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Chapter 37. Symmetrical Positions

by Daskin

"Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn."
-Delmore Schwartz

Setting up the pieces had taken on the flavor of a peculiar ritual; no longer needing to consciously remember which carved figure went on a square, the whole process became meditative, an opportunity—or perhaps an obligation—to think of nothing at all. And so Daskin blocked out the dangers of the situation; they may be pursued by a gang of amateur bounty hunters, but he still had his game, in this short break from their journey.

Hector reached out and moved a pawn forward, adding his usual flourish to even this economical gesture.

"I worried that'd we'd lost you." Click. Daskin pushed a pawn to meet Hector's, punctuating the fox's sentence with the staccato click of a piece landing on its new square.

"But Envie… Envie drowned."

"He did, and that's bad enough. We'll all miss him, and I don't look forward to doing without. But Envie drowning…" Hector's voice trailed off. He moved a knight. "…Envie drowning was a nasty accident. You drowning would have been disaster."

Daskin defended. "I wouldn't fancy you having to answer to my parents for that. They'd be short an heir, and after all the trouble they'd put into keeping me out of harm's way." He snorted. "What with sending me to Redwall."

Hector's eyes were downcast. He had a move on the board, but rather disliked his position in the conversation. Click. Honesty was the best policy, or so the saying went. "I can't speak for them; it isn't my place."

Daskin nodded, and played the next few moves in silence. Then: "Pawn sacrifice, really?"

"I thought it up a few days ago, decided to try it out on you." Hector's expression gave nothing away.

"It isn't your place to question my parents, no. But you think something, surely?" Daskin took the pawn.

"Surely."

"Hmph!" Daskin frowned. "So what is it?"

"It isn't coherent, is it? They hear rumors of a plot, so they ship you and Mama Kenzie off to run an inn in the middle of nowhere, to protect you. But then they send you off into the middle of a gathering of the Lords of Mossflower, any one of whom might recognize you given half a chance, and more than a few of whom have reasons to harm any Stirling they happen across." Hector moved a pawn, threatening Daskin's bishop, an elegantly carved ferret scribe.

"Mmmmm." Click. "They thought their note would protect me, maybe?"

Hector shoved a pawn into the center of the board. "Would it, from an assassin? From somebeast who knew full well he wanted to do you harm?" The fox's voice crackled with barely-restrained anger, rising a bit. "They ought to keep you safe," Hector snarled.

Click. Click… click. The position only became more complicated.

"They try," Daskin muttered, but his eyes were already glistening.

"I try," Hector hissed, and a look of surprise flickered across his muzzle and was gone, replaced by his perfect actor's composure once again. He shifted, uncomfortable, and scanned the position. "But it is certainly not my place to speak of that. My lord," he added quietly. Click.

Daskin sniffled. "You… do try." Daskin stifled the impulse to clamber around the board and into the fox's lap. It wouldn't be respectable to do that. Focus. He played a move, a harmless retreat.

Hector squinted at the board, and then looked back up at Daskin. "We shouldn't be playing, I don't think. Not now I've… upset you." Hector moved anyway.

"No!" Daskin replied, a little too loudly. "I'm—I'll be fine." His position had become delicate… If I go here… we'll end up trading most everything, and I'll win with the spare pawn. "I'm not upset." Daskin sniffled again.

Hector didn't reply, studying the board for a long moment. "You're awfully leaky, for somebeast not upset," he eventually said. "Also, if you weren't upset," and here the fox smiled, eyes still downcast, "you wouldn't have missed this." Hector moved, rather bluntly threatening the ferret's king.

Daskin's eyes widened. Am I losing? I go there, he goes there… I win another pawn. But it's not safe, is it? Can I do better?

Hector opened his mouth and then shut it again with an audible snap. "I—Never mind."

"You're winning, probably." His forehead resting on a paw, Daskin glared at his pieces. "I don't see anything better than this." Click.

"Do you know why they sent you? Was it in one of those letters?"

Daskin swallowed. "Yes." A few moves passed, exchanges that left the position razor-sharp. "It was a… lesson. In listening and in remaining unseen. If I'm to take father's place—"

"—they'd risk you for that—"

"—it makes sense," Daskin cut off Hector's response. "If I can't take over for him…"

"You're still their son, and they should still keep you safe." Click.

Safe?

Daskin wobbled in place, couldn't quite see the board. Without thinking, he scrambled around it, his footpaw knocking against the side, and wrapped short arms around the fox's neck, shaking with sudden sobs.

This is undignified, get up, get up, get up!

Hector smelled like smoke and grass and fox, and Daskin lay his head on the troupe master's shoulder. His sobs quieted, his breathing gradually returned to its normal pace.

He made no move to stand up.

"I resign," Daskin choked out, and laughed.

###

A few hours passed, and the sun sank in the sky, heavy yet still golden. His chess game forgotten, Daskin lay, napping, in the cart.

"Silver."

"Hm—aaaahhh!" Daskin opened his eyes to see Juniper almost nose-to-nose with him. Juniper jumped back, roaring with laughter. "Oh, very funny."

"I know, I never get tired of that! But hop off the cart, I'm meant to be fixing it up so we can push it better."

Daskin climbed down onto the grass, wiping the sleep-gunk out of his eyes. The cart rattled a bit in place as Juniper tugged at the wheel. He didn't consider himself an expert engineer, or even a novice engineer, but Daskin nevertheless decided that the otter would only break the poor cart even worse than the river already had. If he manages to do anything to it at all.

Daskin tugged at the hem of Juniper's tunic. The otter ignored him, poking at the axle. He tugged again.

"Hey, stop that." Juniper shook a fist at the little ferret.

"Or ye'll cuff 'im?" a voice cut in, rough and with a bit of a sneer behind it. Juniper's eyes widened.

"It was only in fun," the otter muttered, backing away from Dànaidh.

"Well." Dànaidh looked thoughtful, a rather foreign expression on his muzzle. "Come ta that, the lad cannae cuff ye back." He grinned wickedly. "An' that's a raight shame." He placed one heavy paw on Daskin's shoulder and steered the ferret away from the cart.

"What're you doing with Silver?" Juniper challenged.

"Auld as he is, would be rough for him if he got into a tussle." Dànaidh moved Daskin as though he were a wooden doll; he nudged Daskin's legs into a semblance of a proper stance.

"You're thinking to teach me how to fight?" Daskin shied away a bit, looking to disappear behind Juniper, who had taken a few steps forward.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Juniper stood tall, despite the obvious fear that had his fur bristling.

Dànaidh stared. "Ach, what's wrong wit' a bit o' knowledge in the fine art o' pugilism?" The hedgehog stepped forward, and unloaded a slow punch in the otter's direction—flailing to block, Juniper tripped over Daskin, sending the two of them to the ground in a heap. "Get up, lad," he said to Daskin, smiling again and offering the ferret a big paw. "And I don't intend to hurt him, ya daft riverdog. But if ya think ye're protecting the lad, and I can knock ye over and nae hit ya, the wee ferret could use a lesson, surely."

"For the last time, I don't play Shirley!"

"Surely. Juniper. As in, 'for certain'."

"Oh."

"Here, Silver. Stand like—" Dànaidh appraised Daskin's stance, which the ferret had shakily reassumed. "Nae bad."

He's going to hit me. He's going to—

"I'm nae going ta hit ye. Try an hit me, see if ye can."

Daskin reached out with a halfhearted punch, aimed about three inches short of the hedgehog's jaw. Dànaidh watched it, motionless.

"Try fer true. I ain't gonna let ye clip me, an' if'n ye do, ya cannae hurt a big beastie like me." Daskin punched again, putting his full weight behind it—Dànaidh blocked with a lazy paw. "Watch." He swung for Daskin's jaw as though he were punching through treacle, and the ferret mimicked the blocking motion, rocking a little at even the slow impact of Dànaidh's punch.

Soon, under Juniper's watchful eye, the two were bouncing back and forth on the grass, trading gentle blows, Daskin's coming with more and more confidence. His punches snapped against Dànaidh's forearms, and Daskin imagined himself fighting off a pursuer, somebeast like the squirrel they'd left tied up. Then—Daskin blocked, and stepped in hard, rattling Dànaidh's jaw before he realized what he'd done.

I'm… about to die. Daskin froze. He could smell the hedgehog, acrid sweat and… something like licorice?

Dànaidh looked dazed for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Very good, lad! If ya fight somebeast who's taller, then ya look fer a chance ta do that!" He clapped Daskin on the back, nearly sending the kit sprawling. "That big otter will be looking tae you fer protection, 'fore long."

"It's just like chess! You stay safe and wait for a chance, right?"

"I dinnae know aboot chess, but ya ken right 'nuff."

"Will you teach me more later?"

Dànaidh nodded, and looked past Daskin for a split second before smiling his crooked smile and ambling off. Juniper watched the hedgehog go.

"He's an odd fellow."

Daskin shrugged. "He reminds me of some of the guards, back at home. I thought I'd be flattened for sure, when I hit him."

Juniper circled around behind Daskin, and swiftly pinned his paws behind his back, tripping him as well.

"Ack!"

"Leave the flattening to me!"