Assassin of Gor (48 page)

Philemon indicated the board, and the young man went to it and took a chair, Cernus' own, surrendered eagerly by him, at the table. The boy turned the board irritably about, taking red. Philemon turned the board back, that he might have yellow, and the first move, permitting him to choose his opening.

The young man looked about him with disgust, but did not protest.

"To the table, fool," cried Cernus to Hup.

Hup, as though shocked, leaped to his feet, turned a somersault, and bounded unevenly to the table, where he put his chin on the boards, trying to nibble at a piece of bread lying there.

Those in the room laughed, with the exception of Relius, Ho-Sorl, the young boy, and myself, and Sura. Sura was still looking at the boy. There were tears in her eyes. I tried to place the boy, his features.

"Would you not care," asked Cernus of the boy, "to inform the prisoner of your name?"

The handsome boy looked down from the chair of Cernus on me. His lips parted irritably. "I am Scormus of Ar," he said.

I closed my eyes and began to shake with laughter, seeing the joke on myself. And the others, too, those with Cernus, laughed, until the room roared with their mirth.

My champion was Hup, a Fool, that of Cernus was the brilliant, fiery, competitive Scormus of Ar, the young, phenomenal Scormus, who played first board of the city of Ar and held the highest bridge in the city as the province of his game, the master not only of the Players of Ar but doubtless of Gor as well; four times he had won the cap of gold at the Sardar Fairs; never had he entered a tournament he had not won; there was no Player on Gor who did not acknowledge him his master; the records of his games were hungered for throughout all the cities of Gor; his strategy was marked with a native and powerful subtlety, a profundity and brilliance that had made him, even in his youth, a legend in the harsh cities of Gor; it was little wonder that even Cernus himself stood in awe of this imperious youth.

Suddenly Sura cried out. "It is he!"

And in that instant the recognition came to me so suddenly and powerfully that the room seemed black for a moment and I could not breathe.

Scormus looked irritably from the board at Sura, kneeling bound on the tiles.

"Is your slave mad?" he asked of Cernus.

"Of course he is Scormus of Ar, Foolish Slave," cried Cernus to Sura. "Now be silent!"

Her eyes were glistening with tears. She put down her head and was weeping, shaking with emotion.

I, too, trembled.

And then it seemed to me that Cernus might have miscalculated.

I saw Hup waddle over to Sura and put his bulbous head to hers. Some of those at the table laughed. Sura did not draw back from that fearful, grotesque, countenance that faced her. Then, to the wonder of all, Hup, the misshapen, misformed dwarf and fool, gently, ever so gently, kissed Sura on the forehead. Her eyes were wet with tears. Her shoulders were shaking. She smiled, crying, and put down her head.

"What is going on?" demanded Cernus.

Then Hup gave a wild yip and turned a backward somersault and bounded suddenly, squealing like an urt, after a naked slave girl, one of those who had served the tables. She screamed and fled and Hup stopped and turned around several times rapidly in the center of the room until, dizzy, he fell down on his seat and wept.

Scormus of Ar spoke. "Let us play."

"Play, Fool!" cried Cernus to Hup.

The little fool bounded to the table. "Play! Play! Play!" he whimpered. "Hup plays!"

The dwarf seized a piece and shoved it.

"It is not your move!" cried Cernus. "Yellow moves first."

Irritably, with genuine disdain and fury, Scormus thrust out a tarnsman.

Hup picked up a red piece and studied it with great care. "Pretty, pretty wood," he giggled.

"Does the fool know the moves of the pieces?" inquired Scormus acidly.

Some of those at the table laughed, but Cernus did not laugh.

"Pretty, pretty," crooned Hup. Then he put the piece down on the intersection of four squares, upside down.

"No," said Philemon, irritably, "on the color, like this!"

Hup's attention was now drawn to the side of the table where there was a sugared pastry, which he began to eye hungrily.

Scormus of Ar, I was pleased to note, regarding the board, suddenly eyed Hup warily. Then the boy shrugged and shook his head, and moved another piece.

"Your move," prompted Philemon.

Without looking at the board Hup poked a piece, I think a Ubar's Scribe, with one of his swollen fingers. "Hup hungry," he whined.

One of Cernus' guards threw Hup the pastry he had been eying and Hup squealed with pleasure and sat on the dais, putting his chin on his knees, shoving the pastry in his mouth.

I looked at Sura. Her eyes were radiant. She saw me and through her tears, smiled. I smiled back at her. She looked down at the remains of the doll on the tiles before her and threw back her head and laughed. In her bonds she threw back her head and laughed.

She had a son. His name, of course, was Scormus of Ar, her son by the dwarf Hup, conceived years ago in the revels of Kajuralia. I now, clearly, recognized the boy, though I had not seen him before. His features were those of Sura, though with the heaviness of the masculine countenance, the bred slave lines of the House of Cernus. Cernus himself had not recognized them; perhaps none in the room had; the lame foot was perhaps the legacy of his misshapen father; but the boy was fine, and he was brilliant; he was the marvelous Scormus, youthful master Player of Ar.

I looked at Sura and there were tears in my eyes, with my happiness for her.

Hup had kissed her. He had known. Could he then be the fool he pretended? And Scormus of Ar, the brilliant, the natively brilliant master Player was the offspring of these two. I had sensed the marvelous raw power of Sura, her amazing, almost intuitive grasp of the game; and I wondered of Hup, who could be the father of so brilliant a boy as Scormus of Ar; perhaps Hup, the Fool, was no stranger to the game; I looked to one side and saw Qualius of Ar, the blind Player; unnoticed, he was smiling.

After Hup's second move Scormus of Ar had looked for a long time at the board, and then at Hup, who was devouring his pastry.

Cernus seemed impatient. Philemon suggested three or four counters to the position now on the board.

"It is impossible," said Scormus, more to himself than another. Then he shrugged and pushed his third piece.

Hup was still eating his pastry.

"Move!" cried Cernus.

Hup leaped dutifully up and, crumbs on his mouth, seized a yellow piece and shoved it sideways.

"No," said Cernus, intensely, "you move red pieces."

Hup obediently started shoving the red pieces about the board.

"One at a time!" screamed Cernus.

Hup cringed and, lifting his head timidly over the board, pushed a piece and darted away.

"His moves are random moves," said Philemon to Scormus.

Scormus was looking at the board. "Perhaps," he said.

Philemon snorted with amusement.

Scormus then made his fourth move.

Hup, who was waddling about the walls, was then summoned again to the board and he hastily picked up a piece and dropped tottering to a square, and went back to the walls.

"His moves are random," said Philemon. "Develop your tarnsmen. When he places his Home Stone you will be able to seize it in five moves."

Scormus of Ar regarded Philemon. His look was withering. "Do you tell Scormus of Ar how to play the game?" he inquired.

"No," said Philemon.

"Then be silent," said Scormus.

Philemon looked as though he might choose to reply, but thought the better of it, and glared angrily at the board.

"Observe," said Scormus to Cernus, as he moved another piece.

Hup, singing some mad little song of his own devising bounded back to the table, turned a somersault, and crawled up on the dais, whence he seized another piece in his small, knobby fist and pushed it one square ahead.

"I will give you two hundred pieces of gold if you can finish the game in ten moves," said Cernus.

"My Ubar jests," said Scormus of Ar, studying the board.

"I do not understand," said Cernus.

"I should have known my Ubar would not have perpetrated the farce he pretended," said Scormus, not raising his eyes from the board. He smiled. "It is seldom that Scormus of Ar is so fooled. You are to be congratulated, Ubar. This joke will bear telling in Ar for a thousand years."

"I do not understand," said Cernus.

"Surely you recognize," asked Scormus, curiously, looking up at him, "the Two Spearman variation of the Ubar's Scribe's Defense, developed by Miles of Cos and first used in the tournament at Tor held during the Second Passage Hand of the third year of the Administrator Heraklites?"

Neither Cernus nor Philemon said anything. The tables were silent.

"The man I am playing," said Scormus of Ar, "is obviously a master."

I cried out with joy, as did Sura, and Relius and Ho-Sorl. We, the four of us, cheered.

"It is impossible!" cried Cernus.

Hup, the Fool, blinked, sitting on the tiles before the dais.

Scormus of Ar was studying the board intently.

"Hup, my friend," said the blind player Qualius, "can play with Priest-Kings."

"Beat him!" cried Cernus.

"Be quiet," said Scormus. "I am playing."

There was little sound in the room save the occasional noises of Hup. The game continued. Scormus would study the board and move a piece. Hup would come from somewhere in the hall, rolling, skipping or bounding, sniffing, gurgling, glance at the board, cry out, and poke a piece about. And then Scormus would again, head in hands, face not moving, study the board once more.

At last, after perhaps no more than half an Ahn, Scormus stood up. His face was hard to read. There was something in it of irritation, but also of bafflement, and of respect. He stood stiffly, and, to the wonder of all, extended his hand to Hup.

"What are you doing?" cried Cernus.

"I am grateful to you for the game," said Scormus.

The two men, the young, fiery Scormus of Ar, and the tiny, misshapen dwarf shook hands.

"I do not understand," said Cernus.

"Your departure from the Two Spearman Variation on the sixteenth move was acute," said Scormus to Hup, paying the Ubar of Ar no attention. "Only too late did I realize its position in your plan, the feint of the four-piece combination covering your transposition into the Hogar Variation of the Centian, striking down the file of the Ubara's Scribe. It was brilliant."

Hup inclined his head.

"I do not understand," said Cernus.

"I have lost," said Scormus.

Cernus looked at the board. He was sweating. His hand trembled.

"Impossible!" he cried. "You have a winning position!"

Scormus' hand tipped his Ubar, resigning the game.

Cernus seized the piece and righted it. "The game is not done!" he cried. He seized Scormus by the cloak. "Are you a traitor to your Ubar?" he screamed.

"No, Ubar," said Scormus, puzzled.

Cernus released Scormus. The Ubar trembled with fury. He studied the board. Philemon did, too. Hup was looking away from the table, scratching his nose.

"Play!" cried Cernus to Scormus. "You position is a winning one!"

Scormus looked at him, puzzled. "It is capture of Home Stone," said he, "in twenty-two."

"Impossible," whispered Cernus, trembling, staring at the small pieces of wood, the intricate pattern, the field of red and yellow squares.

"With your permission, Ubar," said Scormus of Ar, "I shall withdraw."

"Be gone!" cried Cernus, regarding the board.

"Perhaps we shall play again," said Cernus to Hup, inclining his head to the dwarf.

Hup began to dance on one foot, turning about.

Scormus then went to Qualius, the blind player. "I leave," he said. "I wish you well, Qualius of Ar."

"I wish you well, Scormus of Ar," said Qualius, the blind, branded face radiant.

Scormus turned and regarded Hup. The little fellow was sitting on the edge of the dais, swinging his feet. When he saw Scormus regarding him, however, he stood up, as straight as he could with his crooked back and one short leg; he struggled to stand straight, and it must have caused him pain.

"I wish you well, Small Master," said Scormus.

Hup could not reply but he stood there before the dais, as straight as he could, with tears in his eyes.

"I shall play out your position and win!" screamed Cernus.

"What will you do?" asked Scormus, puzzled.

Cernus angrily moved a piece. "Ubar's tarnsman to Ubara's Scribe four!"

Scormus smiled. "That is capture of Home Stone in eleven," he said.

As Scormus, his path uncontested, took his way from the room, he stopped before Sura, who lowered her head, shamed that she should be so seen before him. He regarded her for a moment, as though puzzled, and then turned and faced Cernus once again. "A lovely slave," he commented.