Chess City, Kalmykia, Russia
W alking through the ghost city, it was hard not to feel like a tourist, though admittedly a special one. The enormous chess pieces and constructions are dazzling, sometimes infused with Buddhist architecture; it’s an almost ethereal experience.
“How do you like it in here?” the Pillar asks.
“It’s incredible,” I say. “But I have to admit, the city is also intimidating.”
“Of course, because it’s empty.”
“So we’re going to walk the city? Looking for Carroll’s Knight?”
“I’m not sure. The clue didn’t explain things further.”
“I have an idea,” I tell him. “With all due respect, all those beautiful designs are a camouflage.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the city’s main attraction is this.” I point at the incredibly large chessboard, like the one in Marostica.
“I agree,” the Pillar says. “But I also don’t see how it could lead us to Carroll’s Knight.”
“Why?”
“Look, Alice. True, it’s the largest chessboard I’ve ever seen, but it’s empty, just like the city.”
The Pillar is right. The chessboard is devoid of any chess pieces.
In silence, feeling mesmerized and intimidated at the same time, we reach the chessboard. The sun behind us is shimmering with a patch of orange flaring behind the cloudy skies. Surprisingly, there is no snow in Chess City, making me think the March Hare may have been right about it being a portal to Wonderland.
The chessboard is composed of huge tiles of black and white, like the one in the Vatican. The tiles are incredibly huge, and they could host four to five people, shoulder to shoulder.
“I think you owe me an explanation,” I tell the Pillar, influenced by the images before me.
“What would that be?”
“How come I walked the white tiles on the Vatican’s chessboard?”
“What do you mean? You’re Alice, the only one who can save the world from Wonderland Monsters.”
“That’s the Alice you want me to be.”
“This is the Alice you are. We’re not going through this again.”
“But we have to, because at some point I was the Bad Alice and I’ve worked for Black Chess. It doesn’t make sense that I was able to walk the white chess tiles inside an important place like the Vatican. Did Fabiola manipulate it?”
“Of course she didn’t,” the Pillar says. “Fabiola helped you because she thought you were a nice girl who could save lives while being brainwashed by me. If she’d known it was really you, she’d have killed you.”
“Then why did she show me the vision of the circus?”
“Either to make you realize Black Chess’s madness, or she was testing you so she could, like I said, kill you if you were the Bad Alice.”
“Some things you say about her make me wonder why you love her.”
The Pillar shrugs. “I know. But hey, I’m as bad myself.”
Sometimes I can’t help it when I listen to him. I suppress a laugh and stay focused on what I need to know. “You still haven’t told me how the Bad Alice was able to walk the white tiles in the Vatican.”
“Because of your intentions.”
“Excuse me?”
“We all have good and evil inside us. It comes and goes. Some of us dip our heads too far in the dark, and some only have snippets of bad thoughts clouding our heads from time to time. For instance, it may cross your mind to pull down the window and verbally abuse the reckless driver next to you in a rare episode of road rage. But it just subsides and you don’t give in to it, once you remind yourself that being good is a choice, not a gene.”
“Stop the metaphors. I need firm answers now.”
“Because your intentions were good, Alice—that’s why you walked the white tiles.” The Pillar’s voice is flat.
“If so, then I can walk the white tiles now as well,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“You’re assuming this is one of those holy chessboards?”
“It makes sense, since it’s in a place that is supposedly a portal to Wonderland.”
“A bit far-fetched,” he says. “But if you truly believe so, then you should start with the black tiles. I mean, if you’re right, my bet is you can’t walk them.”
“I can’t,” I say firmly. “I feel it.”
The Pillar’s eyes glimmer, not in the most pleasant way.
“I will walk the white tiles now,” I say, and step onto the board.
The Pillar’s first reaction is taking a couple of steps back. I believe he just read my mind and realized what I was aiming for.
“Now it’s your turn,” I dare him. “I want you to try to walk the white tiles, Pillar.”
“Ah, there is no need to.” He waves his hand, trying to act playful, but the concern in his eyes is exposing enough.
“I need you to,” I insist. “I need to know about your intentions.”
His eyes weaken. The shine in them withers a little. I’ve cornered him in a place he doesn’t wish to be. But I need to know. I need to know, once and for all, what his intentions are.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will never kill you, not even if you can only walk the black tiles. All I want is to know you’re on my side.”
“I am on your side,” the Pillar says.
“Actually, this is what I feel. I know what you’ve done to me. You believing in me is beyond remarkable. But there is this feeling about you I can’t shake.”
“What feeling?”
“That I don’t know who you really are.”
“I can’t walk the tiles, Alice.” The Pillar’s voice scares me, because he is almost begging me, something I’ve never experienced with him. “I just can’t.”
“Are you saying you can only walk the black tiles?”
“I’m saying I can’t.”
I pull out a gun from my back pocket and point it at him. I confiscated it from the Chessmaster’s men in Marostica and held on to it. I’m not even sure it’s loaded, but I have to do this.
The Pillar says nothing. Somehow he is not surprised.
“I’m much more worried now,” I say. “Why aren’t you surprised I am pointing a gun at you? Is it that you don’t believe I will pull the trigger?”
“Actually, I have no doubt you will, if you need to,” he says. “And at some point you will pull the trigger and kill me. It’s my fate, but I’m not sure why you will do it.”
I grimace, realizing that maybe it’s the Bad Alice in me aiming the gun at him. “I’m sorry.” I lower the gun.
“No,” the Pillar says. “Don’t lower the gun. Don’t repress that dark part inside you, Alice.”
“What? Why would you tell me something like that?”
“Because this is why I helped you become who you are now,” he says. “The world is full of good guys trying to fix it, always faltering when it’s time to pull the trigger, because they have no bad side in them. You’re not like them, Alice. You’re perfect. A good person who was once bad. If you can only find the balance inside, you will save this world.”
Like always, his words seep through, and I devour every syllable and meaning.
He is right. If I end up facing Death itself, I will have to pull the trigger. I can only defeat Death with the darker side of me. I grip my gun tighter and point it at the Pillar again.
“Then walk the tiles, Pillar,” I demand. “Show me what your intentions are.”
The Pillar nods, still reluctant, but he approaches the chessboard. And there he stands before a white tile, about to step onto it, but can he really do it?