Chess With a Dragon (10 page)

For a moment, Yake didn't have the words to reply. “Uh—thank you, sir.”

“Don't thank me, Yake. Just be right. Your appointment is in an hour and a half. You'll just have time to get suited. I took the liberty of ordering a new uniform for you. Stripes, insignia, boots—everything. Wear it all. Even the sword.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir.” Yake turned to go, then stopped. “Uh, sir—just one question. This promotion—it's only for the purpose of speaking to the Oracle, right?”

“Of course not! It's a full promotion. Full salary, all the perks. Even your own parking place. No matter what happens in your interview with the Oracle, you'll
keep
your promotion.”

“Uh, thank you, sir. But, uh—if the request hadn't been granted—?”

“Yake, don't ask stupid questions. And don't keep the Oracle waiting either. And oh, yes, in case I don't get a chance to tell you later, congratulations.”

“In case you don't get a—uh, right. Uh, thank you, sir.”

“
Don't thank me, Yake
.”

“Sir?”

The Ambassador looked unhappy. “Go on, now. It's late. You'd better get going.”

“Yes, sir!”

Never play chess with a Dragon.

Especially not if the Dragon is the size of a house and has teeth longer than your arm.

This was common wisdom. You did not need to be a member of the InterChange to understand why.

On the other hand (as they say), if you have nothing to lose . . . you can always lose your other hand.

Yake felt intimidated.

He approached as close as he dared—but even from this distance, the Dragon was . . . well,
intimidating
.

The Dragon was resting on a small hill; it looked bored. It was hard to tell. How do you read an expression that's as wide as a billboard?

“Ahem. . . .” Yake began hesitantly.

The Dragon looked up.

Yake blanched.

The creature was black; so black it looked like a hole in the air. Its scales shone like polished metal, a shimmering ebony nightmare. Its eyes were as large as windows, and they were the brightest shade of searing red. They looked as if they were lit from within.

The Dragon's mouth—Yake swallowed hard—its mouth was the door into deepest hell. The Dragon's breath was so hot, Yake could feel it from here. It felt like a blast furnace! Only not as refreshing.

Yake took an involuntary step back; then realized how that must look and forced himself to take a step forward again. “I'm Yake Singh Browne. The Terran Delegate.”

“
Yesss, you are
,” said the Dragon.

“Yes, I am,” said Yake. (He looked at the sky. Oh, God, did I just say that? Lord, please don't let me be too big a fool here today.)

“
You have questions?
” The Dragon asked drily. It turned one great blazing eye toward Yake.

“Many questions, yes.”

“
Are they interesting questionsss
. . .?”

“I suppose it depends on what you would call interesting.”

“
Survival is often interesting—isss it not?
”

Yake thought about it. Sometimes survival demanded all of your attention. By that definition—“Yes, survival is very interesting.”

“
Yesss, but only when it's your own
. Then
it's interesting. When it is not your own survival that is being discussed, it is not a matter of interest at all, is it? So I will ask again. These questions that you intend to ask, are they questions that
I
will find interesting?
”

“Uh, no. Um—at least, I don't think so.”

“
Then why should I answer them? Perhaps I should ask you an interesting question?
”

“Um . . . perhaps we could
trade
questions.”

“
Trade
questions?” The Dragon looked as if it wanted to raise an eyebrow.

“Well, uh—it's a game we play on my planet. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

“
But I am not interested in seeing yours
.”

“Oh. Well. Um. Er. Okay. May I ask you a small question anyway? A question of no importance.”

“
Yesss?
”

“Why do they say . . . ‘Never play chess with a Dragon'?”

“
Yesss, a small question of no importance. Perhaps . . . it is because of the tradition
.”

“The tradition?”

“
The tradition that the winner gets to eat the loser
.”

“I see.” Yake smiled nervously. He wondered if he should declare his intentions as peaceful. “I have no intention of eating you,” he offered.

“
I know that, yesss
.” The Dragon smiled. The effect was ghastly. “
The converse, however, is not true
.”

“Uh. Yes. Thank you. I think.”

“
You have other questionsss?
” The Dragon swung its head around expectantly. Yake jumped back in surprise.

“Uh, yes, I do. Have other questions, that is. Maybe they could be interesting to you, maybe not. Um, you know who we are, don't you?”

“
Yesss. We call you the—the—excuse me, the word does not translate. We call you ‘the presumptuous food.'
”

“Yes, of course. We understand our uniqueness in the universe. But let me ask you this: isn't it of some interest to you to know how we got here? How mammals became intelligent on our world instead of insects or reptiles?”

The Dragon did not even consider it. “
No
,” it rumbled. “
The galaxy is big. Accidents happen. If that is all you wish to discuss, then this shall be a very disappointing afternoon indeed
.” The Oracle began to raise itself up on its forward legs. Yake could see the ground sagging beneath its weight. “
At least, I shall have the minor satisfaction of discovering if you are enjoyable food or not
.”

“Sir—” Yake wondered if the term were correct. Never mind. He spoke quickly. “There is another question I want to ask, a much more important question—a very
interesting
question. I mean, interesting to my species at least.”

“
At least, yesss
.” The Dragon paused. “
Go on
.”

“It's the indenture—I mean, our debt. We uh, we think we've been slimed.”

“
Ssslimed?
”

“Suckered. Played for fools. Cheated. By the Dhroo.”

“
Ahh, yesss. The Dhroo
.” The Dragon chewed over the thought with relish. “
Yesss. A not-unfamiliar circumstance. And you wish an anssswer, yesss?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly. Um, we're really not able to pay in the currency that you're most likely to request.”

“
An asssumption, but not a stupid one. Mammallsss
. . . .” sighed the Dragon. “
You think with your glands. Well, then . . . what
are
you asssking?”

“We can't afford to buy your help. And we're not asking you for a solution, because we can't afford to pay you for it. Nor can we ask you for your advice, because we can't afford that either. No. What I want to ask is much smaller.”

“
Yesss?
”

“I want to ask if something is possible.”

“
You ask about . . . survival? Survival is always a possibility. So is the alternative.”

“No. We already know that. What I want to know is—I mean, if this is a game—then so far, it's been a very interesting game for my species. Very interesting. What I want to know is this: is there a way to make the game equally as interesting for the Dhroo?”

“
Ahhh
,” said the Dragon. “
A fine question. A very fine question
.” It lowered itself back down to the ground and ruminated for a moment. It rumbled deep in its throat, a loud purring noise like the sound of an ancient subway train roaring through an underground tunnel.

Yake waited patiently.

At last, the Dragon looked up. “
Yesss, there is a way
.”

Yake waited for the Dragon to go on. The Dragon quietly returned his gaze.

“
You are waiting for something else
.”

“You said there's a way?”

“
Yesss. There is. You were waiting for a hint perhaps? It is too bad that you cannot afford to ask the question outright. But the price that we would require . . . you are better off not knowing
.” The Dragon smiled broadly. Yake nearly fainted.

“
Perhaps—
” continued the Dragon,
“—you should consider this an opportunity to demonstrate the intelligence of your species. Knowing that there is a possibility should be of a goad to guarantee its discovery. And if you cannot discover the answer, then that too is an answer.”

Yake pursed his lips, holding in the first reply that came to his mind. Instead, he nodded politely. “You have done us a great service.”

“
Perhapsss. And perhapsss not. Consider this. Losing a game is one thing; you can be eaten knowing that you have done your best. But losing a game when you
know
that there is a solution that you have not found is intolerable, because it suggests that even your best was not good enough. This might be a more expensive answer than you bargained for, little snack.”

“I'll—we'll take that chance.”

“
Yesss, you will
.”

“Is there anything else that you can tell us?”

“
There is quite a bit that I can tell you. But I won't. It is not interesting enough
.” The Dragon paused, then it raised its head up and looked at Yake. “
I will not eat you today, Yake Singh Browne. And perhapsss I will not eat you the next time either
.”

“The next—” Yake gulped. “—time?”

“
Yesss
.” The Dragon lashed its tail around itself and looked directly at Yake. “
The price that I require for this discussion is this: you must come back and tell me how work it all out.”
It added
, “That is . . . if you do.”

“Thank you. Sir.” Yake began to back away.

The Dragon lowered its head again and appeared to go to sleep. “
Don't . . . thank . . . me
. . . .”

“Yes, sir!”

Yake's heart-rate did not return to normal for two days.

The hour was tired and Yake was late. “The late Yake Singh Browne,” he muttered and sipped at his bheer. He made a face and put the glass back on the table in front of him.

“Soon we will all be late,” agreed Madja.

“You can put it on my tombstone,” said Anne Larson, brushing her graying hair back off her forehead. “Better late than never.” She giggled at the joke.

Yake looked across at her. “I think you've had enough for tonight, Anne.”

She hiccuped and giggled again.

Yake and Madja, Anne and Nori, were the only four people left in the lounge. They all looked haggard.

They had been sitting here and arguing for hours. Perhaps for days. No one remembered.

The argument was a peripatetic orangutan, bouncing off the walls of their separate frustrations like a ping pong ball in a wind tunnel. The mere knowledge that an answer was possible was like a goad.

Only . . . Yake was tired of being goaded. He wanted to experience a result once in a while too.

He stared into his bheer unhappily. “I'd rather have beer,” he said. “I'm tired of the sacred ‘H.' I'm tired of alcoholh.”

Madja agreed with a sour nod. “Is same for me, but right now, I would just as happily settle for one straight answer.”

“You have one straight answer. The Dragon says mate in four moves
is
possible.”

“It did not say how. Is like famous story about Borozinsky—greatest chess player of his century—he drove opponent crazy this way. He said, ‘If you were any good, you would see that mate is possible in four moves and resign.' Was no mate possible, but opponent died in frustration rather than admit he could not find it.”

“Hmm,” said Yake. “Chess players can be nasty.”

“Yah. Too bad this is not chess,” agreed Madja. “Chess, I could defeat whole herd of Dragons.”

“Yeah, and then you'd have to eat them,” put in Larson, giggling. She looked positively tipsy.

Madja frowned at her. “That would be easy part. I share them with you. But, no. This is not chess. This is—more like American game. Too much free-for-all. Not enough discipline. How can anyone play game that is all lies?”

Yake looked up at her blearily. “What?”

“Is not important. Was nasty shot.”

“Cheap shot. Never mind. Say it again.”

Madja shrugged. “I said, ‘Is not chess. Is American game. Too much free-for-all.'” She sipped at her vhodka.

“No, you said something else—”

She waved a hand. “That was nasty part. ‘How can anyone play game that is all lies?'” “You're right, Madja! That
is
an American game. This isn't chess! This is poker!”

“Polka?”

“Poker,” said Kasahara. “You know? The card game.”

“Ahh, yes!” Madja grinned and said something in Russian.

“They teach you that in the Navy?” asked Yake.

“Among other things,
da
.”

“I don't know whether to be impressed or shocked.”

“You learn to poker. I learn to swear. Which is more useful?”

“Right now? Poker.”

Madja looked uninterested.

“Okay,” said Yake. “Maybe I'm wrong, but try this thought on anyway. This is a poker game—with two thousand sharpies, each of whom has brought his own deck and his own set of rules! Do you know what that means?”

“You are about to explain it, no?”

“It means that there are no rules. Only there are! But we get to make them up as we go! That's how this game is played. Do you know what a good poker game needs?”