Tenebres
Written for AmZ.
It was very black.
There wasn't any light anywhere, and he came in with a candle. The wax was dripping on his hands, but at least it wasn't completely black any longer.
There was a table, and two chairs. And there was a rather large chess board on the table. It was an ordinary chess board; it wasn't as though it had jet and ivory men, or dark and clear glass for the squares. It was just ordinary, carved out of ordinary wood, not particularly detailed. It was already set up, with all the men in their proper place.
He seated himself in one of the chairs. Very carefully, he upturned the candle until it had melted a small puddle of wax on the tabletop; then he righted it and pressed it into the puddle to keep it upright. Then he reached over--just as carefully--and moved the white King's pawn forward two squares.
When he looked up, another man was sitting in the chair opposite from him. The man laughed, shortly.
"You've begun this game, so you're white? Well, that's a saintly colour, isn't it? When I was small, I preferred black, because I thought the white men were ugly," he added. He moved his King's pawn the same way.
Valjean frowned, and stared at the board, at all the black and white men, all the meanings and escapes and captures and mistakes that could be played in one game. He sighed.
Javert shrugged his shoulders. "If you absolutely must study the board for nineteen or so years, go ahead."
Valjean looked up in annoyance. "I beg your pardon?"
With a grin, Javert put his elbows on the table. "Oh, don't play the scandalised innocent. Get on with it and move. We haven't forever."
That, Valjean reflected, was quite true. He narrowed his eyes at Javert, but moved his Queen's pawn forward two squares. Javert promptly took it, looking surprised.
"Well. That was easy. Did you mean to do that? I'd be careful, if I were you, in the future."
Valjean wasn't. He lost three more pawns to Javert in annoyingly quick succession, and commemorated his failure by hitting the table lightly. The candle shook, and wax dripped down, a little of it splattering the side of the board.
"You must be a bit more careful," Javert suggested gently. "I shouldn't like to win this easily. Give yourself a chance of some sort. Play sensibly."
"I'm playing as sensibly as I can. This isn't an easy game."
"But it's not that difficult. I should think at least--" He stopped, as Valjean had just taken his castle with the white Queen's bishop.
"There."
"Scoundrel."
For the first time, Valjean smiled, though not triumphantly. Rather, he had the look of pleasure that accompanies Doing Something Right. The smile stayed as he captured one of Javert's pawns a move later.
Javert shook his head, and--his elbows still on the table, moving his wrist elegantly--took Valjean's bishop with his pawn. Valjean snorted, and removed the offending pawn with his castle.
"You are rather good at this game, after all."
Valjean smiled again. "Oh, no. I think I just get better as I play."
"Or perhaps you're just a natural player, and it took several moves for your instinct to come out."
"Do you think?" Valjean captured Javert's Queen's knight.
"I'm certain." Javert took a pawn threatening his King.
With a small half-delighted laugh, Valjean took another of Javert's pawns, and watched him. Something about Javert suggested he was about to speak or get up.
Javert moved his King back to safety, and stretched. He stretched in a way quite different from anyone Valjean had ever seen, by tensing his shoulders and arching his back like a cat or a tiger. "I think," he said, "that we had better take a short noon. I've taken my move, as you can see, so we can start again with white."
"Oh," Valjean nodded. "All right."
~~~
They resumed the game within ten or eight minutes. Javert called this more than enough time to take a noon, to Valjean's vague, amused annoyance.
The candle was burning very low, almost three-quarters gone. The wax had puddled out over the table and dripped on the floor a bit. With a small sigh, Valjean took his seat, looking in confusion and frustration at the board. "It's very difficult to do anything now."
"It's always difficult to do anything. I foresee quite a few meaningless moves that will get us nowhere. But they'll get us somewhere, you know."
"Right, right," Valjean sighed.
They played. Javert put his elbows back on the table and continued to make his moves slowly, thoughtfully, picking up the pieces and turning only his wrists to replace them. Valjean studied the board for a very long time before he made any of his moves; he was so cautious that Javert occasionally told him amiably to hurry up.
In the course of fifty moves, fourteen men had been taken from the original thirty-two on the board, with eighteen remaining. Valjean frowned in an almost childlike bewilderment at his men. Javert's King had been barricaded in by both his bishops, his King's castle, and his Queen, and Valjean's knight was easily placed to take the black King.
"Ch-check," he said.
Javert laughed. "Quite so. It's only check; why are you stammering? I can get out of it." And he did.
Valjean laughed too, but in relief. "I really don't know this game well. I thought it was over."
"It doesn't end as easily as all that."
So they continued playing. Suddenly, Javert seemed to be losing, and Valjean became agitated. He took Javert's Queen, and the Queen's castle, as the candle wax spread and glued his captured pieces to the rough table.
And then he paused. "Wait."
"Well, go on." Javert took his elbows off the table. "Move your castle. Take the bishop."
Valjean sighed. "If I do that--"
"It'll be a draw, clearly. You'll put my King in check, and no matter where I move, I'll stay in check, and as I can't move my King into danger, I've nowhere to turn. So I draw, and you, apparently, win."
Abruptly, Valjean stood. "I think--I think it would be far better if we didn't play this game to the end..."
"What?"
"We'll stop here. We can finish some other time."
"Very well."
The candle went out.
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