Dialogues of the Dead

when Rye had happened on the game board. Even folded it was an object of exquisite design, with ornate brass hinges gleaming. gold against polished rosewood. 'May I open it?' she asked, s 'Of course.' 'Oh, but it's lovely,' she exclaimed as she saw the intricate zodiacal designs winding their way among the letter squares. 'I've seen the one you and Charley play on in the office, but this is even more ornate.' 'Yes, they're all different,' he said. 'But this I regard as thej masterboard. The star signs on it mean that certain words can5 gain added value if they're entered in certain significant locations. , For instance - I'm sure I know it, but it is best always to be sure f with a lady - remind me of your date of birth.' 'i 'The first of May 1976.' 'May the first, seventy-six. Mayday, Mayday. Yes, now I recall. That's Taurus, of course. So if you had the tiles to lay your own' name in your own star-sign, then you would gain extra points. If first, however you were able to place significant planets in the sign according to their conjunction on the date, and better still, at the time of your birth, then your point score would be, if you will excuse the trope, astronomical. But forgive me. I am intoxicated with the distillations of my own fermented fancy. Nothing more boring than the ramblings of a drunk!' 'Not boring,' she assured him. 'But maybe a touch baffling. I've looked at that copy of the rules you gave me, but to be honest they just left me more confused than when I started.' 'Always the case,' he said. 'The best games are like the best lives -- you only learn by living them. But let me try to elucidate ...' S It was a simple progression from elucidation via demonstration to play. 1 When he set up the third tile rack with the letters spelling'; Johnny on it, she looked a question at him. '; 'A young schoolfriend who died,' he said. 'The boy in the photo?' "I 'That's him. Little Johnny Oakeshott. He had the sweetest i nature of any creature I ever knew. Charley Penn and I were a good working team but Johnny somehow made us complete. ; Before, we were a very effective combination of intellect and ; imagination. To which Johnny added a human soul. Does that sound mawkish?' 'No,' she said. 'No, it doesn't.' He smiled at her and said, 'I always thought you would understand. We played the game three-handed in those days. Johnny was never any good at it, but he loved to feel he was taking part.' 'Then he died?' 'Yes,' he said sombrely. 'Stolen by some envious god. Since then we've always kept a rack for him. And there's a rule which never got written down which permits a player to use the letters in Johnny's rack if by adding them to his own letters he can form a whole word in any language.' 'Then what? He wins outright?' Dee shrugged and said, 'Who knows? It hasn't happened yet. I sometimes fantasize that if it did, we would find Johnny sitting there in his place, ready to play. A real spell, in every sense, you see. But this is morbid. Let me initiate you into my mystery.' And so the game began. Dee clearly enjoyed the role of patient teacher, though it did seem to Rye that every time she thought she was getting the hang of it, he introduced a new and still more complex element. Not that she felt this as competitive. Indeed she soon began to get a sense that the mature experience of the game would have more of the partnership of dancing in it than the clash of competition. The rich designs glowed on the board and the letter tiles, made of smooth ivory, slipped through the fingers like silken fish when you dipped your hand into their container to replenish your store. This container itself was a thing of beauty, no plain tin or battered cardboard box, but a heavy gold-hinged casket carved from rubeous crystal. 'My mother's sole heirloom,' he said when she asked about it. 'How her mother got hold of it I don't know, nor indeed, considering the circumstances of the family, how she held on to it when everything else of value must have gone to the saleroom or the pawnshop. It held what little jewellery she possessed, gimcrack stuff, mainly. Now it holds something far more precious. The seed of words waiting for their creator. All language is here, which means life itself, for nothing exists till these seeds are sown.'

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