The last chess game, Chess City, Kalmykia
“T he White Knight?” I say, unable to fathom this.
In the books, the White Knight was the gentlest and most beloved creature in Wonderland. In spite of his short appearance, he saved Alice from his opponent, the Red Knight. I remember reading about him repeatedly falling off his horse and landing on his head. He also had those silly inventions: pudding with ingredients like blotting paper, an upside-down container, and anklets to guard his horse against shark bites.
How could this good man have become who he is now?
“I see you remember me now,” the Chessmaster says.
“I remember what I read in the book about you,” I say. “That’s all.”
“It will come to you,” he says. “All the things you’ve done to me.”
“Why not remind me?”
“I’m afraid if I do, you’ll die from shock before I can beat you in the game.”
“If so, you should have just told me long ago and refrained from finding Carroll’s Knight,” I say. “Stop playing games. Tell me what I did. I’m very curious how I ever managed to hurt Death.”
“That’s the thing, Alice,” he says. “I never was Death before what you did to me.”
This is a complicated thing. Did I create Death in the past?
“I didn’t even ask to become Death.”
“Now I’m starting to doubt your story. It’d make more sense if you longed to become Death to have your revenge. I’d believe that.”
“Not if there had been a ritual involved.” His words echo in the back of my head, and suddenly I feel dizzy again, as if I’m about to remember.
“Ritual?”
“The unholy ritual that made you kill my daughter.”
My hand reaches for the edge of the table and grabs on to it. More dizziness. Faint memories, blurred by older sins. “I killed your daughter?”
“Two, actually.” The Chessmaster genuinely exposes his pain, and it cuts through and splinters my whole being into ripped pieces.
I have nothing to say, except to wish this hadn’t happened.
“And my wife,” the Chessmaster recounts. “My grandmother and my farm dog.”
“I did that?”
“It’s not easy realizing you were the villain, is it, Alice?” The Chessmaster’s anger is now surfacing. All the fluff is starting to wear off and the demon of vengeance is rising. “Villains are so misunderstood. People see them killing and raging, but they never ask themselves why they’ve become what they’ve become.”
“I’m not a villain.”
“All villains say that, even in movies.” He smirks, pulling one side of his mustache.
“I’m really sorry if I’ve done any of that, but you must understand that I’ve—”
“Changed?” He tilts his head and places a hand behind his ear. “You realize this is every villain’s poor excuse when they’re about to hang him?”
“You have to believe me,” I plead, ready to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, even ready to pay for my wrongdoing. I just need him to understand that I’m not the same person anymore, that I don’t even know who that person is. “There are no words that could ease your pain. It’s so horrible what I’ve done. Believe me. Please, believe me when I tell you I don’t remember any of it. I don’t even have an idea why I did it.”
“Oh, please.” The Chessmaster jolts the table as he stands, scattering all the pieces, all but his white knight. It stands firmly in place, unaffected by whatever wants to move it. “You know why you did it. Because of the ritual.”
“The ritual again? What ritual?”
“You want me to spell it out?” He bends forward, face flushing red, and teeth protruding like he is going to eat me alive.
“Please. I don’t remember anything about a ritual. What kind of ritual makes me kill a whole family?”
“A sacrificial ritual.” He grits his teeth. “One that demands fourteen people dead.”
“Fourteen?”
“Fourteen people sacrificed, and fourteen others making a deal.”
“What deal?” I’m on my knees now, closer to the edge of the table, his voice pinching my ears, his spittle on my cheeks.
“The deal you did to save the devil.”
“Devil? What nonsense are you talking about?”
The Chessmaster’s anger subsides to the weakness in his knees. He falls down right next to me, about to cry his heart out. “The deal you did to save the Pillar.”