“Queens and kings are lame,” The Pillar says. “They stay back by the end of chessboard, cowardly hiding behind hordes of protective chess pieces and do nothing but eat and get fat, just like in real life.”
“Still, they’re the most important in the game. If you checkmate them, the country will fall, just like in real life by the way.”
“It’s a horrendously stupid idea, don’t you think? Having one king or queen or president representing the masses.”
“I agree. I mean how could one man be everyone?” I say. “But you didn’t tell me who’d you be in a chess game?”
“I’d tell you in the end. I have a firm answer. It never changes. I am curious to know if you’re like me.”
“Okay,” I shrug my shoulders. “If not Queen, I’d be a rook.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a strong part of a castle. Essential, and it strikes me as brave.”
“Rooks remind me of scapegoats,” The Pillar’s says. “Just someone to take the blame.”
“You have a point. How about bishops? They move diagonally in the chessboard and have no limits.” I am trying to remember the little things I know about chess, as I am far from being good at it.
“Bishops are a joke,” The Pillar says. “First of all a bishop piece is an elephant. Why they ever call it bishop escaped me.”
“Hmm… haven’t looked at it from this angle before.”
“It’s an elephant. Elephants are big and slow, so how is it supposed to have no limits. It’s a flaw in the logic of the game if you ask me.
“Then I have no choice but to become a pawn,” I say, noticing I feel dizzy uttering the words. I wonder if I am remembering something. “Pawns stand brave, first in line. They fight like real men.”
“Alice. Alice. Alice,” The Pillar says. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Pawns are nothing but the poor soldiers, pushed to the front line, defending our countries. They make movies about them and hail their names everywhere, but in reality, governments use them as sacrifice. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“Are you saying soldiers are useless?”
“Soldiers are the pride of our countries. We owe them our lives. They’re the best humans with the best intentions, but they’re manipulated, like pawns in a chess game. How many pawns did you see die in chess? Hell, how many idioms mention pawns in a sacrificial and humiliating sentence?”
I take a moment thinking about it. I hate to admit his point of view. I love soldiers who die for the freedom of their countries, but The Pillar’s point is solid. Pawns are also used as puppets by government authorities.
“Still, don’t underestimate pawns in chess games,” I remind him. “If a pawn reaches the other side of the board it can become any other chess piece. It’s a known chess move. It’s called promotion. I read it’s one of the best tricks used to win a weak game using just one pawn.”
The Pillar smiles again. “Nice touch. You’ve been practicing chess behind my back?”
“Just with a few Mushroomers back in the asylum. I don’t think that counts.”
“I wouldn’t say so. Actually, the most prominent chess players in the world learn their best moves from homeless people.”
“Really?”
“They’re called Savants,” The Pillar says. “It’s a well-known fact. Savants live on the streets and usually are genius at chess, but they never realize they can make money out of it.”
“So it’s you who’ve been reading behind my back.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Had to use my phone between the giant’s punches. After all, you say the notes you read mentioned a final chess game that would mark the end of the world.”
I let out a sigh. “So we’re really collecting those pieces to play a final showdown against this Chessmaster?”
“It looks like it.”
“Neither you and I can play chess, Pillar. We’ll let the world down.”
“I think the final chess game is rather metaphoric. Soon we’ll arrive and see what’s in store.”
“So tell me. You said you have a favorite chess piece on the board,” I say. “What is it?”
“Haven’t you guessed yet?”
“I did. It’s the knight. You love the knight, but why?”
The Pillar takes a moment, thinking it over then says, “A knight moves in an L shape, regardless of whomever stands in his way. A knight is a unique, unpredictable, and you will never see him coming.”
I wonder if The Pillar is telling me something about himself. Something that I am not supposed to see coming.
Chapter 48
Radcliffe Asylum, Oxford.
Tom Truckle didn’t quite grasp Inspector Dormouse’s visit. He stood behind his desk welcoming the sleepy detective who’d just taken a long ride from London and still slept occasionally on the sofa in the room.
“Inspector Dormouse?” Tom Truckle said, shaking the man a little.
“Oomph,” the Inspector sprang up on the couch. “I guess I fell asleep again.”