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expected arrival of Garnath we played Jikaida. We played a large variant, with a hundred squares to a
drin and with twelve drins to the board. There had been nothing else I could do but hire slaves with the
money I had brought, for a man in a chair demands attentions. The slaves moved the bright pieces upon
the board as we played. Kov Numrais na Neagron proved a cunning and devious player. In Jikaida the
object is, as in most games of a like nature, to capture the opposing king, or check him. I marched my
lines of swods up in fine style, using the vaulting technique to push on boldly, bringing up a powerful
second division of zorcas and totrixes, for this was a cavalry game. There were also flyers, and these I
flung in, in fine style. Numrais sucked me in, and then struck, surrounding a major force and making me
commit my powerful pieces to my disadvantage. I fought hard, but my mind was not on the game.[7]
Afterwards, we drank superb chilled spiced wine, and ate light pastries. The odd reflection crossed my
mind that very soon I could as easily be thrusting a thraxter blade into this fellow and his companions as
eating and drinking with them.
I had left the brown bristling growth on my chin, and had further enhanced its shadow with a brown
berry stain. Quarnach had his own selection of masks and dominoes, like any noble, for many of them
choose to mingle in places where they do not wish their faces to be seen. Almost all were fashioned from
dudinter. I wore one with diamond-rimmed eye-sockets; a scarron chain of those marvelous scarlet
jewels outlined the whole domino. No one was curious, but I let slip that my accident had marked my
face.
We sat in a chamber high in the city of Smerdislad with extensive views across the jungles. The greenery
out there with the mingled rays of the Suns of Scorpio lighting up the whole scene and picking out the
blazing colors of flowers blooming lavishly in the upper terraces could not fail to move me. To be chained
to a chair, unable to stride out, expanding the chest, filling it with Zair s good air! Well, a surrogate had
been found by these people. What Nalgre the slave-master had said was correct. Smerdisladwas the
Kov s fortress. From those lofting dark walls that kept the jungle at bay, the place rose through tiered
levels, circular, arcaded, terraced, rising until at the very pinnacle a scintillating tower of white rock
crowned the edifice. This was done, I surmised, in imitation of the natural wonder of the White Rock of
Gilmoy. In the chambers and warrens below crowded the slaves. The Horters had their lodgings higher
up. The nobles lived at the topmost levels, and the visiting hunters who could pay the enormous fees
demanded for these special services of Encar Capela, the Kov of Faol. Most hunts took place from the
caves, as I well knew.
The whole pile was built upon a dome of rock. It broke from the jungle like a boil. Clothed with
buildings, the rock possessed a hollow heart, lit by many cunning light and ventilation slots. In the very
heart of the fortress of Smerdislad were held the extra special hunts.
As to sustenance for the city, that came from the unceasing toil of slaves in cleared areas, from much
trade by vollers which landed and took off from flying platforms, and all this activity was paid for by
hunters fees. Truly, Encar Capela must fancy himself a fine rich noble, living high on the vosk, I said to
myself, sipping my wine, my mind evil with plans to change the ways of Encar Capela, the Kov of Faol.
Capela entered then, swearing, slashing a thin rattan against his armored legs. He was a febrile, energetic
man, with dark hair cropped short, a fierce black moustache, and a body hard and fit from much
exercise. His nose had been broken and badly reset, and his lips were that paradox often seen in hard
men of action who yet love the hedonistic life: they were thick and sensual and yet could tighten into a
cruel thin line when the man s passions were aroused to maim and kill.
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