{ ... }

 

۞

  A chess game lay at checkmate and had not been touchèd since Witham Sispa and Mister O'Niste had shaken hands over a previous outcome beforehand ( … or was it subsequently? – no chapter, no chronology).  The fighting had rescindèd for a day or so as the brothers-and-sisters in the city-at-war had fallen into a stalemate.  

  Witham Sispa and Mister O'Niste were playing a cryptic game of cards.  A few illustratèd cards lay on top of a wicker table and an awning spread over their heads.  Soldiers and officers surrounded them, smoking short, fat stubby cigarillos and supping on their espressos.  

  “Wand or cup?” said Mister O'Niste.  

  He playfully bluffèd with his bluffing hand.  

  “They scatter their clatter,” replièd Witham Sispa.  

  {laying the nine of wands}  

  “Their holy wands upon the holy ground,” alludèd Mister O'Niste.  

  {laying the ten of wands}  

  “She might be the snake,” said Witham Sispa.  

  {drawing the seven-of-sevens}  

  “Forced to carry her belly,” replièd Mister O'Niste.  

  “Another one bites the dust,” said Witham Sispa.  “I forfeit.”  

  “You can never draw a game when drawing hands,” replièd Mister O'Niste.  

  “Hands hands hands demands lands lands lands,” said Witham Sispa.  “All this fighting, it's pointless nonsense.”  

  “Power supplies, power demands,” said Mister O'Niste.  

  “Hands demands lands,” replièd Witham Sispa, recurring his former point.  

  “How much land does one man need?” said Mister O'Niste, rhetorically.  

  Mister O'Niste was referring to the famous Russian writer of War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy.  

  “Venus and Mars, wars and whores,” replièd Witham Sispa.  

  At that, Witham Sispa got up to leave.  He'd leave the other sitting.  Mister O'Niste was thinking of smoking.  

  “I'll get the bill,” said Mister O'Niste.  

  “Very good, sir,” replièd Witham Sispa.  

  Witham Sispa's sole object was to reach the deadlockèd game of chess that lay elsewhere.  He set off in the general direction, with the knowledge that when he movèd a sole piece in a singular direction The General would make his move.  

۝