They continued through the town, Ume’s silent tread made all the more impressive by both her ability to vanish into the shadows of the various buildings and even more so by the fact that she rarely left a discernible footprint in the snow. Steven and Niklaus did their best to match Ume in stealth, but compared to their rescuer, they might as well have been wearing cowbells.
“A question,” Steven asked when they came to rest by the back corner of the town’s general store. “Did you find out why they did it? Why they blew up the train?”
“They both kept their tongues, despite my best efforts.” Ume crossed her arms. “Still, Mr. Brenin has his theories.” She took a breath and grimaced. “As do I.”
Niklaus stood. “And that’s all you’ve got to say on the subject, I’m guessing.” He’d barely taken a step in the direction of the street when Ume yanked him back.
“Stay down, both of you.” Her voice took on a strange insistence. And the tone wasn’t all that seemed strange. “I’ve risked much to free you. You will move when I say and not before.”
“But—” Niklaus began.
Quiet.
Steven and Niklaus both froze in place, the emphatic tone of Ume’s command made all the more jarring by the realization Steven wasn’t altogether certain he’d heard the solitary word with his ears.
Not since he and Audrey had spoken mind-to-mind during her capture by the Black Knight months before had Steven experienced another person’s thoughts directly entering his mind. He understood from Grey that only a rare combination of the Game’s magic, the intervention of the Arbiters, and their own shared desperation had made such communication possible. With Ume, however, this form of thought-speech seemed as natural as talking.
You can do this? Steven asked, thinking the words rather than speaking them aloud. When you’re not, of course, punching through solid wood doors or running an inch above the ground?
We all have our talents, Mr. Bauer. And since you have taken this particular talent of mine completely in stride, I’m guessing there is much about you that bears watching as well.
This is like that chick on Star Trek, isn’t it? Niklaus’ wide-eyed stare passed from Steven to Ume and back again. The one who always hung out with the guy with the beard.
Steven shook his head. What didn’t you learn by watching television, Niklaus?
Quiet, you two. Ume paused. However, I’m curious. What is this…television?
Another time. Steven locked gazes with Ume. A moment ago, you held us back. Is there danger?
Not so long as you stay with me. Now, down. She motioned for them to huddle in the snow by the building’s edge and stood over them in a low fighting stance. Her form still as a statue, even the rise and fall of her chest seemed to halt.
Seconds later, Sheriff Post, John Ndure, and a trio of men Steven didn’t recognize wandered up the street. The nearest looked directly at them, and for a moment, Steven feared they’d spot Ume. He needn’t have worried. Be it magic, skill, or some wondrous combination of both, one thing remained clear—people only saw Ume if and when she wished to be seen.
And if that ever became the case, six-shooters and shotguns notwithstanding, Post, Ndure, and the rest were in for quite a surprise.
Steven hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
For all their sakes.
Once Post and his posse had passed, Ume unfroze and pulled Steven up from the snow. “Grab your friend. Let’s go.”
Across the road in less time than it took Steven to take a breath, Ume stood in the shadow of the eaves of a small woodshed and motioned for them to join her.
“You know,” Niklaus whispered as Steven helped him to his feet, “her whole ‘leave no tracks’ thing doesn’t do much good with you and me in tow.”
“Just move.”
Steven and Niklaus sprinted across the snow-covered gravel and joined Ume in the shadows. They rested there for all of two seconds before she led them away from the main road.
“Isn’t this the way toward the depot station?” Steven asked.
“Indeed.” Ume resumed her low whisper. “The town isn’t safe. The only place we can keep you secure is in our railcar.”
“Wait.” Niklaus stopped in his tracks. “What about Archie and Emilio?”
“Sakura is gathering your friends. You four will remain with us until we reach the next state, at which point you will disembark and find your own way.”
A flash of panic struck Steven center chest, and not just at the thought of being holed up in the Black King’s railcar. “What about our things?”
Back at Dottie’s Inn, stuffed inside a pillowcase and buried at the bottom of a duffel bag that wouldn’t be stitched together for half a century rested the Hvitr Kyll, the white pouch of the Game and their only ticket out of 1890.
“If there is time, we will attempt to retrieve your belongings, but please understand that Mr. Brenin has already exercised significant generosity in sending us for you and your friends.”
“Understood.” Steven bit back the bile in his throat. “And again, thank you.”
The three of them walked, one in total silence, the other two doing their best not to sound like a herd of rhinoceros. Snow-crusted trails that cut through forests that had never seen a logger’s axe led to the wood line adjacent to the destroyed locomotive. The remainder of the train sat uncoupled from the pile of scrap metal on wheels, the last car all but invisible as a cloud swept across the bright full moon.
A flurry of questions that had bugged Steven since he’d first learned of the untimely deaths of Earl and Clarence resurfaced.
Who was the “old man” who hired the pair to blow the train in the first place? Why the hell arrange for such destruction if no follow up was planned, or at least none Steven and the others could appreciate? Above all, with the events in question occurring just after his and Niklaus’ arrival in town and during the only time this century when four Pieces from the next iteration of the Game would come face-to-face with the opposing King, what were the odds any of it had occurred by chance?
Though the last question left him pondering everything he’d ever held true, he did know one thing beyond any shadow of a doubt.
In matters of the Game, coincidences were a rare thing indeed.
Ume rapped at the railcar’s black door. Steven and Niklaus kept watch, fearful that at any moment, Post and his various deputies might spring from the shadows of the forest and end their mad dash for freedom.
A click, a rush of steam, and the door slid open. Within, Zed/Brenin stood in jet black robes, peering down at them with an imperious gaze.
“Mr. Bauer.” His head tilted forward in a subtle nod.
“Mr. Brenin,” Steven answered in kind. “Thank you for sending Ume.”
His eyes flicked to Niklaus. “Mr. Zamek.” Brenin stepped back from the doorway and motioned them forward. “Come inside. Quickly.”
Steven and Niklaus climbed into the railcar with Ume close behind. Zed sealed the door and motioned for them to be seated.
“Sakura?” Ume asked. “Kiku?”
“Your older sister is gathering Mr. Lacan and the Cruz boy.” Zed peered out between two slats of the nearest window. “As for Kiku, I sent her on an errand. She shouldn’t be gone long.”
“She is not yet ready.” Ume fumed. “Sakura can more than care for herself, but Kiku…”
“Kiku could dismantle this entire town singlehandedly if she chose to do so.” Zed slid into a beatific smile. “She may not possess your skills or your sister’s raw talent, but she is more than able to mind her own back.”
“We swore you our loyalty,” Ume spat, not backing down an inch. “And Sakura a bit more. In the end, though, one thing has always been clear. Kiku is the youngest and therefore is to be protected at all costs.”
“Dearest Ume, fear not.” Zed’s voice dropped into a practiced sing-song, almost hypnotic in its rise and fall. “No one save you and your sister care more for Kiku than I. Trust that I would not
send her unnecessarily into harm’s way.” His gaze flicked to Steven. “And regardless, we have guests. Perhaps we can engage in this discussion at a later date?”
“Of course, Mr. Brenin.” Ume’s shoulders dropped, though the intensity in her gaze remained. “Though you’d best pray to whatever gods you worship that Kiku returns safely or our discussion may be one you do not enjoy.”
Zed gave another nod, acquiescing the point. “Understood.” He turned to Steven. “So, Mr. Bauer, I suspect you and I both remain troubled by the same question.”
Steven let out a bitter chuckle. “Like what the hell is going on around here?”
“Cards on the table, I suppose.” Zed produced a folded paper from his pocket. “I received this telegram a month or so ago requesting I head east from my winter home in San Francisco for a meeting of ‘utmost importance’ in the city of Chicago.”
Where all of this began. Steven’s cheeks grew warm. And where your Black Queen nearly ended me.
“Well, we’re certainly hell and gone from Illinois.” Steven studied the paper. “What did this person want?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Brenin’s fingers tensed, crinkling the yellowed paper in his hand. “Though I’m beginning to develop a few theories.”
“Who sent the message?” Niklaus held out his hand, and Brenin, surprising Ume as much as Steven, handed him the paper. “Emanuel Lasker?” Niklaus asked. “Who is that?”
“A German mathematician and philosopher who also happens to be a rising talent in the world of chess.” Brenin took a seat by the chessboard, the pieces all reset to their starting positions, and picked up the black king. “I’ve heard talk of him through certain channels. Seen analyses of his games. He doesn’t play like anyone else in his sphere.” He met Niklaus’ gaze. “This game may be played here…” The Black King waved a hand across the board before holding the ebony chess piece to his temple. “But it lives here.” His lips spread into a disquieting smile. “As surprised as I was to receive the correspondence, imagine learning that he wanted to meet with me in, of all places, the American Midwest.”
“You confirmed the letter came from him?” Steven asked. “This Lasker?”
Zed lowered his head in frustration. “I was so flattered to receive such an invitation that I may not have exercised my usual due diligence.” He returned the black king to its spot on the chessboard. “Even the best players may make an impulsive move from time to time, I suppose.”
“What would he want with you anyway?”
“Let’s just say my love for the game goes far beyond mere casual interest.” Brenin stood and went to the window. “I’ve studied with many of the greats, and he appears destined to be a legend.” He took a deep breath. “The things I could learn from him.”
“But why chess?” Steven worked to keep from his gaze the fact that he already knew the answer all too well. “Why is this game so important to you?”
“Why, indeed?” Brenin turned to face them, his lips drawn tight across his teeth. “To understand chess, Mr. Bauer, is to understand life. Chess is more than a metaphor for war or strategy. Chess is everything.”
Steven’s intestines roiled at the words. “Everything?”
“Knowing what it is you want. Accepting what you have to do to achieve your goals. Understanding what you might have to sacrifice.” Brenin shivered with excitement. “This game, as you call it, represents every day of every life on this planet, every decision, every choice, every moment, all boiled down to its barest essence, a battle of black and white waged on sixty-four squares, the outcomes infinite.” The Black King’s eyes slid closed. “What else is there?”
A quick rap at the railcar door broke the momentary silence.
“Who is it?” Ume asked.
“Sakura.” Though muffled by the door, the annoyance in the eldest sister’s voice came through loud and clear. “I have the old man and the boy.”
Again the door hissed as the steam-locked seal opened. Sakura stepped inside with Emilio close on her heels and Archie bringing up the rear.
“Quickly, now.” Ume moved to one side and pushed Archie and Emilio toward a pair of matching chairs upholstered with zebra hide. “Eyes are everywhere.”
Sakura secured the door. “I have brought them, Victor, as you asked.” Her eyes searched the room. “Wait. Where is Kiku?”
“Sent on an errand,” Ume responded, “against both of our express wishes.”
Tempered anger flashed in Sakura’s eyes. “Victor?”
“She is performing a minor task, one requiring neither your nor Ume’s particular talents.” Brenin smiled. “She will be fine.”
“I’m certain she will.” Sakura lowered her head, evincing submission, though the anger in her gaze mirrored Ume’s. “Though we will be discussing this later.”
“So, Mr. Brenin.” Archie straightened himself in the plush chair. “You have all of us here. Do you mind telling us what it is you want with us?”
“Funny you should ask your question in that manner, Mr. Lacan, as I was similarly curious as to why one or more of the four of you fine gentlemen might be the one responsible for my being stranded in your presence.”
Emilio rose from his chair, eyes narrowed and fists balled at his sides. “You think we had something to do with all of this?”
“Hold on, Emilio.” Steven motioned for him to back down. “Mr. Brenin just went to a lot of trouble to bring us all here. Perhaps we should hear him—”
“Victor Brenin!” The shouted voice, muffled by the steam-sealed door, brought all discussion in the room to a halt. “Open up that fancy can of sardines and come out here so we can talk.”
“Excellent.” Zed let out a measured breath. “Now we can finish this.”
The Black King pulled down a metallic device from an ornately carved sconce, a thick wire connecting the silver cylinder to the wall, and spoke into it.
“Sheriff Post.” Zed’s voice, amplified by the old-timey microphone and whatever served as speakers outside the car, reverberated through the space and sent Steven’s heart racing. “Right on time.”
23
Law & Order
“I thought you wanted to help us.” Steven took a step back from Brenin, his knee hitting the chess table and knocking over several of the pieces. “What have you done?”
“What, indeed?” Ume flitted to the nearest window and peered out. “You sent us to collect these men from the constable’s clutches, and now you’ve brought him and his rabble of coarse men to our doorstep?”
“I’m merely bringing all the pieces of this particular game together in one place so I can better ascertain the circumstances leading to our current predicament.” Brenin pulled in a cleansing breath and let it out with no small measure of drama. “Clearly, someone has gone to a significant amount of trouble to ensure my presence here and now in this nowhere of a town, and as far as I can see, Mr. Bauer and his associates are the only ones who noted our arrival with anything more than passing interest.” He locked gazes with Ume. “Not to mention, my dear, that your…discussion earlier with the two men who destroyed our train’s locomotive provided little new information beyond the fact that they were more afraid of their mysterious benefactor than me or, much to their detriment, you.”
“But why break us out of Post’s jail only to turn us right back over to him?” Though he tried to keep an even keel, Steven bristled before this man who, a century in the future, would send emissaries to kill rather than collect him. “In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Brenin, this isn’t one of your games.” His eyes narrowed. “Actual lives are on the line.”
“Fear not, Mr. Bauer.” Brenin flipped the switch that released the door’s steam-lock and rested his fingers upon the handle. “As I was telling Ume, I merely wished to gather all involved at a location of my choosing so the necessary deliberation could occur in a relatively controlled environment.”
“Controlled? We’re trapped inside a stranded train car with no cover
for a hundred yards in every direction, and Post has the manpower and guns of an entire town at his disposal.”
“A little trust, Mr. Bauer.” The Black King smiled. “Don’t forget, had I so chosen, I could have left you and Mr. Zamek to rot in that root cellar this town calls a jail.”
As Brenin directed Ume to open the door, Steven motioned for Archie and Emilio to stay out of sight. Outside, waiting in the cold a good thirty yards away, stood Sheriff Post, Deputy Ndure, and the three-man posse from before.
With one significant addition.
Amid the collection of unshaven men in their long coats and brimmed hats stood Kiku shivering in the cold, utter defiance pouring from her steely gaze.
Ume’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “You sent our sister to bring those men?”
“Damn it, Victor.” Sakura’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “If any of them has laid so much as a finger on her…”
“My dears.” Brenin motioned for the two sisters to remain calm. “Before she left, I gave Kiku full authority to answer any unseemly behavior in kind. The fact that those five men all stand there without a scratch would suggest nothing inappropriate has occurred.” He cleared his throat. “As Kiku has told both of you on more than one occasion, she is a child no longer.”
“Mr. Brenin.” Post took a step forward, the snow at his feet coming to his ankles. “As requested, we’ve come to discuss the situation regarding two men who, up until an hour ago, were in my custody.” He doffed his hat and held it at his side. “I must admit that I find this entire turn of events quite confusing.”
Ndure gave Kiku a gentle push forward. “Message delivered, girl. Now, return to your sisters before they worry another moment.” He offered Ume and Sakura a forced smile and raised his hands before him in a gesture of deference. “Your sister is unharmed, as anyone with eyes can see.”
“Hmm.” Niklaus pulled close to Steven’s ear. “At least one of this town’s lawmen was paying attention back at the saloon.”
“The fact that Ndure recognizes they aren’t dealing with three shrinking violets only helps our situation so much, though.” Steven peered out at the sheriff and his posse. “Post thinks we’re guilty as sin. All four of those men are packing at least a pistol or two, and I have no doubt ‘Wyatt Earp’ has his favorite shotgun under that coat of his.” His eyes shifted left and right. “Even if we happen to have the Charlie’s Angels of 1890 on our side…”
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