The Player of Games (27 page)

why now
? he thought, why
now
? Why this time of all times, why this way, for this bet? Why had they wanted him to do this thing and make this wager when he had within him the seed of a child?
Why
? The alien rubbed his furry face, pursed his strange lips as he looked down at some point on the board. Bermoiya began to stumble towards the male, oblivious of the obstacles in his way, trampling the biotechs and the other pieces under his feet and crashing over the raised pyramids of higher ground. The male looked round at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Bermoiya felt himself stop. He gazed into the alien eyes. And saw nothing. No pity, no compassion, no spirit of kindness or sorrow. He looked into those eyes, and at first he thought of the look criminals had sometimes, when they'd been sentenced to a quick death. It was a look of indifference; not despair, not hatred, but something flatter and more terrifying than either; a look of resignation, of all-hope-gone; a flag hoisted by a soul that no longer cared. Yet although, in that instant of recognition, the doomed convict was the first image Bermoiya clutched at, he knew immediately it was not the fit one. He did not know what the fit one was. Perhaps it was unknowable. Then he knew. And suddenly, for the first time in his life, he understood what it was for the condemned to look into
his
eyes. He fell. To his knees at first, thudding down on to the board, cracking raised areas, then forward, on to his face, eyes level with the board, seeing it from the ground at last. He closed his eyes. The Adjudicator and his helpers came over to him and gently lifted him; paramedics strapped him to the stretcher, sobbing quietly, and carried him outside to the prison ambulance. Pequil stood amazed. He had never thought he would see an imperial judge break down like that. And in front of the alien! He had to run after the dark man; he was striding back out of the hall as quickly and quietly as he'd arrived: ignoring the hisses and shouts from the public galleries around him. They were in the aircar before even the press could catch up, speeding away from the game-hall. Gurgeh, Pequil realised, had not said a single word the whole time they'd been in the hall.
Flere-Imsaho watched the man. It had expected more of a reaction, but he did nothing except sit at the screen, watching replays of all the games he'd played since he'd arrived. He wouldn't talk. He would be going to Echronedal now, along with a hundred and nineteen other fourth-round single-game winners. As was usual after a bet of such severity had been honoured, the family of the now mutilated Bermoiya had resigned for him. Without moving a piece on either of the two remaining great boards, Gurgeh had won the match and his place on the Fire Planet. Some twenty days remained between the end of Gurgeh's game against Bermoiya and the date when the imperial court's fleet departed for the twelve-day journey to Echronedal. Gurgeh had been invited to spend part of that time at an estate owned by Hamin, the rector of the ruling College of Candsev, and mentor to the Emperor. Flere-Imsaho had advised against it, but Gurgeh had accepted. They would leave tomorrow for the estate, a few hundred kilometres distant on an island in an inland sea. Gurgeh was taking what the drone believed was an unhealthy, even perverse interest in what the news- and press-agencies were saying about him. The man seemed actually to relish the calumnies and invective poured upon him following his win over Bermoiya. Sometimes he smiled when he read or heard what they said about him, especially when the news-readers - in shocked, reverent tones - related what the alien Gurgey had caused to be done to Lo Prinest Bermoiya; a gentle, lenient judge with five wives and two husbands, though no children. Gurgeh had also started to watch the channels which showed the imperial troops crushing the savages and infidels it was civilising in distant parts of the Empire. He had the module unscramble the higher-level military broadcasts which the services put out, it seemed, in a spirit of competition with the court's more highly encrypted entertainment channels. The military broadcasts showed scenes of alien executions and tortures. Some showed the buildings and art-works of the recalcitrant or rebellious species being blown up or burned; things only very rarely shown on the standard news-channels if for no other reason than that all aliens were depicted as a matter of course as being uncivilised monsters, docile simpletons or greedy and treacherous subhumans, all categories incapable of producing high art and genuine civilisation. Sometimes, where physically possible, Azadian males - though never apices - were shown raping the savages. It upset Flere-Imsaho that Gurgeh should enjoy watching such things, especially as it had been instrumental in introducing him to the scrambled broadcasts in the first place, but at least he didn't appear to find the sights sexually stimulating. He didn't dwell on them the way the drone knew Azadians tended to; he looked, registered, then flicked away again. He still spent the majority of his time staring at the games shown on the screen. But the coded signals, and his own bad press, kept drawing him back, time and again, like a drug.
'But I don't like rings.' 'It isn't a question of what you
like
, Jernau Gurgeh. When you go to Hamin's estate you'll be outside this module. I might not always be close by, and anyway I'm not a specialist in toxicology. You'll be eating their food and drinking their drink and they have some very clever chemists and exobiologists. But if you wear one of these on each hand - index finger preferably - you should be safe from poisoning; if you feel a single jab it means a non-lethal drug, such as a hallucinogen. Three jabs means somebody's out to waste you.' 'What do two jabs mean?' 'I don't know! A malfunction, probably; now will you put them on?' 'They really don't suit me.' 'Would a shroud?' 'They feel funny.' 'Never mind, if they work.' 'How about a magic amulet to ward off bullets?' 'Are you serious? I mean, if you are there
is
a passive-sensor impact-shield jewellery set on board, but they'd probably use CREWs-' Gurgeh waved one (ringed) hand. 'Oh, never mind.' He sat down again, turning on a military-execution channel.
The drone found it difficult to talk to the man; he wouldn't listen. It attempted to explain that despite all the horrors he had seen in the city and on the screen there was still nothing the Culture could do that wouldn't do more harm than good. It tried to tell him that the Contact section, the whole Culture in fact, was like him, dressed in his cloak and standing unable to help the man lying injured in the street, that they had to stick to their disguise and wait until the moment was right… but either its arguments weren't getting through to him, or that wasn't what the man was thinking about, because he made no response, and wouldn't enter into a discussion about it. Flere-Imsaho didn't go out much during the days between the end of the game with Bermoiya and the journey to Hamin's estate. Instead it stayed in, with the man, worrying.
'Mr Gurgeh; I am pleased to meet you.' The old apex put out his hand. Gurgeh grasped it. 'I hope you had a pleasant flight here, yes?' 'We did, thank you,' Gurgeh said. They stood on the roof of a low building set in luxuriant green vegetation and looking out over the calm waters of the inland sea. The house was almost submerged in the burgeoning greenery; only the roof was fully clear of the swaying treetops. Near by were paddocks full of riding animals, and from the various levels of the house long sweeping gantries, elegant and slim, soared out through the crowding trunks above the shady forest floor, giving access to the golden beaches and the pavilions and summer-houses of the estate. In the sky, huge sunlit clouds piled sparkling over the distant mainland. 'You say "we",' Hamin said, as they walked across the roof and liveried males took Gurgeh's baggage from the aircraft. 'The drone Flere-Imsaho and I,' Gurgeh said, nodding to the bulky, buzzing machine at his shoulder. 'Ah yes,' the old apex laughed, bald head reflecting the binary light. 'The machine some people thought let you play so well.' They descended to a long balcony set with many tables, where Hamin introduced Gurgeh - and the drone - to various people, mostly apices plus a few elegant females. There was only one person Gurgeh already knew; the smiling Lo Shav Olos put down a drink and rose from his table, taking Gurgeh's hand. 'Mr Gurgeh; how good to see you again. Your luck held out and your skill increased. A formidable achievement. Congratulations, once again.' The apex's gaze flicked momentarily to Gurgeh's ringed fingers. 'Thank you. It was at a price I'd have willingly forgone.' 'Indeed. You never cease to surprise us, Mr Gurgeh.' 'I'm sure I shall, eventually.' 'You are too modest.' Olos smiled and sat down. Gurgeh declined the offer to visit his rooms and freshen up; he felt perfectly fresh already. He sat at a table with Hamin, some other directors of Candsev College, and a few court officials. Chilled wines and spiced snacks were served. Flere-Imsaho settled, relatively quietly, on the floor by Gurgeh's feet. Gurgeh's new rings appeared to be happy there was nothing more damaging than alcohol in the fare being served. The conversation mostly avoided Gurgeh's last game. Everyone pronounced his name correctly. The college directors asked him about his unique game-style; Gurgeh answered as best he could. The court officials inquired politely about his home world, and he told them some nonsense about living on a planet. They asked him about Flere-Imsaho, and Gurgeh expected the machine to answer, but it didn't, so he told them the truth; the machine was a person by the Culture's definition. It could do as it liked and it did not belong to him. One tall and strikingly beautiful female, a companion of Lo Shav Olos who'd come over to join their table, asked the drone if its master played logically or not. Flere-Imsaho replied - with a trace of weariness Gurgeh suspected only he could detect - that Gurgeh was not its master, and that it supposed he thought more logically than it did when he was playing games, but that anyway it knew very little about Azad. They all found this most amusing. Hamin stood then and suggested that his stomach, with over two and a half centuries of experience behind it, could tell it was approaching time for dinner better than any servant's clock. People laughed, and gradually began to depart the long balcony. Hamin escorted Gurgeh to his room personally and told him a servant would let him know when the meal was to be served. 'I wish I knew why they invited you here,' Flere-Imsaho said, quickly unpacking Gurgeh's few cases while the man looked out of the window at the still trees and the calm sea. 'Perhaps they want to recruit me for the Empire. What do you think, drone? Would I make a good general?' 'Don't be facetious, Jernau Gurgeh.' The drone switched to Marain. 'And not to forget, random domran, here bugged are we, nonsense wonsense.' Gurgeh looked concerned and said in Eächic, 'Heavens, drone; are you developing a speech impediment?' '
Gurgeh
…' the drone hissed, setting out some clothes the Empire deemed suitable to be worn when eating. Gurgeh turned away, smiling. 'Maybe they just want to kill me.' 'I wonder if they want any help.' Gurgeh laughed and came over to the bed where the drone had laid out the formal clothing. 'It'll be all right.' 'So you say. But we haven't even got the protection of the module here, let alone anything else. But … let's not worry about it.' Gurgeh picked up a couple of the robe-pieces and tried them against his body, holding them under his chin and looking down. 'I'm not worried anyway,' he said. The drone shouted at him in exasperation. 'Oh
Jernau
Gurgeh!
How
many times do I have to tell you? You
cannot
wear red and green together like that!'
'You like music, Mr Gurgeh?' Hamin asked, leaning over to the man. Gurgeh nodded. 'Well, a little does no harm.' Hamin sat back, apparently satisfied with this answer. They had climbed to the broad roof-garden after dinner, which had been a long, complicated and very filling affair during which naked females had danced in the centre of the room and - if Gurgeh's rings were to be believed - nobody had tried to interfere with his food. It was dusk now, and the party was outside in the warm evening air, listening to the wailing music produced by a group of apex musicians. Slender gantries led from the garden into the tall, graceful trees. Gurgeh sat at a small table with Hamin and Olos. Flere-Imsaho sat near his feet. Lamps shone in the trees around them; the roof-garden was its own island of light in the night, surrounded by the cries of birds and animals, calling out as though in answer to the music. 'I wonder, Mr Gurgeh,' Hamin said, sipping his drink and lighting a long, small-bowled pipe. 'Did you find any of our dancing girls attractive?' He pulled on the long-stemmed pipe, then, with the smoke wreathing around his bald head, went on, 'I only ask because one of them - she with the silver streak in her hair, remember? - did express rather an interest in you. I'm sorry… I hope I'm not shocking you, Mr Gurgeh, am I?' 'Not in the least.' 'Well, I just wanted to say you're amongst friends here, yes? You've more than proved yourself in the game, and this is a very private place, outside the gaze of the press and the common people, who of course have to depend on certain hard and fast rules… whereas we do not, not here. You catch my drift? You may relax in confidence.' 'I'm most grateful. I shall certainly try to relax; but I was told before I came here that I would be found ugly, even disfigured, by your people. Your kindness overwhelms me, but I would prefer not to inflict myself on somebody who might not be available through choice alone.' 'Too modest, again, Jernau Gurgeh,' Olos smiled. Hamin nodded, puffing on his pipe. 'You know, Mr Gurgeh, I have heard that in your "Culture" you have no laws. I am sure this is an exaggeration, but there must be a grain of truth in the assertion, and I would guess you must find the number and strictness of our laws… to be a great difference between your society and ours. 'Here we have many rules, and try to live according to the laws of God, Game and Empire. But one of the advantages of having laws is the pleasure one may take in breaking them. We here are not children, Mr Gurgeh.' Hamin waved the pipe-stem round the tables of people. 'Rules and laws exist only because we take pleasure in doing what they forbid, but as long as most of the people obey such proscriptions most of the time, they have done their job; blind obedience would imply we are - ha!' - Hamin chuckled and pointed at the drone with the pipe 'no more than robots!' Flere-Imsaho buzzed a little louder, but only momentarily. There was silence. Gurgeh drank from his glass. Olos and Hamin exchanged looks. 'Jernau Gurgeh,' Olos said at last, rolling his glass round in his hands. 'Let's be frank. You're an embarrassment to us. You've done very much better than we expected; we did not think we could be so easily fooled, but somehow you did it. I congratulate you on whatever ruse it was you used, whether it centred on your drug-glands, your machine there, or simply many more years playing Azad than you admitted to. You have bettered us, and we're impressed. I am only sorry that innocent people, such as those bystanders who were shot instead of you, and Lo Prinest Bermoiya, had to be hurt. As you have no doubt guessed, we would like you to go no further in the game. Now, the Imperial Office has nothing to do with the Games Bureau, so there is little we can do directly. We do have a suggestion though.' 'What's that?' Gurgeh sipped his drink. 'As I've been saying' - Hamin pointed the stem of the pipe at Gurgeh - 'we have many laws. We therefore have many crimes. Some of these are of a sexual nature, yes?' Gurgeh looked down at his drink. 'I need hardly point out,' Hamin continued, 'that the physiology of our race makes us… unusual, one might almost say gifted, in that respect. Also, in our society, it is possible to