He strolls over as if he were Julius Ceaser in his time. Brushes his handlebar mustache to the left and right. Even combs the thin hairs on his head, and bows to the invisible crowd in his ridiculous armor outfit.
Suddenly, it strikes me. His outfit is that of a knight. So is he actually Carroll’s Knight? I don’t get it.
The Chessmaster sits with ease and then lightly touches the top of each of his chess pieces for luck or as some kind of ritual. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but then pulls out a chess piece of a white knight, rubs it gently with his hands and kisses it, then places it on the board where it should be.
“My beloved white knight,” he says. “Carroll’s Knight.”
“Congratulations. I figured.” I keep an expressionless face.
“This is what you, Alice, helped me retrieve after all of these years.”
“I wonder why it’s so important.”
“I can’t win without it,” he says with a smile. It’s the smile of a psychopath, but it’s strangely genuine.
“I find that hard to believe,” I say. “You’ve never lost a game, and yet you were playing without it.”
“Smart girl.” He claps his hands, the flesh barely meeting, like an aristocratic old lady living in an ancient mansion she’s never left for ages. “That I will answer, but first I need you to listen to this.”
He claps once more and the speakers start playing a nonsensical song. It’s all vocals of children and has no music in it. Probably some sort of a poem. I realize it’s called Haddock’s Eyes.
“Remember this one, Alice?” He tilts his head with curiosity.
I do. “It’s a poem in Alice Through the Looking Glass.”
“Bravo.” He claps. “Clever girl. Does it remind you of me?”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“But you do know me. You used to know my children, too. My wife and my grandmother.”
“We were neighbors in Wonderland?”
“Not exactly.” He raises a single forefinger. “But back to your question: why I can’t win without Carroll’s Knight?”
“I’m all ears.”
His eyes dim, and a dark flash of anger and vengeance-seeking look consumes me in ways I can’t explain. I feel sucked in by his stare, watching him lean forward. “Because Carroll denied me taking my revenge on you and killing you, though he knew what you did to me.” His voice is really unsettling. Not because he is scary, but because he is sincere. A sincere villain isn’t a good thing.
“I get it that I hurt you in Wonderland. You still haven’t explained the necessity of Carroll’s Knight.”
“It’s the only piece in chess I can kill you with, and I have it now. And the irony? You brought to me. The double irony? That Lewis made Fabiola bury and hide it in Chess City,” his eyes are moistening, and it’s getting to me. “And triple irony? That Lewis made the chess piece I can kill you with in the first place. I guess he was so confused about whether to kill you or give you another chance, so he left it to Fabiola, and the random fate of finding Carroll’s Knight.”
There is too much for me to absorb here, but what is most troubling is the Chessmaster’s ability to make me feel evil.
“You can’t win this game, Alice. I’ve mastered the game of chess for almost two centuries, so I will never lose one,” he says. “You know why? Because I was waiting for this moment all my life. You deserve this, Alice. To burn in hell. And all I needed was Carroll’s Knight.”
He pats his beloved chess piece one more time; as if it were alive.
So many question are on my mind. What could I have possibly done in the past to this man that made him hate me so much? But the one that comes out of my mouth is this: “Why a knight? Why not any other piece?”
“Because I, the Chessmaster, Vozchik Stolb, was a Wonderlander once,” he says in a tone so friendly and naive, that I’m starting to hate myself for hurting him. “In fact, I was the funniest, most harmless, of Wonderlanders. Lewis has mentioned me with care and I’m proud of it — though I still hate him.”
“Mentions you in the book?” I ask. “Who are you?”
“I’m the White Knight.”
Chapter 68
Underground Kitchen, Oxford University
“Devil, my butt,” Tom snapped. “You don’t expect me to believe that?”
“Why not?” Inspector Dormouse offered. “You believe in the nonsense of Wonderland and not in good and evil and the forces beyond our grasp.”
“Everything is beyond your grasp, Inspector,” Tom said. “You’re asleep two-thirds of your life. I’m surprised you know what it’s like to be awake.”
Chopin snickered.
“So you think The Pillar is the devil?” Inspector Dormouse averted his gaze toward the cook.
“I didn’t say that,” Chopin shrugged his shoulders. “But look, I accidentally chop off a finger every time I mention The Pillar. Diabolic!”
“You heard anything else?” Dormouse said. “Please, remember. It’s important.”
“I don’t want to remember,” Chopin pulled his chin up and away, like a silly cartoon character in a manga. “I only have eight fingers left.”
“How about a hundred pounds?” Inspector Dormouse slapped the money onto the kitchen table.
“For a finger?” Chopin seemed interested.
“Two hundred pounds.” Dormouse pulled out another hundred.
“I need three hundred pounds,” Chopin argued.
“Why? You’ve lost only two fingers?” Tom felt the need to interfere.
“And I will lose a third once I mention that devil again,” Chopin said.
“Here is another hundred,” Tom offered a hundred of his own, not sure why he’d felt so curious all of a sudden. Maybe he’d like to see Chopin lose another finger.
“Talk!” Dormouse seemed aggressive.
“Say what?” Chopin said. “I will not talk.”
“But you took the money,” Tom argued.
“I didn’t say I would not fulfill my promise, but I will not talk.”
“You’re wasting our time,” Dormouse said.
“No I’m not.” Chopin pulled out a flash drive from his pocket. “This will tell you what you need to know.”
“What is this?” Tom squinted at the drive suspiciously. “A bomb?”
“Why would I explode myself with you losers?” Chopin said. “This is a secret recording of some of the sessions. You go over it and hear everything.”
“Why haven’t you told us about this before?” Tom snapped again.
“And lose three hundred pounds?” Chopin said.
“But you also lost a finger.” Tom was getting mad.
“The devil took one finger, yes, but I fooled the devil and kept the other when you gave me the last hundred and I didn’t talk,” Chopin looked sideways, as if the devil were hiding in a teapot nearby, listening to his genius conspiracy.
“Give it to me,” Tom snatched the hard drive, but then something incredibly unexpected happened.
Dormouse found himself standing in a room where both Chopin and Tom fell asleep while standing on their feet. It didn’t take him long to realize it was the Chessmaster’s doing. The madman had earlier announced that he’d make Oxford and London sleep next.
“Hmm…” Inspector Dormouse picked up the flash drive, wondering why he was the only one left awake. “This is weird.”
He took the flash drive outside, preparing to listen to it in Tom’s car — it could also be used as an mp3 player — and looked at the University of Oxford having completely gone asleep.
“I think it’s not weird,” he reasoned. “I think it’s frabjous. The one man who slept the most is the only one awake right now. Could it be that my sleeping kept me immune from the Chessmaster’s curse?”
Chapter 69
The Last Chess Game, Chess City, Kalmykia