The Sports Captain's Tale полностью

I made a big show of rolling my eyes. If we quit the field now, before we were even in it, we’d be done. There’d be no second chance to win enough points to proceed to the finals. We’d do better by walking onto the field and standing still, waiting to be taken out of the game. It wasn’t going to happen, of course. I smiled instead as Ham – the fourth and final captain – led his team into the bunker. They looked wary. Like us, they’d got the lowest score in their last match. I suspected that meant they’d spent the last few days trying to come up with something new, just like us.

Shame we can’t cooperate, I thought. It would definitely change things if we stood together against the other two.

The thought was tempting. Blair and Darrell hated each other. She’d like nothing more than the chance to pay him back for his remark, proving her supremacy on the playing fields rather than moaning to the staff about sexist remarks. It was the only way she’d come out ahead. I could easily envisage the two teams going at it hammer and tongs, leaving Ham and I to pick up the pieces afterwards. But it wasn’t going to happen. Ham needed to come out ahead, just like us. He’d expect a knife in the back as soon and Blair and Darrell were wiped out and he’d be right. It was exactly what I’d do.

Because winning is everything and looking like a sad pathetic wanker is a positive bonus, I thought, recalling Professor Thande’s snide dismissal of our request for his sponsorship. We can’t afford to come out second, let alone third or fourth, and neither can he.

Blair winked at me. “You want to put a bet on the match? You win, I serve you dinner in fancy dress. I win, you serve me.”

“I always knew you were into the weird stuff,” I said, snidely. The loophole was so wide I could have taken an entire fleet of galleons through it. He’d wear a costume instead of a woman’s dress. I was surprised he wasn’t trying to say it to Darrell. The bastard would love the idea of her playing at being a waitress and waiting on his table … “I think …”

“Attention,” Sergeant Wills said, striding into the bunker. His voice dripped natural authority. My jaw snapped closed. I owed him one. It would have been hard to turn down the bet and harder still to keep my side, if my team lost. “I want a good clean match, so behave yourselves!”

I think you’re in the wrong line of work, I thought, as the rest of the team lined up behind me. If we lose, we’re cheaters; if we win, we’re heroes.

The door snapped open. “May the gods defend the right,” the sergeant said, pointing a finger at the clock. “Go.”

I glanced at my team, then jogged out of the bunker and down the path to the base. There was no point in hurrying. The bell wouldn’t ring for ten minutes, more than long enough to get to the base and set up before time ran out. Sweat prickled on the back of my neck as the sun beat down, a grim reminder of just what would happen if we lost. It would be the end. Even coming in second would fuck up my dream. Sure, I might be happy – in a spiteful kind of way – if Blair came third or fourth, but it wouldn’t suit me. I wanted to be great.

“We’re ready to cast the entanglement spells,” Mildred said. She sounded faint, even though it had been her idea. She’d actually wanted to give me the credit … privately, I suspected she was afraid of the consequences if we staked everything on her spells and lost. The team might hesitate to beat up on me, but her …? I intended to make damn sure she’d get the credit if we won and take the lumps myself if we lost. No self-respecting captain could do otherwise. “Kai?”

“Do it,” I ordered. It might have been her concept, but I’d been the one who’d decided we’d go with her plan. There’d be enough recriminations to go around if we lost. “And hurry.”

Mildred nodded, casting the spells one by one. I felt the magic flicker and flare around us, pieces of spellware binding us together. The concept was risky, to say the least, but it played to our sole real strength as a team. It might just work …

“Don’t forget to add the illusions,” Karen pointed out. “We don’t want them thinking we’re elsewhere.”

“It should work,” Mildred said. “The tracking spells aren’t that precise.”