D'oh! Realised as soon as I posted this that I forgot to change category to "Fun with Chess" so apologies for that. The exerpt of the game between Sekar and the stranger is from a game I played when I had just started writing this chapter, during a two day civil service tournament. The part of black was a 2128 and I was white at 1774 so it was the proudest moment of the event for me, achieving a draw through stubbornness and trickery. Unfortunately as I am using Internet Explorer 8 there is a known bug at moment which is no longer allowing me to post a diagram but I think it stands okay without one, just needs a little more imagination. :)
The Chronicles Of Sekar - Chapter Five
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Okay, I have used another website to create a static diagram of one of the key points of the game described. Black from diagram plays Kf2 as h2 fails to Nf1+. I am not 100% sure of white king position but I think it was correct. As we only had 40 mins each side for the game we did not use scoresheets.
I know it's been a while since this chapter was posted. Chapter 6 is just over 2000 words in at moment and is all planned on paper but I am not rushing it at the moment. Although I know what I want to do in the final 3 chapters I am becoming increasingly aware that once it is done it is over and part of me will be sad to say goodbye to the characters, though I definitely will be doing so. With that in mind, I am not prepared to just slap the remaining words down on paper - I am writing it a little at a time and taking time to check it over and over. Sometimes I can just write at length, others I cannot. It will get done and I thank you for being patient, those of you following it and who have messaged me, but it will probably take another 2-3 weeks.
Pretty good. Nobody messes with Sekar and Antim.
The Chronicles Of Sekar
Chapter Five – The Peril of a Stranger
Antim and Sekar headed down to the market square, where chessplayers waited. On the way Antim touched Sekar's arm and nodded towards a shop on their right; it was a tailor's business and the tribesman raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh come on, big guy: you have been parading around in your loincloths for all the time I have been with you.” Sekar looked down at his basic garment then back at his friend. “I didn't know it bothered you. It's traditional in my tribe.” Antim shook his head in frustration. “It's not that it bothers me. People call you a barbarian and don't stop to consider there might be more to you than that. You are a man of means who is cultured and travelled; don't pretend to be a humble native.” Sekar smiled at his companion's impassioned outburst; he knew Antim was right but tried one last tactic with “Well I don't tell you how to dress, do I?” Antim wagged a finger at him. “If we ever find ourselves in your jungle, heavens forbid, I'll let you dress me. Now enough of your nonsense, get in there and let's see if you are beyond even the skill of Al-Rokh craftsmen.” Sekar allowed himself to be herded in but he was actually quite pleased – he realised he had clung to the loincloths as his last link with the tribe that had expelled him but knew deep down that he would always be one of the Alma-Uti inside himself, where it mattered. The tailoring turned out to be not too traumatic, although there was no mistaking the look of despair on the shop owner's face as he looked at Sekar in his loincloth and sandals. A mask of professionalism swiftly covered that as Antim explained what they wanted and he set to measuring his clients. They left shortly after with some basic street clothes on Sekar. These were not the ones he had been commissioning but the tailor felt it was an affront to his personal dignity, nevermind reputation, to have anyone walk out of his shop during daylight wearing a loincloth and physically barred Sekar from leaving without them, tiny though the tailor was. Antim and Sekar had both ordered some outfits, everyday and finer ones, which would be ready in a few days' time. Sekar's ever-present longsword still swung in its scabbard but at least now it had a new belt.
They arrived at the town square and received a few nods of greeting from some of the regulars who recognised them. Antim was gratified to note that Sekar drew less outright stares from passers-by now his clothes blended better but he was still a large imposing figure. As usual, there was a host of chessboards laid out at the southern side of the square and they sat at adjacent boards, Sekar laying his sword between the two for comfort. Antim's board had an opponent already and it was not long before Sekar was joined by one also. After the tournament at Maranil, with it's hourglasses dictating speed of play, it was nice to settle back into some regular games where the only pressures were ones created by human minds. Sekar's opponent was unchallenging and left slightly petulantly after losing quickly, so he contented himself with observing Antim's game to his left, which was an intricate but reasonably balanced middlegame. There were a few pieces on either side attacked but everything looked protected and Sekar found his concentration sucked into their game as he tried to probe it's structure for weaknesses. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice his next opponent approach till a shadow fell over him.
Sekar looked up and was surprised to see that the man was wearing robes with a hood that covered his head, for the weather was quite warm; the stranger sat down once invited and Sekar could tell that the clothing was fairly light and probably cool enough to wear. He could see little of the face within the hood but he did appear to be an older man. His hands, as he started to deftly move the black pieces, were slightly wrinkled but uncalloused with neatly trimmed fingernails. Sekar was quickly impressed as, although he was familiar and comfortable with the system he was playing, the older man was providing no opportunity for him to start forcing pawns through. He tried manoeuvring his knights to control the kingside and centre better, via his back rank, but the stranger parried this with his own knight dances and suppressed his plans. By the time the position started to clear, Antim's opponent had left, so he took an interest in his friend's game. An unfathomable endgame was now in progress with a few pawns plus opposite-coloured bishop and knight on each side. As he watched, Antim was almost certain Sekar was lost as his bishop was tied down to stopping a sixth rank pawn from promoting and Sekar's king was being dragged over to that flank also, allowing the older man to make progress on the other side. From what Antim could see, Sekar had been attempting to exchange the knights as the opposite-coloured bishop and pawn ending would have been far easier to hold but his opponent was not permitting it. A few clever tricks later Sekar was forced into exchanging bishops, not easy when one was on the white squares and one on the black; it resulted from the black knight penetrating and capturing the blockading bishop in a position where Sekar's only choice was to take the enemy bishop as recapturing the knight with the king was utterly lost.
Their three gazes were locked now on this horrifically complicated knight and pawn endgame. At a casual glance it seemed that black could just shepherd his far away king's rook pawn through first but Sekar found a route through his queen's starting square such that the pawn could only get so far before the knight would be intervening to prevent promotion. The pawn advanced a little with Sekar's knight following its planned course till the stranger had to start bringing his own knight over to cover key squares. This was the breathing space Sekar needed and his queen's bishop pawn now was able to start moving also. Antim shook his head as it was apparent black would still queen while his knight could track back to catch the white pawn and the white king was not close enough to help. Sekar again moved the knight and his opponent had to bring his own knight to cover the square he could reach to neutralise the pawn. Black still had to be cautious though as if he advanced the pawn now he would walk into a fork of king and pawn from underneath, where his own knight wasn't covering; seeing this the hooded man stepped his king out a square to drive off Sekar's knight. He thought for a moment then surprised his opponent and his watching friend by checking the king from a square that black's own knight could simply take it. Realisation dawned on Antim: if black took the knight then the old man could not catch Sekar's pawn and it would queen just after his one, creating a queen versus queen and knight struggle which looked holdable. He strained as he tried to calculate what happened if black just moved his king instead, as Sekar then similarly could not capture the other knight and still stop black's pawn.
All of them were thoroughly engrossed in the permutations and were taken by surprise when three armed men ran over to the robed chessplayer and threw back his hood. Antim had looked up in fright at the sudden and loud footsteps and was shocked to see their openly malicious expressions. With the old man's face now exposed, one nodded to the others and they drew their curved swords. Sekar, being cross-legged at the other side of the chessboard, could only struggle to his feet too slowly to do anything in time as one of them raised a sword over their target's head. Antim was to the side of the board and was able to leap at the threatened stranger, carrying them both to the right. It was not quite quick enough; the blade avoided the neck it had been sliced at but now it cut into the old man's right arm and Antim's shoulder at the same time. Blood spurted from them both; a woman watching screamed and the few citizens around scattered from the trouble starting. The armed men fanned out, with the efficiency of trained soldiers, but now they had a new problem: Sekar was fully on his feet, sword in hand and towering over them. The would-be assassins could hack into their victim but at least one or two of them faced butchery from the big man's weapon while they were preoccupied. One of them seemed to be in charge and, after a quick glance at the wounded Antim and the old man, who didn't look like they were going anywhere fast, motioned his men to join him in taking on Sekar. “Quickly now, before the guards come; kill this one and then the others” he snarled.
Antim realised then that there was, unusually, none of the city guard present at the square. Sekar's stance and raised sword were focussing the killers' attention and Antim cast his eyes about for some way he could help. Beside him lay a chessboard, position disrupted where his rescuing tumble had carried him into it. Thinking fast, he seized up a handful of pawns and threw them in front of the men facing Sekar, just as they started to lunge forward at him. Two of them went skidding and fell; Sekar sidestepped to his left away from the leader who remained on his feet. This was no time for niceties, certainly not when dealing with people who would cut down an unarmed old man from behind, so Sekar thrust his sword into the chest of one of the men sprawled on the ground and pulled it free just as the mercenary leader was swinging for him, in time to deflect. Antim's shoulder burned with pain where the sword had cut him but he guessed it wasn't a bad wound as he could still move about fairly freely. Sekar and the mercenary leader were facing off to each other, blades clashing then separating, in their own private kind of chess game. To one side though, the remaining assassin was back on his feet and attempting to come at Sekar also.
Antim cursed himself for leaving his own sword back at the inn – a mistake he would not make in the future. Then he realised he had a weapon after all and lifted up the solid wooden chessboard he had snatched the pawns from. As the two mercenaries closed again on Sekar, confident, Antim brought the board crashing into the back of the one that had only just got back to his feet. The leader's eyes darted towards this motion, distracted and a little panicked; it was enough of an advantage for Sekar, who sliced open his throat in an instant. The last attacker tried to get up again but Sekar stepped in and kicked him mercilessly in the face with a heavy sandal and he was knocked out cold. The companions looked around, the adrenalin still coursing through them. There was no sign of any more attackers but also none of any guards to come and restore order. They turned to the old man, who had managed to pull himself up to sit and watch what they had done to save him. “Wait there, old father,” said Sekar, “The guards will be here in a moment, I am sure.” The old man shook his head sadly and tried to struggle to his feet. “Get me out of here, somewhere secure I beg you. I will explain once we are in a safe place.” Sekar and Antim looked at each other uncertainly and Antim nodded to him. “There's something not right here, my friend: there's always at least one guard here normally and no patrols have come by either. Let's do as he asks for now.”
They went to either side of the old man and helped him up. Blood was flowing slowly from the cut in his arm but had at least mostly stopped coming from Antim's shoulder and he was able to help support the stranger; they pulled his hood back up and headed back to the inn they were staying at, using side streets in case there were more assassins out there. It was a nervous few minutes, during which Sekar never once sheathed his sword and all three of them glanced about, but they made it to the inn. Sekar told the innkeeper that their friend had been set upon by thieves and bade him send for a doctor while they took him to their room to rest. Once there, they took off the stranger's outer robe to expose the wound properly; this showed that it was not too deep but also that he had very fine quality clothes on underneath. This, as they had guessed, was no random attack. Antim broke the silence first. “I have seen you play there occasionally, I think. Or at least, I have seen those robes. Care to share with us why those men wanted to kill you?” Sekar added “And why you didn't want to wait for the guards? Are you a known criminal; is this why you hide your face?” The old man chuckled at this. “My saviours, I know you are innocent in this perfidy; you have more than proved your trustworthiness, so I will tell you what is going on. Yes, I play there from time to time – or did; it may not be safe for me now. I have loved chess for many years, which led me to pay for the boards to be put there, maintained and replaced when needed.”
Antim's face lit up. “So you are the anonymous benefactor? You have brought joy to many with that gesture.” The old stranger looked gratified at this and was about to carry on with his tale when there was a knock at their room's door. Sekar picked up his sword, as did Antim now; they edged to block the doorway but the innkeeper's voice came, saying “The doctor's here now, can I show him in?” They hid their swords from view and opened the door cautiously but it was safe – their host was there with someone in doctor's robes and a surgeon's bag. They hurried him in, thanking the proprietor for fetching him. The doctor examined the old man and Antim, cleaned their wounds and bandaged them. He gave them more dressings to change every few days and instructed them to call for him again if the wounds got infected and started to fester. Sekar thanked him, pressing some silver coins into his palm, before warning him to take care on the streets as they had only scared the thieves off and they might still be looking for easy prey. Once he had left and they were alone, the stranger they had rescued resumed talking. “Good people, you have done much for me already but we all may be in danger right now. That third man is still alive and may well have told his employer what has happened. If you can perform one last service for me, I may be able to right the wrongs done here today; you will of course be rewarded, ashamed though I am to say it as you helped me selflessly when I was in need.”
“Danger?” laughed Sekar. “What is life without a little adventure to spice it up?” He slapped Antim heartily on the back, bringing a fresh gasp of pain. The stranger spoke again. “My thanks. My situation is complex, I am afraid to say. I believe the guards were sent to other areas of the city today on purpose, in order to allow that mischief to happen.” Antim cut in, “But who could do that and why would they?” The man held up a hand and said “My son, I am the Caliph, Shamal Arpath. Only one man knew where I was going today: my chamberlain.” “El Amah!” exclaimed Sekar, “We have met him.” He explained briefly that they and Rabat the guard captain had gone on a mission for the chamberlain recently. The Caliph looked thoughtful. “My main problem is I do not know who else the chamberlain has corrupted. Rabat seems like a good man but what if he is in El Amah's pay?” Antim and Sekar said instantly together “Never.” He looked up at them. “We saved Rabat's life and he is a friend,” said Antim. “We know he would have no part of such treachery; he values honour and duty.” Shamal Arpath nodded slowly. “Very well. We must trust someone, let it be Rabat. Can you get a message to him without anyone else knowing?” They discussed their options and finally settled on a plan.
Antim and Sekar drew from memory a chess diagram which would make sense only to them and Rabat, for it was one they had encountered in the courtyard at the keep they had investigated together. Antim took the scrap of paper to one of the urchins, named Pezal, living in the back streets and paid him a silver coin to follow some instructions, promising him another one when it was done. The boy rubbed some grit into his eyes to bring tears, a detail the companions had not thought of – seemingly living on the streets had sharpened his wits. Appearing every inch the distraught child now, he ran to the palace gates and begged to see his “Uncle Rabat”, sobbing and claiming that his mother, Rabat's sister, was unwell and needed a doctor. The unsuspecting guard fetched Rabat who came down to see the boy, a little confused as he had no sister but wanting to find out for himself what game was being played here, before revealing that to the guard who had told him the boy's tale. The urchin ran straight to Rabat, recognising him from the rank marks on his uniform and the description Antim had given him, crying “Uncle, uncle, mama is sick and needs your help. Please come. Please.” As he spoke he pressed the piece of paper into Rabat's hand, unseen. The captain played along and instructed the guard who had witnessed the tearful scene that he had to go out for this family emergency but not to gossip about his personal business to the other guards or he would be guarding a latrine for a year. The guard saluted and Rabat left with Pezal. Once outside, the boy led him from sight then stuck a hand out and demanded the final silver piece he was due. A glance at the piece of paper he held and a moment's thought convinced the captain. He thanked the boy and gave him double what he had asked for, telling him to keep silent about this affair. The urchin happily agreed and scampered off.
Intuitively, Rabat had realised that discretion was required of him; he was careful to take a winding route from the palace to his friends' inn, making sure he was not followed. When he got there the innkeeper greeted him and said “You would be here about the cowardly thieves who hurt the old man?” Rabat nodded businesslike and was shown through to Sekar and Antim. He was about to ask them what on earth was going on when he saw the wounded Caliph and bowed low before him, waiting for permission to speak. Shamal Arpath waved for him to rise and Antim explained what had happened. Rabat visibly went through a range of emotions as the story was told, from pale with anxiety at the danger his lord had been in to barely suppressed anger when he learned of the chamberlain's treachery. He quickly calmed down though, as he appreciated that things were not fully resolved till he had the Caliph back in his palace and under the watch of some hand-picked guards. They helped Shamal Arpath back on with his robes and headed back to the palace, by much the same circumspect paths Rabat had taken from there. The guard he had spoken to before was still on duty and was no doubt mystified as to why there were three strangers with his captain but knew better than to do other than salute Rabat and open the gates. Sekar and Antim went as far with them as the Caliph's chamber door then waited while Rabat settled the lord in to rest. They relaxed now and witnessed their normally jovial friend efficiently bark orders at staff till he was satisfied the Caliph could come to no harm. He spoke again with the Caliph at length and then waved his friends into the opulent chamber for a formal audience. Shamal Arpath thanked them again and asked that they return in the morning when he was more rested. They headed home, barely suppressing their excitement at the events that had transpired.
The next day they returned to the palace gates and were met by Rabat. He took them into a side room and explained what he had learned since they had last spoken. El Amah, the chamberlain, had received a visit from someone matching the description of the third mercenary and had instantly fled the palace grounds with a pair of soldiers in his pay. Riders had been sent to locate them but with no success so far. He was confident, though, that the conspiracy did not extend beyond the personal ambitions of El Amah and his two guards. Rabat showed them up the sweeping marble stairs to the Caliph's main audience chamber where Shamal Arpath sat on a carved wooden throne on a dais. He stepped down to greet them as they approached and stopped them as they were preparing to kneel. “Words cannot express my gratitude over what the three of you have done. The viper El Amah will need to be replaced as chamberlain with someone I can trust.” He paused and looked significantly at Rabat, who blinked and replied “My lord?” The Caliph nodded and took one of the jewelled rings he wore and placed it on Rabat's finger. “You are now my right hand and will govern this city for me.” Rabat mumbled his thanks but was clearly dazed at this rise in his fortunes. “Now, El Amah had a few properties in his ownership as chamberlain; most of these will transfer to you also, for the purposes of civic functions and so on. There is one house, however, for which I have another purpose in mind. Sekar and Antim, for assistance rendered I wish to bestow on you a residence on the southern edge of the city.”
They looked a little shocked at this and it was Rabat's turn to smile at their discomfiture as they stammered their gratitude. “It should be slightly less humble than the inn if you need to entertain Caliphs in the future.” Shamal Arpath's eyes twinkled and Sekar roared with laughter. “On a sadder note, I fear it would be unwise of me to continue to play chess in the market square; at the very least it will spare Rabat from heart failure at the risk to my person. However I do have a few chess sets of my own and would be honoured if you would attend me from time to time for a friendly game.” This invitation established, he led them into an antechamber which held his private collection of scrolls and books of chess analysis and theory. Antim whistled appreciatively as he had never dreamt there existed so much recorded knowledge on the subject, especially in one place. There were many chess sets also, in all manner of designs; best, though, was an amazing rare contraption that Shamal Arpath revealed with some pride: a double clock for timing games, using a clever clockwork mechanism and a bell to signify time's expiration. The Caliph made them promise to visit again to tell him of their adventures and Rabat ushered them out, till another day.