Through the beaded doorway Tif found herself in a round room that she promptly decided was the best room she had ever been in. Two shallow shelves ran the entire length of the curved wall and on them were what had to be hundreds of different das pieces on the low shelf and dozens of propped up boards on the top shelf. Though Tif loved a good board, her eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful playing pieces. They were made of everything imaginable, from polished wood to shaped wax, patterned porcelain, and even cut crystal--the angles sharp and multifaceted. The pieces also ranged in size as varied as the materials used to create them. Only a few steps in, Tif found a miniature set, each piece made of fired clay and only as big as the tip of her pinky. Further on there was a silvery metal set that was at least a foot high, even the Life Fairy piece, her carefully molded wings nearly brushing the top of the second shelf.

The noble keshe cleared her throat, and it took all Tif’s effort to look away from the collection. She could have easily spent hours--no days--going through them all. However, where the keshe stood was equally inviting: a table with two high chairs, the only furniture in the room except for the chandelier that hung above them, illuminating a dark, glistening board. It was the obvious focal of the space, and with no windows to provide distractions, it lent the room a purposeful and somehow cozy feel.

If ever there had been a shrine built to das, this was it.

Tif joined the keshe by the table and sat her crate down nearby. The chair had obviously been made for the long legs of keshe, not humans, so Tif had to hop up into it, and once she was in place her feet swung in the air.

Sur-Rak slipped into the seat across from her. “If the chair is uncomfortable, I can have a servant bring in some more cushions. I don’t want you losing because you’re having trouble seeing the board.” She smiled sharply at that.

“No, it’s fun!” Tif said with a laugh, kicking her feet to prove she meant it. Her right foot collided with something solid, which wasn’t in the right position to be the slim pedestal that supported the table. Tif’s hand shot up to her mouth. She had just kicked the noble. “I’m sorry. I’ve never sat in a chair before.”

Sur-Rak quirked her lips. “Whatever you did, I didn’t feel it.”

The shroud, of course. Tif ducked her head under the table, but if the barrier created by the second Seal of Gold ris had shimmered at their contact it was still now, leaving only the folds of the keshe’s cream stitched yellow garment to be seen. There wasn’t even a stain from the bottom of Tif’s shoe.

“Now,” Sur-Rak said, her tone making it clear she wanted to get down to business. “If you’re a master, I’m sure you won’t object to playing with patrons or having a two out of three match.”

Tif lifted her head from under the table and shook it a quick ‘no.’ She rarely got to play either against the type of custom who came to see her, but she found the strategies much more fun that way.

“Or using my set.”

Tif certainly didn’t have a problem with that. The das board that sat on the table between them was beautiful, made out of black stone with slight flecks of grey, and the same for the number tiles. The grey pattern was consistent enough that it didn’t create any obvious differences among the tiles, and both the board and the square pieces shined with a well polished slickness she was eager to touch.

And those weren’t even the best parts.

Each Aspect was an intricate, six inch tall work of art, like the wide cyclops Blood Aspect chiseled from ruddy jasper, the hunched aquaros Tears Aspect carved from cobalt, and the tall keshe Gold Aspect that was, astonishingly, made of actual gold, near as she could tell. And no matter how closely Tif looked at each of the five on her side she discovered another detail, whether it was the individual scales of the aquaros, the fingernails of each of the spidra’s ten fingers, or the barest impression of veining beneath the cyclop’s large muscles.

“They look so real…” Tif said. She had always dreamed of getting a set of such quality and felt a bit silly for bringing her own along as if they would need it.

“Yes,” the noble keshe said, her gaze lingering on the pieces. “A gift from my brother. Taken from five different mines.”

“They’re almost too perfect to touch.”

“Nonsense, das boards are meant to be used, just like the mind, not sit and gather dust. Those who say otherwise have either lost their edge or never had one to begin with. Now, what are you called? I refuse to keep talking around your name.”

“Tif.”

“As you heard, I am Sur-Rak-Sha, but for today and today only you may refer to me as Sur-Rak. All are equal at a das board.”

Tif opened her mouth to say that if they were equal she should be able to call her Sur, but the noble keshe wasn’t finished talking, and her large eyes actually narrowed as she continued.

“I hope you won’t be tempted to throw the match since you will be paid either way. That would be...disappointing and a waste of my time, something I very much dislike.” The keshe twisted her wrist slightly, and her sleeve slipped, revealing a dense tattoo of ris. Sur-Rak likely meant it as a threat, but Tif shut her mouth and leaned forward, pulled in by their beauty.

She was so very close to having some of her own, mere hours away, and the nearer it got the more sure Tif was that she would win. The aggression of the keshe’s posture made her realize something though: even with her lotto-won tattoos, this was exactly what she’d be facing only a day later--people who had possessed ris for much longer than her and who were of a station to have attended past recruitments and so knew what to expect. If she couldn’t win against one of them at her game, how could she beat them at theirs?

This was the perfect opportunity to not only test herself but get information about tomorrow from Sur-Rak. Information that would affect whether or not she became a knight.

“Well?” the keshe said, her slightly exasperated tone making it clear she wasn’t used to waiting.

“I meant what I said. I like a challenge.”

Sur-Rak stared at her a moment, as if weighing the truth of her words and then appeared satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it.” The noble keshe lowered her arm, and the sleeve covered her wrist once more. “Let’s see if my apur was right to bring you here.”

So saying, the keshe picked up the six-sided patron die that waited in the center of the board between the two rows of pieces. Its faces were colored to match the five Aspects: green, red, gold, purple, and blue, while the last side was a mixture of all. Tif was the guest so, as she expected, Sur-Rak rolled the die first. It spun briefly on the slick black stone of the board before coming up gold.

Sur-Rak looked pleased, which Tif filed away. Having the middle Aspect as patron was good for points, but those who liked it tended to prefer opportunities for conflict. Sur-Rak took her Gold Aspect and moved it forward two rows, indicating that it was her patron. The underside of Tif’s board had rows for when people wanted to play a more serious game of das but it didn’t look nearly as good as this. Sur-Rak’s board had thin strips of hammered gold that separate the rows, three on Tif’s side and three on Sur-Rak’s. Numbers of I, II, III, similar to the tiles were on both the left and right of the board, showing that the back row for each player was worth one point, the next row two points, and the furthest row three points.

Sur-Rak’s Gold Aspect sat on her third row and so would be worth the most for her to win, and thus also the most important for Tif to block. The patron in place, Sur-Rak moved the two pieces beside it, Blood and Death, to the second row making them worth two points each, and the remaining two pieces stayed where they were, each only a single point.

Tif picked up the die, still a bit warm from Sur-Rak’s recent touch. The worst rolls were Life or Tears since they didn’t put as many points on the board, while the multi-colored face was the best since it would let her pick any piece as patron. Naturally, Tif hoped for the rainbow side, even using her Pep hand, but it came up purple for Death.

“Still good,” she whispered to Pep, moving her Death Aspect up to the third rank and her two pieces beside it, Gold and Tears, to the second rank.

Patrons decided the die no longer mattered, so Tif set it aside, picking up her five number tiles only a moment after Sur-Rak did. Tif liked playing quickly using her gut and what she could tell about her opponent, but when patrons were involved there was a lot more to consider. If she could beat Sur-Rak’s patron, she’d not only stop the keshe from getting three points but get two herself. However, to do that she’d likely need to use her IIII tile, and if she did, she wouldn’t have it to win her own patron. Of course, Sur-Rak was aware of those things and could plan accordingly, and Tif could counter back if she thought Sur-Rak would play a certain way or not, and so on.

This rabbit hole of possibilities was why setting tiles could take so long in a true game of das like they were playing, but Tif didn’t have that luxury, not against an opponent who was a noble.

With sure hands like she was in her own alley, Tif placed her chosen tiles facedown behind each of her pieces. The moment she was done, she looked up at the sparkling chandelier.

Sur-Rak chuckled. “You’ve played against someone with seals before.”

“Once,” Tif answered, watching the flames of at least a dozen candles reflect in the interwoven pieces of glass that made up the chandelier. “Lost all my money, and couldn’t play again for weeks, not until I found a flat wedged in a gutter close by home.”

“I see,” the keshe said. Tif could hear Sur-Rak place a tile of her own on the board with the clink of stone on stone.

The idea behind her strategy was simple, and Tif had seen an old street hustler use it to beat a knight. The seals changed das because while some Gold ris would grant the bearer a more beautiful form and voice, larger amounts would let them begin to sense what other people desired. Only someone like the Archon, covered fully in Gold ris, was said to be able to know all your wants, including ones you kept hidden even from yourself. But the two seals a noble had would still provide some sense of it. That was why true masters of das had ris, so they could feel such things about each other and respond accordingly.

Having no such sixth sense to rely on and needing to mask her desires from Sur-Rak, Tif didn’t let herself think about winning with any particular tile or piece. Instead, she tried to project a goal of overall victory. The reason she looked at the chandelier instead of Sur-Rak’s plays was because it was inevitable that she’d react some, internally, to seeing each happen, which could give Sur-Rak an upperhand.

Tif heard the keshe place another two tiles or place and switch, she wasn’t sure. The longer this went on, the more Tif began to question how useful this technique actually was. The time she had seen it work was when multiple people had been watching the match, any one of whom could have said something if the player with seals had tried to cheat. But with just the two of them? Sur-Rak could be looking at her tiles, and Tif wouldn’t even know.

That thought worried her enough to drop her eyes from the light to Sur-Rak, who still held two tiles in her hand.

Tif felt herself react to just that information, and she could have sworn Sur-Rak twitched, immediately looking from her tiles to Tif. For the first time since the keshe handmaiden had propositioned her, Tif thought she might actually lose. She had to do something.

“What’s recruitment day like?” she blurted.

Sur-Rak raised a perfectly formed eyebrow at the words. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been, haven’t you?” Tif kept on. Talking should keep her from revealing her wants about the das game and would give her a chance to learn more like she had hoped to. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

“Of course. I’ve attended every year since I was old enough to walk.”

“So, what’s it like?”

The noble keshe stared at her, as if trying to figure out her game. “If this is some tactic to distract me, it won’t work.”

It was to distract herself, but Tif wasn’t about to tell her opponent that. “That isn’t it. Your aper said--”

“Apur. It means head handmaiden.”

“She said you were eager about recruitment and trying to pass the time.”

Sur-Rak narrowed her eyes again. “Did she now? She won’t be holding the position much longer if she doesn’t know when and who to speak to about such things.”

Tif wasn’t trying to get Mas-Ort in trouble. She wouldn’t even be here if not for the grumpy keshe, after all.

“Oh, she was real tight-lipped. Wouldn’t even tell me where we were going or who you were until we were introduced. I had to pester her before she’d say a word about you.”

“I’m beginning to understand how that happened…”

“So,” Tif said, trying a friendly smile. “Sounds to me like you’re a bit nervous. Talking about it could help.”

“With you?” Sur-Rak nearly sneered the last word, but Tif just raised her hands, palm up.

“Who better than someone you’ll never see again?” Tif felt a bit bad about the lie, but if their positions had been reversed, she didn’t think the calculating noble would have done any different.

Sur-Rak dropped her gaze to the board as if considering, but then instead of answering, she moved her hand to touch the tile on her right, the first they’d flip since Tif was the guest. Tif’s heart sank. She had thought for sure that the keshe had been about to say something. Sur-Rak didn’t immediately turn the tile though, her long finger tracing its smooth top, and Tif perked back up.

“Recruitment day is actually a misnomer,” the noble said. “It takes place over two consecutive days.”

Tif tried not to let her disappointment show. That was the one thing she actually did know: two challenges happened on the first day, leaving the last challenge for the second day.

“Surely you can go home in-between.” Was that what the keshe was worried about? A night away from her mountain palace? Tif supposed if she lived in a place so nice she wouldn’t want to leave either.

Sur-Rak shook her head slightly, causing the large amethysts set in her extended earlobes to sway. “There are tents and barracks for candidates to stay in overnight. That isn’t the problem.”

“What is?”

“The Archon’s son is back.”

Tif hadn’t known he was gone. “And you like him?”

The keshe sniffed. “Hardly. He abandoned his responsibilities years ago in the name of exploring distant territories. Many thought he wouldn’t even be present to recruit this year, myself included, but he returned to Lercel less than a week ago, unannounced.” Sur-Rak looked like she wanted to nash her sharp teeth at that. “He was always skilled with Gold ris, and it’s said he gained some from Life and Tears in his travels. I’ve bested him before, but now...”

Tif didn’t see what the trouble was. “One person can’t stop you from being recruited, can it?”

“I wish to join the 1st Division, and they have a tradition of only making an offer to a single candidate each year. Whoever is the best.”

That wasn’t quite the sort of information Tif had been hoping for, especially not when she wanted to join one of the Patrol Divisions, which were 5th through 7th. Still, knowing a bit of the politics among the keshe couldn’t hurt.

“Is dueling other candidates part of recruitment?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Sur-Rak snapped her eyes to Tif. “That’s enough. I’m here to play das, not gossip with someone who has to grasp at her half of the conversation.” She flipped the tile she was touching, revealing that it was a I.

Tif couldn’t believe how close she had come to actually learning something important.

“Is there anyone else you’re worried about?”

Sur-Rak leaned forward. “If you don’t flip your tile, I will.”

“Fine,” Tif grumbled, turning the tile in front of her Life Aspect. The moment held no tension because she already knew that her III beat the noble’s I.

“Overzealous,” Sur-Rak said, tipping her cobalt Tiers piece to the board. This left one point standing for Tif, but the keshe was right, she had overspent to get it.

They moved to the next, turning their tiles at nearly the same moment. Tif flipped a IIII and Sur-Rak turned a III. The keshe’s violet eyes narrowed.

“You’re wasting your high tiles,” the noble said, knocking her Death piece over.

“We’ll see,” Tif said with a smile.

She could win if the next turn went her way, and since tiles couldn’t be changed at this point of the game, Tif didn’t bother to hide how much she wanted it. She flipped her IIII and so did Sur-Rak. Tif felt a stab of disappointment, and the keshe didn’t look much happier as they both laid their Gold Aspects down, neither of them getting those points.

Tif was still up two points to zero but if she lost the last two turns, Sur-Rak would win, so her heart was in her throat as Sur-Rak’s turned her IIII.

Tif laughed, the tension in her escaping as she revealed her I. It was a loss but it didn’t matter, because that meant they both had their II’s left, so neither was winning the final flip.

“A I?” Sur-Rak hissed. “On your patron?”

Tif’s smile returned and she shrugged, knocking over her last two pieces. Sur-Rak begrudgingly did the same with her final piece. All in all, Tif had two Aspects left standing, her first two, worth a point each, and Sur-Rak only had one Aspect worth two points.

An absolute bloodbath, and a tie.

Tif stretched her arms above her head. Considering how she had overplayed on her first tile and hadn’t won her gamble against Sur-Rak’s patron, the result wasn’t half bad. Or so she thought until she realized that a tie meant that the next person to win would win their two out of three set. With a win or a loss first there would have been the possibility for three games and more time to talk. As it was, Tif was sure that Sur-Rak would dismiss her as soon as their next match was over.

She scrambled to think of a way to extend things. When Sur-Rak finished staring balefully at the board and reached her hand to reset the pieces, Tif asked, “Could we have some refreshment?”

“Refreshment?”

People in the lows were always telling stories about the fabulous dinner parties and extravaganzas held in the highs. Surely the noble knew what Tif meant.

Sur-Rak gave her the same half confused, half annoyed expression she had earlier, but then her eyes lit on an answer. “Angling for more than your winnings are worth?”

Tif was fine with the keshe thinking that. “If I lose, you can keep the twenty flats as payment for the food.”

“Leaving you with nothing to take the Lift home to wherever you live in the depths? No, I’m not so cruel as that. If you lose...I’ll just take half.”

“Deal,” Tif said, sticking her hand out over the board.

Sur-Rak eyed the extended limb before giving a flick of her finger and suddenly Tif felt something press against her palm. It wasn’t the same as a full grip, but it had definitely been there. Despite what her ma claimed about the dangers of ris, Tif had never felt the gift of the Gold Aspect before, and while she marveled over the sensation, the noble clapped her hands twice in quick succession.

Two serving maids, both keshe, immediately stepped within, as if they had been waiting directly on the other side of the beaded door for just such a summons. Perhaps Mas-Ort had set them there.

“Spring punch and some finger treats,” Sur-Rak told them.

They didn’t waste a moment, stepping back through the portal, and then returning impossibly fast with pitchers and trays of food. The only explanation was that the refreshments had already been prepared, and that meant Sur-Rak was either very predictable when she wanted a midday snack, which could help Tif win the next round of das, or that the help had prepared a whole selection so they could have whatever she requested available immediately. If the second, Tif wondered what happened to the uneaten food, and if they would let her take some home.

As one of the servants laid a tray of circular brown pastries beside Tif, Tif saw the keshe take note of the board state and widen her eyes. Even people who didn’t play the game could understand the meaning of Tif having more Aspects standing than Sur-Rak. It was only a tie in truth, but Tif felt very much like she had won in that moment. She also respected Sur-Rak for not resetting the board before calling the servants in.

The noble keshe apparently couldn’t leave it without comment though. As the other servant poured a pinkish concoction into her waiting cup, she said, “Such a risky strategy isn’t consistent. You’re lucky I opened with the Tra-Gar Defense.”

Tif knew enough about das to know that people used names for different configurations, but she didn’t know who Tra-Gar was or what that defense would be, so instead of commenting she popped a pastry into her mouth. Sur-Rak had played all her highest tiles on her most valuable pieces. In fact, the keshe had played a bit more conservatively than Tif had expected from how the noble acted. But now Tif had a better measure of things and could use that to her advantage in the next game.

“If you hadn’t used your III on a one point piece, you would have won,” Sur-Rak pressed.

“Yup,” Tif said. Ever since she had begun learning das, people she played always seemed to want to tell her what she should have done differently, especially when they didn’t win. It was comforting to find out that even high ranking people in the city had the same urges.

Tif ate another pastry discovering that this one was filled with a tart lemon, whereas the last had been a light cream. Were they all different?

“How did your shroud know to protect you from my foot?” she asked after swallowing.

The noble stopped sipping her drink. “What do you mean?”

“You couldn’t see it coming, so you didn’t know. If you didn’t know, how did your shroud?”

Sur-Rak swirled her cup. “The shroud senses it.”

Tif blinked. “It’s alive?”

“Alive as the Aspects are. It’s a part of them, after all.”

While Tif was mulling on that, Sur-Rak surprised her by asking a question of her own.

“Where did you get that bracelet from?”

“Bracelet?”

The keshe rolled her eyes. “You tie me at das and don’t even know you’re wearing a fairy-made bracelet? Perhaps I should get a hobby less reliant on luck as my apur suggests.”

Tif looked down. With everything that had happened today she had completely forgotten about Awt’s kind gift, which made her feel a strong flash of guilt.

“From a friend. He just got back from a trip outside of Lercel.”

“A trip that you didn’t go on,” the noble said with a sigh. “I thought for a moment you might actually be able to tell me something of value.”

“Ask me something else then,” Tif said. “I bet there’s lots of things I know about that you don’t.”

“Undoubtedly, but what of them would I be interested in?”

“Couldn’t say. Ask and find out.”

Sur-Rak fingered the stone set in her right earlobe as she stared at Tif.

“You barely have any of your birth price left. What did you spend it on?”

The keshe was referring to how little ris Tif had on her face. The amount was common in the lows, but in the mids people noticed, like the friend of the boy she had played yesterday. In the highs she must have seemed naked to people. Maybe that’s why they had looked at her the way they had.

“I didn’t,” Tif said. “My parents did.”

Sur-Rak sat up, her expression horrified. “That’s illegal. The birth price is only to be used by the bearer, if at all.”

“Oh, well, I was old enough to say okay, but I didn’t get the flats from it. They needed the money to pay off the underground for…” Tif frowned, digging through her memory but coming up empty. “I actually don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

Sur-Rak didn’t look much happier. “I should have known. Most of the evils of Lercel can be placed at their feet.”

Tif immediately thought of Awt and Yeq. “They’re not all bad--”

A sharp gesture from Sur-Rak cut her off. “I won’t sit here and listen to you try and defend a group that daily bleeds the residents of this city and who took something so precious from you. We’ve had a long enough break. It’s time we finished this set.”

Tif wanted to argue but a glance out the window told her that she needed to be leaving soon anyway to get to the lotto drawing on time.

Since the last match had been a tie, Tif still had guest rights, so like before, Sur-Rak rolled for patron first. This time the keshe got red for Blood, so she moved her cyclops-shaped Aspect to the third rank, and then Gold and Life up to the second. Tif rolled, hoping again for the multi-colored side so she could pick what she wanted, but it landed on green, and Sur-Rak chuckled.

“This shouldn’t take long.”

Tif didn’t respond, pushing her Life Aspect up to the third rank and Blood to second. The rest of her Aspects stayed at the first rank, which was the disadvantage of rolling a patron on either end. She could still tie, or even win, but it would be harder with one less point available on her side.

Since Tif hadn’t risen to the bait, Sur-Rak began looking at her tiles. Tif, for her part, considered the keshe, trying to determine how adaptable the noble might be. Judging from the keshe’s collection, she obviously liked to play, and you could only play das the same way so many times before you began to try different things. But Sur-Rak had also seemed shocked by some of Tif’s choices, so Tif doubted that the noble would go much outside of her conservative box. Likely, the keshe would play mostly safe with a bit of risk.

But that was looking at only half the puzzle, because part of how Sur-Rak would play would be based on what the keshe thought Tif would do. Sur-Rak probably expected Tif to play with at least some risk again, so if Tif was extremely conservative instead, it would have the greatest chance of throwing the noble off. And if she could do that, she just might pull out a win.

So thinking, Tif placed her IIII tile facedown behind her three point patron. She then put her IIII behind her only two point piece, which was next in the row. Placing a I behind her piece facing off against Sur-Rak’s patron was also the safest choice, because the keshe would surely protect it with a valuable tile. That only left Tif with her III and II tiles to use for her leftover one point pieces, both of which were against Sur-Rak’s two point pieces. There was no option that was more conservative than the other, so Tif went off the only thing she could think of: Sur-Rak had used a lower point tile, a II, for her final piece in the last game, so she would probably go higher this time to mix things up.

It was only a guess of course, a feeling, but that was as much a part of das as were the board and pieces.

That didn’t take into account the seals though, so with a wink to Pep, Tif put her energy into projecting a desire that Sur-Rak not come after her patron. She wasn’t sure how well a technique like this would work--she’d never gotten to ask someone with seals, after all--but she figured it was worth a shot.

If her past behavior didn’t influence the keshe, hopefully this would.

Sur-Rak didn’t react visibly to what she was doing, but not long after the keshe placed her tiles, one after the next. As soon as they were all laid, Tif turned her first one over, not wanting to give the noble a chance to change anything.

Sur-Rak’s eye twitched at seeing the IIII, and Tif was rewarded with the keshe’s III. That was the bit of risk she had hoped for from Sur-Rak, attacking Tif’s patron because she thought Tif would use a low tile like before. Tif also won the next flip: her IIII against Sur-Rak’s I, which was a perfectly standard exchange given the value of each piece. Tif now had five points on the board, but Sur-Rak would win if she got the rest, and the keshe easily could with the tiles she had left.

Tif’s fingers shook slightly as she revealed her own III. There was only one tile of Sur-Rak’s she could beat with that number, and if she didn’t win here, the game and set would be a loss. The keshe paused halfway through turning her tile, face unreadable, and Tif felt the moment pull like taffy. The tile fell from the noble’s fingers onto its back, showing a II.

Tif whooped with glee, causing a servant to briefly poke her head in the room while Sur-Rak remained eerily still.

Tif ate another delicious pastry in victory, this one filled with a savory meat of all things.

“You baited me,” Sur-Rak said to her. It wasn’t stated as an accusation, just a fact.

“Only half on purpose,” Tif said truthfully around the food. “Sets are fun because you can play more wild in the first game. I almost never get to do that, and then at the end I wasn’t sure if you could feel what I was doing.”

“I certainly could,” Sur-Rak half whispered. “And you beat me while at a patron disadvantage.” The keshe’s eyes roamed the board, like she was memorizing her defeat so that it would never happen again. “You should apply at the das Guild if you haven’t already. They’re always accepting applicants, and from...all backgrounds.”

The noble had been as cutting as her teeth to Tif at first but now she was giving her a compliment, and after losing no less. Tif wondered how many friends Sur-Rak had. Probably not many, or she wouldn’t need to pay a stranger to spend time with her. Tif hadn’t really had anyone close besides her parents or Awt for a long time, they either laughed at her plans or at Pep. Tif imagined that if she and the keshe had known each other longer, whether they had grown up together in the highs or lows, they would have been friends, and Tif would have been lucky for it.

“I can’t,” Tif said. Her mouth already full of a second tart. She had been hoping for meat again but had gotten a meringue.

“Why not?” Sur-Rak said, looking up from the board at her.

“I like das, but it’s just a game. I don’t want to spend my life on something like it. I’m going to be a knight.”

The keshe paused. “But I don’t sense any seals from you…” she eventually said.

“That’s because I don’t have any yet.”

Sur-Rak looked to the side. “Oh, you’re one of those.”

“I’m not one of anybody,” Tif said. “One of what?”

“You’re playing the lotto, aren’t you?” The keshe said it like it was an accusation, spearing Tif with her large eyes.

“So what if I am?”

The keshe sighed, and the sound was so near her fa’s it hurt Tif’s heart.

“I always think the lotto is so cruel. Giving people hope of a future that will never happen. When I’m Archon, I’ll abolish the damnable thing.”

Tif shot up from her seat. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because--” Tif wanted to say too many things at once. “It gives people hope. A way to become more than they are. Without it, people will, they’ll…” Tif couldn’t think of the right word. ‘Give up’ was too extreme, but how many times had the thought of winning the lotto kept her moving forward? Kept her dream alive?”

“And have you won?” The keshe didn’t give Tif a chance to answer. “No, of course you haven’t. You’ve just thrown money away that could have otherwise helped lift you out of the circumstances you find yourself in. Every flat you waste is an opportunity for you to start something of meaning ”

“Yet. I haven’t won yet.”

“And you’ll be saying ‘yet’ until the day you die with nothing but piles of stiff paper stock to show for your trouble.”

Tif was going to argue further, but then she caught sight of the luster of the room she was standing in: bigger than her friend Kit’s shop and filled with furniture, art, and decorations so fine that Tif couldn’t even imagine how many flats it was all worth, and it was only the play room. Growing up a noble, surrounded by such things, with her board of flawlessly carved Aspects of different stones, food ready before she even asked, servants leaping to meet her needs, and able to pay Tif such a sum for just an hour diversion...Sur-Rak had everything she could want and more. Of course the lotto was meaningless to her.

“I don’t think I can explain it in a way that will make sense to you but it’s okay, you won’t take the lotto away.”

The keshe narrowed her eyes at Tif. “And why is that?”

Tif smiled. “Because I’m going to become the Archon.”

Sur-Rak looked at her and then laughed, her manner and poise evaporating as she threw back her head, nearly cackling in uproarious delight. This was the first time Tif had told someone other than Pep, her parents, or Awt why she wanted to be a knight so badly, and she found that the sound of the keshe’s laughter, musical though it was, cut at her like knives.

Tif sat back down and began resetting the pieces.

Though Sur-Rak’s shoulders still shook with humor, she quirked an eyebrow at Tif. “What are you doing? You already won.”

“Play me for an inch of ris.”

The keshe’s good humor evaporated, her lips pulling back in snarl, made all more feral by her sharp teeth.

“You dare?”

“Afraid you’ll lose again, Sur?” Tif challenged, showing exactly what she’d dare to accomplish her dream.

Sur-Rak put her hands on the table the board sat on and leaned forward over the beautiful pieces. “And what will be your side of the wager? Unwon lotto tickets?”

Tif matched her stance, bringing their faces a mere foot apart. “Every flat you owe me.”

“That won’t buy you an inch.”

“Then for that much of your ris.”

“You can’t even cast with so little.”

“You’re the one who said I had to start somewhere.”

“What is this wastrel doing in our home?”

Tif and Sur-Rak both turned from where they crouched over the das board to see that an older keshe had entered the playing room. She looked a great deal like Sur-Rak, with the same violet eyes, and Tif immediately thought it was her ma. Sur-Rak was the first to move, swiftly retaking her seat as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

“Apur Mas-Ort brought her after having watched her prowess on the street. She thought the girl might provide sufficient challenge.”

“Did she now?” the older keshe said, stepping further into the room. “And”--Sur-Rak’s ma wrinkled her face as if smelling Tif for the first time--“was it satisfactory?”

“Indeed,” Sur-Rak said crisply. “But now it is time for her to go.”

Tif hadn’t moved, so she pushed off of the table and picked up her crate where it sat a few feet away.

Sur-Rak’s voice followed her as she moved to the beads that separated the play room from the map room.

“Pay the human, though she’s likely just to throw it all away.”

Tif turned to look at Sur-Rak, the two of them locking stares. “I’ll see you at the recruitment tomorrow.”

“No,” the young noble said. “You won’t.”

Much like the food and drink, one of the servants was already ready and waiting with her bag of flats when Tif entered the map room. She didn’t even bother counting it, dumping it into her crate and marching out of the home. The same servant tailed her, but Tif remembered the way and was soon outside the sizable house.

She traveled a full street before she stopped to suck in deep breaths. Passing keshe stepped wide of her, sniffing the air loudly, but Tif hardly noticed.

“Who does she think she is?” Tif said to Pep. “No wonder she has to pay for friends.” She was pacing now, making a scene in the middle of the street, but she didn’t care. “We’ll show her.”

Tif stormed up to the first lotto building she could find on her way back to the Lift. There was no one in line and when she got to the window, she found an older, bored looking keshe with large spectacles sitting on the other side.

“Do you have any tickets left for tonight’s drawing?” Tif asked.

“We do,” the keshe said brightly, putting the book he had been reading down.

Tif should have known. People in the highs didn’t need to bet.

She grabbed the bag she had gotten from the servant and upended it on the counter, the flats clanging loudly against the stonework.

“Give me all you can.”