Let the games begin – 4 Jun. 2019 – Heret

3 Kythorn, 1396 AR
at the Gilded Mirror, Daring Heights

Today the opening ceremony and first games of what seems to be the final and most formal stage of the fey games: the ‘Amaranthiad’. The fey have made an arrangement with the Council here so that the town’s teleportation will open twice a day to convey spectators and contestants to and from the grounds of the arena.

Before passing through, found BB and lent her the ring as agreed. Have not seen her since the game but I hope it helped her champion Titania’s cause! It is hard to know what any of these games will involve and what assistance will be useful.

On fey side of the portal, overwhelming bustle & festivity. Felt myself quite overcome, almost drunk with excitement. The arena itself is like a gargantuan stone clam’s shell towering above everything; in its shadow are innumerable stalls and diversions and all manner of creatures milling about. Townsfolk crossing over at same time as me included:

• Ginead
• Rama
• Sunday
• Traavor

Ginead soon encountered the armoured fellow from the game some days ago. They had an odd exchange, part friendly and part hostile, that ended in a kind of challenge of combat. Immediately there appeared one of the little flying constructs and ran through some formalities to register the fight as an official game. Still seized by the unnatural exuberance of the whole business, I bet unwise sums on G’s victory with several bookmakers. The armoured warrior brought G to his knees with but two blows. To the surprise of all of us, the mechanical umpire declared that points had been awarded to Jack for his victory over Titania in this match, which we had all thought just an informal contention. It seems every game and contest that takes place in the environs of the arena is treated as part of the Games and has some little influence on the eventual outcome.

It was then time for the opening ceremony, wherefore we all crowded into the great stadium. In the middle was a lofty pillar of stone, where Celadrine stood and made a speech. Then the fey royals entered one by one, and with each the very world changed around them: Sarastra brought darkest night to one corner of the arena and stars rained from the sky, thudding into the dust around her; Ulorian flooded a quarter part with sea and swept the sky with a thunderstorm followed by a rainbow; Titania arrived with a sunrise and bloom of flowers; Jack capered in juggling creatures who in turn juggled knives. Incredible spectacle! Thinking on it now I can hardly believe I did not dream it.

Had planned to stay and watch the first of the main games in the arena, but the infectious energy was still within me and I left to find some fresh amusement. There were signs blazoned with the names of divers games: ‘sandcastle contest’, ‘best in show (owlbear)’, ‘hall of mirrors’, ‘the game of chairs’... I heard Ginead, close behind, remark to Sunday that he had heard tell of a hall of mirrors in DH, and did she know of it? She seemed strangely displeased with the question.

I followed a sign to the ‘Greenfingers memorial stair challenge’. It led to a stone tower, which I entered. The door closed behind me, while ahead was a small flight of stairs, only 6 or 7 steps, but suddenly I began to diminish until I found I was but a mouse! After some struggle on my four short legs I crested one step, then the next, but the third was trapped and threw a dozen huge shining metal spheres at me, knocking me sideways. I suppose they must have been ball bearings. The next step after was more difficult to climb and I fell twice, whereon I could hear laughter coming from outside the tower. Then I saw and evaded a second trap, but the step after that was rigged on both sides and I was struck by a crossbow bolt, or rather a small splinter or toothpick. But at last, wounded and bloody, I gained the summit and regained my usual form. Leaving the tower I found a crowd had gathered to watch, somehow, through the tower walls, and all applauded me, including R and G who had arrived while I was inside.

All of us went thence together to the hall of mirrors. We and some other entrants were given tabards in colours representing our chosen fey courts – all of us chose Titania save R, who sided with Sarastra – and each a bow and 8 arrows tipped with bags of pigment. The object was to mark members of opposing teams with the pigment; anyone so marked must resign from the game. We entered the darkened structure, wherein were endless corridors of mirrors, some reflecting us plainly, some bent and distorted, some utterly impossible and clearly magical. Elsewhere in the maze were sounds of bows fired, glass broken, muffled curses. Then suddenly a truly alarming scream. After 2 shots at reflections, I hit one of Sarastra’s contenders. G near by hit two others before we were confronted with a terrible visage surrounded by serpents where its hair should be. Meeting its eyes, G seemed frozen for a moment but recovered himself and scared the thing away. Distracted, I failed to see R aiming at me until too late – his arrow struck true and I left the competition.

My companions told me later that R was the last contender untouched by pigment and so Queen Sarastra was awarded the victory in that small game. But by that time I had lost patience and gone to the ‘slam poetry’ event. Knowing myself a poor poet, I thought to try a ploy: I entered the competition on behalf of Sarastra. But losing was more difficult than I expected! This for two causes: first, that the fey audience and judges had a strange taste in poetry and enjoyed my contributions far more than they should; secondly, that we were required not only to versify but also to fight, which I am not so bad at. My opponent was Langston Farstep on behalf of the River King. I’d glimped Farstep before, and often heard of him – especially from Pieni, who dislikes him a great deal – but not met him until now. We began with verses of insult and defiance, then a round of boxing. During this, S and G arrived. Seeing this, Farstep in the next round devised a comical verse about S, but she stared him down and he faltered. I made a similar poem about G, which I thought dreadful but the audience applauded heartily. Another round of boxing next, and then G joined the contest (on behalf of Titania) for the final round of verse with a rather witty poem about his earlier battle with the armoured warrior. Farstep attempted a panegyric of the River King but S once again distracted and hindered him from the audience. When it came to me, I sought to imitate the most unstructured, juvenile, meaningless, indulgently melancholy sort of poetry – alas, the audience were profoundly moved by the drivel! At least for the final round of combat I was able to spend my time punching G’s breastplate and gaining nothing for Sarastra but bruised knuckles. Nonetheless Sarastra achieved second place of three.

The three of us made our way to the beauty contest, just in time to see T take to the stage as the next contestant! Until this time he had spent the day with his hood up, but now his head was bared and displaying a resplendent fin of many-coloured hair running down the centre of an otherwise shaven head – he told me later that this is called a ‘mow hawk’ where he comes from. He began to juggle his arrows but seemed nervous and fumbled a little. Then came a satyr walking on its hands, dressed upside-down so that its arms seemed to be legs and its arse seemed to be a face. Then R, horns polished, a crown of flame hovering between them, and performed some brief tricks with strips of fabric and fire. He too was impressive to behold but his performance too short and inconclusive. After the other contestants had taken their turns, the presiding fairy thanked both T & R but informed them that they would not advance to the ‘swimsuit round’ of the competition.

Now despite the infectious enthusiasm of the place I had begun to tire and to remember the many tasks before me here in DH, so returned. Tomorrow, back to Amn to try to find some more useful goods.