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- Уолтер Тевис
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- Стр. 216/270
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Somehow
the
pawn
sacrifice
had
been
hasty
.
After
Foster
took
with
a
knight
instead
of
the
pawn
she
had
planned
on
,
she
found
she
had
either
to
defend
or
to
drop
another
pawn
.
She
bit
her
lip
,
annoyed
,
and
looked
for
something
to
terrorize
him
with
.
But
she
could
find
nothing
.
And
her
mind
was
working
with
damnable
slowness
.
She
retreated
a
bishop
to
protect
the
pawn
.
Foster
raised
his
eyebrows
slightly
at
that
and
brought
a
rook
over
to
the
queen
file
,
the
one
she
had
opened
with
her
pawn
sacrifice
.
She
blinked
.
She
did
not
like
the
way
this
was
going
.
Her
headache
was
getting
worse
.
She
got
up
from
the
board
,
went
to
the
director
and
asked
him
for
aspirin
.
He
found
some
somewhere
,
and
she
took
three
,
chasing
them
with
water
from
a
paper
cup
,
before
she
went
back
to
Foster
.
As
she
walked
through
the
main
tournament
room
people
looked
up
from
their
games
to
stare
at
her
.
She
was
suddenly
angry
that
she
had
agreed
to
play
in
this
third
-
rate
tournament
,
and
angry
that
she
had
to
go
back
and
contend
with
Foster
.
She
hated
the
situation
:
if
she
beat
him
,
it
was
meaningless
to
her
,
and
if
he
beat
her
,
she
would
look
terrible
.
But
he
wouldn
’
t
beat
her
.
Benny
Watts
couldn
’
t
beat
her
,
and
some
prissy
graduate
student
from
Louisville
wasn
’
t
about
to
drive
her
into
a
corner
.
She
would
find
a
combination
somewhere
and
tear
him
apart
with
it
.
But
there
was
no
combination
to
be
found
.
She
kept
staring
at
the
position
as
it
changed
gradually
from
move
to
move
,
and
it
did
not
open
up
for
her
.
Foster
was
good
—
clearly
better
than
his
rating
showed
—
but
he
wasn
’
t
that
good
.
The
people
who
filled
the
little
room
watched
in
silence
as
she
went
more
and
more
on
the
defensive
,
trying
to
keep
her
face
from
showing
the
alarm
that
was
beginning
to
dominate
her
moves
.
And
what
was
wrong
with
her
mind
?
She
hadn
’
t
had
a
drink
for
a
day
and
two
nights
.
What
was
wrong
?
In
the
pit
of
her
stomach
she
was
beginning
to
feel
terrified
.
If
she
had
somehow
damaged
her
talent
…
And
then
,
on
the
twenty
-
third
move
,
Foster
began
a
series
of
trades
in
the
center
of
the
board
,
and
she
found
herself
unable
to
stop
it
,
watching
her
pieces
disappear
with
a
sick
feeling
in
her
stomach
,
watching
her
position
become
more
and
more
stark
in
its
deterioration
.
She
found
herself
playing
out
a
lost
game
,
overwhelmed
by
the
two
-
pawn
advantage
of
a
player
with
a
rating
of
1800
.
There
was
nothing
she
could
do
about
it
.
He
would
queen
a
pawn
and
humiliate
her
with
it
.
She
lifted
her
king
from
the
board
before
he
could
do
it
and
left
the
room
without
looking
at
him
,
pushing
her
way
through
a
crowd
of
people
,
avoiding
their
eyes
,
almost
holding
her
breath
,
going
out
into
the
main
room
and
up
to
the
desk
.
“
I
’
m
feeling
ill
,
”
she
told
the
director
.
“
I
’
m
going
to
have
to
drop
out
.
”
She
walked
up
Main
,
heavy
-
footed
and
in
turmoil
,
trying
not
to
think
about
the
game
.
It
was
horrible
.
She
had
allowed
this
tournament
to
be
a
test
for
her
—
the
kind
of
rigged
test
an
alcoholic
makes
for
himself
—
and
still
she
had
failed
it
.
She
must
not
drink
when
she
got
home
.
She
must
read
and
play
chess
and
get
herself
together
.
But
the
thought
of
going
to
the
empty
house
was
frightening
.
What
else
could
she
do
?
There
was
nothing
she
wanted
to
do
and
no
one
to
call
.
The
game
she
had
lost
was
inconsequential
and
the
tournament
was
nothing
,
but
the
humiliation
was
overwhelming
.
She
did
not
want
to
hear
discussions
about
how
she
had
lost
to
Foster
,
did
not
want
to
see
Foster
himself
again
.
She
must
not
drink
.
She
had
a
real
tournament
coming
up
in
California
in
five
months
.
What
if
she
had
already
done
it
to
herself
?
What
if
she
had
shaved
away
from
the
surface
of
her
brain
whatever
synaptic
interlacings
had
formed
her
gift
?
She
remembered
reading
somewhere
that
some
pop
artist
once
bought
an
original
drawing
by
Michelangelo
—
and
had
taken
a
piece
of
art
gum
and
erased
it
,
leaving
blank
paper
.
The
waste
had
shocked
her
.
Now
she
felt
a
similar
shock
as
she
imagined
the
surface
of
her
own
brain
with
the
talent
for
chess
wiped
away
.
