"Why does Centius not move?" asked the man next to me.
"I do not know," I said.
"Perhaps he is considering resigning," said a fellow some two places down the tier.
"Some thought Scormus would use the Two Tarnsmen Opening," said another fellow.
"He might have," said another, "with a lesser player."
"He is taking no chances," said another man.
I rather agreed with these thoughts. Scormus of Ar, no irrational fool, knew he played a fine master, one of the seven or eight top-rated players on the planet. Centius of Cos, doubtless, was past his prime. His games, in recent years, had seemed less battles, less cruel, exact duels, than obscure attempts to achieve something on the Kaissa board which even many members of the caste of players did not profess to understand. Indeed, there were even higher rated players on Gor than Centius of Cos, but, somehow, it had seemed that it was he whom Scormus of Ar must meet to establish his supremacy in the game. Many regarded Centius of Cos, in spite of his victories or defeats or draws, as the finest player of Kaissa of all time. It was the luminosity of his reputation which had seemed to make the grandeur of Scormus less glorious. "I shall destroy him," had said Scormus. But he would play him with care. That he had chosen the Ubara's Gambit indicated the respect in which he held Centius of Cos and the seriousness with which he approached the match.
Scormus would play like an Assassin. He would be merciless, and he would take no chances.
Centius of Cos was looking at the board. He seemed bemused, as though he were thinking of something, something perhaps oddly irrelevant to the game at hand. His right hand had lifted, and poised itself over his own Ubara's Spearman, but then he had withdrawn his hand.
"Why does he not move?" asked a man.
Centius of Cos looked at the board.
The correct response, of course, whether the Ubara's Gambit be accepted or declined, is to bring one's own Ubara's Spearman to Ubara five. This will contest the center and prohibit the advance of the opposing spearman. Yellow's next move, of course, is to advance the Ubara's Tarnsman's Spearman to Ubara's Tarnsman's five, attacking red's defending spearman. Red then elects to accept or decline the gambit, accepting by capturing the Ubara's Tarnsman's spearman, but surrendering the center in doing so, or declining the gambit, by defending his spearman, and thus constricting his position. The gambit is playable both ways, but not with the hope of retaining the captured spearman for a material advantage. We wished Centius to move the Ubara's Spearman to Ubara five, so that Scormus might play the Ubara's Tarnsman's Spear-man to Ubara's Tarnsman's five. We were then eager to see if Centius would play the gambit accepted or declined.
"Does he not know his clock is open?" asked a man.
It did seem strange that Centius did not move swiftly at this point in the game. He might need this time later, when in the middle game he was defending himself against the onslaughts and combinations of Scormus or in the end game, where the contest's outcome might well hang upon a single, subtle, delicate move on a board almost freed of pieces.
The sand flowed from the clock of Centius.
Had the hand of Centius touched his Ubara's Spearman be would have been committed to moving it. Too, it might be mentioned, if he should place a piece on a given square and remove his hand from the piece, the piece must remain where it was placed, subject, of course, to the consideration that the placement constitutes a legal move.
But Centius of Cos had not touched the Ubara's Spearman.
No scorer or judge had contested that.
He looked at the board for a time, and then, not looking at Scormus of Ar, moved a piece.
I saw one of the scorers rise to his feet. Scormus of Ar looked at Centius of Cos. The two young men who had already picked up the Ubara's Spearman's plaque seemed confused. Then they put it aside.
Centius of Cos turned the spigot on his clock, opening the clock of Scormus.
We saw, on the great board, the placement not of the Ubara's Spearman at Ubara five, but of the Ubar's Spearman at Ubar five.
It was now subject to capture by yellow's Ubara's Spearman.
There was a stunned silence in the crowd.
"Would he play the Center Defense against one such as Scormus?" asked a man.
That seemed incredible. A child could crush the Center Defense. Its weaknesses had been well understood for centuries.
The purpose of the Center Defense is to draw the yellow Spearman front the center. Yellow, of course, may ignore the attack, and simply thrust deeper into red territory. On the other hand, yellow commonly strikes obliquely, capturing the red spearman. Red then recaptures with his Ubar. Unfortunately for red, however, the Ubar, a quite valuable piece, rated at nine points, like the Ubara, has been too early centralized. Yellow simply advances the Ubara's Rider of the High Thalarion. This exposes the advanced Ubar to the immediate attack of the Initiate at Initiate one. The Ubar must then retreat, losing time. Yellow's Initiate, of course, has now been developed. The move by the capturing yellow spearman, too, of course, has already, besides capturing the red spearman, developed the yellow Ubara.
The Center Defense is certainly not to be generally recommended.
Still, Centius of Cos was playing it.
I found this intriguing. Sometimes masters develop new variations of old, neglected openings. Old mines are sometimes not deficient in concealed gold. At the least the opponent is less likely to be familiar with these supposedly obsolete, refutable beginnings. Their occasional employment, incidentally, freshens the game. Too often master-level Kaissa becomes overly routine, almost automatic, particularly in the first twenty moves. This is the result, of course, pf the incredible amount of analysis to which the openings have been subjected. Some games, in a sense, do not begin until the twentieth move.
I looked at the great board.
Scormus, as I would have expected, captured the red spearman.
Some of the most brilliant games on record, incidentally, have been spun forth from openings now often regarded as weak or anachronistic.
The Center Defense seemed an implausible candidate however from which to project a brilliancy, unless perhaps the brilliancy might involve some swift and devastating exploitation of red's temerity by yellow.
Still Centius of Cos seemed prepared to meet Scormus with the Center Defense.
The crowd was quite restless.
But Centius of Cos did not play to retake with the Ubar.
The crowd watched, stunned.
Centius of Cos had moved his Ubar's Tarnsman's Spearman to Ubar's Tarnsman four.
It was undefended.
The Center Defense was not being played. Men looked at one another. Centius of Cos had already lost a piece, a spearman. One does not give pieces to a Scormus of Ar.
Most masters, down a spearman to Scormus of Ar, would tip their Ubar.
But another spearman now stood en prise, vulnerably subject to capture by the threatening, advancing spearman of yellow.
"Spearman takes Spearman," said a man next to me. I, too, could see the great board.
Red was now two spearmen down.
Red would now advance his Ubar's Rider of the High Tharlarion, to develop his Ubar's Initiate and, simultaneously, expose the yellow spearman to the Initiate's attack.