The green-belted adversary is wavering as he crosses a high beam on Traps. I suck in a breath, pulse racing as I see him overbalance. Too late he tries to center himself! He slips and falls. A shout explodes from the spectators as he hits. I can’t see the floor of Traps from here but men race out with a stretcher. There is a moment of utter silence as people stare.
My heart is pounding and my throat feels raw with apprehension. What if Green Belt is dead?
Laughter and good-natured cheers erupt from the crowd: Green Belt must be injured but not dead, aware and awake enough to make light of his fall. I’ve gotten distracted even though only five breaths have passed since I arrived here. I should be looking for Blue Boy as I decide on a strategy.
A Rings configuration is set up as a maze, like Pillars. The spinning rings turn at different speeds, just as stones move in Rivers. You have to avoid traps; this one has smaller rings that turn separately, nested within the larger rings. Rings are stacked so you can climb, as in Trees, to a higher and more difficult but faster level, or play it safe on the ground. Rings is my specialty. I’m not the strongest nor the fastest, but I’m agile and I’m patient and I’m calm. Most of all, I know how to grasp the whole pattern and figure out the fastest path. You can beat me anywhere else on the court but no one beats me through Rings.
Since Blue Boy isn’t yet here, how am I going to lose on purpose without everyone guessing? Even though Father doesn’t know it’s me, I want him to admire the girl in the brown belt as she falls just short of winning. Worse than losing would be overhearing him remark on how that girl had run poorly.
A foot slaps the ladder behind me. To my utter relief Blue Boy hauls himself up onto the platform and drops into a crouch beside me. It’s a good tactic, confronting me directly as we enter the last challenge. He’s about my height, lean and muscled. A gold silk half-mask covers his eyes and forehead but I see his smile and his even, white teeth. He looks like he’s having a good time and is perfectly happy to share that good time with me.
“Salutations, Adversary. Do you let me pass, or do you contest my right to enter first?”
I can tell by his high-class accent that he’s way above my place in the world. He’s as pure Patron as they come but there’s no glint of condescension in his voice.
“Salutations, Adversary,” I answer, pitching my voice low to disguise it.
He drops the pompous formalities with another flash of the friendly grin. “I have to say, I’m impressed. I don’t remember running against you before. By the way you took that twisting leap over the rope bridge in Traps, I’d have remembered you.”
“How did you see that?” I ask, surprised both that he was able to observe my run and that he would have paused for long enough to watch.
He points to a cluster of poles sticking up in Trees. “I had just reached the top of the center-post. Your leap was impressive. You’re not wearing a stable badge. Who trains you?”
“What makes you think I’ll give up my secret?” Cheerfully I snap out the informal court challenge used only between players. I can tell he’s expecting it by the way he laughs. “Kiss off, Adversary.”
From the platform there are three possible rings I can reach on my first jump. I’ve already chosen my path. I leap for the middle ring just as it turns full on open, facing me. I brace my feet on its wooden curve and grasp each side, spread-eagle. The thrill is what I live for, the timing, the way I can hit it just right.
He whistles sharply, amazed by my audacity. After a hesitation he jumps through the right-hand ring and starts climbing down into the spinning maze. I stay holding on through three complete turns of the big wooden ring. I’m comfortable braced here. Anticipation curls smugly in my gut as I watch him dodge and climb and backtrack along the ground.
There is always more than one path through Rings. The key is finding the most direct one instead of the most obvious one.
Getting bored, the crowd begins singing a popular song about a lovelorn adversary:
I’ll wear my mask and I’ll wear my ribbons
And to the wharf I’ll gladly go
For my love has said he will meet me there and—
A man’s voice pierces above the clamor: “Wait for it, sweet pea!”
Whoever the man is, up in the stands, he knows exactly what I’m going for: on the fifth turn a straight path will open to the tower. It’s a hard choice to make because all the rings are continually moving. Once you start leaping you have to keep moving as the tunnel opens in front of you and closes behind you. If you stop, you’ll fall. But if you’re bold you can race through a wave of opening rings like opening doors.