Part 1: The Immortal Game

A chess set with a difference.

Photo by Natasha Reddy

Part 2 is now published, with a link at the bottom of this post.

Esther’s favourite haunt was a small comic book shop tucked down a small road off the main thoroughfare, two streets from the university. In its former life, it had been a townhouse with a front room parlour and a back room kitchen. Now, the sash windows had been replaced with shop glass and the walls were hung with framed first editions. The fireplace was stranded between the carefully labelled shelves, peeking out furtively with its artistic arrangement of dried flowers. A single step was all it took to move from the front to the back, where the large kitchen was now a warm, bustling tea room with the best cake in London. The cash register, cake stands and teapots stood arrayed on the back counter. This week’s menu was thumbtacked to the door and, again, to the cupboards. That’s all there was. You walked in, found a spare chair and waved at Triss, who was usually leaning against the cash register, nose in a book.

Esther loved it. It reminded her of home when her brother, Hami, took her to the cafe for tea. Triss prepared it in a similar manner: a small teapot for brewing, hot water to top up and clear glass cups for the tea instead of the usual English china.

Today, Esther hooked her attention as soon she walked in. It was that quiet time of the afternoon when the lunch rush was over, and everyone was occupied with work or errands. Esther had just handed in her required essays and felt particularly smug. “Tea, no milk, and the daily cake slice, right?” Triss called out. “It’s Bakewell tart today.”

“Yep,” Esther acknowledged, undoing her coat and tweaking the scarf covering her hair. She shot a glance at the corner table closest to the door. El was there, sat bolt-upright in his formal shirt, tie and waistcoat. Today, he had set aside the jacket, and she could see the chain of his pocketwatch jingle as he moved. El’s job was to sell the comic books, and there was a sign above his head attesting to this fact. He had the card machine and stock book to prove it. However, he spent most of his time playing chess.

Today, his opponent was an old woman with sharp eyes and a formidable bonnet of white hair. She muttered to herself as she moved her knight to the back.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Mrs Heseltine?” El asked.

She sniffed, drawing out a handkerchief to dab her nose. “Stop trying to get into my head, young man. This is my game.”

“It is,” El agreed. A smile flashed out from his beard, as neatly groomed as the rest of him. “You can stop at any time and keep your position.”

Mrs Heseltine gave a mirthless chuckle. “I’m in it until the end,” she said. “I’ve little left to lose.”

Which was an odd thing to say, Esther noted. The woman was in an excellent position, with most of her pieces on the board. On the other hand, El had already lost both his rooks and a bishop and advanced his queen to protect the king. He glanced up at her and smiled, moving his knight to threaten her king.

“Check,” he said softly.

“I can keep going,” she said defiantly. She moved the king out of the knight’s path.

Eli nodded. The game resumed again, the piece clicking fast and furiously. Triss distracted Esther by placing her order and requesting payment. By the time Esther could see the board again, Mrs Heseltine was triumphantly holding aloft Eli’s queen. Esther noted that he had chosen the dark, red wooden pieces today while his opponent had the ivory. “Do you want to resign?” she asked almost giddily, waggling it.

“Do you?” he countered.

“No! Of course not!”

Eli nodded and moved his bishop to a diagonal with the king.

“Checkmate,” he said almost sadly.

The woman’s face fell as though she could not believe her position. She leaned back in her chair, looking white.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “I thought with your queen gone, that would be it.”

Eli touched the bishop. “The queen wasn’t the important piece.”

Oh. Is there anything we can do - ?”

“No,” Eli said with finality. “You agreed to the terms when you started playing. I gave you many chances.”

Mrs Heseltine licked her lips furtively. “A rematch? I’m rich - I can pay?”

“No. It’s not about money. You have nothing left to put on the board.”

Her face crumpled. “I just wanted to see my granddaughter born,” she pleaded. “Can you give me that, at least?”

Eli shook his head. Esther hated him a little at that moment. Anyone else would be moved by the naked plea or perhaps embarrassed. He just stared Mrs Heseltine down.

“It will be fast,” he said quietly. “Just like the game. You have until the end of the day. Perhaps you can make a recording for your family?”

She shrugged and stood up shakily, clinging to the back of her chair. “What was that move, anyway?” she asked with petulance. “You’ve done it before, I can tell.”

Eli swept up her pieces and started to arrange the board for the next contest. “Not me. A chess player called Adolf Anderssen did so in 1851. It’s called the Immortal Game.”

Still dazed, the woman tottered out, and Esther took the opportunity to slide into her seat, her teacup in hand. Eli looked up at her but continued to set up the chessboard.

“Good game,” she said lamely.

“You should have seen it the first time it was played,” he said. “The gasp that went up around the tournament when the queen was taken. And the applause when the game ended.” He finished by placing the kings in their allotted spaces with a hint of ceremony. Now that she could see them up close, Esther was struck by how old the set was. Each piece was hand carved, with softened edges where the march of fingers and thumbs had rubbed away the corners. She could see the soft grain of the wood on the black side, while the white had the yellow patina of age. “Is it an antique?” she asked him.

Eli relaxed and smiled. “You do ask a lot of questions." He half turned in his chair towards Triss. “Get me a cuppa, will you?” he called out. “I’m parched.”

Triss raised a lazy hand and leaned over to switch on the kettle. Her gaze never left the book.

“It is an antique,” he said, returning to Esther. “Half a millennia-old from a country that no longer exists on our maps. The wooden pieces were carved from the heartwood of cypress, which is why they have that lovely colour.”

“And the ivory?” Esther asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Bone. It’s best not to ask who. Ah - thank you, Triss.” Eli accepted the mug from the girl. Unlike the dainty china cups used by the cafe, his was a sturdy workman’s affair, with BOSS stencilled on the side in black letters. He raised the mug in a mock salute. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Esther said automatically, clinking her cup against his. “Why did you refuse the rematch?”

Eli scrutinised her over the rim of his mug. “Some people always push their luck too far,” he said quietly.

“But it’s just a game! She looked devastated. You could’ve…”

“No,” he said, just as gently with finality. “I don’t make the rules, Esther Hosseini. I play by them.”

Esther bit her lip, then plunged forward. “And that stuff about having until the end of the day…? Does that mean you will kill her?”

Eli laughed then, a tremendous bellow of joy that rang through the empty tea room. Trish peeked out from behind her book. “Heavens, no,” he said, rubbing his ribs. “You have entirely the wrong idea about me.” He gestured to the board. “I can explain, but it’s easier to play a game. You take the wood, I take the bone. Blitz chess, where we each get five minutes to make all our moves. If you are in the losing position when the time runs out, you forfeit the game.” He pulled out two small digital clocks and set the timers.

Esther hesitated. “I have not played a lot,” she warned. “What happens if I forfeit?”

Eli grinned. “Your chess pieces deal in petty luck. A broken shoe, a stray ten pounds, being just in time for the last train home.” He shrugged. “I prefer dealing in these odds.”

Esther glanced down at the board. “What do you get out of it?”

Eli touched his king, rubbing the crown on its head. “I get to pass the time,” he said. “Shall we play?”

Esther hesitated. “One more question. You said that the queen wasn’t the important piece. Which one is?”

Eli gestured at the board, and she moved her left-hand pawn with an irritated shove. He relaxed as soon as she had done so and spoke:

“The only piece that matters, Esther, is the one that ends the game.”

Continue to Part 2

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