"Yes… let's get some fresh air, shall we?"

"Just what I need," Chamlis said, aura dully red.

Gurgeh put his glass down, and together he and the old drone joined the flow of people spilling from the bright, tapestry-hung hall on to the floodlit terrace facing the dark lake.

Rain hit the windows with a noise like the crackling of the logs on the fire. The view from the house at Ikroh, down the steep wooded slope to the fjord and across it to the mountains on the other side, was warped and distorted by the water running down the glass, and sometimes low clouds flowed round the turrets and cupolas of Gurgeh's home, like wet smoke.

Yay Meristinoux took a large wrought-iron poker from the hearth and, putting one booted foot up on the elaborately carved stone of the fire surround and one pale brown hand on the rope-like edge of the massive mantelpiece, stabbed at one of the spitting logs lying burning in the grate. Sparks flew up the tall chimney to meet the falling rain. Chamlis Amalk-ney was floating near the window, watching the dull grey clouds.

The wooden door set into one comer of the room swung open and Gurgeh appeared, bearing a tray with hot drinks. He wore a loose, light robe over dark, baggy trousers; slippers made small slapping noises on his feet as he crossed the room. He put the tray down, looked at Yay. "Thought of a move yet?"

Yay crossed over to look morosely at the game-board, shaking her head. "No," she said. "I think you've won."

"Look," Gurgeh said, adjusting a few of the pieces. His hands moved quickly, like a magician's, over the board, though Yay followed every move. She nodded.

"Yes, I see. But" — she tapped a hex Gurgeh had repositioned one of her pieces on, so giving her a potentially winning formation- "only if I'd double-secured that blocking piece two moves earlier." She sat down on the couch, taking her drink with her. Raising her glass to the quietly smiling man on the opposite couch, she said, "Cheers. To the victor."