Chess With a Dragon by David Gerrold

price that we would require . . . you are better off not knowing .” The Dragon smiled broadly. Yake nearly fainted.
    â€œ Perhaps— ” continued the Dragon, “—you should consider this an opportunity to demonstrate the intelligence of your species. Knowing that there is a possibility should be of a goad to guarantee its discovery. And if you cannot discover the answer, then that too is an answer.”
    Yake pursed his lips, holding in the first reply that came to his mind. Instead, he nodded politely. “You have done us a great service.”
    â€œ Perhapsss. And perhapsss not. Consider this. Losing a game is one thing; you can be eaten knowing that you have done your best. But losing a game when you know that there is a solution that you have not found is intolerable, because it suggests that even your best was not good enough. This might be a more expensive answer than you bargained for, little snack.”
    â€œI’ll—we’ll take that chance.”
    â€œ Yesss, you will .”
    â€œIs there anything else that you can tell us?”
    â€œ There is quite a bit that I can tell you. But I won’t. It is not interesting enough .” The Dragon paused, then it raised its head up and looked at Yake. “ I will not eat you today, Yake Singh Browne. And perhapsss I will not eat you the next time either .”
    â€œThe next—” Yake gulped. “—time?”
    â€œ Yesss .” The Dragon lashed its tail around itself and looked directly at Yake. “ The price that I require for this discussion is this: you must come back and tell me how work it all out.” It added , “That is . . . if you do.”
    â€œThank you. Sir.” Yake began to back away.
    The Dragon lowered its head again and appeared to go to sleep. “ Don’t . . . thank . . . me . . . .”
    â€œYes, sir!”
    Yake’s heart-rate did not return to normal for two days.

A Glass of Bheer
    The hour was tired and Yake was late. “The late Yake Singh Browne,” he muttered and sipped at his bheer. He made a face and put the glass back on the table in front of him.
    â€œSoon we will all be late,” agreed Madja.
    â€œYou can put it on my tombstone,” said Anne Larson, brushing her graying hair back off her forehead. “Better late than never.” She giggled at the joke.
    Yake looked across at her. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Anne.”
    She hiccuped and giggled again.
    Yake and Madja, Anne and Nori, were the only four people left in the lounge. They all looked haggard.
    They had been sitting here and arguing for hours. Perhaps for days. No one remembered.
    The argument was a peripatetic orangutan, bouncing off the walls of their separate frustrations like a ping pong ball in a wind tunnel. The mere knowledge that an answer was possible was like a goad.
    Only . . . Yake was tired of being goaded. He wanted to experience a result once in a while too.
    He stared into his bheer unhappily. “I’d rather have beer,” he said. “I’m tired of the sacred ‘H.’ I’m tired of alcoholh.”
    Madja agreed with a sour nod. “Is same for me, but right now, I would just as happily settle for one straight answer.”
    â€œYou have one straight answer. The Dragon says mate in four moves is possible.”
    â€œIt did not say how. Is like famous story about Borozinsky—greatest chess player of his century—he drove opponent crazy this way. He said, ‘If you were any good, you would see that mate is possible in four moves and resign.’ Was no mate possible, but opponent died in frustration rather than admit he could not find it.”
    â€œHmm,” said Yake. “Chess players can be nasty.”
    â€œYah. Too bad this is not chess,” agreed Madja. “Chess, I could defeat whole herd of Dragons.”
    â€œYeah, and then you’d have to eat them,” put in