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“It’s irrelevant. He’s a Ja’La player: a hero. The more brutal, the better. The ones who have killed an opponent with a Ja’La ball are renowned, and are most sought after by the women. People name babies after them. I just don’t understand it.”
“You’re just seeing a small sampling of people, Warren. If you were to go into the city instead of spending all of your time down in the vaults, women would want to be with you, too.”
He tapped his bare neck. “They would if I still had a collar, because they would see the palace’s gold around my neck, that’s all; they wouldn’t want to be with me because of who I am.”
Verna pursed her lips. “Some people are attracted by power. When you have no power yourself, it can be very seductive. That’s just the way life is.”
“Life,” he repeated with a sour grunt. “Ja’La is what everyone calls it, but its full name is Ja’La dh Jin—the Game of Life, in the old tongue of the emperor’s homeland of Altur’Rang, but everyone simply calls it Ja’La: the Game.”
“What does ‘Altur’Rang’ mean?”
“‘Altur’Rang’ is from their old tongue, too. It doesn’t translate well, but it means, approximately, ‘the Creator’s chosen,’ or ‘destiny’s people,’ something like that. Why?”
“The New World is split by a mountain range called the Rang’Shada. It sounds like the same language.”
Warren nodded. “A shada is an armored war gauntlet with spikes. Rang’Shada would roughly mean ‘war fist of the chosen.’”
“A name from the old war, I guess. Spikes would certainly apply to those mountains.” Verna’s head was still spinning with Warren’s story. “I can’t believe this game is allowed.”
“Allowed? It’s encouraged. The emperor has his own personal Ja’La team. It was announced this morning that when he comes for his visit, he’s going to bring his team to play Tanimura’s top team. Quite an honor, from what I gather, as everyone is beside themselves with excitement at the prospect.” Warren glanced around, and then turned back to her again. “The emperor’s team doesn’t get flogged if they lose.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “The privilege of the mighty?”
“Not exactly,” Warren said. “If they lose, they get beheaded.”
Verna’s hands dropped away from the points of her shawl. “Why would such a game be encouraged by the emperor?”
Warren smiled a private smile. “I don’t know, Verna, but I have my theories.”
“Such as?”
“Well, if you have conquered a land, what problems do you suppose might present themselves?”
“You mean insurrection?”
Warren brushed back a lock of his curly blond hair. “Turmoil, protests, civil unrest, riots, and yes, insurrection. Do you remember when King Gregory ruled?”
Verna nodded as she watched an old woman far up a side street draping wet clothes over a balcony railing. It was the only person she had see in the last hour. “What happened to him?”
“Not long after you left, the Imperial Order took over and that was the last we heard of him. The king was well thought of, and Tanimura prospered, along with the other cities under his rule in the north. Since then, times have become hard for the people. The emperor allowed corruption to flourish and at the same time ignored important matters of commerce and justice. All those people you’ve seen living in squalor are refugees come to Tanimura from smaller towns, villages, and cities that were sacked.”
“They seem a quiet and content lot for refuges.”
An eyebrow lifted over a blue eye. “Ja’La.”
“What do you mean?”
“They have little hope of a better life under the Imperial Order. The one thing they can have hope for, dream about, is to become a Ja’La player.
“The players are selected because of their talent at the game, not because they have rank or power. The family of a player need never want for anything again; he can provide for them—in abundance. Parents encourage their children to play Ja’La, hoping they will become paid players. Amateur teams, classed by age group, start with five-year-olds. Anyone, no matter their background, can become a paid Ja’La player. Players have even come from the ranks of the emperor’s slaves.
“But that still doesn’t explain the passion for it.”
“Everyone is part of the Imperial Order now. No devotion to one’s former land is allowed. Ja’La lets people be devoted to something, to their neighbors, to their city, through their team. The emperor paid to have the Ja’La field built—a gift to the people. The people are distracted from the conditions of their lives, over which they have no control, and into an outlet that doesn’t threaten the emperor.”
Verna flapped the ends of her shawl again. “I don’t think your theory casts a shadow, Warren. From a young age, children like to play games. They do it all day. People have always played games. When they get older, they have contests with the bow, with horses, with dice. It’s part of human nature to play at games.”
“This way.” Warren caught her sleeve and pointed with a thumb, turning her down a narrow alley. “And the emperor is channeling that tendency into something more than natural. He need not worry about their minds wandering to thoughts of their freedom, or even simple matters of justice. Their passion, now, is Ja’La. Their minds are dulled to everything else.
“Instead of wondering why the emperor is coming, and what it will mean for their lives, everyone is aflutter because of Ja’La.”
Verna felt her stomach l
urch. She had been wondering just why the emperor was coming. There had to be a reason for him to come all this way, and she didn’t think it was just to watch his team play Ja’La. He wanted something.
“Aren’t the people worried about defeating such a powerful man, or his team, anyway?”
“The emperor’s team is very good, I’m told, but they don’t have any special privilege or advantage. The emperor takes no affront at his team losing, except, of course with his players. If an opponent bests them, the emperor will acknowledge their skill and heartily congratulate them and their city. People long for that honor—to best the emperor’s renowned team.”
“I’ve been back for a couple months, and I’ve never seen the city empty out for this game before.”
“The season just started. Official games are only allowed to be played in the the Ja’La season.”
“That doesn’t fit with your theory, then. If the game is a distraction from more important matters of life, why not let them play it all the time?”
Warren gave her a smug smile. “Anticipation makes the fervor stronger. The prospects for the upcoming season are talked about endlessly. By the time the season finally arrives the people are worked up into a fever pitch, like young lovers returned to the embrace after an absence—their minds are dull to anything else. If the game went on all the time, the ardor might cool.”
Warren had obviously thought long and hard on his theory. She didn’t think she believed in it, but he seemed to have an answer for everything, so she changed the subject.
“Where did you hear this, about him bringing his team?”
“Master Finch.”
“Warren, I sent you to the stables to find out about those horses, not to gab about Ja’La.”
“Master Finch is a big Ja’La enthusiast and was all excited about today’s opening game, so I let him ramble on about it so I could find out what you wanted to know.”
“And did you?”
They came to an abrupt halt, looking up at a carved sign with a headstone, shovel, and the names BENSTENT and SPROUL.
