"I'm afraid not. But listen, I'll be back this way in a month.I'll bring some more then if you'll meet me here and play again."

"Martin, you've got a deal. Sorry. Didn't mean to step on yourtoes."

He cleaned the saloon again and brought in a keg of beer which heinstalled under the bar and packed with ice. He moved in some barstools, chairs and tables which he had obtained at a Goodwill store.He hung red curtains. By then it was evening. He set up the board,ate a light meal, unrolled his sleeping bag behind the bar and campedthere than night.

The following day passed quickly. Since Tlingel might show up atany time, he did not leave the vicinity but took his meals there andsat about working chess problems. When it began to grow dark, he lita number of oil lamps and candles.

He looked at his watch with increasing frequency. He began topace. He couldn't have made a mistake. This was the proper day. He—

He heard a chuckle.

Turning about, he saw a black unicorn head floating in the airabove the chessboard. As he watched, the rest of Tlingel's bodymaterialized.

"Good evening, Martin." Tlingel turned away from the board. "Theplace looks a little better. Could use some music... ."

Martin stepped behind the bar and switched on the transistor radiohe had brought along. The sounds of a string quartet filled the air.Tlingel winced.

"Hardly in keeping with the atmosphere of the place."

He changed stations, locating a country and western show.

"I think not," Tlingel said. "It loses something intransmission."

He turned it off.

"Have we a good supply of beverage?"

Martin drew a gallon stein of beer—the largest mug that he couldlocate, from a novelty store—and set it upon the bar. He filled amuch smaller one for himself. He was determined to get the beastdrunk if it were at all possible.

"Ah! Much better than those little cans," said Tlingel, whosemuzzle dipped for but a moment. "Very good."

The mug was empty. Martin refilled it.

"Will you move it to the table for me?"

"Certainly."

"Have an interesting month?"

"I suppose I did."

"You've decided upon your next move?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get on with it."

Martin seated himself and captured the Pawn.

"Hm. Interesting."

Tlingel stared at the board for a long while, then raised a clovenhoof which parted in reaching for the piece.

"I'll just take that Bishop with this little Knight. Now Isupposed you'll be wanting another month to make up your mind what todo next."

Tlingel leaned to the side and drained the mug.

"Let me consider it," Martin said, "while I get you a refill."

Martin sat and stared at the board through three more refills.Actually, he was not planning. He was waiting. His response to Grendhad been Knight takes Bishop, and he had Grend's next move ready.

"Well?" Tlingel finally said. "What do you think?"

Martin took a small sip of beer.

"Almost ready," he said. "You hold your beer awfully well."

Tlingel laughed.

"A unicorn's horn is a detoxicant. Its possession is a universalremedy. I wait until I reach the warm glow stage, then I use my hornto burn off any excess and keep me right there."

"Oh," said Martin. "Neat trick, that."

"... If you've had too much, just touch my horn for a moment andI'll put you back in business."

"No, thanks. That's all right. I'll just push this little Pawnin front of the Queen's Rook two steps ahead."

"Really ..." said Tlingel. "That's interesting. You know, whatthis place really needs is a piano—rinkytink, funky... . Think youcould manage it?"

"I don't play."

"Too bad."

"I suppose I could hire a piano player."

"No. I do not care to be seen by other humans."

"If he's really good, I suppose he could play blindfolded."

"Never mind."

"I'm sorry."

"You are also ingenious. I am certain that you will figuresomething out by next time."

Martin nodded.

"Also, didn't these old places used to have sawdust all over thefloors?"

"I believe so,"

"That would be nice."

"Check."

Tlingel searched the board frantically for a moment.

"Yes. I meant 'yes.' I said 'check.' It means 'yes' sometimes,too."

"Oh. Rather. Well, while we're here ..."

Tlingel advanced the Pawn to Q3.

Martin stared. That was not what Grend had done. For a moment,he considered continuing on his own from here. He had tried to thinkof Grend as a coach up until this point. He had forced away thenotion of crudely and crassly pitting one of them against the other.Until P-Q3. Then he recalled the game he had lost to the sasquatch.

"I'll draw the line here," he said, "and take my month."

"All right. Let's have another drink before we say good night.Okay?"

"Sure. why not?

They sat for a time and Tlingel told him of the morning land, ofprimeval forests and rolling plains, of high craggy mountains andpurple seas, of magic and mythic beasts.

Martin shook his head.

"I can't quite see why you're so anxious to come here," he said,"with a place like that to call home."

Tlingel sighed.

"I suppose you'd call it keeping up with the griffins. It's thething to do these days. Well. Till next month ..."

Tlingel rose and turned away.

"I've got complete control now. Watch!"

The unicorn form faded, jerked out of shape, grew white, fadedagain, was gone, like an afterimage.

Martin moved to the bar and drew himself another mug. It was ashame to waste what was left. In the morning, he wished the unicornwere there again. Or at least the horn.

It was a gray day in the forest and he held an umbrella over thechessboard upon the rock. The droplets fell from the leaves and madedull, plopping noises as they struck the fabric. The board was upagain through Tlingel's P-Q3. Martin wondered whether Grend hadremembered, had kept proper track of the days... .

"Hello," came the nasal voice from somewhere behind him and to theleft.

He turned to see Grend moving about the tree, stepping over themassive roots with massive feet.

"You remembered," Grend said. "How good! I trust you alsoremembered the beer?"

"I've lugged up a whole case. We can set up the bar right here."

"What's a bar?"

"Well, it's a place where people go to drink-in out of the rain—abit dark for atmosphere—and they sit up on stools before a bigcounter, or else at little tables—and they talk to each other—andsometimes there's music—and they drink."

"We're going to have all that here?"

"No. Just the dark and the drinks. Unless you count the rain asmusic. I was speaking figuratively."

"Oh. It does sound like a good place to visit, though."

"Yes. If you will hold the umbrella over the board, I'll set upthe best equivalent we can have here."

"All right. Say, this look like a version of the game we playedlast time."

"It is. I got to wondering what would have happened if it hadgonethis way rather than the way it went that it went."

"Hmm. Let me see... ."

Martin removed four six-packs from his pack and opened the first.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

Grend accepted the beer, squatted, passed the umbrella back toMartin.

"I'm still White?"

"Yeah."

"Pawn to King six."

"Really?"

"Yep."'

"About the best thing for me to do would be to take this Pawn withthis one."

"I'd say. Then I'll just knock off your Knight with this one."

"I guess I'll just pull this Knight back to K2."

"... And I'll just take this one over to B3. My I have anotherbeer?"

An hour and a quarter later, Martin resigned. The rain had let upand he had folded the umbrella.