by Steve Pagano

The deal was nearly finished when there was a sound of scuffling out in the main room of the inn. Jarl didn't think anything of it, and continued haggling in earnest, but Borune recognized a few too many of the voices, and his eyes suddenly went wide. "Deal's off," he said quickly, and began shoveling the goods on the table back into Jarl's bag. "Leave now."

Jarl took the hint and acted at once, hurriedly scooping the glittering items back into his sack. He'd just gotten the last few things in when the door to the room was flung open, and Gracq entered the room, his sword sheathed, but his eyes boiling. "Hallo, Gentlemen," he said, and clapped a hand down upon Jarl's shoulder, and pushed Jarl back into a sitting position just as he was trying to stand and leave. "Oh, do tarry a moment," said the Knight, and he seized the bag from Jarl's hands. "What have we here?" he said in an offhand tone, and he opened the bag and reached in. "Ah! You've been so kind as to bring a donation to Mother Jenna's houses of healing." He held forth a pair of gems, let them sparkle for a moment in the lamplight, and then pocketed them. "Good thing your luck's been good this season, or you'd not have a profit left for yourself." He flung the bag back into Jarl's lap. "You may leave now," he told the man, and then turned to the scowling figure across the table from him. "Borune and I have some business to attend to."

Jarl flushed, and then shot a glance at Borune. A few silent words were exchanged therein, and Jarl, face flaming, stood up and skulked off, leaving through the rear exit of the room, casting an irritated glance back at the Knight. "Oh, and Jarl," Gracq suddenly said, just before the door closed. The door stopped just ajar, but the slender man's face made no appearance. "Don't try anything untoward if you care to remain in business." The door slammed shut angrily.

"By the Gods, what do you want, Captain?" demanded Borune. He was about to begin a tirade, but Gracq cut him short.

"Information." The Knight then looked over his shoulder at the door to the main room of the inn, still open behind him. Several startled-looking people were staring in, wondering at the ruckus. "No thank you," he told them, "I'm not thirsty." And he shut the door upon them.

Borune looked no more amused than before. "What have you done with my men?" he asked.

"Nothing. They're just having a bit of a nap right now."

"Hmph." Pause. "In exchange for what?"

"In exchange for allowing you to remain open, and in business."

Borune again scowled fiercely, but he dared say nothing. Instead, he reached back behind him, and brought out a carefully preserved chessboard, with the pieces still arranged in a game in progress. He set down the board between the two of them, leaned over it, and moved a bishop two squares diagonally. "What kind of information?" he asked.

Gracq responded by reaching into his cloak and bringing forth a sheet of parchment. He unfolded it to its full size to reveal a reasonably life-like pencil-sketch of a young woman in her late teens. "This is Khomara, a distant but still blood-traceable cousin of the Queen. She disappeared from her family's home on the west side of the city earlier this week." He picked up a knight and advanced it, threatening Borune's queen. "I'd be very interested to hear what you know about her whereabouts."

"What makes you think I know anything?" Borune pored over the new board position.

"Don't be clever, Borune. I've been onto your business of selling nights with young girls to men with large purses for some time now, and you've been aware of it from the start. You're no idiot, and I'm fully cognizant of that fact. If anyone knows anything about the whereabouts of a young girl, it's you and your bloody cohorts – Huz, Dhurien, and the rest of you. I've a mind to put the lot of you out of business on a rather permanent basis. And believe you me, if I find that I've been lied to, or that one of you has been withholding information from me in regard to this girl, a great deal of blood will be spilt ere day's end. There's a great lot of my superiors who'd like to see the chicken-hawks in this city cleaned out, and I just may develop an interest in doing that."

"The problem is, good Captain," said Borune, unruffled, "that I am not a chicken-hawk. I'm not the butcher that Huz is, or a slave-driver like Dhurien. I run a legitimate business here. I impress no young ladies into service; they come to me willingly. They go when they like with no arguments from me. So long as they do work for me, and pay for their food and lodging, they are treated well." He took Gracq's knight with his own. "In fact, I even train my girls in a craft, so that should they get pregnant, or should they grow too old to sell their bodies, they'll have something to rely upon, and they can support themselves out in the world."

"I'm aware of that as well," replied Gracq. "If it wasn't for that, and for the fact that I hold some hope that you'll keep these girls away from Huz and Dhurien and anyone else even remotely like them, I'd likely have killed you long ago."

Borune arched an eyebrow. "Killed?" he said, a bit taken aback. "I'm surprised to hear such a thing from you, Captain. I thought you were a gentler man."

"I don't know where you got such a muddled idea, Borune," said Gracq, and his eyes steeled. "It's peace-time, and so nowadays I patrol the city limits, train my men in the event of war, and otherwise maintain the peace and security of our beloved city. But what am I, really? I'm a Captain serving in the Queen's army. Sounds important, perhaps, but it isn't, really. All I am is a soldier. I'm paid to do my job, and when at war, that's simply to destroy things and murder people. Some of the common folk, and many of the nobility, find what I do glorious and praiseworthy. It is neither. There is no glory, no honor in war; it is but a means to an end. There are better means, and better ends, but there is no recourse for it once your enemy has taken up arms against you."

"Then why do you do it?" asked Borune. "It sounds to me like you don't care at all for your work, and without that, without glory or honor or money or fame, what reason is there to do what you do?" Borune considered continuing, but paused, his mouth half-opened with the next word.

"I have my own reasons for doing what I do," said the Knight. "None of which are your concern. But know this: I do not relish the killing. And yet, I know when it is the only option left, and when I must kill, I am very, very good at it. I have killed more men in my time than any of your girls has slept with, and I shall kill thrice that many more ere I die, if men be men and warfare possess our land again. And know this too: for all the deaths upon my hands, not once have I lost even a minute's sleep for guilt."

Borune said nothing, but gnawed at a fingernail. Then Gracq took his queen and captured the knight which Borune had just moved. "Check," said Gracq.

"Your queen's in immediate danger," said Borune. "Are you sure you wish to make that move? I need no help in defending myself against you in this arena."

"I made the move. I shall not undo it. Check."

Borune sighed. "Very well, then," he replied. He moved his bishop again, interposing it between Gracq's queen and his own king, and at the same time setting up an inescapable pin of Gracq's queen. "Your move."

Gracq made an innocuous move of his knight, and Borune at once replied by taking the Queen with the bishop. "Check."

Gracq moved his king aside. "Mate in four."

"What?" Borune sat forward, nearly standing up. His gaze etched tendrils of frustration upon the board. "I don't see it."

"Mate in four. Your move."

Borune moved again, this time trying to re-center his queen in a strong position, trying to set up an attack and defend against the unseen attack at the same time. Gracq moved a rook in response. Borune moved again, trying to bring his bishop to bear, and then Gracq responded again with a push forward of his rightmost pawn two spaces, almost completely exposing his king – but yet the king remained out of immediate attack for the next two turns. And then Borune finally saw it, but too late: in clearing out his own defenses, Gracq had completely cut off all of Borune's. Mate would indeed come in two, and there was nothing Borune could do about it: the knight and rook would take the king without any possibility of defense from Borune's own pieces, and all he could do in response was delay the inevitable via a sacrifice of his own queen and bishop. Borune knocked over his king. "Conceded." He sighed.

"The girl, Borune." Gracq's gaze and tone were even.

Borune looked at the Knight, and sighed again. "She's being held in a Guild safe-house behind Morton's butcher-shop. The Guild is still arguing over how much they should demand from the Queen for the girl's ransom. But you didn't hear it from me."

"Of course not." Gracq smiled. "Thanks for the game."

"My pleasure, I think," said Borune. "That was one hell of a risk, your queen sacrifice, Captain. If I'd seen what you were up to, I'd have had you easily."

"But you didn't," said Gracq, "as I guessed you wouldn't. It was a calculated risk."

"A dangerous one, nonetheless. I don't think I'd care to be a man under your command during wartime. If you take such risks as that…."

"But I don't," said Gracq, "and that's the point. War is not a game. I take risks on this board because I can, and if I should fail, none suffer but me. I never take unnecessary risks. My name has been made not only because of the fact that I usually win, but because I lose very, very few of my men."

Borune spoke as Gracq stood up. "In any event, you play an impressive game of chess. I'm looking forward to the next time we play."

"If you think I have skills herein, you should play against Freesia some time. I've never beaten her." He smiled, and reached into his pocket, drawing out the two gems. He tossed them onto the table. "Your reward."

Borune looked surprised. "What of Mother Jenna?"

"I'm sure that the Queen can find some extra funds from the royal treasury to more than cover the contribution those would have made."

"Awful trusting that I'm right, aren't you?"

"Not really. You know what'll happen if I find you're wrong." Gracq smiled, and then went to the door, stepping halfway through before stopping and poking his head back into the room. "Oh, by the way, Borune – you were wrong about Huz."

"Oh?"

"You said that you're not the butcher that he is. You should have said was. I killed him an hour ago."