Carlos met his eyes. "No, I'm not," he said, moving a piece without looking at the board.
"Good, because I was getting worried." The old man took his knight and shook his head. "Still am, sorta kinda."
"Don't be," Carlos said, and took his bishop.
The old man laughed and scratched his head. "Okay," he said, nodding in appreciation. "So, it's like that?"
"Yeah it is," Carlos said, reaching for the hourglass and flipping it over. "Like you said. Any day."
In a bold move, the old man pushed his black queen forward and waited. "Tempting, ain't she?"
Carlos nodded and the smile left his face. "Thoroughly, but booby trapped."
"Right," the elderly player said, "and I'ma show you how." He moved a knight three hops and then a castle along a short line. "Come for her like that, and I've got your king."
"Game over," Carlos murmured.
"Soooo... maybe you don't go for her like that in a straight line. Pace yourself, but keep moving."
The two men stared at each other.
"The queen you need to protect can protect herself, these days. You need to worry about your king. See all the pieces she has around her?"
Carlos's gaze sought the ocean. "She doesn't need me," he said quietly.
"We talkin' 'bout chess, or a woman?" The old man made a tent in front of his mouth with his fingers.
Carlos stared at his chess partner's ruddy brown face that sprouted hard white whiskers and assessed his raggedy plaid shirt and tattered, blue uniform pants. His semibald scalp gleamed in the sun. Wisdom was coming at him so hard and so fast from so many directions it made his head spin. "Maybe both," Carlos finally said.
"Women are confusing," the old man said with a sly chuckle. "That's why you can't focus. But looky here," he added, removing Carlos's king from the board. "Take out the king, and she's wide open." He did several knock-down moves. "With the king out of position, I could come for the rook, the other knight, the remaining bishop, and march all the way through your fortified defenses to take her down hard." He quickly reset the board. "Do it the other way, and look what happens to the king. Gone in two moves. They both need each other behind the lines."
"Interesting." Carlos rubbed his chin.
"Ain't it just."
"But the king can't move as fast as she can, ya know? Like, he can only go in these little moves, whereas, she can go lateral, vertical, horizontal, and take out everything in her path." He stared at the ocean. "He used to be able to do that, too, but..."
"Different skills. One holds the line; the other does the quick, surgical strikes with motion. A queen has to move fast, cut deep, and be out. The king-"
"Has to hold the shield."
His newfound mentor nodded, his snaggle-toothed grin catching sun rays. "But, uh, I thought you was in a hurry? Ain't you supposed to be somewhere?"
"Yeah," Carlos said, standing. "Thanks for the chess lesson."
"Any time," the old player said brightly. "They didn't tell you 'bout the fourteenth piece you're missing, did they, or you wouldn't be looking so glum."
Carlos sat down again, this time very slowly.
"I didn't think so. They's monks. What do they know?"
The elderly man reached into his pants pocket and then held out his hand, producing a pocketknife for Carlos to inspect. "Lotsa things seem to be one thing, then be somethin' else. But if you looking for her, then, hey, ya needs to be strapped."
Carlos sighed wearily and declined the knife with a glance.
Seeming both amused and perturbed, the old man flipped open the short blade and stared at it. "Impatience is the curse of youth." he said, turning the dull blade to the sun. "But in the right hand, one with a mark of greatness, even this small thing might be of use." He offered it to Carlos again with a sly smile and waited until Carlos finally took it from his outstretched palm.
The moment Carlos held it, the pocketknife extended into a foot-long, golden-handled claw with a three-inch diameter.