Free Gamerunner by B. R. Collins

looked up. His eyes were blank and ancient.
    ‘Daed,’ Rick said again, hanging on to the word like a handhold. ‘What’s going on? What did I do?’
    For a second the Daed he recognised was there, looking back at him with a glint of disdain. Then the old man resurfaced. He said, softly, ‘You did exactly, precisely the worst thing you could have done.’
    ‘I’m sorry —’
    Daed raised one shoulder, shrugging the words away. ‘Irrelevant,’ he said, without rancour. ‘I should have known. You’re a kid. Kids like to win.’
    ‘I only —’
    ‘ Only? ’ Daed said, and his voice made the word silver-sharp, so Rick could almost see it catch the light. ‘No. Only? No.’
    ‘Then . . .’ Rick swallowed. The grey fog of fear had got into his bones, aching. ‘I just . . . it didn’t seem important. I did what you told me to do, and —’
    Daed stood up. He walked around his desk to where Rick was sitting, and crouched in front of him, so that his face was on a level with Rick’s. Rick stayed absolutely, perfectly still. And if he’d thought he was afraid before he was wrong, because now —
    Daed said, ‘You did what I told you to do ? Oh, no. No, you didn’t.’
    If Rick could have spoken, he would. But there was nothing to say.
    ‘Oh, no,’ Daed said again, very softly. ‘No, no, no. I think you must have misunderstood. I told you what you had to do, and you chose the exact opposite. You know that, don’t you?’ He looked into Rick’s eyes. ‘Don’t you?’
    ‘Yes,’ Rick said. In the Maze there were serpents that could turn you into stone with a glance. Now he thought he knew what that would feel like.
    ‘Good boy,’ Daed said. ‘At least you can admit it.’
    He leant forward and took Rick’s head in his hands. His touch was light and firm and even if Rick had tried to get away he couldn’t. Daed held him like that for a second — two, five, ten. Rick stared back, until he couldn’t bear it any longer.
    Then Daed kissed his forehead, embraced him, and let him go. He stood up, took a deep breath as if he’d put down a heavy weight, and went back to his desk. Rick could still feel the warmth of Daed’s mouth, as if he’d left the print of his lips on Rick’s skin.
    Rick said, ‘Tell me what I did.’
    Daed glanced over his shoulder and away again. He wiped his hand across his eyes. He said, ‘It’ll be OK. I can deal with it.’
    ‘But —’
    ‘It’s OK, Rick. I promise. It’ll be all right. Go and put something on your face. You look appalling.’
    He hated it, this new voice, this softness. It scared him. He didn’t want Daed to reassure him; he wanted Daed to tell him what a stupid little git he was. He said, ‘Please, Daed —’
    But he didn’t know what he was going to say, and he never found out, because Daed’s comms panel lit up and Paz’s voice said, ‘I’m coming in.’
    Daed looked at him, then. ‘Go away, Rick.’
    ‘I . . .’ He wanted to stay. He didn’t want to be on his own.
    ‘Get out.’
    Paz opened the door — no need to wait for Daed to let her in, naturally — and paused in the doorway as if she was posing for a screenshot. She said, ‘Rick. What a surprise. Run away and play.’
    ‘I can’t,’ Rick said. ‘Someone’s closed my account.’
    ‘Oh dear,’ she said, and smiled at him. It was the same smile that you saw on the tygers in the Maze, just before they ate you. He thought: Daed must have done that on purpose.
    Paz turned her head, dismissing him. She said to Daed, ‘I suppose you already know what I’ve got to say. Don’t you?’
    ‘I suppose you’d better say it anyway,’ Daed said.
    ‘Then get rid of your dependant, please. I don’t want to give him nightmares.’
    She turned away and stood looking out at the towers of Undone, waiting for him to leave. Rick looked from her to Daed and back again. He never wanted to leave them alone together; normally it was jealousy, but now he felt . . . protective. But Daed caught