by Anya

"An' we meet again, though it dost cause me doubt - wert not the next Game only to see its beginning in the next eon?" Belnarath asked, fingering the hem of the sleeve of his blue, rather uniform-like robe.

Seven spirits that build the worlds sat in an apparently enclosed, large chamber hewn out of solid rock, the walls polished until they turned into dull mirrors. Oddly enough, although the crafted stone furniture could be seen in hazy reflections on the stone, the spirits could not, even though they had taken approximately humanoid forms clothed in robes that represented their colors. The placing on the table seemed to change chaotically - at one moment, the blue would be seated next to the gold and white, then abruptly the placing would change again, with the blue next to the black and green. There seemed to be no pattern that mortal eye could discern, nor any sort of rhythm. The table seemed to have sprouted from the perfectly circular stone ground, itself also a flawlessly round and polished. The chairs had wide armrests, on which stood a number of figurines, which were different in number and shape for every World-Maker.

"We've explained this to you already," GrayWolf said patiently. His robe seemed to be made of the gray void that took up the spaces between substance and limbo. "Our eminent leader was bored, therefore we play. There is a pun I could have wrought of that line through its similarity with a certain Bard in Belnarath's world, but I shall be nice and stop. Though the choice of moderator in this case seems odd."

"Bite your tongue, brother," Shoshuna chuckled, dressed in fabric honey-gold, weaved from sunbeams, it seemed, or perhaps perfect strands of aged amber. "We rolled the dice, it fell to me."

"I heartily apologize for my presumption," GrayWolf stood up and bowed grandly in mock contrition. "Please accept my humblest."

"Humble? You?" Night-robed N'avsh laughed derisively.

"You didn't have to say that," GrayWolf feigned hurt.

"Shut up and sit down," Morikan growled. He wore pure white, blinding at times, softly soothing at times.

"We could tie him down," Blood red Hat'yet suggested. "And stitch his mouth shut with virgin's hair."

"How archaic," N'avsh chuckled richly, sly and seductive, a cat's purr.

"It may serve its purpose," Rykvaz argued, robes the green of light playing on a starling's wing.

"We are here today to play the game, not to criticize GrayWolf, deserving as he is of it," Shoshuna smiled.

"Hey!" GrayWolf protested.

"Shut up." Morikan said immediately. GrayWolf sank into his seat, lower lip jutting out in a pout that disappeared when N'avsh laughed at him.

"It is N'avsh's turn to roll the dice," Shoshuna continued, pretending she hadn't heard. She snapped her fingers, and the dice appeared above N'avsh, who caught them deftly and gracefully. With a flick of her wrists, the dice clattered onto the playing table, which seemed to be a perfect miniaturized version of a certain portion of the Sword Coast, surrounded by pools of amorphous darkness. There were a number of figurines placed carefully on the playing table.

"GrayWolf's, now." Shoshuna announced. Likewise, GrayWolf rolled his dice.

"Ah, bugger." He shrugged, waving his hand. Some figurines floated forward and stopped at a certain point. They looked suspiciously like exquisitely crafted statuettes of dark elves.

"You can't always be lucky," N'avsh winked at him and smiled wickedly, moving her figurine, a carving of a fighter wielding a short sword and a jeweled dagger, next to GrayWolf's dark elves.

"Just rub it in, will you?" GrayWolf slumped deeper into his chair.