They teamed up and took their positions, Hiram and Nolan laying the counters on the board while Sochin and Pakt dealt themselves their opening hands. Actually, Nolan had never understood the appeal of choisin; he was not, in general, a territorial man. He owned a few material things, and he would never inherit any property. If a thief broke into his apartment this night and stole everything in sight, Nolan would lose nothing that had much importance to him. The only thing of value he owned was Leesa’s medallion, and that had more sentimental than monetary worth. For the most part, what he cherished was the knowledge in his head, the education he had been given, the ability he had of analyzing certain kinds of complex data and applying them to practical, real-life situations. That kind of mind-set did not qualify him—even on a game board—to invade cities, annex land, and wage war with hostile nations.

“My opening, I believe,” Sochin said, and the game was under way.

Playing pairs, in this instance, anyway, did nothing more than give Pakt the opportunity to move Nolan’s pieces as well as his own. Hiram turned out to be a better choisin player than Nolan would have expected, though not nearly as good as Sochin, and Pakt was clearly superior to them all. However, luck was part of the game, and Sochin knew how to turn an unexpected card to his advantage. He was also ruthless; he was not afraid to forfeit whole armies of choifer soldiers (who littered the game board, as far as Nolan could tell, specifically to be sacrificed in this manner) in order to gain a slight advantage. Neither team had a decided edge by the time they agreed to call it quits for the night. They left the board in position so they could resume play the following night.

“If the Centrifuge is closed for long, we could have our own tournament,” Sochin said.

“I think Pakt would win,” Hiram said.

“But the fun is in the playing, not the winning,” Pakt said, smiling.

“I’m not sure Cerisa would agree with you,” Nolan said.

“No, she is rather serious about her choisin,” Pakt admitted. “It is one of the keenest delights of my life to beat her at this game. A rare pleasure, but exquisite nonetheless.”

Sochin and Hiram left the room together, talking amiably, while Nolan remained behind to help Pakt put away the slaughtered choifer troops. “What if someone comes in and knocks over the board while we’re gone tomorrow?” Nolan asked, although he didn’t really care.

“It won’t happen. No one comes into this room but me and my invited guests,” Pakt replied. “It is my hoechter.”

“Your what?”

“My—sanctum, I suppose would be the best word. Every man who is a head of a household has one. It is a place where no one else can enter. A place no one else would dare intrude.”