Seasons Change

My Game, tonight, as usual, was no match for the Player Rufus. After he thoroughly bested the Player Hephaistion, who holds a chair on the high bridges of Ar near the Central Cylinder, I took my place at his humble table in an alley just off of District Anbar's notorious Sixth Street. Our matches are not about winning and losing, so much as they are about spending time with one another, discussing the details of the day. Rufus is not so far removed from vagrancy that he does not see things others easily miss. My friendship with the fell-from-grace Player started during the Occupation and has continued since.

"He is not very good," a fellow watching us commented.

"No, but the Player enjoys his Game," another answered.

"He plays with no discernible strategy. He relies on the Scribe," the first argued. "Who relies on the Scribe?"

I was not offended by their comments. The Game is something men take seriously, most moreso than I. That they chose to watch and had any inkling of curiosity over what I might or might not do was compliment enough. Elise was with me, behind and a bit to the left where she belongs. She is not permitted to know much of the Game, so I had her face the other direction. I could sense her bristling at the frank manner in which men spoke of her owner's lack of anything more than a rudimentary knowledge of Kaissa, but she was cognizant of her own response enough to keep her chin low and her thoughts to herself.

"When the pantry is empty," the Player said to me. "Know what lies beneath."

"I know a way," I answered.

"Seasons change," he countered.

As we conversed, the pieces moved fluidly. Our conversation seemed independent of the match, but that is never the case. I would find an avenue and he would divert me another way. His comments seemingly cryptic and obtuse were rather pointed and direct. Piece by piece, he removed my men from the playing field.

"Dig a little deeper," he told me. "You will find what you are looking for."

It was inevitable I would lose the match, and when it came to a point that the yellow men were hopelessly outnumbered and surrounded by a sea of red, I put my finger on the Home Stone. Rufus smiled and then spoke, "Lose when you must. Concede nothing. Let your mistakes play out."

Game is life. The more I play, the more I learn.