Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [97]
“You say wrong. We Para Dix players, we do not fight for the stinking crowd. We do not fight for the Empress or for our master or even for their god.”
Keeper drew himself up proudly and now he looked at each of them, gathering them up, bringing them together. “We fight for honor. Not for the honor of winning, because sometimes we will not win. We fight for our honor and that of our people. And to gain honor, we must fight by the rules, even if we don’t like them.” He looked back at Skylan and there was a glint in the small eyes. “We may be slaves. They may have taken away our freedom. They may take our lives. But our honor is in our hearts and that they cannot take away.”
The words seemed burned into Skylan’s brain, like the tattoo on his arm. It was only an ogre who spoke, but it seemed to Skylan that the voice came from the gods.
The Torgun spent the rest of the afternoon hopping one square up and back three or leaping over one square and landing on another or doing mock battles with swords made of wood. When any of them made a move they shouldn’t have, as when Aki went forward one square instead of back two, Keeper made sure Aki learned his mistake by knocking him on his arse. And if any tried to retaliate, as when Aki took a swing at the ogre, Keeper knocked him down again and again until he got it right.
Only one of the Torgun was not punished for making a mistake and that was Aylaen. If she moved to the wrong square or if she stood staring at nothing and forgetting to move at all, he would thunder “Female” until she looked at him.
Skylan thought at first Keeper was being easy on Aylaen because she was a woman, but he soon realized he was wrong.
“You, Female, you fight for the honor of your goddess,” said Keeper angrily. “Yet you make your goddess look the fool.”
“This is a stupid game,” said Aylaen sullenly.
“It may be a stupid game, but if you make a mistake, you are not the only one who will suffer. You will let down everyone on your team, your comrades, your fellow warriors.”
Aylaen shrugged, uncaring. “When you stand in the shield wall, Female, do you use your shield to protect only yourself?” Keeper asked. “You overlap shields, so that your shield protects your body and that of the warrior next to you. Think only of yourself and another will suffer.”
Aylaen paled. She looked so ill and unhappy that Bjorn said angrily, “Leave her alone. She is doing the best she can. We all are.”
“The gods help you,” Keeper growled.
Aylaen was careful to pay attention after that.
There were ten players on a team and only eight Torgun; the Legate brought in two veteran players from another one of his teams to train with them. Keeper explained that often “unblooded” players were put in with veterans so that they would learn what to do. These men were slaves; they all had the tattoos, but they were Southlanders, and, as Skylan was soon to learn, they were proud of the fact that they were players in the Para Dix.
The veterans laughed loudly at the stupidity of the barbarians, and there would have been trouble, despite the presence of the soldiers, if the Legate himself had not come strolling onto the field to see how the practice was progressing. The Southlander slaves were different men in his presence. Meek and servile, they groveled and fawned over him.
“Makes you want to vomit, doesn’t it?” Bjorn said grimly.
Keeper had given them time to rest, drink some water, wipe away the sweat and the blood.
Skylan was surprised to find that Bjorn was actually holding a conversation with him, no longer ostracizing him. He was more surprised when Bjorn added, awkwardly, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, Skylan. I was punishing you for Garn’s death. It wasn’t right.”
“I’m the one who is sorry, my friend,” said Skylan. “I let Garn down. I let you down. I let all my people down.”
Bjorn stared, amazed, then he said with a half smile, “That