1.8

Zar was also known as Squares, Zar Squares, or Zar’s Squares. The zar was a unique piece which moved differently from the others and could not be captured by jumping other pieces over it. Each player began with one, but could earn additional zars by capturing enough of the regular pieces.

When Carter earned his fourth additional zar (to Heron’s one) and Heron still hadn’t spoken up, Carter grabbed a piece from the pile of ones that had been removed from the board already, and tossed it at Heron so that it bounced lightly off the top of his head.

“So what’s new?” he asked, with a pointed look.

Heron looked up from his study of the board with its alternating light and dark squares, rubbing the spot on his head the playing piece had hit.

“I have to leave.” He said, and before Carter could ask, Heron added: “Tomorrow.”

“Does this have anything to do with that ancient godmother of yours?” Carter asked. Pleased to see by the look on Heron’s face that it was not only a correct guess but also one that Heron didn’t expect, Carter explained in few words. “We saw her arriving earlier today.”

Heron nodded at that, and looked at the game board again.

“Well, what else?” Carter prodded, tossing another spare game piece up in the air and catching it. He would throw another at his friend if he had to. “Why suddenly tomorrow? And is your whole family going? What’s the occasion?”

Heron made as though to move one of his shorter stacks of game pieces, and then changed his mind. Leaving it where it was, he muttered: “She says they’re not my family.” He also picked up one of the spare game pieces, turning it over in his hand.

“Well,” Heron continued, “she says they are now, but they’re not my original family.” Looking up at Carter, he flipped the game piece in his hand at his friend. “Fish face.”

Heron had probably been aiming at Carter’s open mouth, but the game piece hit his chin instead. He shut his mouth, and then opened it right back up to say: “You must be teasing.”

“No,” Heron said soberly, “it’s not a joke or a game.” He then told Carter the whole story; or, at least, as much as he could remember of what Godmother Keri had said.

“Are you sure about all this?” Carter asked when Heron had finished. “It all seems a bit…”

“Like something out of a story, rather than something real? That’s what I thought. But my parents… they support the story. My Godmother really did bring me to them to adopt.”

“But what about the rest?” Carter mused, idly flipping a game piece from one hand to the other. “Are you sure she’s… well, she is really old, isn’t she? You remember how my granddad got, his last few years? He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore.”

Heron chewed his lip a moment, picking up another game piece and turning it over in his hand like he had done with the other; looking at it but without really examining it closely, just something to look at without meeting his friend’s gaze. Carter, too, made a pretense of studying the piece in his own hands, a mockery of serenity waiting on a verdict. Like when he asked his parents for something and knew that if he showed impatience or acted childish, he’d be less likely to get what he wanted – a thin film of patience over a roiling uncertainty.

What surely had only been moments made Carter feel like he was stretching thin and tight, holding his tongue with an effort. But he wanted his best friend to have as much uninterrupted time to think it over as he needed, though it strained him to wait silently.

And then with a clack, Heron snapped the playing piece from his hand down on the edge of the board. Not putting it into play, but as though selecting it beforehand for the next zar.

“She sounds as sane as ever. As sane as anyone. She knows what she’s saying, what she’s asking.”

There had been something of an air of finality to both the gesture and the words. Carter supposed that before now, Heron hadn’t truly been decided in his heart on leaving. Even if he’d agreed to it, perhaps he’d still hoped to get out of it somehow. But now? Would he really go? Heron loved his home, his family. His friends, his town, his life. Carter believed he knew it as well as anyone could know anything about Heron.

Carter looked him in the eyes, clacking his own piece onto the edge of his own side of the board. “Then you’d better go, and win for everyone. And as my mum and dad say; ‘Anything worth doing, you can’t do half-heartedly and expect to succeed. So put in your all, knowing that you also have the hearts of your family and friends to go with you all the way.’” It was the sort of thing they always said to anyone going away on a trip (especially for hunting or trading) or entering a contest of any sort that they would be trying to win. His parents had gotten such sayings from his granddad.