Free The City of Ravens by Richard Baker Page B

did live, the land would be unassailable.
    “Then, to ensure that no foe undid the enchantment by striking down the monarchs, each of the seven kings went secretly to dwell in the lands held by another monarch, living humbly among the people. When they must perforce appear in public, the monarchs hid then-faces and names behind hoods: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, and Black. Thus no one knew where each king dwelt or even what each king looked like, and the land was ruled well for many years.
    “Alas, an enemy arose whom even the wise monarchs did not anticipate. One by one the descendants of the original Seven Lords turned to evil. Their peculiar arrangement made it impossible for the champions of the people to unseat the fallen lords, since even if one were exposed and defeated, any of the other six might loose the great enchantment upon the land to exact a terrible vengeance. And now, the only way in which the land may be freed of the rule of the Seven Faceless Lords is if each monarch’s identity and the kingdom in which he
    dwells is learned by a true and faithful hero, so that all may be exposed and defeated in the very same stroke.
    “So, my Lady Crane and my Lord Fox, you have begun the quest secretly to determine the identity of each of the Seven Faceless Lords. Over the next seven weeks, each lord will host a revel celebrating the seventh century of their houses joint rule. Tonight you are guests at the Red Lord’s Revel. May your search be fruitful, for all the land demands justice!”
    Jack nodded. Seven lords, seven names, seven kingdoms. All one had to do was to hit upon the correct alignment out of the, just a moment, three hundred and forty-three possible combinations. Simple persistence should win the day.
    “That doesn’t seem too hard,” he said aloud.
    “Oh, and you should know,” Randall Morran added, “that you are entitled to make only one guess. Should you guess wrong, the Faceless Lords will destroy you at once, thus removing your characters from the game.”
    “Is that all?” Illyth asked.
    “No, my lady,” said a second attendant. “Each pair of participants begins with a clue as to the identity of one of the Faceless Lords. By carefully conversing with the other guests and exchanging clues, you should eventually identify each lord’s name and dwelling place.”
    “And our clue is?” Jack asked.
    Master Crafter Randall Morran consulted a large leather-bound tome. Then he opened a small locked chest sitting on the credenza and rifled through its contents, producing a small ivory token stamped with gold filigree and printed with small lettering. “Here it is, my lord.”
    Jack took the token and glanced at it. Dubhil is not the Orange Lord, it read.
    “If you are wise, you’ll ask to see the another player’s clue token when you exchange information,” the second
    attendant said. “Some unsportsmanlike players might deliberately mislead you otherwise.”
    “Perish the thought,” Jack muttered.
    There was one strategy out the window. He passed the token to Illyth, thinking hard. It would be very difficult to get information out of another player without providing information of presumably equal value; that meant that any clever and thorough player would make progress at about the same speed as any other clever and thorough player. Of course, the tokens might be faked or stolen. Or, for that matter, that big leather book where the Game judges apparently kept a roster of players and clues might be borrowed for a time and then carefully replaced.
    An unsportsmanlike player had a few options open to him, at least. Jack nodded to himself. It might not be so bad, after all.
    “One more question,” Illyth asked. “What happens if a participant guesses wrong and removes himself—and therefore his clue as well—from the Game?”
    “Good question,” Jack said.
    Illyth was somewhat gullible and given to romantic nonsense, but there was nothing wrong with her reasoning.