Page 40 of Xantera
Now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember all the hours I spent helping him flush out the pus that had been leaking from a particularly swollen stye. Not my favorite moments as a healer, that’s for sure.
The man waves a hand, his purple badge jostling with the movement. “No more problems. You did a great job, I must say, a great job. Some of those other healers were squeamish about it, but you?” He belly-laughs, fiddling with a pair of dice on the table. “You didn’t so much as wrinkle your nose, did you? Well, I appreciate it, I appreciate it. Say, you know how to play backgammon?”
“No.” I slide into the seat across from him smoothly, feeling the first signs of nerves ticking in my neck. “But I’ve been looking to learn. Do you think you could teach me?”
Just as I suspected, the man’s face breaks into a truly joyous beam, and I feel a flash of guilt for using him like this. “Of course! Okay, so there are thirty checkers in a game, and twelve spaces on each side. See?” He points a meaty finger at the thin triangular markings that look like the spikes atop the Wall painted onto the board. “We’ll each get fifteen checkers to start with, five here, five here, three here, three here…”
Bemused, I watch him click little round game pieces onto the spikes of the board in a particular fashion, each of them mirroring the other. Then, I try my very best to follow the rules he so enthusiastically describes to me, but my brain doesn’t seem to want to process a single one. Not when I have another motive in mind.
“Now,” the man warns, “it’s easy to follow along so far, right?” I shake my head, but he doesn’t notice. “Backgammon takesyearsto truly master, though. So while you might understand the basics now, don’t feel too badly about losing on your first try, okay?”
“Okay,” I repeat, lining my tone with fake fervor.
“Here, now, we both roll a die.”
I take a cube and roll it just as he does. Mine lands on a six, while his lands on a four.
“Great luck, I’ll say. You go first.” He watches me roll both dice again. “There. You got a three and a two, so you’ll move one of your checkers three spaces, and another one space. No—not that way! You can only go clockwise… yes, that’s it.”
We fall into a rhythm, where he moves his pieces fluidly and I mess up a dozen times before I finally seem to get it right. This game is incredibly boring, but I’m the only one in the near vicinity that seems to think this. Even so, I wait patiently for an opening. It’s only when all our checkers are on the home board that I dare stray into personal conversation now that his focus is laser-sharp on something else.
“Your brother—when I was your healer, I remember you telling me he was Chosen, right?”
“Ah, yes.” The man’s eyes darken as he focuses on his pieces. His response is less enthusiastic than it was in the Healing Center. Back then, I remember he wouldn’t quit bragging about what an honor it was to have a Chosen One in the family. “He was the only one who could beat me at this game here, actually.”
I force a smile onto my face and let a few minutes of silence go by so that I don’t appear too eager. In that silence, I keep thinking the man will look up from his checkers and ask me a question back.What about your sibling?he might ask.Do you have a brother or a sister?I’d reply,Actually, I’m an only child,and he’d raise an eyebrow.That’s rare, you know, to only have one, and I’d snort because I know. The Guardians require every couple in the family-making stage to try for two children. My mother just had a harder time conceiving, and—
“No, you can’t land there, because I already have two checkers in that spot,” the man interrupts my thoughts.
Right. Rule number three.Don’t think about yourself.It’s selfish to be absorbed. I shouldn’t have been wasting headspace on imagining conversations that’ll never happen. I need to refocus.
“Do you still visit your brother every Sunday?” I ask, amending my mistake on the board. “If I remember correctly, you would always go to the balconies first thing in the morning to say hi.”
The man’s fist shakes as he rolls his dice. “I would, sure. But I suspect he’s been busy with palace things lately.”
“Busy?” I try to keep my face neutral. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know.” The man shrugs, his own face just as carefully casual, but he almost can’t help the bitter tone from bleeding through. “I’m sure there are plenty of things for him to do as a Chosen One. The balconies probably get boring after a while. All that waving and staring at the people below you. Well, it’s no wonder he hasn’t come out recently.”
I try not to freeze, forcing my fingers to grab checkers and move them the appropriate spaces.
But he just lets out a sigh, eyes focused on the long black and white triangles between us that jut out like teeth. “He always was a bit selfish, though,” he mutters to himself.
I dare not move; breathe. He’s so into the game, it’s almost as if he’s forgotten I’m sitting across from him. Then those same eyes rise to mine and sparkle after he moves his pieces. Like he’s bested me.
I couldn’t care less.
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
Maybe that question is crossing a line—it’s an unsolicited one, for sure, an invasion of privacy. Rude. But I’ve chosen my target well, because the man only frowns for a second before he says, “Around the same time I was discharged from the Healing Center, actually. Your turn.”
Around the same time he was discharged from the Healing Center? That wasyearsago.Yearshave gone by since anyone saw or heard from this man’s Chosen brother.
My hands feel clammy when I take the dice and roll them, trying to do the math that breathes down my neck.
“When was he Chosen again?” I get two ones, so I’m barely able to move my pieces at all.
“I had just received my purple badge,” the man answers, rolling the dice. “So that would have been maybe thirteen years ago now.” His hand hits the table, making me flinch. “Look! I win.”
