The next day Jane was busy with wedding particulars and the like; Delphi left them up to her on the premise that if she took care of the details, then there would be a much greater chance of it being just the way she wanted it. Delphi was more enthusiastic about the concept of being married to her than about the ceremony itself, but then women tended to lend more importance to occasion, so he just went with it.
He had remembered the previous night that he had intended to challenge the Baron Ferré at a chess match – the more respect he could get from the powerful man, the less opposition he hoped to face once the plans for the expedition, and just who was commanding it, came to light. He didn't know exactly where the Baron's residence was, but he did know it was in the River District, to the West of the palace. Strapping on his sword belt, just in case, he left the palace compound and turned downhill toward the river.
As it turned out, it might have been better to ask directions from the guardsmen. The houses became older, the streets seedier, and his formal attire stood out much more than he would have wished. It was definitely noticed, and not by the right kinds of people.
Striding down a thin street, nearing the river, two men stepped out on an adjoining alley and stood blocking the way. They drew their swords – plain, and of poor workmanship, but Delphi knew very well that a bad sword would kill as quick as the best.
"A noble should know better than to pass this way without guard," Left said, sneering.
As Delphi stepped out of the half-shadow of the building, Right quailed slightly. "Hey, he's the one who beat that General night before last."
Left kept his sneer, unperturbed. "Fancy footwork against an old man," he dismissed. "He's still only one against two, and he's bound to have riches. Give them up or we'll take them off your corpse."
Delphi laughed throatily. "Fools. Nothing I hold is worth your lives. But come, I could do with some exercise. Let's get this over with." He sounded supremely more confident than he felt, but that's what counted – he could see Right was having doubts. "Flee now or deal with the consequences," he allowed, not expecting it to make a difference. It didn't.
Snarling, Left advanced, and with a quick glance at his partner, Right followed suit, albeit nervously.
"Worth a try," Delphi muttered to himself for no apparent reason, drawing the sword formerly of the Kahn. He set himself, letting the others approach. Left lunged first, then Right, hoping to catch him on the second blade as he dodged the first blow. Instead, he backed off a step, giving himself room.
Slipping under their outstretched blades, their arms foolishly fully extended – they'd staked almost everything on catching him on their first pass – he twisted toward Left, grabbing his sword wrist in a pincer grip and pulled it with him as he spun behind the man. Left yelped in pain as his limb was twisted in a most unnatural position, his sword clattering to the ground. Delphi struck him a solid blow with the bejewelled hilt of the royal sword and he crumpled to the ground.
Meanwhile, Right swung in a vain attempt to stop Delphi dealing with his accomplice, and almost succeeded in fatally catching Left with his sword as he fell. Pulling back, he looked fearfully at Delphi over the unconscious form of Left, sprawled between them. Keeping his flat gaze on his opponent, Delphi bent his knees and swept up Left's sword in his off-hand, holding it loosely.
"Run now and you get to live," Fox growled, his voice filled with impending doom. Jumping slightly, Right cowered and ran off the way Delphi had approached. Tucking the lesser sword into his belt, Fox sheathed his blade and continued onward, cursing his lack of forethought in travelling alone – and without even thinking to ask the way! Jane would slap him silly if she found out about it, he was sure.
Shaking himself alert – where there was one set of rogues, there was bound to be more – he strode onwards toward the river, and was relieved when the houses started to appear more affluent, the streets cleaner, and watchmen on the occasional corner. This time he asked for further directions to Ferré's residence, and was pleased to note that while his chosen route may leave much to be desired, he had in fact been moving in the right direction; the Baron's manor was only a couple of blocks further down the street.
As his destination came into view, he noted that if he hadn't felt rattled and desired reassurance after his encounter with the thieves, he wouldn't have required directions – there might as well have been an immense sign indicating the mansion, with the caption "most pompous jackass".
In stark contrast to even the moderately well off houses in the surrounds, the Baron's residence was a three story, well, mansion was the only apt term, surrounded by a high wall. Entry was granted through a highly ornamental – and thoroughly practically useless – gate, designed steelwork providing easy access to even an unskilled climber. Both the house and walls were sheathed in marble, and the windows of the highest floor were stained in decorative emblems.
Delphi could not help but smile at the outrageous display of ostentation, but wisely concealed his joviality from the guards at the gate, solemnly introducing himself and enquiring if the Baron was in. He set himself to wait patiently while a messenger was sent inside. The man soon returned, whispered to the commander on duty, and Fox was admitted.
Striding up the ornately tiled path to the engraved heavy wooden door, his smiled threatened to return as he tried to imagine the self-important Baron kneeling on a cushion and working in the exquisitely maintained garden. A butler greeted him on the doorstep and ushered him inside.
The foyer was impressive, Delphi supposed, were he the type of person easily impressed by carved marble or granite sculptures of famous persons of history. He supposed that the house's owner includes such figures to place themselves amongst their company; he was amused to see a bust of Jane's maternal great-grandfather, Karl Pilat. The very idea that Ferré could compare to one who had made a sacrifice of himself and his forces to win the safety of thousands was mind-boggling. The Baron would easily be the first to flee on his finest horse, Delphi was willing to bet heavily.
"Ah, Mr Fox," the Baron's distinctive called down from the next level. Speak of the devil, Delphi thought, approaching slowly the sweeping staircase that the Baron descended.
"Baron Ferré," he greeted the other. "I thought I would drop by on the chance you might find time for that chess game I proposed."
The Baron inclined his head. "Indeed; I had thought to invite you yesterday, but I imagine you were otherwise occupied with more important matters. Congratulations on your upcoming ceremony; I hear it is to be held in the Grand Auditorium?"
"Jane's idea," Delphi explained. "You know how women are about ceremony, I'm sure."
"Very much so," Ferré sympathised. "Where we would be content with a quiet, more informal matter, they tend toward the ostentatious. This," he said, gesturing at the grand entrance hall, "was all my late wife's design, you may be interested to know. She always was one for overwhelming effect."
Delphi began to re-evaluate the Baron – presuming he was being truthful. More likely, he and his wife had agreed on the architecture more or less equally, but he was not about to question him about it.
"Indeed," he instead said with interest. "I noticed you keep a tidy garden also. Also your wife's idea, or you tend to it yourself?"
"Both, actually," the Baron replied, gesturing Delphi to follow him down a small corridor to his right. "She wanted it planted; she loved tending to her mother's in their home before our marriage, and didn't much enjoy court proceedings. She would garden during the day, then relax in the evenings one I finished work. I used to be Chancellor at the palace, but once my wife passed away, I resigned to a lesser posting. Now I do indeed look after the garden myself, when I am able, though I hire someone to tend what I am unable."
They entered an open-aired atrium adjoining what appeared to be a study. Strong and healthy roses of mixed varieties bordered the paths crossing the plain tiles; a stone table such as that on Delphi's balcony was the centrepiece, a wall-like bench surrounding it at a comfortable sitting distance. Etched into its surface were the black and white checks of a chess board, the pieces sitting in carved niches set into the squares.
"I concentrate my attention to these," the Baron continued, indicating the roses, standing before the table. "Various species; some of them I've combined to make unique."
Delphi nodded, genuinely amazed. Creature of the court Ferré may be, or have been – he wasn't too sure on that count any more – but underneath lurked a form almost of normality. "Commendable," he said admiringly, "and I much love the innovation of the board; I may just duplicate in my own residence one day, if I may?"
"By all means, my dear chap; I don't covet it for my own. Besides," he added with a smile, "records will show which was constructed first."
"The board in the palace of the Halite monarch, I believe, though yours is the first Gaian incidence," Delphi said, remembering some piece of architectural history he had read or heard somewhere.
The Baron looked surprised. "Indeed it was," he admitted, "though it was sadly destroyed in the siege, I am told."
Fox nodded. "I believe so. A pity, as it was carved from a single block of granite, and inlaid..,"
"With finest quality ebony and ivory as the squares, yes you are correct," the Baron joined him in finishing, a smile broad on his face. "You know a great deal, Mr Fox; may I ask where you were educated?"
Delphi laughed. "Western Delphi public school; nothing special. But snippets of information have a way of making it into my memory, and sticking there."
"So I see," the Baron said admiringly. "Well, to the business of the game; which side do you play?"
"Whichever is decided," Delphi said, "I've always played through the rule of pawn's choice," he explained, referring to the practice of the hosting player palming a pawn of each colour and letting the other blindly choose at random.
The Baron nodded and picked a pawn in each hand, holding them behind his back, juggling them for a second. Delphi pointed at Ferré's left. The Baron held out his hand, a white pawn balanced on his palm. "You begin, Mr Fox." They took their seats on the corresponding ends of the table. "Let us now see if I can succeed where my father did not," he stated, indicating the portrait over the portal through which they had entered. A portrait depicting the Marshal-General.
"General Rider?" Delphi questioned.
"The same," the Baron said. "He took the name of Rider according to the ancient custom by which soldiers took the name of their service speciality."
Delphi nodded. "My grandfather took the name of Knight," he revealed, "Sorla Knight."
It was the Baron's turn to be surprised. "His name is known to me – known to most, I expect."
Delphi nodded once more. "Yes, though not so many know that after the Retaliation he renounced it as he resigned his commission. He did not choose to fight for the thrill of it as many believe – he knew many who had settled in Theril."
The Baron's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Indeed, that is not told. He was known to be an exemplary fighter, but the reasons behind were never clear. He was obviously not the kind to seek fame, for his story would surely have been recounted equally as well as that of Karl Pilat and his wife."
"Precisely why he did not; he was a simple carpenter who had no desire to be judged by anything other than the quality of his trade. Still; let us begin." He moved his king's pawn two spaces; the basic first move that could lead to a great many strategies.
The game was played in silence, with no interruptions. The occasional servant did appear at one or other of the portals, but left upon noticing the game in session. Either of the players stopped noticing even those minor details of their surrounds soon after commencing, the focus of their minds solely on the 64 squares before them.
It was a canny match on both sides, with a few gutsy gambles staked, and multi-piece stalemates instigated; hasty workarounds introduced as unforeseen holes were probed into strategies. The skill of the players prevented such elaborations as crowning pawns; just the pieces and their primary abilities.
Finally, Ferré found himself cornered by Delphi's knights and a sole rook. Neither his king nor his left rook had moved throughout; he'd ignored the opportunity to castle his king – the move that had quite possibly been the Baron's downfall.
Their eyes met for the first time since beginning. "A good game," Ferré said admiringly. "You have an interesting style – quite unparalleled, I'm sure."
Delphi smiled lightly, waving his hand as if to pass off the compliment. "Nonsense; I merely play according to what the pieces allow, reacting to each move as it is necessary."
"Oh, I think there's much more to it than that," the Baron disagreed. "How many moves did you have prepared in advance – four, maybe five? And how many possible reactions of mine did you evaluate?"
"Approximately four, depending on the situation, and all of them, naturally. Victory is often impossible if one doesn't evaluate all his opponent's possible responses; that's how one gets taken by surprise."
Ferré nodded. "It was certainly how I was surprised; I never expected you'd gamble your queen so – many regard that to be the most important piece."
"It is," Delphi agreed, "but that doesn't make it indispensable. One of its most powerful uses is both as a threat, and as bait. One needs to keep in mind all a piece's abilities when planning a tactic."
"Indeed," the Baron agreed. "Though may I say that your depth of mind is truly amazing?"
Delphi looked confused. "How so?"
"You say you kept in mind all my possible reactions?" Delphi nodded. "Of all my available pieces?" The younger man shook his head this time.
"Not all your available pieces – all of them completely. Even if I'd tied one up in a stalemate, I had to take into account the possibility that you might choose to sacrifice it, then respond in a different way than I had planned for."
Ferré pointed at Fox. "And that is exactly what I refer to, Mr Fox; you keep current in your mind quite an astounding number of variables – not something that everyone is capable of doing."
Delphi blushed. "Well, I've always been one to believe that anyone is capable of the same, but that could just be rationalising."
"Well, whatever is true, you are to be congratulated. An adept in both the sword and the board; that is quite notable indeed. I had thought that the intricacies of the game were more subtle and impassable than those of the sword, but it would appear I have much yet to learn."
Delphi nodded. "I would say that the truth lies somewhere between; the sword and the board are more similar than either you or your father realise, I think. Perhaps if you were to teach him the game, and you learn the sword from him, the skills may become quite complementary."
Ferré nodded thoughtfully. "You give me much to consider, Mr Fox. But may I ask a favour?"
"Of course."
"Please don't make me dance with anyone because I lost," he implored. "My footwork really leaves a great deal to be desired."
Delphi laughed. "Don't worry, I'll let you off from such a punishment. I only had that wager with Nevel because he was letting the grief from his wife keep him from enjoying the dance." He looked sharply at the Baron. "Your punishment, I think, will be to welcome a female gardener of your choice into your household, to help you tend your roses. I'm quite sure she would approve," he said, indicating the portrait of the woman that could only be the late Baroness, hanging above the far doorway, flanked by particularly fine rose bushes.
Ferré looked back down at the board, then back at Delphi. "Perhaps you are correct, Mr Fox. I trust you'll at least allow me time to consider?"
"Of course, my friend. Of course. One must find the right woman for the job, after all."
"And do you believe you have found yours?" the Baron asked, not quite unexpectedly.
Delphi nodded. "I have found the only woman for the job; right or wrong are not part of my particular situation. There has ever been only the one woman for my life."
"It would appear you answered correctly," Ferré observed, his glance not at Fox this time, but just over his shoulder. Delphi turned to see Jane standing in the doorway, eyes glistening.