"Ah, Gurgee," Pequil said. He came through the space between a large potted plant and a marble pillar, holding a young-looking female by one elbow. "There you are. Gurgee; please meet Trinev Dutleysdaughter." The apex smiled from the girl to the man, and guided her forward. She bowed slowly. "Trinev is a game-player too," Pequil told Gurgeh. "Isn't that interesting?"

"I'm honoured to meet you, young lady," Gurgeh said to the girl, bowing a little too. She stood still in front of him, her gaze directed at the floor. Her dress was less ornate than most of those he'd seen, and the woman inside it looked less glamorous.

"Well, I'll leave you two odd-ones-out to talk, shall I?" Pequil said, taking a step back, hands clasped. "Miss Dutleysdaughter's father is over by the rear bandstand, Gurgee; if you wouldn't mind returning the young lady when you've finished talking…?"

Gurgeh watched Pequil go, then smiled at the top of the young woman's head. He cleared his throat. The girl remained silent. Gurgeh said, "I, ah… I'd thought that only intermediates — apices — played Azad."

The girl looked up as far as his chest. "No, sir. There are some capable female players, of minor rank, of course." She had a soft, tired-sounding voice. She still did not raise her face to him, so he had to address the crown of her head, where he could see the white scalp through the black, tied hair.

"Ah," he said. "I thought it might have been… forbidden. I'm glad it isn't. Do males play too?"

"They do, sir. Nobody is forbidden to play. That is embodied in the Constitution. It is simply made — it is only that it is more difficult for either—" The woman broke off and brought her head up with a sudden, startling look. "- for either of the lesser sexes to learn, because all the great colleges must take only apex scholars." She looked back down again. "Of course, this is to prevent the distraction of those who study."

Gurgeh wasn't sure what to say. "I see," was all he could come up with at first. "Do you… hope to do well in the games?"

"If I can do well — if I can reach the second game in the main series — then I hope to be able to join the civil service, and travel."

"Well, I hope you succeed."

"Thank you. Unfortunately, it is not very likely. The first game, as you know, is played by groups of ten, and to be the only woman playing nine apices is to be regarded as a nuisance. One is usually put out of the game first, to clear the field."

"Hmm. I was warned something similar might happen to me," Gurgeh said, smiling at the woman's head and wishing she would look up at him again.

"Oh no." The woman did look up then, and Gurgeh found the directness of her flat-faced gaze oddly disconcerting. "They won't do that to you; it wouldn't be polite. They don't know how weak or strong you are. They…" She looked down again. "They know that I am, so it is no disrespect to remove me from the board so that they may get on with the game."

Gurgeh looked round the huge, noisy, crowded ballroom, where the people talked and danced and the music sounded loud. "Is there nothing you can do?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be possible to arrange that ten women play each other in the first round?"

She was still looking down, but something about the curve of her cheek told him she might have been smiling. "Indeed, sir. But I believe there has never been an occasion in the great-game series when two lesser-sexes have played in the same group. The draw has never worked out that way, in all these years."

"Ah," Gurgeh said. "And single games, one-against-one?"

"They do not count unless one has gone through the earlier rounds. When I do practise single games, I am told… that I'm very lucky. I suppose I must be. But then, I know I am, for my father has chosen me a fine master and husband, and even if I do not succeed in the game, I shall marry well. What more can a woman ask for, sir?"

Gurgeh didn't know what to say. There was a strange tingling feeling at the back of his neck. He cleared his throat a couple of times. In the end all he could find to say was, "I hope you do win. I really hope you do."

The woman looked briefly up at him, then down again. She shook her head.

After a while, Gurgeh suggested that he take her back to her father, and she assented. She said one more thing.

They were walking down the great hall, threading their way through the clumps of people to where her father waited, and at one point they passed between a great carved pillar and a wall of battle-murals. During the instant they were quite hidden from the rest of the room, the woman reached out one hand and touched him on the top of his wrist; with the other hand she pressed a finger over a particular point on the shoulder of his robe, and with that one finger pressing, and the others lightly brushing his arm, in the same moment whispered, "You win. You win!"

Then they were with her father, and after repeating how welcome he felt, Gurgeh left the family group. The woman didn't look at him again. He had had no time to reply to her.

"Are you all right, Jernau Gurgeh?" Flere-Imsaho said, finding the man leaning against a wall and seemingly just staring into space, as though he was one of the liveried male servants.

Gurgeh looked at the drone. He put his finger to the point on the robe's shoulder the girl had pressed. "Is this where the bug is on this thing?"

"Yes," the machine said. "That's right. Did Shohobohaum Za tell you that?"

"Hmm, thought so," Gurgeh said. He pushed himself away from the wall. "Would it be polite to leave now?"

"Now?" The drone started back a little, humming loudly. "Well, I suppose so… are you sure you're all right?"

"Never felt better. Let's go." Gurgeh walked away.

"You seem agitated. Are you really alright? Aren't you enjoying yourself? What did Za give you to drink? Are you nervous about the game? Has Za said something? Is it because nobody'll touch you?"

Gurgeh walked through the people, ignoring the humming, crackling drone at his shoulder.

As they left the great ballroom, he realised that apart from remembering that she was called somebody's-daughter, he had forgotten the woman's name.

Gurgeh was due to play his first game of Azad two days after the ball. He spent the time working out a few set-piece manoeuvres with the Limiting Factor. He could have used the module's brain, but the old warship had a more interesting game-style. The fact that the Limiting Factor was several decades away by real space light meant there was a significant delay involved — the ship itself always replied instantly to a move — but the effect was still of playing an extraordinarily quick and gifted player.

Gurgeh didn't take up any more invitations to formal functions; he'd told Pequil his digestive system was taking time to adjust to the Empire's rich food, and that appeared to be an acceptable excuse. He even refused the chance to go on a sight-seeing trip of the capital.

He saw nobody during those days except Flere-Imsaho, which spent most of its time, in its disguise, sitting on the hotel parapet, humming quietly and watching birds, which it attracted with crumbs scattered on the roof-garden lawn.

Now and again, Gurgeh would walk out on to the grassed roof and stand looking out over the city.

The streets and the sky were both full of traffic. Groasnachek was like a great, flattened, spiky animal, awash with lights at night and hazy with its own heaped breath during the day. It spoke with a great, garbled choir of voices; an encompassing background roar of engines and machines that never ceased, and the sporadic tearing sounds of passing aircraft. The continual wails, whoops, warbles and screams of sirens and alarms were strewn across the fabric of the city like shrapnel holes.