The Great Game

If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction!

We have two questions left, and more pressing puzzles than we had before we started. Alice leans in close to me, and whispers “What the hell do we do?”

I try to smile confidently, and say “How about we ask these two questions: what name this damn thing was summoned under, and how to find the location it was summoned from?”

Alice stares at me. “That’s all the questions. You won’t have had any.”

I shrug. “That’s the way it goes, sometimes.”

Tears well up at the corner of her eyes, and she sniffs, loudly, and then apologizes. “Sorry. Thank you so much. It’s been so long since…” she falters, and sniffs again.

“Hey,” I begin.

“This is very sweet,” says Sinclair. “Please, take all the time in the universe.”

I roll my eyes, and turn back to him. “OK. What name was this thing summoned under?”

“Kharos.”

“Kharos,” I repeat flatly.

Sinclair nods. “Yes. And I won’t even count that as a question. Aren’t I lovely?”

“Last question,” I say flatly. “How do we get to the precise location it was summoned from?”

“You can make an accurate pendulum out of the right hand of the dead girl, Eadida, and a strand of leather. Ask her spirit to guide you back to where you broke the sands. At each parting of the ways, it will show you where to go.”

“OK,” I say. “Well, thanks. You’ve been informative.”

Sinclair grins nastily. “I’m in a good mood. I’m not often lucky enough to run into a pair of totally clueless idiots with such little idea. Almost everyone insists on a ‘no conscious awareness’ clause at least. It’s been a very lucrative transaction.”

Alice looks concerned. “What do you mean?”

The grin widens even more, and Sinclair taps the cairn. Suddenly, copies of Alice and I are standing there, naked, hands pressed flat to the stone. They look at each other, confusion and fear dawning, then the other Alice notices us, and can’t quite stifle a shriek. They whirl round, staring.

Sinclair walks up to them, places a friendly hand on the other me’s shoulder, and smiles at them. “Sorry kids. You’re just the copies. Those are the originals.”

My twin manages to choke out a strangled “What?”

I realize that my double’s skin is roughening, hardening. The head and body start swelling, seemingly absorbing weight from the arms and legs. The face is stretching and squishing, wearing an expression of profoundly agonised horror.

Both Alices are screaming wildly, and I realise I’m right there with them.

My former twin starts shrinking, slowly at first, emitting a horrible thin wail of anguish. Then there’s nothing… or is there? On top of the cairn, there’s a fresh ant running around. Alice goes absolutely white, both version of her. They’re staring at each other.

“Help me,” says the other one, in a tiny voice. “Kill me. Kill…” the words fade into a hideous scream as she starts twisting and changing too. Next to me, the real Alice vomits noisily, and then collapses to her knees like a broken doll, tears flooding down her face.

Sinclair is watching us happily. He gives me a mocking little wave, and we’re back in the main body of the hotel, outside the huge metal door that leads to his… well, his whatever. Alice looks up and wails, and then just sinks down to lie on the floor, sobbing hysterically.

I hold her for a while, murmuring quiet noises, and absolutely refusing to think about stones or ants or anything at all. When she subsides a little, into heartbroken noises, I painstakingly pick her up off the floor. Then I carry her back to the hotel lobby — it’s just round a corner and through a fire door — and there’s a nice, big couch free just where I want it. I lay her down on it, sink into a chair next to her, and hold her hand until she cries herself to sleep.

Someone has left a jug of coffee on the table, and I pour myself a cup.

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Today’s picture is Mr Bighead and his Clones by HamburgerJung