The Sports Captain's Tale полностью

The funny thing is, no one would have batted an eyelid if they’d been cheating to win. Not really. Everyone would have understood that, even if they had to pretend otherwise. But she was cheating to lose and THAT WAS UNFORGIVABLE. I mean ... really? It’s one thing to be a cheat if you’re trying to win, but fucking over your own team? And there was a naked girl involved … by some curious alchemy, that became more important than the cheating scandal itself. Go figure.

I’m sure Gordian would have tried to cover it up, if he could, but … like I said, naked girl. It wasn’t possible. The cheat landed in deep shit and everything else was thoroughly shaken up. All the old teams were commanded to hold new try-outs, and quickly, before we returned to the league. I wasn’t too worried, at least at first. I was top of the lists, a jack-of-all-games who happened to be master-of-all. No one in their right mind would kick me off the team unless I really stepped over the line. I swaggered down to the plotting room with nary a care in the world. The team captain – Blair, of some obscure and probably fictional house – wasn’t going to give me the boot. Of course not. It was absurd.

And the very first thing he said to me was …

“You’re off the team.”

What?

“What?”

I had never liked Blair. He was an aristo with magic who also had the nerve to be pretty good at sports. And he was dashingly handsome into the bargain. But I’d never considered him an idiot. No one who’d led two teams – Ken and BattleBorne – to the top of the sporting tables could possibly be an idiot. But …

“Kai, you’re off the team,” Blair repeated. He waved a hand, dismissively. “You may go.”

I was too stunned to be angry. “But … why?”

“I need a team I can take to the big tournament,” Blair said. “You’re not on the list.”

“But …” I saw the paper on his desk and snatched it up. Seven active players, seven reserve players, a planning coach … I knew them all well enough to pick out the one thing they had in common. Half of them were magical aristocracy, the other half were related to mundane aristocrats. There were no commoners. “You picked them because of their blood?”

Blair reddened. “I picked them because of their skills,” he snapped. “Or are you daring to suggest they’re lacking?”

I glowered, then ran my eye down the list. Alyx – his planning coach – had no real sporting skills worth a damn, but she was a very good strategist and as long as she didn’t take the field herself she’d be fine. Blair wasn’t fool enough to insist she tried, when he needed her operating behind the scenes. It was a gamble, but unless he got very unlucky the odds were firmly in his favour. Probably. The rest … they weren’t bad players, I conceded ruefully, but they weren’t the best of the best. The only thing they had in their favour was …

“You’re picking players because their parents can sponsor the team?” It was hard to keep the shock out of my voice. I’d always known there were more politics in sports than anyone wanted, and there were a bunch of teams funded by the great and the good, but this was insane. “The team will be the best-looking bunch of losers on the field!”

“If we don’t look good, no one will take us seriously,” Blair snapped back. “Do you think we can take the field in second-hand crap?”

I glared. I’d worked my ass off, each and every summer, to earn money to buy sporting supplies, but half my gear was still second hand. At best. It was still in good condition – I wouldn’t have taken it onto the field if it wasn’t – but it made me look shabby and poor. I’d been taunted by a particularly obnoxious aristocrat until I’d planted my fist in his mouth. It had been so worth it.

“The team must have the best,” Blair said. “The best players, the best outfits, the best chance …”

“Shame about the captain,” I jeered. It was probably a bad idea, but Blair wasn’t likely to change his mind. No team captain could afford to look indecisive. The player rosters were probably already being posted, even as we spoke. He hadn’t even considered I might try to change his mind. “Shouldn’t you resign in favour of someone who actually knows what he’s doing?”

Blair stiffened. I saw magic crackling around his fingers and braced myself. He was a good fighter, but so was I. Let him throw the first hex. I’d throw the last one. The days when I’d been a firstie innocently trying to join a team composed of older and stronger players were long gone. And if Blair got his face smashed by me …

His position would become untenable, I thought. Probably. What’ll he do then?

“I’m not going to take advice from someone who thinks the team can’t romp to victory without him,” Blair snarled, finally. I was impressed he didn’t start hurling hexes. Or curses. I would have been more impressed if he’d picked his team for their skills rather than their family connections. “Now, get out. I have work to do.”