"You will be going, then?"

"yes."

He moved to fetch his pack.

"I will see you here in one month's time?"

"Yes."

"Very well."

The unicorn rose and stamped upon the floor and lights began toplay across its dark coat. Suddenly, they blazed and shot outward inall directions like a silent explosion. A wave of blackness followed.

Martin found himself leaning against the wall, shaking. When helowered his hand from his eyes, he saw that he was alone, save for theknights, the bishops, the kings, the queens, their castles and boththe kings' men.

He went away.

Three days later Martin returned in a small truck, with agenerator, lumber, windows, power tools, paint, stain, cleaningcompounds, wax. He dusted and vacuumed and replaced the rotten wood.He installed the windows. He polished the old brass until it shone.He stained and rubbed. He waxed the floors and buffed them. Heplugged holes and washed glasses. He hauled all the trash away.

It took him the better part of a week to turn the old place from awreck back into a saloon in appearance. Then he drove off, returnedall of the equipment he had rented and bought a ticket for theNorthwest.

The big, damp forest was another of his favorite places forhiking, for thinking. And he was seeking a complete change of scene,a total revision of outlook. Not that his next move did not seemobvious, standard even. Yet, something nagged... .

He knew that it was more than just the game. Before that he hadbeen ready to get away again, to walk drowsing among shadows,breathing clean air.

Resting, his back against the bulging root of a giant tree, hewithdrew a small chess set from his pack, set it up on a rock he'dmoved into position nearby. A fine, mistlike rain was settling, butthe tree sheltered him, so far. He reconstructed the opening through