Unicorn Variation Read online

  The wind rose again, began to howl. The building creaked.

  "Okay," Tlingel finally said, and moved the Queen to Q2.

  Martin stared. What was he doing? So far, it had gone all right, but ... He listened again to the wind and realized he was taking.

  "That's all folks," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Continued next month."

  Tlingel sighed.

  "Don't run off. Fetch me another. Let me tell you of my wanderings in your world this past month."

  "Looking for weak links?"

  "You're lousy with them. How do you stand it?"

  "They're harder to strengthen than you might think. Any advice?"

  "Get the beer."

  They talked until the sky paled in the east, and Martin found himself taking surreptitious notes. His admiration for the unicorn's analytical abilities increased as the evening advanced.

  When they finally rose, Tlingel staggered.

  "You all right?"

  "Forgot to detox, that's all. Just a second. Then I'll be fading."

  "Wait!"

  "Whazzat?"

  "I could use one too."

  "Sure. Grab hold, then."

  Tlingel's head descended and Martin took the tip of the horn between his fingertips. Immediately, a delicious, warm sensation flowed through him. He closed his eyes to enjoy it. His head cleared. An ache which had been growing within his frontal sinus vanished. The tiredness went out of his muscles. He opened his eyes again.

  "Thank—"

  Tlingel had vanished. He held but a handful of air.

  "—you."

  "Rael here is my friend. He's a griffin."

  "I'd noticed."

  Martin nodded at the beaked, golden-winged creature.

  "Pleased to meet you, Rael."

  "The same," cried the other in a high-pitched voice. "Have you got the beer?"

  "Why—uh—yes."

  "I've been telling him about beer," Grend whispered. "But he's good company. I'd appreciate your humoring him."

  Martin opened the first six-pack and passed the griffin and the sasquatch a beer apiece. Rael immediately punctured the can with his beak, chugged it, belched and held out his claw.

  "Beer!" he shrieked. "More beer!"

  Martin handed him another.

  "Say, you're still into that first game, aren't you?" Grend observed, studying the board. "Now, _that_ is an interesting position."

  Grend drank and studied the board.

  "Good thing it's not raining," Martin commented.

  "Oh, it will. Just wait a while."

  "More beer!" Rael screamed.

  Martin passed him another without looking.

  "I'll move my pawn to N6," Grend said.

  "You're kidding."

  "Nope. Then you'll take that Pawn with your Bishop's Pawn. Right?"

  "Yes ..."

  Martin reached out and did it.

  "Okay. Now I'll just swing this Knight to Q5."

  Martin took it with the Pawn.

  Grend moved his Rook to K1.

  "Check," he announced.

  "Yes. That _is_ the way to go," Martin observed.

  Grend chuckled.

  "I'm going to win this game another time," he said.

  "I wouldn't put it past you."

  "More beer?" Rael said softly.

  "Sure."

  As Martin passed him another, he noticed that the griffin was now leaning against the tree trunk.

  After several minutes, Martin pushed his King to B1.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought you'd do," Grend said. "You know something?"

  "What?"

  "You play a lot like a unicorn."

  "Hm."

  Grend moved his Rook to R3.

  Later, as the rain descended gently around them and Grend beat him again, Martin realized that a prolonged period of silence had prevailed. He glanced over at the griffin. Rael had tucked his head beneath his left wing, balanced upon one leg, leaned heavily against the tree and gone to sleep.

  "I told you he wouldn't be much trouble," Grend remarked.

  Two games later, the beer was gone, the shadows were lengthening and Rael was stirring.

  "See you next month?"

  "Yeah."

  "You bring any plaster of Paris?"

  "Yes, I did."

  "Come on, then. I know a good place pretty far from here. We don't want people beating about _these_ bushes. Let's go make you some money."

  "To buy beer?" Rael asked, looking out from under his wing.

  "Next month," Grend said.

  "You ride?"

  "I don't think you could carry both of us," said Grend, "and I'm not sure I'd want to right now if you could."

  "Bye-bye then," Rael shrieked, and he leaped into the air, crashing into branches and tree trunks, finally breaking though the overhead cover and vanishing.

  "There goes a really decent guy," said Grend. "He sees everything and he never forgets. Knows how everything works—in the woods, in the air—even in the water. Generous, too, whenever he has anything."

  "Hm," Martin observed.

  "Let's make tracks," Grend said.

  "Pawn to N6? Really?" Tlingel said. "All right. The Bishop's Pawn will just knock off the Pawn."

  Tlingel's eyes narrowed as Martin moved the Knight to Q5.

  "At least this is an interesting game," the unicorn remarked. "Pawn takes Knight."

  Martin moved the Rook.

  "Check."

  "Yes, it is. This next one is going to be a three-flagon move. Kindly bring me the first."

  Martin thought back as he watched Tlingel drink and ponder. He almost felt guilty for hitting it with a powerhouse like the sasquatch behind its back. He was convinced now that the unicorn was going to lose. In every variation of this game that he'd played with Black against Grend, he'd been beaten. Tlingel was very good, but the sasquatch was a wizard with not much else to do but mental chess. It was unfair. But it was not a matter of personal honor, he kept telling himself. He was playing to protect his species against a supernatural force which might well be able to precipitate World War III by some arcane mind manipulation or magically induced computer foul-up. He didn't dare give the creature a break.

  "Flagon number two, please."

  He brought it another. He studied it as it studied the board. It was beautiful, he realized for the first time. It was the loveliest living thing he had ever seen. Now that the pressure was on the verge of evaporating and he could regard it without the overlay of fear which had always been there in the past, he could pause to admire it. If something _had_ to succeed the human race, he could think of worse choices... .

  "Number three now."

  "Coming up."

  Tlingel drained it and moved the King to B1.

  Martin leaned forward immediately and pushed the Rook to R3.

  Tlingel looked up, stared at him.

  "Not bad."

  Martin wanted to squirm. He was struck by the nobility of the creature. He wanted so badly to play and beat the unicorn on his own, fairly. Not this way.

  Tlingel looked back at the board, then almost carelessly moved the Knight to K4.

  "Go ahead. Or will it take you another month?"

  Martin growled softly, advanced the Rook and captured the Knight.

  "Of course."

  Tlingel captured the Rook with the Pawn. This was not the way that the last variation with Grend had run. Still ...

  He moved his Rook to KB3. As he did, the wind seemed to commence a peculiar shrieking above, amid, the ruined buildings.

  "Check," he announced.

  The hell with it! he decided. I'm good enough to manage my own end game. Let's play this out.

  He watched and waited and finally saw Tlingel move the King to N1.

  He moved his Bishop to R6. Tlingel moved the Queen to K2. The shrieking came again, sounding nearer now. Martin took the Pawn with the Bishop.

  The unicorn's head came up and it seemed to listen for
a moment. Then Tlingel lowered it and captured the Bishop with the King.

  Martin moved his Rook to KN3.

  "Check."

  Tlingel returned the King to B1.

  Martin moved the Rook to KB3.

  "Check."

  Tlingel pushed the King to N2.

  Martin moved the Rook back to KN3.

  "Check."

  Tlingel returned the King to B1, looked up and stared at him, showing teeth.

  "Looks as if we've got a drawn game," the unicorn stated. "Care for another one?"

  "Yes, but not for the fate of humanity."

  "Forget it. I'd given up on that long ago. I decided that I wouldn't care to live here after all. I'm a little more discriminating than that."

  "Except for this bar." Tlingel turned away as another shriek sounded just beyond the door, followed by strange voices. "What is that?"

  "I don't know," Martin answered, rising.

  The doors opened and a golden griffin entered.

  "Martin!" it cried. "Beer! Beer!"

  "Uh—Tlingel, this is Rael, and, and—"

  Three more griffins followed it in. Then came Grend, and three others of his own kind.

  "—and that one's Grend," Martin said lamely. "I don't know the others."

  "They all halted when they beheld the unicorn.

  "Tlingel," one of the sasquatches said, "I thought you were still in the morning land."

  "I still am, in a way. Martin, how is it that you are acquainted with my former countrymen?"

  "Well—uh—Grend here is my chess coach."

  "Aha! I begin to understand."

  "I am not sure that you really do. But let me get everyone a drink first."

  Martin turned on the piano and set everyone up.

  "How did you find this place?" he asked Grend as he was doing it. "And how did you get here?"

  "Well ..." Grend looked embarrassed. "Rael followed you back."

  "Followed a jet?"

  "Griffins are supernaturally fast."

  "Oh."

  "Anyway, he told his relatives and some of my folks about it. When we saw that the griffins were determined to visit you, we decided that we had better come along to keep them out of trouble. They brought us."

  "I—see. Interesting... ."

  "No wonder you played like a unicorn, that one game with all the variations."

  "Uh—yes."

  Martin turned away, moved to the end of the bar.

  "Welcome, all of you", he said. "I have a small announcement. Tlingel, a while back you had a number of observations concerning possible ecological and urban disasters and lesser dangers. Also, some ideas as to possible safeguards against some of them."

  "I recall," said the unicorn.

  "I passed them along to a friend of mine in Washington who used to be a member of my old chess club. I told him that the work was not entirely my own."

  "I should hope so."

  "He has since suggested that I turn whatever group was involved into a think tank. He will then see about paying something for its efforts."

  "I didn't come here to save the world," Tlingel said.

  "No, but you've been very helpful. And Grend tells me that the griffins, even if their vocabulary is a bit limited, know almost all that there is to know about ecology."

  "That is probably true."

  "Since they have inherited a part of the Earth, it would be to their benefit as well to help preserve the place. Inasmuch as this many of us are already here, I can save myself some travel and suggest right now that we find a meeting place—say here, once a month—and that you let me have your unique viewpoints. You must know more about how species become extinct than anyone else in the business."

  "Of course," said Grend, waving his mug, "but we really should ask the yeti, also. I'll do it, if you like. Is that stuff coming out of the big box music?"

  "Yes."

  "I like it. If we do this think-tank, you'll make enough to keep this place going?"

  "I'll buy the whole town."

  Grend conversed in quick gutturals with the griffins, who shrieked back at him.

  "You've got a think tank," he said, "and they want more beer."

  Martin turned toward Tlingel.

  "They were your observations. What do you think?"

  "It may be amusing," said the unicorn, "to stop by occasionally." Then, "So much for saving the world. Did you say you wanted another game?"

  "I've nothing to lose."

  Grend took over the tending of the bar while Tlingel and Martin returned to the table.

  He beat the unicorn in thirty-one moves and touched the extended horn.

  The piano keys went up and down. Tiny sphinxes buzzed about the bar, drinking the spillage.

  The game itself. Okay. It was Halprin v. Pillsbury in Munich, in 1901. Pillsbury was the stronger player. He'd beaten a number of very good players and had only Halprin, a weaker player, left to face. But two other players, running very close to Pillsbury for first prize, decided to teach him a lesson. The night before the game they got together with Halprin and coached him, teaching him everything they had learned concerning Pillsbury's style. The following day, Pillsbury faced a much better-prepared Halprin than he had anticipated playing. He realized this almost too late. The others chuckled and felt smug. But Pillsbury surprised them. Even caught off guard initially, he managed a draw. After all, he was very good. Martin is playing Halprin's game here, and Tlingel Pillsbury's. Except that Martin isn't really weak. He was just nervous the first time around. Who wouldn't be?

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 3d0a9271-6c1f-1014-8f04-fe53ac4d878d

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 12.06.2008

  Created using: Text2FB2 software

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