, you’re not as altruistic as you think. No one who shares a drop of the Guile blood is. Blood is destiny, bastard. Don’t forget it.”