Robot Adept

“In the old days it were possible to cross the curtain physically, an one’s other self be dead. Mine other self—” She broke off, looking troubled; but before he could think of anything appropriate to say, she resumed. “I crossed and met her, and knew she was worthy, and asked Stile to marry her. But in the end he remained with me, and it were Blue who married her.”

He continued to look at her. “You are a beautiful woman, Lady.”

“What be thy business, Mach?”

“I am in training for the first match with Bane. I know it is not to your interest to help me in my effort to defeat him, but—”

“ ‘Interest’ be defined in sundry ways,” she said. “Bane represents the existing order, and there be good and evil in that. Thou dost represent a contrasting order, and there be evil and good in that. There be that in thy order that Bane craves, and that in our order that thou dost crave.”

“Yes!”

“So thou dost represent a part of him—the part that would marry Agape and live in Proton-frame. He represents a part of thee—the part that would have our way govern, rather than the special interest o’ the Adepts. Thou dost contest for part of his good, and he for part of thine. The victory o’ either be neither comedy nor tragedy. There be nor right nor wrong in this. It be merely the settling o’ an issue which else would destroy all.”

Mach had been braced for hostility, open or covert, and ready to argue his case purely on the issues of pride and fairness. But the Lady Blue showed no condemnation, only understanding. This realization caught him off guard, and momentarily overwhelmed him. As a robot, he still got caught on occasion by the surges of feeling and emotion generated by the living state. “Oh, Lady, I love you,” he whispered, feeling the tears come.

Then she was standing beside him, embracing him as he sat, her maternal bosom against his cheek. “We love thee too, Mach,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “We know thou dost what thou must.”

In a moment she returned to her place, but the sensation of her embrace lingered. What a woman she was! It was easy to understand how Stile had left Proton to marry her.

“What be thy business?” she repeated gently.

“I—I—the demon—” He took a breath and started over. “The snow demon Icebeard will train me in chess, if Stile will play him a match. He—he is an excellent player, and feels that Stile should at least play him once.”

“Aye.”

“So—”

“Stile will play him by correspondence, one move a day. Here be Stile’s first move.” She handed him a tiny scroll.

So they had known all along that this would happen!

Mach was largely at a loss for words. “Thank you, Lady. For everything.”

“Welcome, Mach. Do thou give my regards to thy mother, when convenient.”

“I will.” He found himself outside the castle, and conjured himself back to the cave of the snow demons. Icebeard looked up from the board. “The filly be a natural player,” he said. “Her could I more readily train than thee.”

Fleta flushed in the human manner, pleased.

“Here is Stile’s first move,” Mach said. “Correspondence.”

“Ha!” the demon exclaimed, immensely gratified.

“Set up a permanent board,” he called to another demon.

He unrolled the scroll and glanced at the notation. “The Lady gave thee this!” he exclaimed.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It be the Queen’s Gambit, in her hand. She moved for him.”

Mach was dismayed. “I understood that—”

“Nay, an she committed him, Stile will play. Thou has made good thy bargain.” He glanced at the demon setting up the other board. “Pawn to queen four,” he called.

“Which color?” the demon called back.

“Idiot! White, of course!” He returned his attention to Mach. “That will be one interesting game! We see not many such gambits these days.”

“Pawn to queen four, pawn to queen four, pawn to queen’s bishop four, pawn takes pawn,” Mach said. “I’d play either side of that.”

“Thou wouldst lose either side o’ that, too,” Icebeard said. He glanced at Fleta. “Make thy move, filly, while I set up another for the rovot.”

Soon a third board was ready, and while the demon leader instructed Mach, he also instructed Fleta, evidently deriving more satisfaction from her game than from Mach’s. The training had begun.

They played on the console: the screen showed the chessboard and the positions of the pieces. To move, Mach had only to touch his piece, then touch the spot to which he wished to take it.

Mach had White, and he used the Queen’s Gambit. He knew that his trainer opposed this; he could hear Icebeard’s growly voice in his mind. “Stick to the tried and true, rovot! This gambit be dangerous for thee!” But after his session with the Lady Blue, he had to do it.