The Prize in the Game | Page 9

in the first place. Having
fosterlings at Cruachan was one thing. Sending her own children off
into danger was another.
Not that there was any danger. She couldn't see how such a thing could
even cross her mother's mind. Maga and Allel had fought over it until
Emer's head hurt. Eventually Allel suggested that Maga's reluctance
wasn't fear for her children but an intention that she herself would
break the sacred bonds of guesting and harm a fosterling. Emer thought
he was entitled to say so. After all, the idea would never have crossed
anyone else's mind. All guests were sacred, even in the middle of a war,
and fosterlings were the most sacred guests of all. Maga had clawed
Allel's face so hard that he had marks for days. After that there had
been no more words Emer could hear through the wall, only moans and
cries. That fight had ended up in bed, as her parents' fights so often did.
Emer had wondered at them the next morning, seeing her father with a
scratched face and her mother purring. She had been overjoyed when
Allel had told them that they would at last be allowed to spend a year at
Ardmachan. She had been waiting through all of Maga's excuses since
she was nine years old and the royal children of Oriel had gone home
without them.
King Conary marched out of the Red Hall, with everyone close behind
him. Emer blinked at the sudden sunlight. There were some champions
playing hurley on the field laid out for it over against the east wall.
Their excited cries rose up in the warm air as someone scored. "Don't
you just wish you were with them?" Conal whispered. Emer turned and
grinned at him and he rolled his eyes towards the adults. King Conary
was walking very fast, with an expression as if he had bitten a sour
apple. Everyone else except Inis was scurrying to keep up. The king's
counsellor ap Carbad was almost smiling. Nid's parents looked
apprehensive, and Leary's looked confused. Conal's father, Amagien
the Poet, was frowning, as usual. Emer thought it was awful that his
mother hadn't even bothered to stay to see her son armed.

"Not really?" she said, tentatively, making it a question.
"Oh no, not really," Conal agreed.
"Besides, hurley is a stupid game," she said.
Conal laughed. "I don't know how you dare say so," he said, sounding
surprised. "Though in many ways it is a very stupid game. I enjoy it
sometimes. But such a lot depends on things you can't do anything
about."
"Like how many people there are on each team, and when they switch
sides," Emer said. "Is it true that Darag once played alone against all
the rest of you?"
"There was a game once that started off like that," Conal said,
carefully.
"He didn't want to wait to pick sides," Leary said. "He won though."
"Who was left on the other side at the end?" Emer asked.
"Just me," Conal admitted, and lowered his voice. "But that isn't the
sort of thing that's worth making songs about."
"Hurley is good training for war," Nid said. "It teaches you how to
move in battle."
"May the wise gods send that I never have to fight a battle where
everyone changes sides as they see their advantage," Conal said.
Nid and Leary laughed, but Emer just looked at Conal, knowing he
wasn't joking. His eyes met hers for a moment, dark and serious. An
instant later he was laughing lightly again as they all hurried to catch
up.
Then King Conary flung open the door of the Speckled Hall, and
stopped abruptly, forcing everyone behind him to stop just as fast.
Leary's father fell over his feet and caught himself. Nid giggled

nervously.
The two guards inside the Speckled Hall looked incredibly guilty, as if
they had been caught stealing from the storehouses rather than guarding
them. They leapt to their feet with their spears ready. As far as Emer
could tell they had been doing nothing worse than sitting talking. King
Conary looked them up and down for a long moment. "Better," he said,
at last, and both guards relaxed a trifle.
"I wonder what they were doing last time?" Conal asked, almost in her
ear. Emer bit back a giggle.
"Ap Carbad, take all these people whose children are not here today
down to the stables to wait," Conary said, without even turning his head
to look. Ap Carbad gathered up the extra people, pausing when he
came to Inis, but passing on as Inis beamed like an imbecile and
indicated Conary. Inis was very clever about using his madness to his
advantage when it suited him. He could be absolutely outrageous and
nobody would challenge it.