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"Buffy, would you come here?"
"Sure." Buffy hears him from the bedroom as she zips up her skirt and centers it. She's on tiptoes, her nerves still tingling. "Do you want me ... you know? Because, it's getting kinda, well, early now, and I was getting dressed."
"By all means, finish what you have begun."
"You sure?" She picks up her shoes by the straps, relishing the feel of the rugs under her toes. "Because this blouse is silk and I'd hate to get it all sweaty with another round of ... chess."
She turns the corner into his study and its Giles-quality collection of books and artifacts. He stands over a mahogany table, rows of pawns and bishops and the rest layed out across the ends. The pieces are large and well made, and she's seen enough at her mother's shop to know it was way expensive.
"This ... is chess, right?"
"Yes, dear. I had hoped to discuss it with you before you go."
"Do I have to? 'Cause I haven't really played since the fourth grade. It's not really my thing."
"Please. Indulge me. What do you see?"
She pauses, walking around the table and trying to orient herself. The lower left space should be dark. Or is it light? "Okay. I see four pieces. King, queen, bishop and ... the horsey thing."
"That is correct. King in king's rook two. Bishop in queen's knight seven. Queen in queen's bishop one. And the horse, commonly called the knight, at queen's knight six. Anything else?"
"They're really spread out. And the're all the same ... suite? Color? They're on the same side. The white side. That's wrong."
"How so?"
"You don't take the king. You threaten him, make him move, and when he can't move and can't stay, it's checkmate. There's no black king on the board."
He moves to the opposite side of the board. "So there's no game if there's no opposition? No sides, no conflict?"
"No, not in this game. Pinball, solitaire, that bomb game on the computer -- they're all games you play with yourself. By yourself. Alone. I don't think I'm saying this right."
He smiles. "Take your time. For me."
"Chess is this game, with this goal. Trying to get to checkmate. To win. If you're not doing that, you're not playing chess. You're doing some thing that only looks like chess."
"Have you ever heard of the eight queens puzzle? No?" He takes the pieces off the board and places them in line. "The queen is the most powerful piece on the board. The puzzle is to place each queen -- please allow me to empower these pawns for the purpose -- where it will not be a threat to the others."
He picks up seven pawns, placing them as he speaks. "There are eight rows, so eight queens are possible. You use the same board and the same pieces but it is no longer the same game."
"Is there a reason for this? Are you trying to tell me something?"
"I am trying to give you a gift. A going-away present."
Buffy's vision clouds. Her voice goes shrill. "I'm going away? You're leaving me? I bored you and you're throwing me away?"
He crosses the room, enveloping her in his arms. "No. No. You are becoming bored. You feel called by family. By friendship. By responsibilities. You will leave and not come back." He releases her, leaving a hand on her shoulder. "If you examine yourself, you will know I am right. No, no tears. Please. You know I am right. There is much I would have liked to have shown you, and the opportunity might come again."
"So this is it?"
"I shall have Sergio drive you home. I trust your sister is there? It is not my wish to leave you alone."
He steps back, toward the table. "This board was given to me many years ago by the Caliph. The rules have changed greatly since then. I will have it sent to you. In the mean time, please take this."
The white queen. It barely fit in her hand. For all the years of use, the corners of the carving had not worn down.
"Please remember that you will always be welcome here."
Buffy sits in his deep leather chair and puts on her shoes. It delays her exit when she wants to run. She knows he's right, that Dawn and her classwork and applications to college and her calamari gelato should be her focus, that the phone calls from Giles should be answered. She wants to run, barefoot and screaming, but that would never do.
She stands, placing the treasure in her purse, and walks down the black and white tile of the hall to the door.