Read Online The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks - Free Book Online

accuracy to anybody who wanted them, by Hafflis's youngest, who was only six. Hafflis was unusual in having had seven children; normally people bore one and fathered one. The Culture frowned on such profligacy, but Hafflis just liked being pregnant. He was in a male stage at the moment, however, having changed a few years earlier. He and Gurgeh exchanged pleasantries, then Hafflis showed the game-player to a seat beside Professor Boruelal, who was grinning happily and swaying in her seat. She wore a long black and white robe, and when she saw Gurgeh kissed him noisily on the lips. She attempted to kiss Mawhrin-Skel too, but it flicked away. She laughed, and speared a half-done piece of meat from the line over the centre of the table with a long fork. 'Gurgeh! Meet the lovely Olz Hap! Olz; Jernau Gurgeh. Come on; shake hands!' Gurgeh sat down, taking the small, pale hand of the frightened-looking girl on Boruelal's right. She was wearing something dark and shapeless, and was in her early teens, at most. He smiled with a slight frown, glancing at the professor, trying to share the joke of her inebria with the young blonde girl, but Olz Hap was looking at his hand, not his face. She let her hand be touched but then withdrew it almost immediately. She sat on her hands and stared at her plate. Boruelal breathed deeply, seeming to gather herself together. She took a drink from a tall glass in front of her. 'Well,' she said, looking at Gurgeh as though he'd only just appeared. 'How are you, Jernau?' 'Well enough.' He watched Mawhrin-Skel manoeuvre itself beside Olz Hap, floating over the table beside her plate, fields all formal blue and green friendliness. 'Good evening,' he heard the drone say in its most avuncular voice. The girl brought her head up to look at the machine, and Gurgeh listened to their conversation at the same time as he and Boruelal talked. 'Hello.' 'Well enough to play a game of Stricken?' 'Mawhrin-Skel's the name. Olz Hap, am I right?' 'I think so, Professor. Are you well enough to invigilate?' 'Yes. How do you do.' 'Fuck me, no; drunk as a desert spring. Have to get somebody else. Suppose I could come down in time but… naa…' 'Oh, ah, shake fields with me, eh? That's very sweet of you; so few people bother. How nice to meet you. We've all heard so much.' 'How about the young lady herself?' 'Oh. Oh dear.' 'What?' 'What's wrong? Have I said something wrong?' 'Is she ready to play?' 'No, it's just-' 'Play what?' 'Ah; you're shy. You needn't be. Nobody'll force you to play. Least of all Gurgeh, believe me.' 'The game, Boruelal.' 'Well, I-' 'What, do you mean now?' 'I wouldn't worry, if I were you. Really.' 'Now; or any time.' 'Well I don't know. Let's ask her! Hey, kid…' 'Bor-' Gurgeh began, but the professor had already turned to the girl. 'Olz; want to play this game, then?' The young girl looked straight at Gurgeh. Her eyes were bright in the glare of the line of fire running down the centre of the table. 'If Mr Gurgeh would like to, yes.' Mawhrin-Skel's fields glowed red with pleasure, momentarily brighter than the coals. 'Oh good ,' it said. 'A fight.'
Hafflis had loaned his own ancient Stricken set out; it took a few minutes for a supply drone to bring one from a town store. They set it up at one end of the balcony, by the edge overlooking the roaring white falls. Professor Boruelal fumbled with her terminal and put in a request for some adjudicating drones to oversee the match; Stricken was susceptible to high-tech cheating, and a serious game required that steps be taken to ensure nothing underhand went on. A drone visiting from Chiark Hub volunteered, as did a Manufactury drone from the shipyard under the massif. One of the university's own machines would represent Olz Hap. Gurgeh turned to Mawhrin-Skel, to ask it to be his representative, but it said, 'Jernau Gurgeh; I thought you might like Chamlis Amalk-ney to represent you.' 'Is Chamlis here?' 'Arrived a while ago. Been avoiding me. I'll ask it.'