your Momma
ever tell you never play with the elves?' Her changes of mood made Lila feel dizzy. Sorcha was now as
concerned and intent as a kind mother
herself. "This is the oldestGame there is, honey. You know what I mean?'
Lila didn't know how to respond at all. She was out of her depth. She kepta thoughtful silence . This
increased Sorcha's pity, which Lila could have done without.
'Let's see what the Victory condition is.' The succubus slowly turned the round in her hand and sang a
few notes to it. She listened, her blazing eyes closed for a moment. 'Ah. Not too bad,' she gave Lila a
wink. "The loser is the one who cracks first and begs the other one to end the Game. The oldest ones are
the best. Now the Forfeit.'
'Forfeit. Isn't that it, when somebody wins?'
'You really washed in on the last tide,' Sorcha said. "There's always a Forfeit, though most humans
don't know that until it's too late.' She went to the painting. 'I can even tell you who started it. D'you want
to know that too?'
'No,' Lila said. "That's enough already.' She was wondering what the Forfeithad been on the other
Game, and if it had been avoided. Surely Sarasilien would have told her of it? Was there a compulsion
lying on her now thatshe didn'tknow about? She couldn'tbelieve he would cross her like that.
'Honey don't be down.' Sorcha pressed the round gently into Lila's hand. 'People are playing this stuff
all the time, it's no big. What? What's the matter? You're notthinking of qui tt ing are you?'
Lila glanced atthe dressing room butthere was no sign of Zal. She decided, on an impulse she might
well regret, to take Sorcha atface value. She told her about the letters. 'I'm obliged to lose,' she said. 'It's
in the way. So, if all I have to do is . . .'
'No no no no,' Sorcha rapped smartly . 'You have to mean it. That's the condition . It has to be genuine
lust thatmakes him beg for your favour, lustover sense with every lastshred of personal pride biting the
dirt. Otherwise itisn't worth the entry charge, is it? Trustme. I've played this before a hundred times.
Loser cracks first and then the Forfeit - well, no, t hen the rooty, unless you're playing a real bastard, and
t hen the Forfeit . Forfeit could be anything . You have to watch those.'
'Doesn't matter,' Lila said, biting down irritation at the wretched binding rules of the magic and her
ignorance of them. 'Can you lift the Game?'
Sorcha waved her hand dismissively. 'No. Don't look so worried. I
have four or five on all the time. Life's no fun atall without them. Sometimes I can'teven remember who's
playin' whaton whom. Look though, before you lose, if you could lose even, don't you think you're
better off knowing the Forfeit at least? No sense in suffering agony over a tin of kitty food, and no sense
giving in sight-unseen on eternal banishment to Zoomenon or something . Here, let me.' And before Lila
could stop her Sorcha stood up and spat onto the polished wooden chest of drawers beneath the
painting . She sang a complicated melody and extended one of her fingernails into a claw. With this she
scratched a mark into the saliva . It shaped itself and froze into a tiny lens like a magnifying glass . Beneath
it the forfeit could be read, as though it was stamped into the wood in clear letters . Lila bent close.
'Still wanna lose?' Sorcha asked, clearly surprised.
The spit window frosted, and deliquesced to nothing with a few greyish flickers. The Forfeit it had
shown her was etched in Lila's mind: the loser will live a lifetime never being able to love anybody else.
Curiously, she found the idea almost comforting. She might have to suffer a brief and difficult
short-term period of fixation on Zal, true, but he'd leave as soon as the Game was done, and she was
used to living far away from people she cared about. Very used to it. It wouldn't be so hard to put
another picture in her pocket and, after that, have the security of knowing that she'd be in no
ever tell you never play with the elves?' Her changes of mood made Lila feel dizzy. Sorcha was now as
concerned and intent as a kind mother
herself. "This is the oldestGame there is, honey. You know what I mean?'
Lila didn't know how to respond at all. She was out of her depth. She kepta thoughtful silence . This
increased Sorcha's pity, which Lila could have done without.
'Let's see what the Victory condition is.' The succubus slowly turned the round in her hand and sang a
few notes to it. She listened, her blazing eyes closed for a moment. 'Ah. Not too bad,' she gave Lila a
wink. "The loser is the one who cracks first and begs the other one to end the Game. The oldest ones are
the best. Now the Forfeit.'
'Forfeit. Isn't that it, when somebody wins?'
'You really washed in on the last tide,' Sorcha said. "There's always a Forfeit, though most humans
don't know that until it's too late.' She went to the painting. 'I can even tell you who started it. D'you want
to know that too?'
'No,' Lila said. "That's enough already.' She was wondering what the Forfeithad been on the other
Game, and if it had been avoided. Surely Sarasilien would have told her of it? Was there a compulsion
lying on her now thatshe didn'tknow about? She couldn'tbelieve he would cross her like that.
'Honey don't be down.' Sorcha pressed the round gently into Lila's hand. 'People are playing this stuff
all the time, it's no big. What? What's the matter? You're notthinking of qui tt ing are you?'
Lila glanced atthe dressing room butthere was no sign of Zal. She decided, on an impulse she might
well regret, to take Sorcha atface value. She told her about the letters. 'I'm obliged to lose,' she said. 'It's
in the way. So, if all I have to do is . . .'
'No no no no,' Sorcha rapped smartly . 'You have to mean it. That's the condition . It has to be genuine
lust thatmakes him beg for your favour, lustover sense with every lastshred of personal pride biting the
dirt. Otherwise itisn't worth the entry charge, is it? Trustme. I've played this before a hundred times.
Loser cracks first and then the Forfeit - well, no, t hen the rooty, unless you're playing a real bastard, and
t hen the Forfeit . Forfeit could be anything . You have to watch those.'
'Doesn't matter,' Lila said, biting down irritation at the wretched binding rules of the magic and her
ignorance of them. 'Can you lift the Game?'
Sorcha waved her hand dismissively. 'No. Don't look so worried. I
have four or five on all the time. Life's no fun atall without them. Sometimes I can'teven remember who's
playin' whaton whom. Look though, before you lose, if you could lose even, don't you think you're
better off knowing the Forfeit at least? No sense in suffering agony over a tin of kitty food, and no sense
giving in sight-unseen on eternal banishment to Zoomenon or something . Here, let me.' And before Lila
could stop her Sorcha stood up and spat onto the polished wooden chest of drawers beneath the
painting . She sang a complicated melody and extended one of her fingernails into a claw. With this she
scratched a mark into the saliva . It shaped itself and froze into a tiny lens like a magnifying glass . Beneath
it the forfeit could be read, as though it was stamped into the wood in clear letters . Lila bent close.
'Still wanna lose?' Sorcha asked, clearly surprised.
The spit window frosted, and deliquesced to nothing with a few greyish flickers. The Forfeit it had
shown her was etched in Lila's mind: the loser will live a lifetime never being able to love anybody else.
Curiously, she found the idea almost comforting. She might have to suffer a brief and difficult
short-term period of fixation on Zal, true, but he'd leave as soon as the Game was done, and she was
used to living far away from people she cared about. Very used to it. It wouldn't be so hard to put
another picture in her pocket and, after that, have the security of knowing that she'd be in no
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