The Education of Brother Thaddius and other tales of DemonWars (The DemonWars Saga) by R.A. Salvatore

Author:R.A. Salvatore [Salvatore, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-10-23T00:00:00+00:00

*****

“You are familiar with this game?” Bishop Braumin asked Pagonel. The two and Master Viscenti were in Braumin’s private chambers when Pagonel had wandered away from the hearth to a chessboard set up at the side of the room, the game half completed.

“Vaguely,” Pagonel replied.

The two monks joined Pagonel over by the board.

“You were playing against the Father Abbot,” Viscenti remarked and Braumin nodded.

“A fine opponent was Fio Bou-raiy,” said Braumin. “He had me beaten, I fear.”

“He was playing black, then,” said Pagonel, and Braumin at the board, then back at Pagonel curiously. A casual glance at the board revealed little advantage for either side – indeed, black had lost more pieces – and given the mystic’s response that he “vaguely” knew the game, how could he have known the truth of the situation on the board?

“This piece,” Pagonel asked, tapping one of the white bishops, “it runs along the white diagonal squares, yes?”

“Yes,” Braumin answered.

Pagonel nodded. “We have a similar game in Behren, at the Walk of Clouds. More pieces, but the concepts align, I believe. Sit.” He motioned to the chair behind the base for the black side, and he slipped into the chair behind the white king.

“Pray show me how each of these pieces move and attack,” the mystic bade.

Braumin and Viscenti exchanged a curious glance, and proceeded. When they were done, Pagonel wore a sly grin. “I will replace your opponent, if you allow,” he said. “And yes, if my objective is to defeat your king, then you are defeated.”

“Then why play?” Viscenti asked.

“We could play anew,” Pagonel started to offer, but Braumin waved that thought away.

“It is your move,” Braumin told the mystic.

A short while later, Bishop Braumin conceded, and accepted the mystic’s offer to begin anew.

“If he offers you a bet, do not take it,” Master Viscenti said with a laugh just a few moves into the new game. “I do believe that our friend here has been less than forthcoming regarding his experience with chess!”

“Not so,” said Pagonel.

“Then how do you play so well? This is no simple game!”

“Your monks fight well,” Pagonel answered. “The best of your fighters would match up favorable in single combat against a Jhesta Tu of equal experience.”

“We pride ourselves…” Braumin started to reply, but Pagonel kept going.

“But were a group of four brothers to line up in battle across from four Jhesta Tu, they would lose, and badly, and not a single of my acolytes would be badly harmed.”

“Quite a claim,” said Viscenti.

“You will see, my friend,” Pagonel said.

A few moves later, the game was clearly and decisively turning in Pagonel’s favor, so much so that Braumin, one of the best chess players remaining at St.-Mere-Abelle, suspected that he would soon resign.

“How?” Viscenti asked when Braumin soon groaned and moved his king away from Pagonel’s check, the outcome becoming clearer.

“This is not a battle of individual pieces,” Pagonel explained.

“It is a game of strategy,” Braumin remarked.

“It is a game of coordination, and within the boundaries of this board lie your answers, Bishop Braumin.

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