Grace stared at the worm twisting. Go away, she thought. Gone. I want you gone.
The worm remained where it was.
Grace glanced at Liza. “Any idea what I’m supposed to be doing?”
Nassar’s sister shook her blonde head. “None. Dreochs are aggressors. We have few defensive abilities and they’re radically different from yours. Mostly our defences consist of Nassar hacking at things with something large and sharp.”
“The magic you’re trying to do is called the Barrier,” Nassar said. “It’s one of the natural Mailliards’ magics. Very talented members of your family used it both as a defence and as a weapon. Your mother stated that it can’t be taught. You simply do it or you don’t.”
Grace focused on the worm and tried to pretend it was a large, mean-looking German shepherd.
An hour later she sat exhausted on the floor. The worm floated at the edge of the design.
“It’s useless.” Liza unscrewed a cap from a fresh bottle of water. She had gotten a cooler with drinks, migrated to the wall, and now sat on the floor. “Why Janet didn’t practise with Grace is beyond me, but she didn’t. We’ll have to change the plan. Instead of y
ou and Grace, I’ll go with Alasdair.”
“No.” Steel laced Nassar’s voice. He leaned against the wall.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
Nassar’s face was dark like a storm. “Both of you will die. I have resistances and power to counter Clan Roar’s attacks. You don’t.”
“You can’t counter this one.”
He didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you just turn into a bird and fly through the zone?” Grace asked.
“Flight is forbidden in the game,” Nassar answered.
Liza sighed. “Grace, would you like some water?”
“Yes.”
Liza tossed her a new bottle.
“Thank you.” Grace caught it. “Why are you fighting the Roars anyway? What’s this dispute about?”
“It’s about children,” Nassar said. “And killing me.”
“Our aunt married a member of Clan Roar,” Liza said. “Arthur Roar. He turned out to be a wart on the ass of the human kind: abusive, violent, cruel. She left after eight years and took their three kids with her.”
“Should’ve left sooner,” Nassar said. His green eyes promised violence, the light irises so cold that Grace took a small step back.
“She had her reasons for staying,” Liza said. “There was a large dowry involved and she didn’t want us to have to pay restitution and interest. But in the end it was just too much. After Arthur broke his son’s legs, she grabbed the kids and came home. Now, nine years later, Arthur suddenly wants his children back.”
Liza took a drink from her bottle. “He’s never shown any interest in them. No calls, no letters, not even a card. He’s done nothing to support them. But Aunt Bella signed the wedding agreement that specified equal amount of time with the children for each parent in the event of separation. Arthur claims that since the kids were with her exclusively for nine years, now he has exclusive rights to them.”
“He doesn’t give a damn about the kids. It’s an excuse for the Roars to test the waters,” Nassar said. “They have a couple of strong people and they’re thinking of moving in on our interests. Before they do it, they want to weaken us. They knew that if they challenged the clan, I would enter the game, and they believe they have a reasonable chance of killing me. They’ll knock out the biggest power user of our clan and earn respect from other clans for killing a revenant, and they will do it all before the war ever starts.”
He pushed from the wall. “It’s almost time for lunch. Let’s take a break.”
Lunch was laid out on a long table in a vast dining hall. Nassar held out a chair for Grace and she sat down. He took a place to her right, while Liza sat down at her left, next to Alasdair. Other people came into the room — two men and three women. They took their seats, nodded and smiled, started conversations in calm voices. Alasdair said something and a woman laughed. They were so at ease and the warmth of their interaction began to thaw Grace’s resolve.
The four chairs directly opposite her remained empty. She wondered who would sit there and a couple of minutes later she had her answer. Three children entered the room, followed by a pale woman. Of course. Nassar had arranged it so she would spend the meal looking at the faces of the children whose fate would be decided in the game.
They took their seats: the woman with careworn eyes, a young boy with a wild mass of dark hair, and two girls, one slender and blonde, and the other only about ten or so, with short dark hair and big blue eyes. The youngest girl saw Nassar and came grinning around the table. “Hug?” she asked him seriously.