8 - Tourney

A serf hurried toward her. “I am empowered by my employer to take you to—“ The Ladder screen blinked. Then its speaker spoke:

“This serf has qualified for the Tourney. Until disqualified, Serf Fleta is ineligible for reassignment.”

The serf’s brow furrowed. “But Citizen Tan says—“ So Tan had caught up to her—just too late!  “The Citizen has no authority over the Tourney,” the speaker said.

The serf stepped forward, reaching for Fleta’s arm.

“He won’t take no for an—“

There was a flash. The serf staggered, evidently jolted by something. “Interference in the Tourney is not tolerated,” the speaker said. “Serf Fleta to report to Game accommodations until further notice. Follow the line.”

“Yes, sir,” Fleta murmured, awed. The Adepts of Proton-frame did not mince words or actions!  The line led to a small residential chamber, complete with a screen and food machine. The door panel clicked behind her, and she realized that she was confined.  She was suddenly alarmed. Could the Contrary Citizens have tricked her again, and led her to—? 

Then the screen came on. “Don’t worry, Fleta,” Mach’s voice said.

She whirled to face it. There he was, back in his normal guise. Still, it was only a picture, and she was coming to distrust those. “How do I know—“ He smiled. “When we first met, in Phaze, I was rescued from the swamp by a unicorn. She took me to a dead volcano crater, where I encountered a lovely young woman. It took me some time to realize that the two were the same, and that I was in love with an animal.  But of course I was only a machine myself.” He eyed her body. “It is almost as difficult to realize now that this stranger is that same bubbly nymph whose foal I mean to sire, when we return to Phaze.” It was Mach, all right!

“I qualified for the Tourney!” she exclaimed gladly.

“I know. So you are being confined until it starts, so that no one can get at you. Now you can revert to your own girlform, and I will join you soon.”

“They are not watching you?”

“They are watching me, but I am not in danger. They lost their chance when they lost you.”

“Then we need fear them no longer?”

He grimaced. “Not so. They have our cooperation, in Phaze; we resist them here only because we are standing in lieu of Bane and Agape. Similarly Bane and Agape in Phaze may have a different status; the Adverse Adepts may be trying to capture them and convert them now. We must preserve their independence, by protecting yours. It’s a funny situation, but this is the way I interpret the truce. In Proton we are against the Citizens, until the situation changes, if it does.”

“I wish we were against the Adverse Adepts, too,” she said.

“Had Bane’s folks only been able to accept our love—“

“They want an heir,” she said.

“And they shall have it!” he said. “I have been thinking about that, and researching genetics here in Proton.  I believe the Book of Spells now in the Red Adept’s possession will have information on the magical meshing of species, and I am going to research there the moment I return.”

“Then willst thou need not to support the Adverse Adepts!” she exclaimed, lapsing into her natural dialect.

“That does not follow. We made a deal, and I must deliver what I promised, unless the truce is modified.  But perhaps the objectives of Stile and the Adepts are not mutually exclusive. If we could somehow forge a compromise—“

“A compromise!” she repeated. “A mating of their differing desires!”

“Yes. Therein lies our true hope. Now you get some rest; I have further research to do before I join you.”

“Do thy research!” she exclaimed, gladly. “An it mean our foal—“

“This is one advantage of exchanging between the frames,” he said. “I have the advantage of pursuing both lines of research. If I can’t see it through, I doubt anyone else can.”

Then he faded out, and she, relieved, melted onto the bed and slept, feeling exhilarated.  There were no challenges in the two days. Mach joined her, and now they were free of the need to hide or to conceal their identities; they had found temporary sanctuary here at the Game Annex. Now, for the first time, they were able to make love in these other bodies.  Then she learned that Mach had not really been talking to her, before their physical reunion. He had set up what he called a responsive emulation. “Damn thee!” she cried, furious at this deception. It had fooled her completely.

“But I could not approach you,” he protested. “It ould have been dangerous for you. Then I had some trouble, so I went to Moeba.”

Curiosity caused her to rein her fury for the moment.  “Agape’s planet? What did you there?” And by the time he explained, she had decided to forgive him.  “So when Bane returns, my research may help him,” he concluded.

“I like Phaze better,” Fleta said.

“So do I,” he agreed. Then he looked at her, be coming grave. “We have been assuming that we will return together. But if you wash out of the Tourney, and go to Moeba, will exchange be possible for you?”

She was stricken. “If I be not with thee, and they two together, how can we exchange?”

“I think we cannot. Therefore we must be sure that all four are together. If not, we must not exchange.”

“We cannot search for them, as we did in Phaze,” she said. “Needs must I remain in the Annex.”

“Yes, they must come to us. But when Bane contacts me, I will make this clear.”

“Aye.” She pondered a moment more. “Meanwhile, methinks I had best stay here until then. I must win my games.”

“Fleta, you are not trained in the games! You were lucky, and your opponents were selected, for the qualifying ladder. The Tourney is different; you will be up against experienced players, each of whom is desperate to win.”

“And I lose thee, and Phaze, if I lose. I too be desperate to win,” she said quietly.

“I’d better drill you in strategy.”

“Aye.”

So for most of their waking time, he indoctrinated her in the ways of the Tourney, trying to prepare her for a competent performance. The object was not to win the Tourney and become a Citizen, but to remain uneliminated long enough for Bane and Agape to come and make the exchange.

The details of the Tourney varied from year to year.  Sometimes only the top five or six on each ladder qualified; this year it was ten, making it a large one. That meant that the authorities had concluded that there were too many serfs, and so were using the Tourney as a device to prune them back voluntarily. There were other ways, but this was considered to be the gentlest.  On the other hand, this was single-elimination. Normally it was double-elimination, which meant that each contestant had two chances. This year, one loss was all, and that made players nervous, though their chances for final victory were unchanged.

One thousand and twenty-four contestants would start the Tourney: ten males and ten females from every age ladder from Age Twenty-one through Age Sixty: eight hundred in all, plus two hundred from the Junior and Senior ladders (those below and above the normal range) and the Leftover Ladder, and a dozen or so slumming Citizens, aliens and such. Each round would cut the number in half, until the tenth round produced the single winner. Because the number of consoles and the extent of the game facilities were limited, Round One would require four days for completion, and Round Two two days; thereafter single days would suffice. Thus the complete Tourney was scheduled for fourteen days, and that schedule would be kept. Any player who failed to show up promptly for his match would lose by de fault. Audiences were permitted, but no interference would be tolerated.

Fleta had already seen enough of the game system to appreciate how intolerant the Game Computer was of interference. That reassured her.

“Of course that doesn’t apply to Citizens,” Mach said. “They set their own schedules. But most who have the interest to play, also have the pride to do it properly.”

“But if the prize be Citizenship, and the cost of loss be exile, why do Citizens play?” Fleta asked. 

“Mere entertainment. Victory gains them nothing, and loss costs them nothing. They are immune. But those they play against are bound. If you come up against a Citizen, call him sir and play to win. He cannot hurt you, here, except by beating you.”

“Not e’en Citizen Tan?”

“Not even he,” he reassured her.

Then, seemingly suddenly, the Tourney started, and she was summoned to her first game. “I am not allowed to help you, here,” Mach said. “But I will try to tune in on Bane. If I can find him, I can tell him what we need.”

“Do thou do that,” she said, kissing him.  She followed the line to the console. She was the first there, which made her feel better, though she knew it made no difference.

She looked at the screen.

TOURNEY ROUND ONE: FLETA VS JIMBO

She hoped Jimbo was a duffer.

He turned out to be a man in his fifties. There were no ladders in the Tourney; they were for qualification only. He nodded at her, then took his stance at the console.

Her numbers lighted. That meant she could not select ANIMAL. But she had discussed this with Mach, and knew her best route. Without hesitation she touched 4.ARTS.

It settled on 4A: Naked Arts. The choices were Poetry, Stories, Singing, Dancing, Pantomime and Drama, with distinctions between recitative and creative. They assembled the nine-square subgrid and chose, and came up with Original Story telling.

JUDGING: the screen printed.     COMPUTER            PANEL     AUDIENCE.

This was new to Fleta. Should she touch one of the words? But there was no grid.

“We can do it by agreement if we want,” Jimbo said.  “Me, I don’t like a machine deciding how I rate, or a panel of experts either.”

“A living audience,” Fleta agreed, relieved. She touched that choice, and evidently he did too, for that one highlighted.

SUBJECT:            the screen continued.    SELECTED BY COMPUTER RANDOM AUDIENCE.

Fleta hadn’t realized that a subject had to be chosen; she had assumed that any story would do. She wasn’t certain how she would do if she got a bad subject. Since she could not choose it herself, and shared her opponent’s distrust of impersonal decisions, she asked “Audience?”

“Agreed,” Jimbo said immediately.

ADJOURN TO STAGE. And a line appeared, showing the way.

They followed it to the stage. There was a small dais and an audience section with seats for about twenty five.

Now they had to wait for the audience to arrive. It seemed that a number of Tourney spectators had registered for audience purposes, and were on tap awaiting assignment. The Computer was making a random selection and notifying the selectees of this assignment.  They were now following their lines to this chamber.

In a few minutes exactly twenty-five people arrived.  They were all serfs, male and female, ranging from young to old. They took their seats in silence.  A note sounded at the large screen set in the wall behind the stage. All eyes fixed on it.

AUDIENCE WILL SELECT SUBJECT FOR STORYTELLING. THE FOLLOWING SUBJECTS ARE AVAILABLE; TOUCH <SELECT> BUTTON ON CHAIR WHEN CHOICE IS HIGHLIGHTED.

Then the screen was filled with an alphabetical listing of subjects, beginning with ABANDONMENT and ending with ZOOLOGICAL. The Computer gave the audience a moment to consider the list, then the first word was highlighted. In a second the next was, and then the third, the lighting continuing at one-second 1intervals until the list had been covered, several minutes later.

THE LEADING CHOICES ARE, the screen announced, ILLICIT WEALTH     UNTIMELY

DEATH    FORBIDDEN LOVE. TOUCH <SELECT> WHEN CHOICE IS HIGHLIGHTED.

The highlight made its tour.

Then: SUBJECT IS FORBIDDEN LOVE. AUDIENCE WILL <SE LECT> FIRST STORYTELLER.

Then a light illuminated Fleta, and moved across to Jimbo. JIMBO SPEAKS FIRST.

Fleta did not know on what basis the audience decided, but she was relieved; this was proceeding so efficiently that she had not been able to organize her thoughts. She was, after all, an animal; she knew she lacked the versatility of a human being. What story of forbidden love was right for this audience?  “Uh, well,” Jimbo said, evidently also somewhat at a loss. He did not seem to be any better prepared for this than Fleta was, which made her wonder. Maybe he had just gotten into a bad area, for him.  Then he shrugged, as if deciding something private, and began his story.

“There was once this serf, and he wasn’t much, he was forty when he came to Proton, but all they let anybody have is twenty years anyway so maybe that didn’t make much difference. He was a message carrier—any time the Citizen wanted a note delivered personal, so it wouldn’t be in the records, this serf would hand-carry it to wherever it was going. It wasn’t a bad job; he got to travel all over Proton, just taking messages, and got to sleep over at some pretty fancy Citizen estates while waiting for the reply-message to be ready.  It went along like this for about nine years, and then the Citizen died and his daughter inherited it.” Jimbo paused. Fleta saw some knowing smiles in the audience, and realized that they were guessing what was coming next. This seemed to be Jimbo’s own story!  “This woman, the new Citizen, was maybe twenty nine years old, and she was the damned loveliest creature in the dome. Her hair sort of rippled when she walked, throwing off highlights, and her eyes were like twin headlamps, they were so clear and bright. But because she was new, she was uncertain, and she didn’t want to make any fool of herself, putting on the wrong airs in the wrong place, you know, specially when it came to handling serfs. So she sort of asked this serf for advice, because he’d been with the estate for nine years and kept his mouth shut, because sometimes the messages he carried were verbal and he would’ve been fired if he ever breathed a syllable of them to any but the designated party, so he just didn’t say much of anything to anyone, just to be safe. She liked that, so she said, ‘I want a message, only to me,’ and then she asked how she should handle this other serf who sort of did things wrong but didn’t mean to. And the me sage serf, he delivered his message, only it was really just his advice, that she should maybe reorganize her household a little, and move that clumsy serf to another position without saying why, so no feelings would be hurt and nobody had to be fired. And she did that, and it worked out just fine, and after that she asked for other messages like that.

“And then one time she sort of forgot where she was, only it didn’t really matter because Citizens make their own rules and serfs just do what they’re told. She was getting ready for a party, and she’d sent her personal maid for something, and the messenger man was there, so she just told him to take off her robe and put on the new one she had selected. So he put his hands on her shoulders from behind, and pinched the fabric, and lifted it up, and it came right off her and she was naked.  Then he folded it and set it down and fetched the new robe from its hanger, only it was really more like an evening gown, and she turned and lifted her arms so he could put the gown up over her, and she had the body like only an android or robot made for that sort of thing ever has, only on her it was real, I mean natural, and he like to have goggled, because mostly Citizens don’t take much care of themselves and even when they look good in a gown it’s mostly corset stays and foundation creme and whatever, or maybe a fresh rejuve treatment, but she didn’t even use underwear, her body was genuine throughout. And then she was mostly dressed, and looking just as good, only better, because he knew it didn’t just come with the clothing. 

“Then the maid came back, and took over, and he went back to his chamber. But it was like that image of that body was burned into his retinas, because he kept seeing it every time he blinked. And suddenly he lost interest in the android gal who would be with him any time he wanted, because she was like a cratered moon, and the Citizen was like the sun. And every time he saw the Citizen, she was clothed but he saw her naked like a serf, and her skin shining, and her eyes sort of looking at him, and it was like a fire inside him, but she never noticed. Sometimes she’d bring in these men, Citizens, and have sex with them, and they were jaded but they got hot for her in a hurry when they discovered that her body didn’t come off with the clothing, and sometimes she’d just hire a robot to do it exactly the way she liked it. Only she didn’t like to have to tell a robot how, that was maybe too much like masturbation, so she’d have the messenger tell the robot, and make sure the robot had it right. And the messenger—“

Jimbo paused, again, and it was clear that every member of the audience understood his hesitation perfectly.  He had conceived a passion for a Citizen: forbidden love indeed! What was he going to do about it? 

“Then one day she had a new robot, and maybe there was a circuit not properly integrated, because it wasn’t getting it quite right, even though it had the instructions down pat and could repeat them verbatim. ‘Damn it!’ she swore, irritated. So she called in the messenger and told him to show the robot how to do it right. He was moving too fast and heavy, when she liked slow and light. So the messenger, he got down on her—“ He paused again, but the audience did not object.  Evidently he was uncertain about how much detail he should provide, and what was relevant to the assigned subject, and how to phrase it for this mixed audience.  Fleta, too, was thrust into thought, perhaps for different reason. Jimbo was telling how a male humanoid robot was routinely used for sexual purpose; apparently this was accepted in Proton. She had had relations with just such a robot. If she told her own story—and indeed, it was all she could think of to do—would this audience take it to be routine and therefore dull, and deem her the loser? What was the most wonderful experience of her life might seem, here, to be unworthy of mention.  If she lost, here in this first round, she would be shipped to Moeba, and would never be able to exchange back to her own body in Phaze. But if she won, she would have several more days before the second round, and maybe by then—

“He got down on her,” Jimbo repeated, resuming his narration. “His heart was beating like a teenager’s, because the Citizen’s body was his ultimate dream, and all he wanted to do was be like this with her for real, and have her want him as a man. He knew this wasn’t so, that she saw him only as a convenient source of minor information, and now as a device to demonstrate a minor technique to a machine, but his dream wanted to pretend it was something more.

“His flesh touched hers, lightly, and penetrated gently, moving with just that constrained urgency that she required. ‘Yes, like that,’ she said to the robot. ‘Proceed exactly like that.’ The robot nodded, understanding at last.

“Her face turned back to the messenger, and he knew she was about to tell him to get off, now that his job was done. But the folly of the forbidden dream over came him, and suddenly he plunged on in, exactly the way the robot was not supposed to. Her mouth opened with surprise, the annoyance just beginning, and he put his mouth on hers and kissed her savagely as his loin thrust against her and his body exploded in rapture. 

“Then, his folly of passion abating, he realized what he had done. He had raped a Citizen! He scrambled up and ran from the chamber, knowing that his life was forfeit. He did not try to flee, for there was nowhere to go; he simply waited for what was to come. 

“After an hour the call came: to report to the Citizen’s front office. He knew there would be a robot there to take him into custody. For one moment of bliss he had forfeited all that he had worked for for nine years.  He went, but the Citizen was there alone, standing in total loveliness in a gown. ‘I require a message, for one only,’ she said. ‘If a serf oversteps his bounds, what should a Citizen do?’ He knew she was referring to him.  ‘Have him put to death,’ he replied, determined at least not to be a coward in his termination.

“Her expression did not change. ‘If he has otherwise given good service, and perhaps was overtaken by an aberration of the moment?’ she asked. He had not even hoped for such generosity of response! ‘Fire him,’ he said.

“She turned away from him. ‘If publication of the offense might cause embarrassment to the Citizen?’ she asked. Then he dared indeed hope! ‘Enter him in the Tourney without explanation,’ he said.

“She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said. And so it was that he found himself in the Tourney, though he had always been a duffer in the Game and knew he would quickly wash out and be deported. But his years of service still counted (for he had not been fired) and would represent a very nice payment on his departure; he would leave with an untarnished record. He was duly grateful for this, knowing how much worse it could have been, and his respect for his employer was undiminished. But still in his dream he had the temerity to wonder: was it possible that in some tiny way the Citizen had returned his interest, and perhaps been nattered by his inability to hold back when given the opportunity to indulge his passion with her? Could she have been unable to admit any trace of an interest so far beneath her, yet not displeased to have had the indulgence of it forced upon her? Would that account for her uncommon generosity in dealing with the one who had ravished her?”

Jimbo gazed out across the audience. “I do not know the answer, but I would like to think I might guess it.” Fleta knew before she spoke that Jimbo had won this game. She had thought that her own crisis was unique, and that the others in the Tourney were merely competing for the prize of Citizenship. Now she saw that that was not necessarily the case; each contestant might have as good reason to be here as she. She did not begrudge Jimbo the evident sympathy he had evoked in this audience.

FLETA SPEAKS SECOND, the big screen announced.

Now it was upon her! Encouraged by her opponent’s example of discretion and candor, she told her own story in similar fashion.

“There was once in the Frame o’ Phaze a unicorn filly,” she began. “She was happy in her Herd, grazing the plains and running with her companions and learning the ways o’ her kind. She labored to master her transformations, choosing one original form and one common form to complement her natural one. Her dam could become a firefly, so the filly liked the notion o’ a flying form, and chose the smallest o’ the avians, the hummingbird. Most other unicorns chose fierce hawks or fast falcons or lovely feathered birds, or even flying dragons, and some were amused that she should aspire to such an insignificant creature, but she had no fear o’ smallness, for her dam was the smallest o’ mares yet well respected by all the members o’ the Herd and o’ the neighboring pack o’ werewolves too. Indeed, it turned out that she could feed more readily than others, needing only the nectar o’ some flower, and hide well, and it was a good choice.

“The common form was the most challenging, how ever, because that was human. The form itself was not difficult, but just as she had spent more time learning to fly than she had learning the birdform, she had to spend far more time learning to speak like a human than she had achieving girlform. To speak, she had to learn to think like a human, and the ways o’ human thought were marvelous and weird. So she sought help, first from acquaintances among the werewolves and vampires who came more naturally by girlform, then from the most feared o’ human folk, one o’ the Adepts.  This was because her dam was oath-friend to one Adept, and he was friend to some other Adepts, and so one o’ them was willing to help the filly o’ the oath-friend.  Thus it was that the filly spent some time as the guest o’ the Brown Adept, serving her as a serf might serve a Citizen, but also learning from her the complete human language and much o’ the social ways of the human species too.

“Then did the filly come to maturity, and learned the identity o’ the herb that suppressed her cycle o’ heat so that she would not be bred too soon, for the Herd Stallion was her uncle and banned from breeding her.  She played with the human son o’ her dam’s oath-friend, and he showed her how his kind mated, though it were meaningless in the absence o’ heat. E’en so, she came to like that young human man, and wished she could be truly human, that she might be always with him. But he, o’ course, knew her for an animal, and while he treated her always as a companion and e’en friend, there was no way he saw her as one to breed with or, as the humans put it, marry. So she kept her desire for him hidden, knowing that any union between them was for bidden. He was after all the son o’ an Adept, one year to be Adept himself; he was far beyond the aspiration o’ a normal human woman, let alone a mere animal.”

How neatly she had summarized the whole of her first decade and a half of life! But now she was ready for the real story. “Then she came o’ age to mate and bear a foal for the Herd, so she was sent to another Herd, that its Stallion might breed her without incest.  But she dawdled, remaining near the place favored by the Adept’s son, in case he should come there and need a ride or companionship. She knew the hope to be vain, but still she stayed, foolishly. Perhaps it was in her mind that if she arrived at the other Herd not in time for her heat, she would escape breeding, and be free a little longer. It might not make much sense, but she was after all only an animal.

“Then happened something strange. A man passed the region, and he smelled like the Adept’s son, but he acted like him not. He was going naked, as men did not, and stumbling as if he had been ne’er there before.  She kept her distance, wanting to approach, but uncertain. Finally he cried for help, and that was all she needed; she sounded a chord on her horn in answer, and galloped to his aid. He seemed surprised to see her, as if his memory was gone, but rode her away from that place. She had to back off a water dragon, but carried him to safety in the crater. It was especially strange that he used not magic o’ his own to protect himself, and seemed almost wary o’ her, despite their long acquaintance. He settled down to sleep in the crater, and she pondered, then yielded to her desire and changed to girlform and joined him there. 

“Next morning it seemed he was playing a game, for his speech was strange and he seemed still not to know her. He insisted his name was other than what she knew it was. He claimed to know magic not, and he was loath to wear clothes. She persuaded him to try a spell, and he did, but it worked strangely. She also encouraged him to make some clothing. He said he was a rovot, a thing like a wooden golem, only made o’ metal, and that he needed not to have natural processes. But o’ course he did; he did just prefer to do it alone. And gradually she understood that he was not the same man she had known, but his other self, from Proton-frame, a stranger to Phaze and all that was in it. Yet was he very like the one she knew in appearance, and perhaps in other things too, and she liked him very well. Perhaps she liked him better, for that he needed her help con stantly, lest he blunder into trouble. But he knew not she was an animal; he thought the girlform and the birdform and the unicorn different creatures. He liked the girlform, and therefore she spoke not o’ her other forms, but stayed close to him and teased him and smiled at him, reveling in the companionship she had ne’er had recently w’ the Adept’s son.

“Then he, thinking her human, took her in his arms and kissed her, and her heart fled from her and became his captive that moment. She tried to tell o’ her nature, and why love between them was forbidden, but 0 she could not; she did want the illusion to linger longer.  Then demons attacked, and to save them both she had to change to her natural form and carry him to safety.  The secret was out. But he was not appalled; he said he was a machine, a thing not alive, a creature without feeling, that could not love. Then did new horror loom for her, that she had lost her heart to one who could care not. But he was wrong; he did care for her. And so their forbidden love was born.”

She paused, and looked at the audience, and saw them rapt as they had been for Jimbo’s story. But such was the joy of her memory, for all its heartache, she hardly cared now whether they cared; she just wanted to finish it.

“Then did the Adverse Adepts make chase, seeking to capture them and use him for their purpose, and they had to flee and hide. Goblins were questing e’erywhere.  But they traveled a route the enemy did not suspect, and managed to escape. Later she learned that their love was forbidden not because the Adept his father objected to unicorns, but because only a human woman could bear him an heir. The filly saw that this was valid, for though she could have sex with her lover she could breed with him not. So she decided to free him for his destiny, and to fix herself in human form and jump from a ledge to her death. But he found her, and cried out to her the triple Thee, the ultimate statement o’ his love, and such was the power o’ it that it saved her from the extinction she had sought and made them one again.

“But now that love be still forbidden, if not by humans, then by the situation, for he be a creature o’ Proton, and she a creature o’ Phaze, and they can ne’er cross o’er to each other’s frames without making an imbalance that will harm all. So now they quest for some way to make it right, but know not w’er it e’er can be.”

Then she felt her eyes melting, and knew that her story was done.

AUDIENCE WILL TOUCH <SELECT> WINNER, the big screen printed.

Jimbo’s name highlighted, then Fleta’s.

JIMBO SIX VOTES, FLETA FIVE VOTES. ABSTENTIONS FOURTEEN.

“Hey, wait!” a serf cried. “I didn’t abstain! I hadn’t made up my mind yet!” There was a chorus of agreement.

MAJORITY VOTE OF ESTABLISHED AUDIENCE REQUIRED FOR DECISION, the screen continued imperturbably. AUDIENCE WILL BE REQUIRED TO CONTINUE VOTING UNTIL THAT MAJORITY IS REGISTERED. TWO-MINUTE RECESS FOR CONSIDERATION BEFORE NEXT VOTE.

Fleta looked at Jimbo, and found him looking at her.  She walked across to him. “I liked thy story,” she said, feeling an affinity for him. “Truly, thou dost know for bidden love as I do.”

“Too bad we didn’t fall in love with each other,” he said. “Are you really a . . . ?”

“A unicorn. Aye. But an the Citizens catch me, that be meaningless.”

”How so?”

“They mean to use me as lever against him whom I love. But the Tourney protects me—an I nof depart too soon.”

“Won’t you be safe offplanet?”

“I be not in mine own body, here. An I depart this world before I exchange to mine own frame, methinks can I not exchange at all, and that be worse yet.”

“So you would prefer to remain here a little longer,” he said.

“Aye,” she said sadly. “But that decision be not in my power.”

He smiled. “But it may be in mine.” He stepped to the front of the stage, waving his hands. “May I have your attention!” he cried.

Instantly a sour note sounded from the screen.  ERROR! CONTESTANT MAY NOT ATTEMPT TO INFLUENCE AUDIENCE ON HIS BEHALF.

“I haven’t finished my story,” he cried. “There’s something else I have to say.”

ERROR! STATEMENT IS OUT OF ORDER AT THIS TIME.

A man in the audience stood. “Listen, who’s deciding this game, us or the machine?” he demanded. “Aren’t we like a jury, and we can hear more if we want?”

“Yes, and can’t we judge for ourselves whether he’s trying to change our votes unfairly?” a woman re sponded.

The screen hesitated. PROCEDURAL MATTER.

AUDIENCE WILL INDICATE WHETHER TO HEAR MORE FROM CONTESTANTS. SELECT RESPONSE YES NO. The YES was highlighted, then the NO.

CONTESTANTS MAY SPEAK, the screen printed, yielding gracefully.

“Okay,” Jimbo said. “We’ve got two people here, both probably on the way out regardless of this particular game. One can go any time; the Tourney is just a pretext to get him offplanet without being charged with anything. The other is here to protect her from trouble still brewing, and if she can stay a while longer, maybe things will work out a little better for her. So if I were voting, and I had trouble making up my mind, I think I’d boot the one with nothing to lose, and keep the one with maybe something to win. Now I’m not trying to tell anybody how he should vote, just saying the way I see it, and the damned machine can’t object to that, can it?” He walked to the side, leaving the stage to Fleta.

She realized that she was supposed to say something, but she could think of nothing. She just stood there and started to melt again, which seemed to be this body’s way of crying. She didn’t want to melt in front of all these people, so she hid her face in her hands, overcome.  After a moment, the voting proceeded. Fleta forced her eyes back into shape and looked at the screen.  FLETA TWENTY-THREE VOTES, JIMBO TWO;

FLETA PROCEEDS TO ROUND TWO.

Jimbo looked at her and smiled. She ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. The members of the audience applauded.

Suddenly she felt much more at home in the frame of Proton.

She had two days before her next match, because of the time required for the remaining Round One games to clear. Mach came to her, after passing through a thorough screening by the Game Computer to ensure that he was whom he claimed to be, and they had a little additional honeymoon. She cherished this brief experience with his own body; she had come to love him in Bane’s body, but this was his reality. If she managed to return to Phaze, this would be all she ever knew of the true Mach.

Then it was time for her Round Two match. This time her opponent was a young woman, of grim visage, and she knew there would be no courtly generosity. She had to win outright.

She got the numbers again, and chose ARTS again.  The girl chose B, so they were in TOOL-ASSISTED ARTS: Painting, Sculpture, Costumed Drama, Decorative Sewing, Patterns with blocks, colored sand, grains of rice or whatever, Card Houses, Kaleidoscope, and Musical Instruments.

Fleta was encouraged; she understood most of these Arts. She played with confidence, and got Music. The other girl was plainly uncertain now. In the end they had to play music, each on her own instrument. The girl chose the piano, and Fleta chose the syrinx: otherwise known as the panpipes, her natural instrument as a unicorn. She had, as a matter of private challenge, learned to play the panpipes in girlform. This was difficult, because her girlfingers lacked the musical coordination of her horn, and her girlmouth could play only one note at a time, or adjacent notes. But fingers weren’t really necessary for this; hooves would have done to hold this instrument firm. She was unable to play two themes simultaneously, but the underlying harmonics came naturally, so she could do a creditable job. Whether she could do it in this alien body she wasn’t sure, but she thought she could. They followed the line to the appropriate chamber.

Again, they were to be judged by an audience. None of the listeners was the same as those of her prior game; the Computer was careful about that sort of thing.  Fleta had to play first. She took the instrument, which consisted of eight tubes of graduated lengths, bound together. She sounded each note by blowing across the top of the proper tube. She played a simple yet evocative melody that had given her pleasure as a filly at the end of a perfect day of grazing, as the sun settled slowly into the trees on the horizon, setting them afire, and the evening wind fanned the high fringe of the grass to be grazed on the morrow. As she played, Phaze seemed to form around her, so lovely, and then it seemed that Mach was there too, delighted by her music as he always was, and for this moment everything was perfect.  Then the tune was done, and it was Proton again.  The audience was staring at her. Had she started to melt again? No, they merely liked the music, perhaps not having heard the panpipes as played by a unicorn before.

Her opponent looked at the piano. “I concede,” she said shortly, and walked out.

FLETA PROCEEDS TO ROUND THREE, the screen announced.

Just like that, she had won!

The audience filtered out, though several serfs glanced admiringly at the instrument as they passed.  “Clear the chamber,” the speaker said. “Citizen approaching.”

Fleta looked wildly around. “But I’m supposed to be protected!” she cried. “I’m still in the Tourney!”

“At ease, filly,” the Citizen said, entering the chamber. He stood somewhat shorter than she, but his bright blue robe identified him as far above her. “Not every Citizen be thine enemy.”

“The Blue Adept!” she exclaimed, astonished. 

He smiled. “Now Citizen Blue. Thy secret has been kept; the Game Computer allowed news o’ thine identity to leak not beyond its annex. But I was o’ Phaze, and I know the music o’ the unicorn when I hear it.  Ah, the memories it brought!”

“Mach’s sire,” she breathed.

“Aye. And thou’rt Neysa’s foal. Glad I am to meet thee at last, however briefly, though thou dost favor her not in this guise.” He squinted at her. “Best abolish the horn,though.”

Fleta touched her forehead. She had grown the button-horn! It must have happened while she was playing the panpipes. No wonder the audience had stared!  Quickly she melted it; she was not trying to make a freak of herself, here.

“Mach be looking for Bane, now,” Citizen Blue said.  “Must needs I tell thee what we be about. He has made truce with the Adverse Adepts, in Phaze, but Bane remains with us, in Proton. We oppose not thy union with him, or Bane’s with Agape. But the news he brought o’ the imbalance—that have we verified, and so it be true that thou canst not remain here. We shall get the four o’ ye together and make the exchange back—but with a change.” He looked penetratingly at her. “Only thou willst exchange, not the boys. That will give Mach power here, and Bane power there, to seek some better compromise than this truce. Mayhap Bane, being bound to us rather than to the other side, can find a way through. We seek not to void the deal Mach made with Translucent, only to provide us opportunity to explore the situation when the Adepts be off guard. I think thou canst go along with that.”

“Aye,” she said. “But that means—“

“That thou willst find thyself with Bane in Phaze—and must make it seem that he be Mach.”

“But—but I love Mach!” she protested, appalled. 

“Aye. That be thy challenge, and why I speak to thee now. Agape must do likewise, here.”

“I—I will try,” she agreed faintly. What a position Blue was putting her in!

“Now let us play together,” he said. He brought out a harmonica, and put it to his mouth.

Relieved to have the subject change, she lifted the panpipes. Then the two of them played an impromptu melody, and Blue was a master musician, almost as good as a unicorn in the finesse with which he handled his instrument.

When it was done, she was melting again. “Thou didst depart Proton before I was foaled,” Fleta told him.  “Yet do I feel I know thee well, now.”

“It were thy dam Neysa mine other self Stile knew,” he said. “So in any event, our acquaintance is based on that of two other folk. Yet be it good to renew.”

 “0 Adept, may I hug thee?”

“Hug me, ‘corn, and remember me to my home land.”

She hugged him, finding him much like Bane, only older and smaller. His visit to her buoyed her immeasurably; now she knew that she and Mach were not fighting for their happiness alone. Stile had turned down her union with Mach, and for good reason; Blue was supporting it, and she hoped his reason was as good.  Then he departed, and she returned to her chamber.  For the second time, the aftermath of a Tourney game had lifted her outlook. She no longer felt like a complete stranger here; indeed, her homesickness for Phaze was diminishing.

Two days later she had her Round Three match. This was against a humanoid robot who reminded her eerily of Mach, but he was not. She had the numbers again, but hesitated to choose ARTS, because the records of all prior games were available, and she knew that the robot could have looked up her games and discovered her preference, and calculated accordingly. So she touched 2. MENTAL. He chose A. NAKED, as she had thought he might; it could be tricky for a robot to use a tool, as robots really were tools in a manner of thinking, and even trickier for him to use a machine.  He would naturally avoid her own strength, ANIMAL.  So he depended on his own resources, as Mach tended to do. She felt a little guilty for using her knowledge of Mach to gain an advantage over this robot, but she knew she had to do it.

The secondary grid for MENTAL came up. She had the numbers again: 5. SOCIAL  6. POWER 7. MATH 8. HUMOR. What should she choose?  She looked at the robot’s choices: E. INFORMATION F. MEMORY G. RIDDLE H. MANIPULA TION. What would he take? It depended on his type; if he were a sophisticated model, like Mach, he would have an enormous store of information, and a sizable temporary memory, but would be weak on mental tricks such as riddles. If he were a simpler model, his information and memory capacity might be much smaller, but he would still be good at manipulating what he had: numbers, for example. So she had better stay well clear of MATH!

She decided that her safest course was HUMOR.  Mach had a sense of humor, though not on a par with hers, but other robots might not understand it at all.  She touched the word.

Sure enough, he had chosen MANIPULATION, going for his strength. They were in 2A8H: SPURIOUS LOGIC. It came down to a contest in telling jokes, and topping them.

Again they had an audience. It seemed that most contestants resembled Fleta in this respect. They preferred to be judged by ordinary folk, not by the machine.

The robot was required to tell his joke first. He did so mechanically. “A smart humanoid robot was concerned that his employer was not satisfied with his performance and sought a pretext to fire him. The employer always assigned him the least rewarding tasks, such as supervising the maintenance menials. When the employer gave him an assignment to report to the robot repair annex, he feared he would be junked. So he tinkered with the wiring of a cleanup menial robot, an inferior machine, and caused it to respond to the humanoid’s identity command. Thus the menial went off to the repair annex for junking, instead of the smart humanoid!”

There was a robot in the audience who found this very funny, and two androids who smiled. But the joke fell somewhat flat for the human beings.  Now it was Fleta’s task to top it. If she could do so, she would nullify it, and leave her opponent scoreless.  She had to think quickly: what would reverse the situation in a funny manner? She thought again of Mach.  What would he say to a joke like this? That gave her the key.

“But it turned out that the robot was being sent to the repair annex not for junking, but for upgrading to superior status,” she said. “When the menial robot returned, it was much smarter than the humanoid robot, and was made the new supervisor, bossing the humanoid himself.”

Several humans laughed, and the two androids smiled.  They liked that reversal. Only the humanoid robot in the audience failed to see the humor of it. Fleta had succeeded in topping the joke.

Now it was her turn to start. She remembered a little story she had imagined as a young filly, back when she was learning to assume girlform. “A mean man of Phaze caught an innocent young unicorn in human form, when she was trying to learn the human ways so she could handle the form perfectly. He grabbed her and clapped his hand over her forehead, covering her horn button, so she could not change. ‘Now I won’t let you go unless you teach me how to change form as you do,’ he told her. ‘Teach me, or I will do something terrible for you but nice for me.’ She knew he would rape her if she did not agree, so she gave her word to help him change to equine form.

“He could not do it exactly the way she did, because he was not of her species, so she had to translate the magic to a verbal command that would work for him.  Actually it was two commands: the second to change him back to manform. He tied her to a post and tried the first spell, and lo! He became his analogy of the equine form, which was a silly ass. Immediately he tried to change back, but he only brayed, because his assform was unable to speak in the human mode. He was stuck for the rest of his life as an ass.”

There were a few smiles in the audience, but it seemed that most of the serfs had been expecting something like this, so were not surprised. It was after all a pretty weak joke.

It was the robot’s turn to top it. Unfortunately, he had found the joke hilarious: man becoming ass! That was almost as funny as having a menial robot sent off to be junked in one’s place. He tried to come up with an improvement on it, but his thought circuits were inadequate, and he could not.

But he was not completely dull. “Maybe there is no topper,” he said. “If there is no topper, then it doesn’t count!”

AGREED, the screen printed. TELLER MUST TOP OWN JOKE FOR VICTORY.

Oops! Fleta had not anticipated that! She had never devised a reversal of this one, having had no motive.  If she was a human being, and wanted to turn the joke to human account, how would she do it?

The challenge brought the response, and she had it.

It was in the form of her worst fear as a young creature.  “Then the unicorn changed to her natural form, for she was just coming into heat and needed to be far from here before the mating urge took her. But she forgot that she was still tied, and the rope was too strong for her to break. She was trapped—and there was this ass, smelling her condition, eager to—“ She was drowned out by a surge of laughter. The serfs found that fate very funny!

She had won the match—but at the cost of allowing her secret self to be raped by an ass. She was not completely pleased.

Mach visited her again. “I have located Bane,” he said. “I have explained what my father wants. He has agreed. But he says that Agape is far from here. He will have to go to her, and explain, and bring her here.  It will take at least two days.”

“Then needs must I win again on the morrow,” she said.

“You have been doing very well,” he said. “You have qualified for Round Four; you are one of the final 128 contestants. Almost 900 have been eliminated.”

“That many!” she exclaimed in wonder. “But I be just lucky!”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure of that. I think you may be cut out to be a Game player. Your instincts have been good, and your play good. Considering your unfamiliarity with this culture and your inexperience with the Game, that suggests a very good potential.”

“Nay, it be but luck,” she protested. “I fear for each new contest, that I may muff what I might have played well.”

“Which is exactly the attitude of a superior games man.” He smiled. “In any event, you have to get through only one more, and then you can exchange.”

“One more—and then be separated from thee,” she said, with mixed emotions.

Her Round Four match was against a Citizen. Fleta saw him approaching the console with horror; how could she defeat such an opponent? Furthermore, she recognized him: he was the Purple Adept, here known as Citizen Purple.

Now she knew that the Contrary Citizens had caught on to her identity, and somehow arranged to get close to her within the Tourney. If she lost this one. Purple would have her, and Mach would be helpless. The alliance of Citizens and Adepts would have both sides of it, and Bane and Mach would have to work wholly for them. Their noose was closing.

Purple looked at her, and grinned. “I mean to have your hide, animal,” he said. “You have led a charmed existence, but I have a score to settle.” Terror coursed through her. This man was serious—and deadly. Mach had said something about the way Agape had escaped captivity by this man, and Mach himself had escaped, in a violent confrontation. Certainly Purple had a score to settle—and she knew he was an evil man.

“Thou canst not touch me in the Tourney,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster. She had to cling to the console, for her knees were melting. 

“But the moment you wash out, as you are about to, I shall preempt the deportation process and take you with me,” he said. “Citizenship hath its privileges.” Could he do that? She feared he could. The Game Computer had protected her from external threats, but could not bar a legitimate contestant, and Citizens did have special powers. She had to win! But could she?  She greatly feared that this man had her number, as the serfs put it.

Her screen showed that she had the letters. That meant she could choose ANIMAL. But Purple would be ready for that, and have some devastating trap ready.  What, then, was left? What she understood least was MACHINES, having had no experience with them prior to her meeting with Mach. Purple knew that too, and he was of course thoroughly conversant with the most sophisticated machines. It would be folly for her to choose that category.

So it was between NAKED and TOOL. In her own unicorn body she would have been confident with NAKED, but in this Amoeba body she was doubtful.  It was a wonderful body, but she hardly understood it well enough to trust it to direct physical competition—and she was afraid that that was exactly what Purple would choose. TOOL? That could be anything, including weapons; he was surely skilled with those, while she understood only the weapon of her horn—which she lacked, here. She seemed to have no good choices!  But maybe she could surprise him! With sudden re solve, she touched the very worst of her choices: MACHINE.

He had chosen PHYSICAL, as she had surmised.  Maybe Mach was right: she did have a touch for the Game, being able to judge her opponent’s likely choice.  But she was still stuck in a box she didn’t like.  She hoped she would get the numbers, this time, so she could avoid INTERACTIVE or COMBAT and perhaps COOPERATIVE; she wanted no contact with this brutal man!

Luck did not help her. She got the letters again, and had to choose between E. EARTH   F. FIRE G. GAS and H. H2O. She had learned that EARTH meant a flat surface, such as a ball could roll on, and that FIRE meant a variable surface that a stick might help to cross, and GAS meant a broken surface, such as might have been carved up by a knife, and that H2O meant water, where anything went. She didn’t trust any of them, but as a unicorn she preferred the flat surface, such as might be grazed or run on. Therefore she avoided that, still trying to surprise the Citizen, to get into some combination that, however bad it might be for her, would be worse for him. So she touched FIRE, with a sense of futility.

He had chosen 6. INTERACTIVE. Thus they were in 1C6F: Machine-assisted physical activity on a variable surface, interactive. That, when they played through the choices, turned out to be SNOWMOBILE BUMPING.

“Well,” Purple said, making a motion as of lathering his hands. “It will be a pleasure to return to this sport.” She realized that she had nothing to lose except the game, and her freedom. There was no point trying to placate the Citizen, but perhaps she could learn some thing from him. “Thou wast good at this?”

“I was good at everything, in my youth,” he said.  “But especially mountainside sports, because of my association with the mountain range.”

The Purple Mountain range, of course. That made sense. She had after all walked into the worst of choices!  They adjourned to the Snow Sports range. The snowmobiles turned out to be machines that could cruise rapidly up and down slopes. A steeply banked track circled the central housing. The route was not long, but had plenty of variety, and because it circled, there was no end to it. The two would circle until one bumped the other out of the track.

Suddenly Fleta realized that this was very much like a game she had played with others of her Herd. They had gone up into the snowy regions and beaten out a track, then ran in it, trying to shoulder each other out of it. She had not been the best, because she lacked the mass and power of some of the others, but she had been good, because she was fast and sure. Had her physical assets matched the others, pound for pound, she would have been the best.

The snowmobiles were machines, all the same size and shape and power. The only difference in the contestants would be that of their own body masses—and their skills in the game. Fleta had never before used such a machine, but she suspected that once she became accustomed to it, she would be able to compete with anyone.

The Citizen thought he had an easy victory. He might discover he had no victory at all!

They donned heavy clothing, for the range was cold.  This was one of the few occasions when serfs were permitted apparel. The attendant explained the use of the machines, which turned out to be simple: a wheel mounted sidewise for steering, and a pedal to set the speed.

They got into their mobiles and exited simultaneously on opposite sides. They would circle left. It was possible for the two to avoid contact by traveling at constant speed on opposite sides, but if too long a period elapsed without a bump, both would be disqualified, and both would be out of the Tourney, with a bye granted to whatever contestant would have encountered the winner in the next round. Purple might be satisfied with that, but Fleta couldn’t afford it. She hoped that Purple’s pride would require him to mix it up, and not go for the ignominious disqualification, just to get control of her.

As she moved out into the snow, she concentrated on attuning to the machine. She had only a little time to ascertain the range of its capabilities. How fast could it gallop? How quickly could it slow? How welt could it maneuver? She had to get the feel of it, so that she could use it without thinking, exactly as she would her own body.

She pushed down on the pedal, and the mobile leaped ahead, spewing out snow behind. She lifted her foot, and the thing stopped so suddenly that only her re straining harness prevented her body from being thrown forward and out of it, while snow flew up in a small cloud.

The machine was responsive!

That made her think of Mach, the most responsive of machines.

But Purple was overhauling her rapidly. She leaped forward again, lest he ram her and bump her out before she got started. As she did, she steered to the side, and the machine quickly swerved. This was an excellent unicorn!

Now she was ready, and barely in time, for Citizen Purple’s mobile was upon her. It had maintained speed while she experimented, and she could not gain on it from a standing start. The Citizen was aiming to ram her, he being on the inside of the track and she moving more slowly on the outside. She would be out of control in a moment if he scored.

But she had a body that was close enough in principle to her own, and experience in exactly this kind of tactic.  She gauged the likely point of impact, and as he speeded up to add more impetus to the bump, she cut suddenly left, crossing in front of him, and abruptly slowed.  Caught by surprise, he struck her right flank and caromed off to the right. She was already steering left again, countering the shove of her rear. Then, as he tried to compensate for his unexpected impetus, she cut right, accelerated, and bumped him hard from the in side.

He careened out of the track so violently that his vehicle collided with the outer retaining wall. A buzzer sounded: the contest was over.

Fleta had not only won, she had won decisively. She had made an experienced gamesman look like a duffer.  “How dost thou like that manure, Citizen?” she called gleefully.

Then, realizing that caution was in order, she guided her snowmobile quickly inside, and departed before Purple could get there.

As she returned to her chamber, she knew she had secured her chance to return to Phaze. But now, oddly, she wished she did not have to go just yet. After all, she had just qualified for Round Five, one of only sixty four survivors! That was halfway through the rounds!  Who knew how far she could go if she remained in the Tourney!

But Mach was waiting at the chamber. “Don’t get notions, filly,” he said severely. “You’re safe, now—but if you play again and lose, we might not be able to coordinate the exchange before you got shipped off planet.”

That sobered her. “Agape will have to play in my stead,” she said regretfully. “Mayhap she will win the Tourney and become the next Citizen!”

“Maybe,” he agreed. Then they made love, for it would be their last night together for a time. 

“Remember,” he said in the morning. “Keep the secret. Bane tells me that the Adverse Adepts are raising an army. He has to learn more about their plans, and only he can spy on them without their knowledge;  I am too much a duffer at magic, and if they mean to betray us and break the truce—“

“Aye,” she said. “That other tourney be not over yet.”

Then, before the call for the next game came, Bane arrived. There was no sign of him, but Mach could tell.  “She’s with him,” he said. “Come, embrace me, and concentrate on Phaze: your desire to return.”

“Aye,” she repeated, embracing him with mixed emotions.

Now she felt the presence of the others. She willed herself to Phaze, to the lovely open plain that occupied this spot there, and the exchange took hold.

9 - Masquerade

After a horrendous three-day stint with Stile, operating from a hidden retreat and spying on demons who tended to stomp butterflies on sight, Bane made contact with Mach and learned that it was time to return Agape to Proton. He explained his own plan, and they agreed.  He returned to the Blue Demesnes to discover a change. There was an evanescent glow about the castle that could only signify a rare happiness. If the Lady Blue was happy, she surely had good reason. He could think of only one likely event that would have this effect.

Was that why his father had decided to pursue his investigation elsewhere, instead of returning to the Blue Demesnes at this time? Stile had withdrawn his opposition to Bane’s union with Agape, but the situation still prohibited it; perhaps Stile simply preferred to stay clear of the inevitable awkwardness.

“Anybody home?” he called.

His mother came out to meet him, smiling. With her was a young woman who looked like Fleta, but was not.

The woman stepped into his embrace. This was Agape, all right! He did not need to ask; he knew she accepted Phaze, now. He had not realized how important that acceptance was to him until this moment. This was his world; he wanted her to understand it and approve of it, however surprising her introduction to it.  He summarized the news of his spying as they entered the castle. His mother knew it, of course, but would not have said anything; she was not one to speak carelessly. He wanted Agape to know why he had neglected her all this time. “They mean to use thee as a lever against me,” he concluded.

“I know,” Agape said.

Then he went into more detail about his recent activities as a spy and butterfly, but she just hugged him and seemed satisfied with that.

But there was one thing he had to be sure she under stood. He took her for a walk outside the castle, and explained. “Mach contacted me, while I was in the field,” he said. “Fleta be about to be shipped to Moeba.”

That got her attention. “She can’t go there! It’s an entirely different world!”

“Aye. So thou must return tomorrow. It be not a strange world to thee.” He took a breath. “And must needs I remain here. The Adverse Adepts watch me too closely; an they think Mach be back, their suspicion may diminish, so I can learn what we need.”

She nodded sadly, understanding. “And I will not see you, after that.”

“Nay, I joked not when I said I would visit thee there.  Mach has been there, and promises to leave a program for me.”

“A program?”

“In his brain. He has compartments, and in them are programs for many things, such as the speaking of alien tongues or the application of special skills. With his program, I will know all he has learned, and can survive on thy home world. Thou hast experienced mine; now will I experience thine. Our acquaintance be not at an end.”

She hugged him again. Then: “We have been apart, and now have so little time together. I know this is not my own body, but—“

“I met thee in Mach’s body,” he reminded her.

“Do you think Fleta would mind, if—“

“Nay, she would mind not.” Then he conjured them both to the private glade where he had first exchanged with Mach, and made a small screened tent there, and they made love, first savagely, then again gently, and then they slept.

Next day he brought her to the proper spot. He held her closely as they overlapped their opposites in Proton, and sang the spell to transfer her back.  Her body did not change, but its nature did. In a moment he knew that it was Fleta he was holding.

He put his lips to her ear. “Filly, dost know me?” he whispered.

“Aye, Bane,” she whispered back. “I will help thee in thy quest.”

“Thou knowest they watch us.”

“Aye.” She drew back her head and gazed into his face as if in love with him. “Can you speak Protonese?” she murmured.

He stared at her. It was not that her words were unreasonable; it was that he had never imagined her using that mode. “I can,” he said. “But—“

“Methinks I can suffer this masquerade for a time, an thou canst,” she said. “I like it not, but my love asked me, an if it helps put things right ...” Then she lifted her lips and kissed him.

He was startled again. Of course she would kiss Mach!  If he was to play the part, he had to play it, and she did too. That was why her cooperation was essential.  He just had not anticipated this aspect. His days of experimentation with Fleta were long over.  But, this being the case, he would have to make love to her too! It would be an early giveaway if he avoided this aspect of Mach’s relationship with her. But how did she feel about this? She had exchanged the triple Thee with Mach!

She brought her mouth close to his ear again. “I love another, but I hate thee not, and can play such games with thee as thy kind does. As I have done before.”

“Then it be but sex,” he whispered back. “Our hearts be in it not.”

“Aye.” Then she drew away from him. “But we dally, Mach!” she exclaimed brightly. “Didst thou not have enough o’ manstyle play w’ me in Proton?”

“I can never have enough,” he replied carefully. But he let her go.

“We have been long away from our sanctuary,” she said. “Let me carry thee there.” And she became her natural self, the unicorn.

“Yes, of course,” he agreed. He mounted her a trifle clumsily, as he judged Mach might. She set off westward. One thing about this: he did not have to say much or do much, so ran less risk of giving away his identity.  The Adverse Adepts might be watching, but would soon become bored with this, and would not pay much attention.

While he rode, he pondered the plan that he and Stile had devised. Stile, in those last three days, had taught him an exotic technique that even most Adepts did not know: that of spiritual separation. This magic could send a person’s awareness out apart from his body, so that he could perceive things that his body could not. It required a different spell each time, of course, but Stile had worked out several that had worked for him, and should now work for Bane. The effect was limited in time and distance, so it was necessary to get physically within range before invoking the separation. This restricted its application—but if Bane could find a way to get close without suspicion, it could be invaluable.

That was why he had sought Mach’s cooperation.  Mach could not spy in this manner, lacking the magic, and would not if he could. But Mach could get close to the Adverse Adepts. This switch of seeming identities should enable Bane to get close enough so that he could learn what they needed to know. The dominance of the frame might depend on his success in this mission.  And Fleta, bless her, was cooperating! Mach had a good match in her; she might be an animal, but some animals were more substantial folk than some human beings, and she was an example. Her friend the were bitch Furramenin was another, and of course Suchevane—ah, the vampire was special indeed!  As evening approached, and the sun reddened behind a cloudbank before them, Fleta stopped, and Bane dismounted. She set about grazing, which was her most comfortable way to eat, while he foraged for nuts and fruits. He could have conjured food, but did not for two reasons: first, because Mach would not be good at such magic, and second, because magic was too valuable to waste on routine chores. If he was in danger of starving, then a conjuration would be in order; meanwhile, foraging would do.

As complete darkness settled in, Fleta assumed girl form and came to him. The air was turning chill—but again, what point magic, when they could share body warmth? They removed their clothing, and spread her black cloak and his blue shirt and trousers over the two of them as blankets, and embraced. It made sense be cause of the warmth, and because they were supposed to be lovers. For all an observer could have told, they were being lovers now, and that was the impression they wanted to give. Bane intended merely to sleep.  But Fleta was as full of mischief as ever. “Canst guess how often I longed to get thee like this, an my heat approached?” she whispered.

Heat! Bane went rigid. When a mare came to that part of her cycle, she had to breed, or suffer terribly, and no mere man could satisfy her. “Thou’rt not—?”

“Nay, not this week,” she said. “But when I learned the human way of it, for pleasure rather than naughtiness, I came to like it any time.” She moved against him, breast against his chest, thigh over his thigh. She might be an animal, and a childhood friend, but she felt exactly like a woman at the moment. 

“I made love to her, in thy body,” he said, hoping to divert her. “We thought thou wouldst not mind.”

“Nor do I,” she agreed. “Oft did I do the same with him in thy body.” She considered a moment. “How was my body?”

“Ne’er better,” he confessed. “Now stop thy teasing, and let me sleep.”

She decided she had gone far enough, and acceded.  Her sexual urge was not at all the same as his; she just liked to demonstrate that she could make him react against his will. She had done that now, and was satisfied.

He relaxed. But he knew the time would come soon enough when, to preserve his secret, they would have to make it real. That might be just part of the game, to her, because animals had no proprietary concerns about sex, but it was no game to him. He felt guilty already for what would surely occur—and more guilty because he discovered that a part of him desired it. The act he could account for, when circumstance made it necessary; the desire he could not.

Bane had never been within the Translucent Demesnes before, and he found it fascinating. The underwater isle, the ancient creatures, the seeming ability to fly—what a realm the Adept had, here! He tried not to gawk as the unicorn carried him through the strange landscape to their refuge.

At last they passed through the dome-shaped curtain and walked on the “normal” land of the isle. All around this region the creatures of the archaic ocean could be seen.

“Must needs we tour the isle, to be sure naught be changed,” Fleta said brightly, shifting to girlform. 

“Yes,” he said, keeping his language in character.  This was her way of acquainting him with the details of this setting, so that he would not make any giveaway errors.

In this fashion she introduced him to the creatures she and Mach had come to know. “And here be Naughty, the same as ever!” she exclaimed as they encountered a creature like a squid in a shell longer than the length of a man. “Nay, chide me not, Mach; I know thou dost call him ‘Nautiloid’ from the Ordovician period o’ Earth!  But to me he be Naughty, for all the times he blunders through to land and we needs must heave him back.” She reached through the dome-wall and petted the monster on the shell. A tentacle reached up and coiled briefly about her wrist, squeezing and letting go. Obviously the monster did remember her, and liked her.  In due course they completed the circuit of the isle.  “All be in order,” Fleta announced. “Now let me graze and sleep.”

“But—“ Bane started, concerned that he did not yet know enough about this region to avoid a blunder. 

“Hast thou not had enough o’ sex on the way here?” she chided him. “Canst not let me sleep in peace, after carrying thee all this distance?”

Oh. She was giving him a pretext to leave her alone, so that the Translucent Adept, who surely watched, had no reason to be suspicious.

He foraged for his supper while she assumed her natural form and grazed on the rich grass growing here.  She was catching up on sleep, too; she could graze while sleeping, which was a useful ability at times.  After he ate, he caught up on natural functions, then piled fragrant ferns and lay down, nominally to sleep.  Actually he whispered the spell of separation. Stile had worked this out so that its evocation was virtually undetectable; it was largely internal magic, not the external magic that used enormous power. When he conjured himself from place to place, the magic made a splash that could readily be detected by those alert for it; when Stile conjured one of Bane’s butterfly forms to another spot, the splash occurred at the site of the conjuration, not of arrival, so there was no alarm. But he had done about all he could with butterflies; now he hoped to do more with his spirit.

He drifted out from his body. He could see, hear, smell and even feel, despite having a center of awareness that was insubstantial. He saw his body, seemingly sleeping; he saw Fleta grazing; he saw Naughty Nautiloid foraging in the nearby ocean.

He moved on through the water, looking for the Translucent Adept. The man was in a palace that appeared to be made out of water: bricks of water kept firm by magic, forming walls and arches, with beams of water supporting the upper levels. There were large windows with panes of water, and furniture shaped from yet more water.

Translucent was relaxing, watching a water-mirror in which an image of the isle was reflected. There was Bane sleeping, and Fleta grazing. So their suspicion was correct: they were under constant observation. Probably Translucent could hear their dialogue, too. The Adept had offered sanctuary for Mach and Fleta, and freedom, but had never guaranteed privacy. He did not interfere with their activities, but he knew of them, in every detail he cared to.

But watching the Adept watch the isle would not accomplish anything. Bane wanted to know the exact plans of the Adverse Adepts, so that his father could counter them specifically. He could not depend on overhearing significant conversations; he had to find records or other indications.

There seemed to be no records. Whatever Translucent knew or planned was in his head. That was a place Bane could not go.

His spying effort here was a failure. He could not even be sure that Translucent was planning any treachery; the limited evidence was that the other Adepts were planning it, for the time when Translucent’s more liberal policy of accommodation failed.

He passed the Adept again—and discovered that the water-screen had changed its picture. Now the Tan Adept was on it, talking to Translucent.

“. . . she’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,” the senior Tan was saying.

“I like this not,” Translucent answered. “I gave mine oath, and I mean to break it not.”

“An they be truly the rovot and the ‘corn, with their triple Thee, she will have no power o’er them,” Tan said. “An they be the other pair, thine oath applies not.  My daughter can capture Bane, then, and the whole of it be ours.”

“I yield to thee on this point only to establish their legitimacy,” Translucent said, obviously irritated.  “Thereafter, I want interference not from thee. There be a smell about this I like not.”

“Agreed.” The Tan Adept faded out.

So he had gained some information anyway! Tania was coming here tomorrow, to verify whether it was the right couple on the isle. The Adepts’ suspicion had been aroused, so now they were checking. Translucent was hewing to the letter of his word, and Bane respected him for that, but the man had to allow this test.  Bane did not want Tania to try her evil eye on him.  He could counter it only by the full exercise of his own magic—and that would give away his identity on the spot, because Mach had only clumsy powers of magic.  But if he did not counter her, he would fall prey to her, and that would be worse. They were in trouble!  He returned to his body. He had less than a day to figure out a way to pass this challenge.  He pondered for a while, and drifted off to sleep. He could not talk to Fleta, knowing he was being watched; he had to act completely naturally.

In the morning Fleta changed back to girlform and approached him for a kiss, as she would have done with Mach. “What news?” she whispered.

He nuzzled her ear. “We be watched, as we thought. Today Tania comes to test us.”

”The e’il eye!” she breathed, tickling his ear. “I like that not!”

“Mach’s triple Thee would be proof against it. But we be the wrong partners; that oath exists not between us.”

She drew back her head. “Not before breakfast, thou sex fiend!” she exclaimed. “Give me leave to think on’t.”

He let her go. How cleverly she answered him, with out arousing suspicion!

They foraged for breakfast, and this time she remained in girlform and ate with him. As they finished, she leaned toward him. He caught the hint and grabbed her for another kiss. It would not do to have Translucent realize that only Fleta initiated such activity.  “Canst leave before?” she whispered.

He had thought of that, and rejected it. They were theoretically here so that they could love each other without restraint, in perfect security and comfort. They would not depart except for good reason—and they weren’t supposed to have any notion of the impending visit. “Would give us away,” he replied.  She wriggled away from his grasp. “Not before wash up!” she protested.

Bane managed to convert a smile to a grimace. Any watcher would be convinced that he was constantly trying to get her into sex, while she was endlessly coquettish.  Despite his knowledge of her rationale, he found him self responding, wanting her in the manner she pretended he did. Pretense of this nature could be treacherous!

They washed up at a freshwater spring on the isle. It was amazing how Translucent had set this up! They stripped, setting their apparel out of harm’s way. Fleta insisted on washing him, using her hands to splash the water on him and to rub him down. Naturally she brought him to arousal. This was not entirely mischief on her part; Mach would have reacted exactly this way.  “I think there be only one way to deceive Tania,” she whispered as she gaily splashed water at his eyes and ears. “We must be amidst it as she comes.”

“But that be only sex!” he protested. “Her power could still move me.”

“Why use it, an she sees how true we be to each other?”

And that just might be the answer. Magic was not cheap for any practitioner. Tania could only use a particular variant of her evil eye on a particular person once. She would not care to waste it on a subject likely to be immune—as Mach would be, because of his absolute love for Fleta. The triple Thee, vindicated as it was said his had been, could not be overridden; indeed, it had overridden Adept magic itself. So if Tania were satisfied that she saw Mach, she would let him pass unchallenged.

He had known that he would have to make love to Fleta, and had felt his mixed guilt about that. Now he realized that he would have to do it for an audience, and make it thoroughly convincing. His mission, and perhaps his freedom, depended on it.

“Aye,” he whispered.

She wrestled herself away, managing in the process to slide her slippery breasts almost the full length of his body. “Nay, Mach! Not till we be at the proper place!” What a tease she was! Surely Translucent, if he were watching at this moment, was chuckling.  So it continued through the morning, Fleta always putting him off on one pretext or another, he always yielding with decent grace. Then it was time for lunch, and then for a nap, she claimed. But she kissed him, and whispered in his ear: “Canst see her coming, now?  Needs must we know exactly when.”

He nodded. He fashioned a partial shelter from boughs and ferns so that the sun would hot burn him, though its light was filtered through the water above the dome and really was not fierce. Then he lay down for his “nap” and used a variant spell to separate his spirit again. He floated out to Translucent’s water-brick house—and there she was already! In only a few minutes she would be at the isle.

He hurried back to his body. How lucky that Fleta had had him check!

He stretched as if waking. Then he reached out and caught Fleta by the arm. “Damn it, filly—you have been teasing me all day!” he exclaimed. “Now you are going to get it!”

“Now?” she asked, her eyes nicking about as if searching.

“Any minute now,” he agreed. “Just let me get that cloak off you!”

“Nay!” she protested, laughing. “That were too brief a nap!”

“The hell with the nap!” he exclaimed, rather enjoying the Proton mode of swearing; it had a certain magic of its own. He wrestled with her, pulling ineffectively at her clothing.

“0, here, thou’lt ruin it,” she complained. She drew off her cloak herself. Then she undressed him.  But when he sought to embrace her, she resisted.

“Thou didst teach me thy way, remember,” she said.  “Not like my way, for when I be in heat and care not what member be in me, so long as I be bred. Slow, and with love.”

She was still stalling, for Tania had not yet shown up. But she was also correct: he had to play this scene convincingly, and that meant that sex was only part of it.

He looked into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. There was no ripple around them, of course; this was a line from a play. In fact, this was very like a game in the Tourney of Proton, in which the participants had to emulate a scene of perfect love-making. It was an open question whether two players ever got into such a match randomly.

“And I love thee,” she said, with similar lack of ripple. That was not necessarily cause for suspicion; the splash showed only at truly seminal declarations, and like other magic tended to fade with repetition.  Now he sought to embrace her more intimately, but still she demurred. “Hast forgotten thine own mode of play?” she inquired teasingly.

Was she still stalling, or trying for perfect realism?

He wasn’t sure, but realized she was right either way.  Tania still had not arrived, and regardless. Translucent was probably watching on his water-screen.  Translucent? Tania could be watching it too! Why should she come here physically, when she could learn what she needed at a distance?

He stroked her breasts. Oh, she was well formed! He had seldom really looked at her recently, and now appreciated in a rush how nicely she had shaped her girl form. He kissed them, then moved up to kiss her ear.  “I think we be on stage now,” he whispered. 

“Ah, Mach, how I have longed to hear thee say that!” she replied aloud with a straight face. Then she became an animal indeed, hugging him, kissing him, stroking him, rubbing her torso against his, wrapping her legs around him, mimicking the height of passion, human style.

This was the same body he had embraced when Agape occupied it. Now it became confused in his mind, and he feared he would cry out Agape’s name and betray himself.

“Mach! Mach!” she cried, but it sounded like “Bane, Bane!”

“Fleta!” he responded, keeping it straight. Then, overwhelmed by the passion of the moment, he took her, not quite caring in that instant who it might be.  And the guilt surged up as his passion ebbed. He had felt too much.

But it seemed that his demonstration had been effective. Time passed, and Tania did not show up. She must have been satisfied that he was Mach, after she saw his demonstration.

Fleta still lay in his embrace, and he could not tell her to go. He had to be consistent to his role. But what was that consistency costing him? What was it costing her?

Tormented by his uncertainty of feeling, he lay for a time, then drifted into sleep.

Later they woke. Fleta did not look happy, but in a moment she assumed a cheerful expression. “Mach, thou didst promise me a foal,” she said.  He was silent, not certain what she was leading up to.

“Now thou art back,” she insisted. “Now be it time to do it.”

“Fleta, this is no simple matter,” he demurred. Was she serious?

“I know thy magic be not yet great,” she continued.  “But the Red Adept doth have the Book o’ Magic, and methinks a spell might be there. My time o’ heat be coming in due course, and if thou couldst breed me then—“

A pretext to visit Trool the Troll! Now he had the gist. “If I promised, I promised,” he said. “We shall ask the Red Adept for a spell.”

“Aye, I thank thee!” she exclaimed, and kissed him with such conviction that he realized this was no ploy.  She really did want Mach’s baby, and thought she could get it.

On the following morning they set out, Fleta in her natural form. Bane riding. Translucent did not interfere; the Adept was satisfied that Mach was in his camp regardless where he might travel. That much was true, and when Mach returned, he would continue to represent the Adverse Adepts. Bane really had no quarrel with that—and none with Translucent, who was be having decently. Had Tania caught Bane in his masquerade, it would have been fair play: he had tried a deception, and paid the price.

In Proton, Citizen Blue knew of the masquerade, but would not try to hold Mach captive; that was understood. This was a ramification of the truce: to let things be until they could be better resolved. Bane hoped that Mach was not having too much trouble maintaining the pretense with Agape.

And what if he was? It was no bad thing, making love to Agape! Bane could not hold that against his other self any more than Mach could hold Bane’s act with Fleta against him. It was understood that this was necessary.

Still, it bothered him. Not the act itself, but his attitude about it. He had tried to make himself believe that it was Agape he embraced, but he had known it was not. He had made love to Fleta, and it had been wonderful. That was the problem. Exactly why had it been so good?

She had been his companion in childhood, and in young adulthood. He had always liked her, and she had liked him. But he had never loved her. She was, after all, an animal.

Now Mach had fallen in love with her, and she with Mach. That caused Bane to see her differently. In what way was Fleta inferior to a human woman? He needed no thought to answer that: the answer was no way. Just as Agape was not inferior to a human woman. Perhaps he loved Agape as an unconscious analog to Fleta: the nonhuman creature who seemed human.

Now he was back with the original, his emotional barriers down. Had he merely done with her what he had always wanted to do? Had he used this masquerade as a pretext to do it?

What had he accomplished in his spying mission?  Only the discovery of Tania’s threat—which would have been no threat at all, had Mach been with Fleta. In short, he had accomplished nothing—except sex with his alternate’s beloved.

So Bane’s thoughts ran, as he rode the unicorn from the Translucent Demesnes. He had no doubt of Fleta’s constancy; she had done only what she agreed to do, 2her heart not in it. But his own was suspect. He might as well have raped her.

No, even that was not the whole of it. The sex had been a concomitant of the mission, supposedly of little importance in itself. Certainly Fleta had no use for it, when not in heat, except as a way to please her lover or to maintain a masquerade. It should have been little more for him: a pleasure of the moment, done for other than emotion. Instead he had been eager for it, and had found it not only physically satisfying, but emotionally fulfilling. As though he had truly meant the words of love he had spoken to her.

Was he falling in love with Fleta?

Bane closed his eyes, trying to drive away the specter of that forbidden emotion, but could not. He knew he should never have undertaken this foolish spying mission; he should have stayed well away from his other self’s chosen. Now it was too late.

Fleta turned her head, glancing back at him with one eye. She was aware of the reactions of his body, and knew that something was bothering him.

And what could he tell her? Nothing! She was innocent; he could only bring her grief by expressing his illicit passion. So he simply petted her shoulder. “You are a truly good creature, mare,” he said. “I would not cause you harm for all the frame.” That much was true.  They camped for the night near a stream. Instead of grazing, this time, Fleta became the hummingbird and filled up on the nectar of flowers, while he made a fire and roasted wild potatoes he dug out. Then she assumed girlform and came to join him for sleeping.  “But I thought thou wouldst graze,” he protested weakly.

“Nay, I prefer to be with thee, Mach,” she said, removing her cloak and spreading it as a blanket for them.

Another night with her body warm against his? He owed it to her and to his other self to avoid that! But what could he say? The Adepts were surely still checking on them.

Unable to find sufficient reason to demur, and uncertain whether he even wanted to, he acceded. He lay down with her, and she embraced him, nuzzling his ear.  “There be spoor,” she whispered. “There be scent. We be followed.”

This was completely unexpected. She had had reason of her own to get close to him! Her attention, at least, was where it should be.

“Canst make love to an unconscious man?” he whispered back.

“Aye.” She chuckled.

He smiled. Any Adept watching them would have no concern; they would be obviously engaged in romance. Meanwhile, he would find out what was going on.  He murmured a spell of separation, and his spirit traveled up out of his body. He looked down: yes, it certainly looked like active sex from here! At least he need have no guilt for this; it was none of his doing.  He oriented, making a swift circuit of the region, and in a moment he spied it: a party of goblins camped not far away. But why hadn’t he been aware of them? He had not been paying proper attention.

He moved close up—and discovered why. There was Adept magic protecting the party—a spell of concealment. Fleta, being a unicorn, was resistive to magic practiced on her, so had been able to pick up hints, while Bane had not. However, his spirit was not subject to the same limits as his body. He could perceive the shimmer of the magic force; indeed, he passed through it with extreme caution, for his presence could disturb it, alerting the Adept who had set it.

This party could only be here to spy on Mach and Fleta. The Adepts were not merely watching, they were keeping a force close by. Why?

He infiltrated the main tent. There was a goblin chief.  He was settling down for the night. Goblins were more at home in the dark than the day, but since these were 2evidently following Bane and Fleta, they had to match their schedule to that of the day-dwellers; otherwise they would get no rest at all.

That meant there would be no real activity while he spied. He could not learn why these goblins were following him. Surely they had better reason than just keeping track of his whereabouts, that the Adepts could do more efficiently from a distance!

He considered a moment, then decided to go for double or nothing. The Adepts were taking an extraordinary step, having a physical presence near him, protected by their magic, so it had to be worth his trouble to find out why. Maybe they just wanted to protect Mach and Fleta from possible harm—but maybe they had some treachery on their minds.

He returned to Fleta. She was still working over his inert body. Well, almost inert; it seemed that certain reactions could occur even in the absence of consciousness, and she was evoking one of those.  “Fleta!” he said.

She did not hear: he had no voice in this state. But if he returned to his body to talk to her, he would lose the rest of his spell, which would be a waste of one time magic.

He drew close and overlapped her head. “Fleta!” he said.

She jumped, looking wildly around.

“It’s me, Bane,” he said. “In spirit. I need thy help.”

She stilled. “Bane,” she whispered. “I hear thee.”

“A party of goblins is tracking us. I need to know why. Canst get up and cause them to react while I listen?  Mayhap they will utter what I would hear.”

“Aye,” she whispered. “This body be not much fun, anyway.”

“Good thing, tease! Thou dost not want me in love with thee too.”

She looked thoughtful, and he feared he had said too much. Then she drew herself up, picking up her cloak.  “Do thou wait here, beloved,” she said aloud. “Must needs I go do what none can do for me.” She became the unicorn.

“That way,” Bane said, overlapping her head again.

“I think they mean us not harm, but push not thy luck.  If thou canst make them stir, to avoid discovery—“ She made a snicker of acquiescence and set out for the goblin camp.

Bane hurried back to the camp ahead of her. In spirit form he could fly, for his spirit weighed nothing; whether he could travel more swiftly yet, but imagining himself there, he wasn’t sure, and wasn’t inclined to experiment at the moment. This was magic his father had devised: he did not grasp all its aspects.

He entered the chief goblin’s tent and hovered. Suddenly he wondered: could he overlap the goblin’s head, as he had Fleta’s, and read its thoughts? Probably not; he had not read Fleta’s. All he might do was give away his presence.

A goblin sentry burst into the tent. “Kinkear!” the sentry exclaimed. “The ‘corn be coming toward us!” Kinkear roused himself with a start. “Why?”

“She has a load to drop.”

“And she’s going to drop it here?” Kinkear cried.

“What a mess, an she blunder across us by sheer chance!  Our whole plan could be discovered! The spell be not effective an a ‘corn step straight into it!”

“Aye. What must we do?”

“Alert the others. Break camp instantly. Stay clear o’her!”

The sentry disappeared. Kinkear hastily rolled up his bed and hauled down his tent. “Just my luck,” he muttered to himself. “She drops dung, and my mission be in deep manure! Tan’ll tan my hide, an I bungle his trap!”

So the Tan Adept was behind this! Already this device was paying off. But why should Tan be after Mach?  His daughter had already verified Mach’s authenticity to her satisfaction; it was Bane she was after.  Now he beard Fleta. She was coming through the grass, evidently looking for just the right place to do her job. She sniffed the air. This camp was downwind from Bane’s body, by no coincidence, and the unicorn’s coming in this direction was no coincidence either; who wanted to spend the night in the breeze from her own manure?

“Get it o’er with, mare!” Kinkear muttered. “Return to thy stud, let him screw thee to the turf—and when he change back to his opposite, then shall we screw him to the turf.”

So it was Bane they were after! They wanted to be on hand after the exchange, and catch him. That was exactly the treachery he was looking for.  The goblins had dispersed through the field, leaving no sign of their camp. But in so doing some of them had strayed beyond the limit of the concealment spell.  Fleta, with her sharp senses in the unicorn form, had to have spotted these, but she gave no sign.  She wandered over to a spot where one goblin cowered under a tangle of grass. For an instant it seemed she would stumble over him. Then she turned around, set herself—and let go her dung directly on top of him.  He couldn’t even curse, lest he give away his presence.  Satisfied, perhaps in more than one sense, she walked back toward her camp.

The goblins busied themselves reforming their camp.  They all had a good chuckle over the fate of the unlucky one. Their crisis was over.

Bane heard no more key remarks. But he had already heard enough. This effort of spying had been worth it!  He returned to his body. Fleta had changed back to girlform, and was lying with his body under her cloak.  “They be setting a trap for Bane, when he returns,” he whispered. “Tan be behind it.”

“Then mayhap will they conjure Tania to eye thee, in the moment thou dost return unguarded,” Fleta whispered back. “That must they do just then, for thou wouldst be else caught not. With Mach loving me, and thou loving Tania, then have they both.”

“Then have they both,” he agreed. “But how can I foil their plot?”

“An thou dost, will not they then know how thou didst know?”

Excellent point! “But an I foil it not, I be trapped, for I fear Tania’s power. She could not hold me long, but she might coerce me into what would compromise me.”

“Such as making love to one thou dost love not?” Fleta asked.

“Such can happen, on occasion,” he said wryly. 

“An I be not in a position to know better, I could have thought thy words to me, a day agone, were true,” she said.

Did she suspect? “Just so the Adverse Adepts think so.”

“Aye.” Did she sound disappointed?

“But whate’er I said about thy body, that were true,” he said. “It be sheer delight.”

“Aye.” This time she sounded satisfied.  They did not resume their effort of love-making; the purpose of that had been accomplished. Bane relaxed, relieved on two accounts, concerned on the third. One: he had finally justified his spying effort by uncovering an enemy trap. Two: Fleta did not suspect his true feeling. Three: how could he withstand Tania, if his love for Agape was not secure?

Fleta made good time, and on the third day they reached the Red Demesnes. The goblin party continued to track them, falling behind by day, catching up in early evening, evidently assisted by magic, for no goblin could keep pace with any unicorn otherwise. Apparently the goblins had to keep close enough to be able to pounce the moment Mach exchanged with Bane.  They had, it seemed, tried to capture Agape before; failing that, they were taking no chances with Bane.  A bat flew out to meet them as they approached the castle. In a moment lovely Suchevane stood before them.

Fleta changed to girlform, giving Bane barely time to dismount. The two young woman forms embraced.  “Be thou Fleta?” the vampire asked.

“Dost know me not?” Fleta asked, laughing.

“Last I met Agape, in thy body. I owe her.”

“I know naught of this.”

Suchevane cast down her gaze, coloring slightly. “I be resident at the Red Demesnes, now. To assist the Adept.”

Fleta surveyed her, comprehending. “Thou dost have a thing for ... ?”

“Aye. It were Agape put me on it, speaking the common sense I saw not for myself. And now—“

Fleta hugged her again. “0, Suchy, how glad I be for thee!”

“And not for him?” Bane inquired. He knew the Red Adept to have been the strongest and most lonely of creatures, surely eager to have a creature like Suchevane near, if she but showed the slightest inclination.  They laughed. Then Suchevane escorted them into the castle.

Bane had not been here for some time, but he recognized improvement. Suchevane had evidently wasted no time in setting the castle in order. Even the old troll looked better; his red robe was clean, and he stood with a certain pride he had not evinced before, despite his enormous magic. A woman could do that for a man; Bane was in a position to know. He had never anticipated such a combination, but it seemed that Agape had engineered it.

“We come on business,” Bane said. “I be Bane, not Mach; we have maintained a masquerade to ascertain the threat posed against thy side by the Adverse Adepts.  But Mach promised, and so did I, to seek a way that Fleta might breed with a man and bear a foal. Fleta has helped me in my mission; now I would help her in her desire, and for this I ask thy help.”

“Thou shallst have it,” Trool said. “What be the threat against us?”

“They mean to smite me with the evil eye, and enamor me of the Tan Adept’s daughter, that I may change sides and work with Mach for them. They know not that I be not Mach, at the moment.”

“Thou hast practiced deception,” Trool said. “That were a violation of thy truce.”

“I think not,” Bane said. “I be on thy side; I made no deal with Translucent. Mach still honors that.”

“Thou art on my side, agreed,” Trool said. “Therefore to me falls responsibility for this abridgement o’ the truce.”

“But they be abridging it also, by setting a trap for me!” Bane protested.

“Aye.” Trool walked in a circle, pondering. “I had thought not Translucent would do that.”

“Translucent agreed only to let Tania test me,” Bane said. “I think he be not part o’ this scheme.”

“If I may comment?” Suchevane said cautiously. 

“Always,” Trool told her, not bothering to conceal the delight he had in her presence.

“Methinks it best to know exactly where the guilt lies,” she said. “An Bane go into the trap, and spring it, then mayhap those behind it will be revealed. Then will we know who keeps the truce, and who does not.”

“Aye,” the troll said. “Then can I deal with those who kept it, to make it right.”

To Bane it seemed that this was quibbling over a technicality. But Trool was vital to the cause, so he said nothing. He would have to face Tania. The others assumed that he could withstand her, because his love for Agape was true; how could he tell them otherwise? 

“Now will I research on breeding,” Trool said. He shuffled from the chamber.

“He will be a while,” Suchevane said. “Come, eat, rest; I will see to the amenities meantime.” She did so, and their comfort was complete. They no longer had to maintain the pretense of being lovers. 

But Bane’s gloom continued. Not only was he uncertain about his emotion, he was now in doubt about his integrity. He and his father had worked out the masquerade, to spy on the plotting of the Adverse Adepts. This had seemed justified—but it was evident that the Red Adept did not consider it so. The more Bane mulled it over, the more it seemed to him that he had allowed his standard of integrity to be governed by that of his enemy, and the less he liked it. Yet had he not spied, they would not have known about the enemy’s marshaling of forces for physical action, or about the plot against him personally. Could it be right to hold to a standard that ensured defeat?

Tormented by the ethical riddle, he went to see Trool.  The troll was deep in the Book of Magic, doing the research he had promised. “If I may . . .”

The troll looked up. “It be possible for dissimilar species to breed, but not easy,” he said. “I be on the details now.”

“That be gratifying, but that were not my concern.”

Trool merely looked at him.

“I came to apologize for putting thee in an awkward position,” Bane said. “I thought what I did to be right, but now I fear it be not. I would make amend, an I knew how.”

Trool nodded. “I be of a species with a little concept o’ right,” he said. “It fell to me to make up for wrongs done by my kind. I did it only by dedicating my life to the right I perceived. Do thou that likewise, and thou hast no further apology to make.”

“I know not whether I can,” Bane said.

Trool closed the book. “The mare?”

“I know not whom I love,” Bane said. “It were Mach who swore the triple Thee to Fleta; I ne’er did to Agape. Not in Phaze, where the splash—“

“The mare loves thee not,” Trool said.

“Aye. She be true to her own. But I—what o’ me?”

“Love be not a thing I understand,” Trool said. “It be yet too new to me. Still, I suspect that love unreturned cannot be true, and must needs be based on other than it seems.”

“But I must face Tania, who will strike at my emotion,” Bane said despairingly. “An my love for Agape not be true, I be vulnerable! Mine inconstancy can doom me—and our side.”

Trool nodded. “I tell thee again, I be no expert in this realm. I thought no woman would care to associate with me, and least of all the loveliest. But it be in my mind that thy doubt of heart be not normal. I met Agape, and if there be one who be the match o’ Fleta, it surely be she.”

“Aye, Agape be more alien than Fleta, and a fine person, and I do love her. I feel great guilt at this doubt, that I know should not exist.”

“Exactly. Do thou allow me then to test thee for a geis.”

“A geis? I have no geis!”

The troll rose and fetched an amulet from a crowded collection on a shelf. “Do thou hold this a moment.” Bane took it. The small carved charm resembled a wooden flower, intricately carved. But as he held it, it glowed.

“There it be,” Trool said. “There be a geis on thee.”

“But I be near-Adept! How can there be magic on me, and I not know it?”

Trool took back the charm. “I think thou dost know it.”

“A love-geis!” Bane exclaimed. “Only partially effective, because of my own power, but insidious! Enough to—“

“The Adverse Adepts have set a trap for thee when thou dost return to Phaze. Could they not have prepared it before?”

“And when it worked not well enough, they set a worse one!” Bane said. “When I exchanged before, with Agape—“

“Whom they thought would be Fleta,” Trool fin ished.

“I thought her Fleta!” Bane said. “At first. Then did I learn she was not.”

“So the impact of the spell was blunted, leaving thee with a partial passion of Fleta that thou didst not recognize. But the geis remained there, drawing thee to ward her.”

“And mayhap I devised this masquerade, that I might—“

“A geis can be insidious.”

Bane nodded, immensely relieved. “Canst banish it?”

“Aye.” Trool brought another finely crafted amulet; the troll had a real talent for carving. This one resembled a wooden heart. “Invoke it as thou willst.”

Bane took it. “I invoke thee!”

The amulet flashed brightly. The light encompassed him, and drew in to him, centering on his heart.  “Wouldst take Fleta to bed?” Trool asked.

“Aye, an it be required.”

“Dost love her?”

Bane smiled. “As a person, aye. As a lover, nay. I respect her and cherish her, but I would not seek her to wife.”

“And Agape?”

“I seek her to wife.”

“Then the geis be abated,” Trool said. “Thou canst now face Tania.”

“Aye!” Bane said with his first real confidence. “Ah, Adept, I thank thee! What a burden thou has lifted from mine heart!”

“I do it because it be right to do,” the troll said. “But it pleases me that it also assures the welfare of the one who helped me gain mine own love.”

“But that she must hide aboard her own planet, to escape the Contrary Citizens,” Bane said, sobering.  “Until an accommodation be achieved. Mayhap that will come soon.”

“Soon,” Bane agreed fervently. “Ah, long I to be with her again!” Then his thought turned to another aspect. “Which Adept put that geis on me?”

“It seems to have been an elixir-spell. There be deep enchanted springs in the mountains, and if the Purple Adept had cause to oppose thee—“

“He did! And he could have had a demon or goblin deliver the elixir the moment we exchanged, and depart unseen.”

“And when they learned that Agape exchanged with thee, they thought the geis lost,” Trool said. 

“So they set up for a more effective ploy. Now at last does it all make sense!”

Trool smiled. “I shall have thine other answer to morrow.”

Bane took the hint. “I thank thee for both, Adept!” He retreated from the chamber as Trool reopened the Book of Magic.

Next day Trool presented that answer: “The mating must be done thrice, once in each of the ‘corn’s forms, when she be in heat. A spell o’ fertility must be invoked at each occasion. The forms o’ the breeders must match.  Their love must be true, and their desire for offspring true. In this manner can crossbreeding be accomplished.”

“Mine heat comes upon me in mere days!” Fleta exclaimed. “Must needs I have Mach back in time!”

“Aye, it be time to exchange back,” Bane agreed.

“But I fear thou canst not achieve it on this occasion.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“I have just learned the manner of form-changing.  It be Adept-quality magic. I fear it be beyond Mach.”

“0, aye,” Fleta agreed, crushed.

“But mayhap in time can he master it,” Suchevane put in.

“In time,” Fleta agreed, brightening somewhat. “Yet would I be with him for mine heat. It be the only time I truly crave what delights him always.”

“Aye,” Suchevane murmured, understanding exactly.

“But that must come only after the mock-exchange, to seem to bring me to Phaze,” Bane reminded her. 

She smiled somewhat perfunctorily. “Aye; we have labored at a masquerade to deceive the Adverse Adepts! How glad I be to see the end o’ that!”

“Aye,” Bane breathed, knowing that his own relief was other than hers.

“But must needs I confess,” she continued after a moment, “that an I could, I would return to Proton frame for the Tourney.”

“The Tourney!” Bane exclaimed, amazed. “What would a unicorn do in such a thing?”

“Ah, what indeed!” she agreed, sighing. “Yet have I a foolish longing for the thrill I found in that contest, so like the Unilympic yet so different too. At first I liked Proton not, but as I came to know it . . .” She spread her hands. “Grazing the plains be just not the same, anymore.”

So she, too, had been struck by a certain illicit longing! That made Bane feel better.

Bane located Mach, coming toward the Red Demesnes, and knew that his other self was ready for the exchange. He approached a rendezvous with mixed emotions. He knew that this would spring the trap, and that the goblins would not seek to harm him or Fleta, but that when Tania appeared his love would be truly tested. The abolition of the geis had returned his emotional strength to him, and abated his gnawing guilt and doubt—but how strong was his love for Agape? He would soon know, and if it faltered even a little—

Mach had cried out the triple Thee to Fleta, and removed all doubt from all the frame of his commitment. But even in the absence of the geis, Bane feared his own love to be of lesser merit. What tragedy could befall them all, if—?

But he had to put it to this test. It was the only way to play out the masquerade, and to stop the Adverse Adepts without revealing how he had spied on them.  If he prevailed, their chances against the Adverse Adepts and the Contrary Citizens would still be no better than even. If he did not, then all that his father had worked for in Phaze, and all that Citizen Blue had worked for in Proton, was in peril.

But he had to put aside such speculation. He had a lot to explain to Mach, in a very brief interval!  Bane elected to make the contact almost in sight of the red castle, so that Trool’s appearance would not be questioned, when the trap manifested. He walked to an open spot with Fleta, who was in girlform. He could feel the near approach of Mach. It was time.  He embraced Fleta. “I will return to you when I can, beloved,” he said, playing the role of Mach. Her body was as lovely as ever, and he liked her as well as ever, but the guilty tinge of sexual and possessive desire was gone; she was only his animal friend, as she had always been.

“Take care of thyself, Mach,” she replied. Then, with an impish smile: “And be not distracted by alien creatures.”

He had to laugh. That was the least of his worries!  “You remain here, while I exchange,” he told her, disengaging. “We don’t want another four-way cross over!”

“Or to find ourselves in the wrong lover’s arms.” She was being very pointed. He nodded, and turned, and walked about fifty feet, coming to the spot where Mach waited. Then he slowed, as if not quite sure of the exact spot, and passed through it without stopping.  Mach! he thought as they intersected. Exchange not yet. There be a trap for me here I needs must spring.  Then he was out of phase.

He turned, as if reorienting, and walked back into Mach. Understood, Mach replied. I will wait.  Bane stopped just beyond intersection, spread his arms as if in discovery, and put a dazed expression on his face. He blinked, and began to lose his balance.  Then he looked up, as if reorienting on the landscape of Phaze after being in a chamber of Proton. He opened his mouth.

Tania appeared immediately before him. “Bane,” she said. Then she hit him with her power.  The effect was emotional rather than physical, but it was potent. Suddenly she seemed to glow, to become the ultimate and eternal woman, perfect of form and feature, phenomenally desirable. Her tan tresses shone with a golden luster, and her tan eyes bore on his magnetically. It was as if the entire frame were dissolving, becoming unreal; the only reality was here.  And she was beautiful. He could not deny that, objectively. She was not creating the illusion of appeal where none existed, she was enhancing a formidable base. Her face had seemed relatively plain, but her body was excellent, and now that her expression was animated, even her face was good. But that was merely physical. He had seen her destroy the little bird; he had seen her cruelty. He knew she was no prize.  More important, he was not vulnerable. His love was not uncertain or compromised. “Agape,” he murmured. And saw the faint splash.

The ripple spread outward, almost invisible. But when it passed Tania, she screamed. She knew in that moment that she had lost, and that the trap had been for nothing.  She had tried to exert her power on a man whose love was true.

The Translucent Adept appeared, floating in his watery bubble. “What be this?” he demanded, staring at Tania.

“That wench tried to fascinate me,” Bane said. “Be this the way thou does honor the truce?”

“I had no part in this!” Translucent cried angrily. “I knew of it not, nor was it mine intent.” There was another faint splash as he spoke, vindicating him. “The wench was to test only Mach’s identity, lest there be deceit; thereafter she was to have no part of this.”

The Red Adept appeared. “There was deceit on both sides,” he said. “The Adverse Adepts set goblins to track the couple, to capture Agape, and to bring Tania to catch Bane. This be the proof o’ that.”

“Then be mine oath compromised,” Translucent said grimly.

“But it were Bane who went last to thy Demesnes, and spied on thee,” Trool continued. “Thus be mine own oath compromised, by the dealing of mine associates. I learned o’ this late.”

Translucent gazed at him. “Dost proffer offsetting injuries?”

“Aye.”

“Accepted. Let us have no more o’ this.”

“No more o’ this,” Trool agreed. “Needs must we fashion an end to this standoff, that the issue be decided fairly and openly.”

“Aye. But how?”

“The Tourney!” Fleta called.

Both Adepts glanced at her in surprise. “What dost thou know o’ that, mare?” Translucent asked. 

“It be the fairest way in Proton to settle an issue,” she said stoutly. “First be the Grid played, wherein be strategy, but none may know ahead what game can come o’ it, then be the game played, and the victor be determined by skill or luck or agreement as may be, but none may know ahead for sure who will prevail.  Settle the issue with a tourney!”

“But this be Phaze,” Translucent protested. “There be no tourney here.”

“There be contests,” Fleta said. “The Unilympics, the Werelympics—“

“Animal shows,” the Adept said disparagingly. “But in any event, this be a matter between frames, not to be settled by a contest in one. And we can not have a contest between frames.”

“We could,” Tania said, speaking for the first time since her failure.

Translucent turned on her a look of irritation. “Be thankful I banish thee not to the depth of the sea, wench!” he snapped. “I’ll have no input from thee!”

“I cheated too,” Fleta said. “I knew I was with Bane, not Mach, in thy Demesnes. I be guilty as she.”

 “Then let her speak,” Trool said, intrigued.  “There be only two who can communicate between frames,” Tania said. “Or maybe four, but only two on their own. One sides with us, the other with Stile’s forces. They be alternate selves, inherently even. Let them vie with each other, one in each frame. Let the loser join the side o’ the victor.”

Translucent looked at Trool, who looked equally amazed.

“And let their loves assist them,” Fleta said.

Trool spoke to Bane. “Dost thou concur?”

“I be not apt at the game,” Bane said.

“But thy potential be Mach’s, in his body,” Fleta said. 

“And his be thine, in thy body. An we exclude not magic from the games, with Mach a duffer there—“

“Training,” Translucent said. “Go to experts of Proton for training. They will do their honest best.”

“Better yet,” Trool said. “Go to the Oracle.”

Now Bane was stunned. The legendary Oracle! The magical entity that had guided his father’s career in Phaze. The Oracle knew everything—and it was now in Proton, in the guise of a computer, guiding Blue’s dominance of that frame. If he could not prevail with the Oracle’s help, he could not do so at all.  “Aye.”

“But the equivalent in Phaze be the Book of Magic,” Translucent said. “And that be not in our power.”

“An Bane be trained by the Oracle,” Trool said, “I will lend thee the Book of Magic, for the training o’ Mach only.”

This time it was the Translucent Adept who was stunned. “That be the mainstay o’ thy power!”

“Aye. Canst make oath to abuse it not?”

Translucent considered, and there was a faint shimmer about him. “Nay. Canst give me access to it in thy Demesnes?”

Now Trool the Troll considered, and the shimmer was about him. “Aye,” he said at last.

“Then can I agree,” Translucent said. “Troll, we be on different sides, but I would be friends with thee “

“Aye,” Trool said.

Translucent stepped out of his bubble, and it dissolved into vapor. He walked across to Trool, extending his hand. The troll accepted it.

Then Trool turned back to Bane. “Does Mach agree?”

“Ask him,” Bane said. He stepped back into overlap.  New challenge, he thought. They will explain. Then they made the exchange.

10

Mach felt the change, and knew it was now Agape he held. She had returned to her proper frame, and could return also to her own world of Moeba.

He disengaged. “I had better acquaint you with recent events here,” he said.

“Aye,” she agreed.

He looked at her, startled.

She laughed. “No, I am Agape. I have a story of my own to tell.” She looked around the chamber. “But is it safe to talk?”

“It’s supposed to be.” But now he remembered how Citizen Purple had caught on to Fleta’s identity. Had it been a good guess, or had information leaked from this chamber? The Game Computer could overhear everything, of course; Mach had trusted its discretion, but Citizens did have extraordinary powers.  She read his doubt. Then she hugged him. “Let us whisper, in that case. I have learned things about enmity.”

“You are in the Tourney,” he whispered in her ear.  She drew back her head and looked at him again, startled.

 “It was the only way to protect Fleta from the Contrary Citizens—and even then, it was close. But you need not worry; you can lose and be shipped home to Moeba. You know the planet better than she does.” She smiled, agreeing.

There was a knock on the entry panel. Both of them glanced at it, startled. Who would knock, instead of using the screen to communicate?

Mach went to the panel and opened it. There stood a cleaning machine. Since when did such service devices knock?

The machine’s speaker murmured a code. Then Mach understood: this was a self-willed machine masquerading as a mindless one. It extended a tiny package.  Mach took the package and folded it into his palm.  Then the machine rolled on down the hall, and Mach closed the panel and turned to face Agape, making a small gesture toward his lips with a finger: silence.  She understood. She shrugged, and went to the food dispenser. He quickly opened the package, removed the electronic chip inside, and slid it into an aperture that opened under his left arm.

The message was stark: CONTRARY CITIZENS WILL CHALLENGE AGAPE AS FALSE ENTRY, DISQUALIFY HER, TAKE HER INTO THEIR CUSTODY. SHE MUST DEMONSTRATE SHE IS FLETA. TAPES OF THE CHAMBER TO BE REQUISITIONED AS EVIDENCE FOR HEARING. ACT ACCORDINGLY.

Assimilation took only an instant. Now he under stood why the contact had been physical and masked: a communication through the screen would have be come part of the requisitioned evidence. The Contrary Citizens were still after Agape, and would not let her get to her home planet, now that he had nullified their trap there.

She had to prove she was Fleta? Evidently the Citizens had caught on, but did not know that the girls had exchanged back. He trusted the judgment of his kind; he would do as they recommended.

Meanwhile, Agape was about to operate the food controls. He hurried over. “Fleta, you should know better than to try to work that thing yourself; you’ll foul it up. Let me do it. What would you like?” She masked her surprise. He put his hands on her shoulders and gently urged her to the side. As he let go, he tapped the spot under his arm where he had inserted the message chip. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Fleta might have been confused, but Agape understood his machine nature.

“The usual,” she said. “I thank thee.”

She was cooperating quickly and well! His experience on Moeba had increased his understanding and appreciation of her kind, and now he saw things about her that made him see how his other self could have come to love her. The tiny amoeba in the. laboratories of Proton were far from intelligent, but those of Moeba were advanced, and every bit as clever as multicellular life. To think of a microscopic amoeba as the model for Agape was about as accurate as thinking of a single on off switch as the model for Mach.

He fixed her the usual: a bowl of nutritious mush, that she could digest with her feet. He reminded her of this matter-of-factly, as if bored by it, but the information was important. Agape would not otherwise have known how Fleta had adapted to the amoeboid body.

After she had eaten, he guided her to the bed and lay down with her. Her look of uncertainty was only fleeting; she knew he had reason. He hugged her, and spoke quietly into her ear.

“Message chip. They mean to challenge your legitimacy as a Tourney participant. You must prove you are Fleta.”

“But I don’t know how she played, or anything!” she protested.

“Evidently my kind believes you can authenticate it.  But the tapes of this chamber will be requisitioned as evidence. That means—“

“Aye, I know what it means,” she replied.

“I’m not sure you do. You see—“

“A moment, Mach, while I change into something more comfortable,” she said.

He waited, not sure what she had in mind. What he had been trying to tell her was that Mach would have made love to Fleta, and if she was to prove she was Fleta, now, when supposedly unobserved, this was a necessary step. As a robot, he could do what was necessary, without compromising his love for the real Fleta.  But could she—?

Her body was melting and changing. Her hair turned black, and a button appeared in her forehead. Her features—

“Fleta!” he exclaimed, amazed. For she was assuming the exact likeness of the unicorn girl, in her human form.

How could she have known that form? Then he chided himself for his doubt: Agape had just spent a good session in Fleta’s body. Of course she had come to know it!

It was evident she also understood the rest of it.  Agape loved Bane—but she had just been with Bane, and knew his plan to spy on the Adverse Adepts. She knew that Bane would have to treat Fleta as Mach would have treated her. Now she was ready to emulate that action here: Mach and Fleta, with the female being the pretense-identity, instead of the male. Perhaps there was a certain justice to it.

She smiled at him. “Come, my love. Do what thou must, and I will help thee. I would sleep soon, for I have a game on the morrow.”

She looked like Fleta. She sounded almost like her.  She knew his body, because of Bane’s occupancy. She understood the rationale. She was a worthy person. But she was not Fleta, and he could not blank out that knowledge.

Could not? What was he thinking of! He could do just that, with a little spot reprogramming. He did it now, setting up a bypass so that for the next hour he would believe that what he saw was genuine. As a machine he could do that deliberately; he knew that living creatures could sometimes do it unconsciously, blanking out portions of their memory or instilling delusions that seemed real.

“Fleta,” he said, accepting the presence of his love in this frame. He remembered the delight he had had of her in Phaze, after she had learned to accommodate his kind of love-making. He remembered his oath of love to her.

After that, it was easy.

Next day the challenge came: Citizen Purple levied it against Agape. “I submit that this is not the creature from Planet Moeba, but another creature in her body,” he declared. “As such, she is not qualified to participate in the Tourney. Her apparent victory over me must be nulled, and she disqualified and turned over to me for compensation.”

Such a charge would have been dismissed as nonsensical, had a serf made it. A Citizen was another matter. Agape was required to report to a hearing chamber for a settlement with the Citizen.  “But the evil man will grab me!” she protested. “I know not the ways of thy frame, but I know the ways o’ the Adverse Adepts!”

Mach’s temporary circuit had been eliminated; he knew her identity. But how like Fleta she was acting!  That time in Phaze had really prepared her.  “The Citizen cannot take you as long as the Game Computer retains authority,” he said. “All you have to do is demonstrate that you are properly entered in the Tourney.” But he was nervous, because he had not been with Fleta when she qualified; he had stayed clear, deliberately, and gone to Moeba. He trusted the word of the self-willed machines, but he had no idea how pre tending that Agape was Fleta would get her through this challenge. He had rejoined her after she had qualified; he had told her, in the guise of routine reminding, of the four matches Fleta had won. But he hadn’t thought to look up the records on her qualifying matches—and in any event, it might have cast doubt on her authenticity if he had asked for those records.  They went to the prescribed chamber, following the line of the floor. Citizen Purple was there, glowering at Agape. “See—she doesn’t even try to conceal it any more!” Purple exclaimed. “She’s got the unicorn button!”

“Aye,” Agape said.

“Hearing as to the validity of the qualification of Fleta for the Tourney is now in progress,” the voice of the Game Computer said. “Challenger will present specifics.”

“It was supposed to be Agape of Moeba,” Purple said. “I want to verify the record of her qualification.  What name is it under?”

“Record of subject’s first qualification game dis played,” the Game Computer said. A screen on the wall lighted. On it was printed:

SHOCK OF KOLO

FLETA OF UNI

PLAYER ONE:

PLAYER TWO:

The Citizen gaped. “She registered as a unicorn?”

“Transcript of dialogue at console,” the Game Computer said. On the screen appeared:

“HI! I’M SHOCK. MY HAIR, YOU KNOW.”

“HI. I’M FLETA”

“WELCOME TO THE LEFTOVER LADDER. I’M SECOND FROM THE BOTTOM. I LOVE THE GAME, BUT I’M NO GOOD AT IT, SO I’M EASY TO BEAT.”

“LADDER?”

“OH, YOU NEW HERE? FROM ANOTHER WORLD?”

”NEW. FROM ANOTHER WORLD.”

“SAY, THAT’S GREAT! I’M A KOLOFORM MYSELF. WELL, I MEAN MY FOLKS CAME FROM KOLO, SO IT’S MY BLOOD. I WAS BORN HERE, BUT I CAN ONLY STAY TILL I’M TWENTY-ONE, NEXT YEAR, YOU KNOW. THEN I’M EITHER A SERF, OR I HAVE TO GO TO KOLO. WHAT’RE YOU?”

“A UNICORN.”

So that was it! Fleta had indeed registered as Fleta the Unicorn. Mach knew what had happened: she had automatically given her correct identity when talking with the other player, and the Game Computer had picked that up and made it official. She had proceeded to qualify for the Tourney under that identity. She was legitimately entered.

Citizen Purple hesitated, and Mach was sure he was going to demand to see the tapes of their chamber. But evidently the man changed his mind, knowing that they were on to his ploy and that nothing in those tapes would prove she was not Fleta. Certainly the tapes from before the exchange would not; then she had indeed been Fleta. The Citizen had challenged her as being an impostor for Agape, assuming that she would have been registered as Agape or under a phony name. Had he been able to requisition the records before making the formal challenge, he would have discovered his error, but all qualification records were sealed during a Tourney, to prevent cheating.

Citizen Purple strode out without further comment.  He had lost—again. But Mach knew that they would have to maintain the pretense that she was Fleta until she was safely out of the Tourney and offplanet, lest she be disqualified for not being Fleta the Unicorn. The message of the self-willed machines had been timely!  That afternoon her next match came up. This was for Round Five, relatively rarefied territory for the Tourney. Fleta had done amazingly well, turning out to be a natural games-creature; Agape would not be able to match that level.

But he had, in the guise of a few private caresses, advised her: she could afford to lose, now, but she had to play in the manner of Fleta. A win in the manner of Agape would lead to the pouncing of the Citizens, and disqualification would put her into their hands. A loss in the manner of Fleta would enable her to be deported to Moeba safely. For the Tourney she was Fleta, but legally she remained Agape.

Mach could not join her at the console, of course.  He watched her from their chamber, on the screen, as he had when Fleta played.

Her opponent was someone he knew: a man in his twenties who was a veteran player. His name was Sharp, and he was especially skilled at physical combat with sharp things: swords, knives, needles. He was not as good at intellectual things, and that was fortunate, be cause if Agape had the numbers she would put it into the mental category. If she had the letters, she would go for Machine-Assisted, avoiding the chance of direct physical competition. That was the strategy they thought Fleta would go for, avoiding animals because others would be expecting her to go for animals.  Evidently she did get the numbers, because the first selection on the grid was 2B, Tool-Assisted Mental.  The second grid was 5G, Separate and General: obviously she had had the numbers again, and chose to keep the two of them apart, as an uncertain unicorn would. This category contained such things as origami (paper-folding), crosswords, cryptograms and other noninteractive paper games. The assisting tools were pencil or paper or both, nominally; actually it was all done on the console screen.

The final determination was Cryptogram: the interpretation of a set of symbols that represented a quotation in English. Mach didn’t like this; Agape could handle it, but Fleta would have real trouble. Unicorns had no literary education to draw upon, and indeed, it was sheer luck that Fleta was even literate; most did not go to that extreme when adapting to the human form. The danger was that Agape would play too well, and reveal her nonunicorn nature.

RULES: the screen said, for the contestants and for the private viewers, such as Mach. EACH NUMBER STANDS FOR ONE LETTER OF THE ALPHABET.

SPACING AND PUNCTUATION ARE NORMAL.

TO PLACE LETTERS, TOUCH NUMBER AND LETTER SIMULTANEOUSLY; TO MAKE CORRECTION, TOUCH AGAIN. A FULL LIST OF QUOTATION AUTHORS IS AVAILABLE, OR AN AUTHOR MAY BE REQUESTED BY DESCRIPTION. CONTESTANTS WILL WORK INDEPENDENTLY ON IDENTICAL QUOTATIONS. WINNER IS FIRST TO COMPLETE QUOTATION AND AUTHOR CORRECTLY. PLAY COMMENCES WHEN BOTH PLAYERS SIGNIFY READINESS BY TOUCHING “READY” SQUARE.

In a moment, the screens appeared on Mach’s screen:

Agape’s on the left. Sharp’s on the right. The players would not know who was doing better, but the watchers could see it plainly.. There was a row of letters across the top, and other directives at the bottom. Each screen looked like this:

ABCDEFGH1JKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

123456!   4758  975830’94

{llHl2>  32{13}26(14(  ()5}4  4729  758(16}:

{)2t6{14}3{15}60   7{15}47   6fl2}{12}0   5{17)   47{12}{12}!

(18}2332{15}1   (18}5{16K)9{18}5{16}47

LETTERS NUMBERED FROM 1 TO {18} AUTHORS: LIST DESCRIPTION

Mach was experienced as a gamesman, and would have been happy to tackle this challenge. He would have started by touching AUTHORS and DESCRIPTION and requesting a selection of authors with first names of seven letters and last names of ten; that could have given him an immediate break, though the computer tried to foil that approach by having a number of authors for every such combination, sometimes too many to make it feasible. But neither contestant tried that.

Sharp knew some of the basics. He counted, and discovered that there were eight 7’s, more than any other letter. He knew that E was the most common letter used in English, so he filled in E’s above the 7’s.  That gave him a quick start, but Mach wasn’t sure; in short quotations like this, distribution could be atypical, and Mach noticed that five of those 7’s were preceded by 4’s. Why were so many locked together like that? It was certainly possible, but not usual.

Agape, trying to think like a unicorn, was having more trouble. She did not count letters, she just pondered the whole, biting her lip. (He assumed that last detail; she was not shown on the screen.) Sharp, buoyed by his success with E, pondered the doubled 12’s near the end. He tried MESS for the last word, but that gave him -SS- for the third one from the end, and he didn’t like that. So he changed the last to TELL, and that gave him -LL- for the other. He struggled with that, and was in the process of coming to the conclusion that he could not make it with that E; but he obviously did not want to give it up.  Agape, meanwhile, in a fit of inspiration calculated to convince everyone that she was Fleta, however badly she might lose the game, suddenly touched letters rap idly and filled in that last word as THEE. Mach had to applaud the genius of that; of course that was the way a creature from Phaze would see it!

Now she filled in her E’s, T’s, and H’s, and suddenly she had a lot of notions to pursue. She found the second word beginning with TH and immediately filled in THOU, as Fleta would, and followed through with the 0’s and U’s elsewhere in the sample. The word following THOU was -HOU—‘-T; she had no hesitation 2about completing it as SHOULD’ST and filling in its other letters elsewhere. Her display now looked like this:

LTD    !     THOU     SHOULD’ST

123456!      4758     975830’94

EL         -T            TH  S   HOU

{11H12}   32{13}26{14} {15} 4    4729   7 5 8 {16} :

E       L     DHTH      EEDO      THEE!

{12} 6(14} 3 {15)60    7 {15} 4 7   6(12}{12}0   5 {17} 47{12}{12)’

LL       0 DS 0 TH

(18}2332{15}1 {18}5{16}0 9{18}5{16}4 7

Mach stared at it. Could she actually be on the right track? This certainly seemed to have possibilities! Sharp, meanwhile, was still agonizing over the loss of his easy E. That was a mistake; he was wasting time, being emotionally committed to an approach that wasn’t working.

Fleta—no, Agape, he corrected himself—filled in the a for HATH, which also gave her AT. This was definitely falling into place!

She filled in F for FEED. Unicorns were always interested in that. But that made the first word —LTOF, which was awkward.

Then she stalled.

Mach agonized as she pondered, while Sharp tried one thing after another. Sharp would find the key, if she didn’t do something!

Then Mach reminded himself that her objective was not to win, but to play like a unicorn. That she was accomplishing!

Then she evidently reread the options at the bottom of the screen. She touched AUTHORS: DESCRIPTION.

TYPE DESCRIPTION, the screen printed, and displayed a keyboard.

She went at it hunt and peck: AUTHORS ENDING IN {TH}.

Stroke of genius! In a moment she had WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. The letters checked, and she had a number of new ones—and she hadn’t had to draw from her memory a name Fleta would not have known. Now her cryptogram looked like this:

MILTOF!

123456!

THOU

4758

SHOULD•ST

975830’94

E   L I     IF       AT

{11} (12} 3 2 {13} 2 6 {14} {15)4

E F    L A FD

{12} 6 {14} 3 (15} 6 0

W 1 L L I AM

(18} 2 3 3 2(15}]

H A TH

7 {15} 4 7

TH I S

4729

FEED

6(12Hl2}0

HOU R :

758 {16}:

0        TH E   E  !

5(17} 47{12H12}!

WORDSWOR TH

{18} 5 (16} 0 9 (18} 5 {16} 4 7

She pondered, then filled in B above {11} for BE.

Then she put N over {17}, making ON.

FEED ON THEE? Mach doubted it, and so, evidently, did Fleta. (He knew it wasn’t her, but she was playing the role so well, he kept slipping.) She pondered, then in another fit of brilliance reversed F and N, making it NEED OF THEE! She corrected her bad F’s elsewhere, and now the quotation was almost complete:

MILTON! THOU SHOULD’ST BE LI-IN- AT THIS HOUR:

EN-LAND HATH NEED OF THEE! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Sharp, meanwhile was starting to get on track; he had asked for the AUTHORS list, and after a tedious search from A to W had spotted Wordsworth. Had he chanced to start from the other end of the list, he would have been there much faster. He had no trouble with MILTON, but couldn’t make sense of THOU and THEE.  Fleta filled in LIVING, and suddenly, to her surprise, she had won. She had no notion what kind of creature ENGLAND was, but that wasn’t necessary. What a perfect portrayal of the unicorn!

Then it occurred to Mach that Agape probably didn’t know England either; it was not part of her heritage.  Neither was Wordsworth, or Milton. She might have proven herself to be Fleta—by being herself. 

Next day she was up against a young serf woman of about her own apparent age. Agape got the letters, so chose C. MACHINE. The other woman chose 3.  CHANCE. They wound up with the game of number bracketing. This required three players, but the Game Computer simply generated random numbers for the third person.

The object was to choose a number from 1 to 100 that was between the two numbers chosen by the others, or, if two numbers matched, to be the odd one out, the one that didn’t match. It was a very simple game, but a nervous one nevertheless. Obviously the best strategy was to go for the center, because the fringes were losers—but every player had the same notion. Thus it might be better to choose one near the edge, and let the other two jam up in the center, perhaps duplicating their numbers and yielding the victory. But every player would reason that way, too. What was the better strategy?  But it wasn’t Mach’s decision to make. He did not like games of chance, as was the case with most competent players; chance was the refuge of incompetence.  At least there was no problem about unicorn strategy here; the game was too simple.

Agape chose 1, and the other player chose 50. The random number was 22, making it the winner. There fore they played again.

This time Agape chose the other player’s prior number, 50, while the other took 75. The random number was 63. Again they had no decision.

The third time Agape went for 75, taking her opponent’s last number again. The other, gambling that she would do just this, took 74, bracketing her toward the edge. But the random number was 90, and Agape won. It was of course sheer luck—but the other woman had elected to win or lose by chance, and had paid the price, when she might have won by skill.  Agape had now won the sixth round, and would compete next in the seventh—one of only sixteen survivors in the Tourney. Mach was amazed: how far would this go? Suppose—just suppose—that her luck continued?  Four more victories would make her the winner of the Tourney, and she would become the first unicorn Citizen. What then?

Her Round Seven match was against another Citizen; not one of the Contraries, just a game buff who enjoyed the challenge and the privilege of dashing the hopes of serfs. He was a healthy man in his forties who was the most dangerous of players: the kind who truly under stood the Game. He would make no mistakes and would have no mercy. Mach, watching from his chamber, felt the dread of likely loss; Agape was about to be put out of the Tourney.

She got the letters and chose TOOL, following her set strategy. He chose PHYSICAL, craving the greatest immediacy. In the subgrid she chose COOPERATIVE, while he went again for immediacy and challenge; FIRE, or variable surface.

They settled on a “team” sport—that was how COOPERATIVE translated here. In this case it was a variant of mountain climbing, with five-person teams roped together, descending into the rumbling crater of a volcano.

Well, he thought, Fleta was fleet of foot. She could navigate any slope with confidence. Except that this wasn’t really Fleta, and she wasn’t alone. She had four android teammates who were “neutral”: neither apt nor clumsy. What would count was teamwork: how well she organized and directed them for the descent into ever more-challenging territory. The victory would go to the player who brought his party safely to the bottom first.  If any teammates were lost, that was a liability but not necessarily defeat, depending on the state of the other team.

The screen showed the crater: a truly impressive setting. The walls of the upper inner rim were almost vertical, the slope modifying below and finally becoming level. But there were ridges and irregularities, and vents issuing smoke and steam, and sometimes lava.  The whole thing shuddered at irregular intervals, and there were occasional mini-eruptions of rocks and dust and gas. Verisimilitude was excellent; on the screen, it really did seem like a living volcano crater.  There were four established paths of descent: north, south, east and west. These varied in detail, but had similar hazards, and had been established as equivalent in difficulty. Lot determined the assignments. The Citizen’s team was given the north slope, and Agape had the south. Mach’s screen could be set up to watch the whole crater, with the tiny figures at either side, or to watch one at close range, or split to watch- both parties at intermediate range. He checked the AUDIENCE indicator, and discovered without surprise that it was huge. There were relatively few games being played now, and the unicorn had captured the public fancy; also, the volcano was always popular.

Mach knew that the Citizen would have played this course before, many times, and would have every path memorized. The Game Computer changed details with each game, to prevent this kind of advantage, but there was only so much it could do. The advantage of knowledge of the course was definitely with the Citizen.  Agape looked down her path, then took a daring and most unicornlike step: she detached herself from the safety rope. A unicorn, of course, would prefer to climb alone, regarding the other members of the team as a liability rather than an asset.

She started down, using chinks in the rim-wall for handholds, until she could stand on the less formidable slope below. She found a safe-seeming vantage by a projection of solidified lava, and called directions back to her remaining team. She had to get them down safely too; she could not leave them behind. They followed her route, descending in order, until they rejoined her.  It was a decent start.

Meanwhile the Citizen was proceeding conventionally and efficiently. He too led his party, not trusting the androids to be good judges of the route. He barked orders to each, moving them along. His team made the first “landing” before Agape’s did.

Then the first shudder came. The rocks shook, and several fragments of rock became dislodged and slid down. No damage was done to either party; it was merely a warning.

Agape went ahead again, spying out the best descent.  She had a choice at this stage: one reasonably safe but long path, and one short but treacherous one. She gambled as a unicorn would, taking the shorter one. The Citizen took the safe one. That made Mach nervous; the Citizen surely had reason.

That reason soon manifested: there was another tremor, worse than the first. Gas hissed up from vents—and there were more such vents along Agape’s fast path than along the Citizen’s slow one. But Agape had had her team wait again while she explored, and she was watching; she lay flat as the vents expressed themselves, and had no trouble. Then she jumped across a minor crevasse, found another staging point, and brought her team down. She was now ahead of the Citizen.  Was there an upset in the making? The Citizen, seeing himself behind, hurried his team—and one of his androids misstepped and fell. The safety rope prevented him from being lost, but he took an injury, and now was limping. That was another point for Agape: all her teammates were safe.

But as she explored for the third leg of her descent, a lava vent just behind her spewed out molten rock, splattering her body. It was not real lava, of course, but jellylike emulation. Nevertheless, she had received a direct strike on the torso, and was deemed to have 2been burned beyond the ability to continue. The Game Computer issued a STAY IN PLACE directive; Agape was not permitted to go on.

If the Citizen suffered a similar mishap, then points would be assessed and the winner determined. But he did not. Relieved of any need to hurry, he took his time, and brought his slightly incapacitated party safely to the bottom. Thus, anticlimactically, Agape lost the match, and was out of the Tourney.

Mach felt a pang of regret. He reminded himself that she had done it correctly, playing the way a unicorn would; moving alone, gambling with her own safety rather than that of her teammates. Had she sent an android ahead, and had the android taken the incapacitating lava-splat, she would have been allowed to continue. The Citizen might have taken a greater loss of personnel, giving the victory to her. But she had done it Fleta’s way, and lost, and that was the right way to lose.

Still, Mach wished she had won. He knew that the great majority of the audience felt the same.  Agape was returned to her planet, banned from Proton because of her loss in the Tourney. She had made it safely, and Mach knew the Contrary Citizens had no trap remaining there. The administration of the Tourney seemed to have no concern for the fact that if she really had been Fleta, as she had “proved” herself to be for her qualification as a player, this exile would have been inappropriate at best. But what of her relation to Bane?

He had no acceptable answer for that. In order to communicate or exchange with Bane, Mach had to overlap him geographically, and as far as he knew, that could only be done on this planet. If Agape was forever exiled from Proton, how could Bane get together with her?

There were two answers, as he saw it. Either Bane would have to make frequent trips to Planet Moeba, or Agape would have to be allowed to return. Suppose they worked out a compromise: cooperation with the Contrary Citizens, in exchange for this exception to the law of Proton. Would Bane go for that? He wasn’t sure.  Now, belatedly, he realized that the Contrary Citizens had never challenged Fleta’s identity, after challenging her registry in the Tourney. That meant that the tapes of the chamber had never been requisitioned.  Now she was safely back on her own planet, and it no longer mattered. He had not had to make love to her, to preserve the pretense.

Still, Agape had done such a good job of imitating Fleta that he was satisified to leave the recent past as it was. For an hour he had just about been with the filly. What others might think of the situation he wasn’t sure, and didn’t care.

The Tourney proceeded, and a serf woman won it, becoming a Citizen. How nice for her, Mach thought.  But what of Agape? Neither she nor Bane deserved this enforced separation.

He spent his time doing research in the computerized Proton Library. Could a machine breed with an amoeba?  Suppose a genetic pattern were crafted in the laboratory, living tissue modified to fit the attributes of a living man who occupied the body of a robot . . .  But why do that, when Bane had his own genetic pattern? What was needed was to send Agape back to Phaze to—

No, for then she would be in Fleta’s body. There seemed to be no way to get the physical Agape together with the physical Bane. Or the physical Mach together with the physical Fleta. No way except magic.  No way except magic. And that existed only in Phaze, while one partner in each couple was physically locked here in Proton. There was the intractable problem.  Then, abruptly. Bane contacted him. The touch was fleeting, but he got the gist: do not exchange yet. Bane was trying to spring a trap, and needed just a little more time.

Mach waited, wondering what was happening.  Then Bane contacted him again, with news of a new truce. The picture had changed significantly in Phaze.  If the rival factions of Proton agreed, they would have a way to settle this matter, and the two couples could be together regardless of the way it went.  That appealed to him. He agreed without hesitation.

He knew Agape would feel the same.

11 - Magic

Mach found himself standing near the Red Demesnes, with Fleta nearby, and three others. One was Trool the Troll, the Red Adept, whom he had met when he sought Fleta, to prevent her from committing suicide. The second was the Translucent Adept. The third was a sharply pretty young woman who looked familiar. In fact, it was Tania, the sister of their employer in the office in Proton! There she had been naked, and cold; here she was attractively clothed in a tan gown, and that made a significant difference. What was she doing here?  None of them spoke. Evidently they were waiting for him, being uncertain whether he had yet exchanged with Bane. “I am Mach,” he said. “I gather something has happened here, and that there is a new agreement, but I don’t know what it is.”

Fleta approached him. “Be it truly thee, Mach?” she asked. She looked concerned.

“Thee,” he murmured, letting his love for her come through. He had wanted her so much, in Proton, and Agape playing her role had been only a suggestion of the real person. How good it was to be with her again!  A trifling wave passed through her hair: the suggestion of the splash.

Then she was in his arms, hugging him almost painfully hard. “Thee!” she echoed. 

Translucent glanced at Trool. “Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Aye, Adept,” the Troll replied.

Translucent glanced at Tania. Abruptly a watery ball enclosed her. It lifted from the ground, carrying her with it, and floated rapidly westward. Then Translucent himself vanished.

“Welcome to be guests of the Red Demesnes, an the two of ye prefer,” Trool said. “Or not, as desired.”

Mach hesitated, not knowing what was involved. “We thank thee, Adept, and accept,” Fleta said.  The three of them walked toward the red castle.

“I know only that there was a trap Bane sprung,” Mach said. “And a new arrangement, that will make things easier. I would like to know more.”

“The Tan Adept’s daughter attempted to fascinate Bane, thinking him newly arrived,” Trool said.

“This were a breach that countered Bane’s breach in deceiving and spying on the Adverse Adepts. Translucent knew not of it, nor I of Bane’s device, prior. Now will Translucent and I work to train thee in magic, that thou mayst rival thine other self in a private tourney, and the victor will determine for whom the two of ye work.”

Mach had trouble assimilating this. “I am—to play against my other self? Against Bane?”

“Aye. Thou for the Adverse Adepts, and he for Stile and Blue.”

“But you are with Stile!”

“Aye. Yet do I honor the pact. This matter must be settled, and the imbalance between frames corrected, lest great harm come to all.”

Mach nodded. “I am conversant with the Game, in Proton. But Bane isn’t. And since the two of us can never meet in the same frame—“

“Thou willst rival him across the curtain, thou with magic, he with science.”

“But I hardly know magic, and he—“

“Translucent will train thee, with the Book of Magic, and Blue will train Bane, with the Oracle. We deem it fair.”

Mach was silent. He wasn’t sure it was possible, let alone fair. But if the two sides were satisfied, then he could not disagree.

They reached the castle and entered it. A woman came to meet them, stunningly beautiful. “Suchevane!” Mach exclaimed, remembering her from his canoe trip. “What are you doing here?”

“What, indeed,” the troll murmured with fond awe. 

“I be keeping company with the Adept,” she said demurely. “Thy creature friend from Proton did help me broach him, and her do I now call friend.” Agape had had a hand in this? There had indeed been much she hadn’t told him! He remembered how Suchevane had brought him to this castle, when he was in pursuit of Fleta, and how the Adept had reacted to the vampiress. Evidently Suchevane had been similarly struck by the Adept.

They had a meal together, the four of them, and Mach felt completely at home. Suchevane and Trool had helped him rescue Fleta; it seemed fitting that they be together now. There had been much mischief in the conflict between Adepts, but also some benefit, and this was that.

Fleta brought him to a private chamber for the night.  “And how was the amoeba filly?” she inquired with a slight edge.

Mach’s jaw dropped. Then she laughed, and he realized she was teasing him. “And how was Bane?” he returned.

“I love thee,” she said, abruptly sober. “But I like him, and would help him how I could. He had need to seem to be thee—“

“And Agape had need to seem to be you,” Mach said.

“Aye. So what we said, and what we did—it were merely words and deeds, n’er the truth. Canst accept that?”

”Agape made herself look and sound exactly like you,” he said. “She knew you, because she had used your body. I—there are devices of circuitry I can use, in my own body—“

“And so I came to thee again, in her body. And thou didst come to me, in his, e’en as now. Mayhap we best think no more on that.”

He nodded. They knew the situation, and knew it had changed. “But I wish I could always be with you.” He hugged her, and kissed her.

“Thou mayst be with me more than thou dost like,” she said with a certain impish malice. “Mine heat be nigh upon me. I can stave it off somewhat with herbs, but wish that not. I would breed with thee—“

“Uh-oh.” He had tried to satisfy her insatiable breeding lust, the last time, and had had to use magic to do it. Sex was ordinarily a game with her, a game she played with increasing aptitude and delight, but when she came in heat it was savagely serious. 

“In all my forms,” she concluded.

“What?”

“The Red Adept looked in the Book of Magic, and learned how we could be fertile. There be spells, me thinks, but also needs must we breed in mine human, equine and avian aspects.”

“But I cannot—!”

“Thou must change form,” she said. “The Book will tell thee how.”

“It better!” he muttered. “And I’ll need a new perpetual potency spell.”

“Why, Mach,” she said with disarming innocence. “Be I not attractive to thee?”

“You’re an infernal nuisance to me!” he exclaimed, wrestling her into position for an explosive love-making while she giggled.

Then they talked, lying embraced, and caught each other up on the recent events of their frames. Fleta was pleased to learn that “she” had won two more games in the Tourney, but disappointed with the concluding loss. “But I will coach thee so thou dost not lose thine own tourney,” she swore.

In the morning, Translucent appeared. Trool conducted him and Mach to his study, where the great Book of Magic lay.

“But—“ Mach protested, out of sorts.

“First we shall teach you the magic of form-changing,” Trool said. “Be not concerned; thou willst be ready for the filly.”

“That, too,” Mach said. “But—I am the son of Citizen Blue, and my sympathy is with his side. I only went with the Translucent Adept because he gave us sanctuary for our love. I agreed to serve their side for in formation from Proton. I never expected actually to fight for the Adverse Adepts.”

“This do we understand,” Trool said. “But this matter be beyond such preferences. An the matter not be settled, the frames be in peril. Any settlement be better than none. The need be for fairness in coming to a compromise. Thou dost represent not thine own view, but an instrument in a settlement that can no longer be denied.”

“But how can I do my best for a side with which I disagree? I mean, psychologically I will want to lose.”

“Bane had need to hide his identity,” Trool said.  “He did what was needful to keep that secret. Didst thou face a similar challenge in Proton?”

“Yes, but—“

“Didst find thyself unable?”

“No, but—“

“Canst not do what be needful to effect settlement?”

Mach hesitated. Did he have a double standard?

“Where lies thine honor?” Translucent asked. 

Honor. To do his very best for the job he agreed to do, regardless of his personal sacrifice. He found that his internal conflict, when viewed that way, disappeared.  “I can do it,” he said. “But I should think that you would question—“

”Mayhap some do,” Translucent said. “I have put my trust in thee. An thou dost betray it, I be lost in more than my cause.”

“I suppose I must be like a paid mercenary,” Mach said. “I must do the job I am committed to do. My private feelings have no bearing.”

Both the others nodded affirmatively.

“Still—“

“Methinks thou shouldst consult with the Blue Demesnes, and be satisfied on this,” Translucent said. “I will conjure thee there.”

“But—“

Then Mach was standing outside the neat blue castle that was evidently the residence of Bane’s father. This was the first time he had seen it.

The Translucent Adept had conjured him here. The man had extraordinary confidence!

Yet perhaps it made sense. Translucent had asked him about honor. If he was going-to betray the agreement he had made, this was the person with whom he would do it: his father’s other self. It was better to settle this private matter now.

“Halooo!” he called.

In a moment a woman came to the bridge at the moat.  She was a lovely creature in blue that he knew immediately was Bane’s mother. “Why Bane,” she said, surprised. “Back again, without thine alien friend?”

“I am Mach—‘

She gazed at him, taking stock. “Then where be Fleta?”

“She is at the Red Demesnes. I—the Translucent Adept conjured me here, to talk with Stile.”

“He be not here at the moment,” she said. “But come in, Mach; I will talk with thee.”

Agape had visited here, and not seen Stile. Where was the man? But perhaps the Lady would do.  “Thank you.” He walked across the drawbridge.  The Lady’s hair was fair, and her eyes blue. She was of course of a different generation, and her age showed as he saw her close, but she remained as lovely in her way as his own mother, who was literally ageless.  The Lady turned and escorted him into the central courtyard. There were flowers and a number of animals, evidently ill or injured, recuperating. The Blue Demesnes, he knew, had always been close to animals.  “I love an animal,” he said abruptly.

She took a seat at a table in the shade, beside a pleasant pool, and gestured him to the other seat. “We say naught here against Fleta.”

“But you want an heir.”

“Aye, Mach. We lose ground slowly to the Adverse Adepts, who would o’erturn what we have done, and make o’ this frame a kingdom o’ their own. We hoped Bane would hold them at bay, and his child after him.  Without that, we will surely be defeated, and it matter little whether it be now or in the future.”

“But I mean to find a way to breed with Fleta, and for Bane to—“

“An thou dost breed with the unicorn, thou has not a human being for a child, but an animal crossbreed.  That be not sufficient, for the animals have not the talent for magic that the human beings-do.”

“But Bane also might breed with Agape—“

“And have an alien child, confined to Proton-frame,” she said. “Mach, think not we oppose thy happiness, or Bane’s! Nor would we hurt Fleta—or Agape—for anything. We be merely aware of the loss entailed.  Where be thy happiness an the frame be ruined?”

“You know that I have agreed to represent the Adverse Adepts, because they support my union with Fleta,” Mach said. “Where are you if power is achieved by those Adepts now?”

“Stile be working on that,” she said. “That be why we see him not here.”

“What would you have us do?” he asked, anguished. 

She gazed at him levelly. “We would have thee return to thy frame and stay there, and find a woman there.  Perhaps Agape; she be a fine creature. And Bane stay here, and marry a woman o’ Phaze.”

“How can you speak so lightly of the disruption of love?”

”Nay, I speak not lightly,” she said. “I married Blue for love, but lost that love, and came to love Stile, his other self. Then did I have to give up Stile and return to Blue, for the good o’ the frame, and to that did I accede.”

“But—“

“The Brown Adept, then a child, drew a spell at the end from the Book of Magic, reversing Stile and Blue,” she said. “Thus did Stile come here to me, when he had thought to be confined to Proton, and Blue went to Proton instead. Thus was our happiness snatched from our resignation. But I had done what I had to do, for the frame, and so had Stile. We both put the frame ahead o’ our private happiness. We expect no less o’ thee and Bane.”

Mach shook his head. “Bane may be resigned to that, but I am not. Fleta tried to facilitate your position by throwing away her life. Even if I did not love her, I would not purchase the good of the frame at such a price. The end does not justify the means.”

She looked at him, her eyes glistening, then over flowing. She put her face in her hands. “Ah, I am torn!” she cried. “There be unbearable evil on either side!”

Mach felt his own eyes going. “I must do what I must do,” he said. “I must represent the side I have chosen.  Bane remains on your side; if he wins, you will have your heir.” Then he rose and left the castle, knowing there was nothing more to be said.

Beyond the moat, he called out: “Translucent! Bring me back!”

There was a wrenching, and he was back in the chamber with Translucent and Trool. “You’re right,” he said abruptly. “There is no way to settle it but this.”

Trool opened the Book of Magic. “There be this, too,” he said. “In this volume be magic such as to govern all the frame, an it be invoked. When thy mother machine used it, she became Adept in mere hours, while others built to it all their lives. I be but a troll, unable to practice magic o’ the level o’ the human kind, with little natural talent for it. I can use only a tiny part o’ this power—yet that part makes me equivalent to other Adepts.”

He focused on Mach with a disquieting intensity. “But thou dost be human—or at least, in human form. Thy potential for magic dwarfs mine own. E’en without training or experience, thou didst conjure a boat like none crafted before, to travel in. Thou didst save thy filly from death by o’erriding the spell I put on her.  That be Adept-level magic. Thou dost be untrained, but with time and training thou couldst be a full Adept; the signs be plain. That be why the Adverse Adept feared thee, and tried to capture thee, and when that failed, why Translucent took over and made a deal with thee to join them. Mayhap thy potential be but the reverse face o’ Bane’s, and he be no slouch either. But with the aid of this Book, and proper guidance, thy power can become most formidable. That be why we want thee to comprehend thine honor.”

Mach saw that the troll was quite serious, and so was Translucent. “You mean that I could become a stronger Adept than either of you?”

“Aye. Than any. No human being before has had the power o’ this Book. We must make thee strong enough to represent the side thou be on as well as can be done.  But after that, thou willst remain more formidable than any other, an thou remain in Phaze. We want not to see that power abused.”

“But I must leave Phaze, when this is done,” Mach said. “Because of the imbalance. Or at least agree to equal time in Proton, so the imbalance can be limited.”

“Aye. But an thou choose not to depart, no other could make thee.”

Mach’s understanding was growing. “You don’t want to solve one problem and create another,” he said.  “Maybe a worse one.”

“Aye. Therefore we ask thee to use this power only for the purposes we seek. Thy service is to make the settlement. Thy reward is to have successful breeding with Fleta. Seek no more than these, and there be no problem.”

Mach’s awareness seemed to be spinning. “But what of the issue between Adepts? If Bane and I cooperate to link the frames for one side or the other, won’t that generate a similar power?”

“Mayhap. But that be limited by the narrow conduit through which it must pass. We deem that the lesser evil.”

Mach sighed. “I hope you are right!”

Then they went to work, explaining to him the nature of the relevant spells in the Book, and how to invoke them. They were of all types, not limited to the mode of any single Adept; he had no need to speak or sing them, or to draw them, or use any other particular mode. He could implement them any way he chose; all modes were one, in this amazing Book. Many were complex; without the help of the two Adepts, he would have taken much longer to assimilate their significance and application, let alone master them.  In minutes he understood that the power of magic in these pages was greater than any he had guessed at. In hours he saw that in those minutes he had vastly underestimated the case. By the end of the first day, his awareness of the nature of the universe had changed fundamentally. Reality had assumed a new dimension.  By the end of the second day, he was able to perform magic consistently of the level of the Adepts, and to counter spells made by either Trool or Translucent.  On the third day he went beyond. He learned a spell to invoke his robot information storage capacity in his human frame, so that he could instantly memorize spells without understanding them. That meant that he could ponder them at leisure, without using the Book. He learned other spells to enhance his comprehension and applications, so that he could make far better use of magic than any ordinary person could.

On the fourth day he studied organization and discipline, so that he grasped precisely what magic was appropriate when, and understood without having to reason it out when minor or no magic would do the job as well as a major invocation could. Now, with the most minor spell, he could accomplish what might require the full magic of an Adept. This magnified his power in another way.

On the fifth day he studied the philosophy and responsibility of magic. This was a necessary concurrent to the power he had developed.

He was truly becoming the Robot Adept.

Fleta came into heat. The first time he had encountered this, she had demanded copulation several times an hour for several days and nights, until her animal nature had completed that aspect of the cycle. Had any of the efforts taken, her heat would have abated sooner, but his human body had been unable to fertilize her equine nature. She had remained in human form, but that was superficial; man was genetically incompatible with unicorn.

This time he invoked magic that in effect translated the language of his seed to the language of her egg, enabling them to communicate and merge. Even so, they differed, much as a man differed from a unicorn despite their ability to converse with each other. Only a part of the union could occur while she was an imitation human woman. But another part could occur in her natural form, while he was an imitation unicorn, and the completion could be accomplished when both were in avian form. Trool had seen that, without possessing the magic to enable it. Mach now possessed the magic.

He mated with her in human form, and it was a deeply gratifying act, because it was for love and procreation and pleasure. Then he applied a spell to himself that gave him continual potency, but allowed no actual seed to be expelled, because that was needed for the next stage. Because she was not yet bred, her ardor continued; he sated her lust continually through the day and night, his pleasure more of accomplishment than of sexual fulfillment. They snatched bites of food and gulps of water in the few minutes’ respite between sieges, so as not to suffer deterioration of health.  After the full day/night cycle, they left their bedroom chamber and went to a private garden. He made a spell to transform himself to the form of a unicorn stallion.  She reverted to her natural form. Now the odor of her need smote him, and he found he required no instruction to do what was necessary. In a moment he had expended the seed of the past day, and invoked another seed-conservation spell.

They snatched mouthfuls of hay that Suchevane had thoughtfully provided, between bouts of mating. They drank from the water of a clear fountain. Mach would have enjoyed the experience of being a unicorn, had he not been kept so busy with the breeding. As it was, the matter became somewhat tedious. He had to use subsidiary magic to abate the soreness that was developing. How did a Herd stallion manage?

He discovered that he could speak to her in horn talk. His horn sounded like a bassoon, and was actually quite versatile. But more than that, his spell of form changing had included the whole of the unicorn anatomy and potential, including knowledge of the language of their music. Suddenly he appreciated an enormously significant aspect of unicorn-nature and culture. It was true that horn talk was relatively limited, compared to human language, because unicorns had more limited interests; indeed, when they had complex matters to discuss, they tended to shift to human form and use the human language, which was competent to handle it.  But for most purposes, horn talk was adequate, and it could also be understood by the werewolves and vampires. He resolved to spend more time in this form, after the business of the moment was done, when he could appreciate it for itself.

As their day and night of equine breeding came to its end, they played a duet, bassoon and panpipes. Actually it had three or four parts, because of Fleta’s ability to play her own counterpoint. Then she changed to her hummingbird form, and he matched her, becoming a male hummingbird.

They mated, and expended his past day’s production of seed. Then they flew to the garden and sipped the nectar of the flowers. This, too was a pleasure—but in just a few minutes, because of the swift metabolism of the form, they had to mate again.

But after a few matings, the intensity of her desire eased, and the spacing stretched out. Then her interest faded out. Her period of heat was over.  They changed back to human form. “I worry,” she said. “Mine heat be normally longer than this.”

“Maybe it was cut short because the breeding was successful,” he said.

“0, how I do hope so!” she exclaimed, hugging him.  They were naked, and in love—but at the moment had no temptation at all to make love. Instead they retreated to their chamber and fell into weary sleep.  They would not know whether the effort had been successful until the time of her next heat. If it manifested normally, it would mean that this one had not taken. He might have ascertained her status sooner by magic, but he did not want to interfere in any way, lest that same magic destroy what it had achieved. He wanted nature to take its course, now.

It was time to go into training for the contest with his other self. Mach received a “visit” from Bane, confirming that the separate Citizens of Proton had agreed to the mode of settlement, and that they had decreed that it should be done by Tourney rules. They wanted to make it two out of three rounds, with three games per round, so that chance would not play too significant a part.  Mach discussed it with the Translucent Adept, who checked with his compatriots. They agreed, but wanted the selection of games done in advance, so that there would be time to prepare properly for particular types.  Mach relayed that, and in due course got agreement, with further qualification: the advance choices would be for only one round at a time, with a thirty-day training period for each after the game was determined.  They were concerned that Bane, having been raised apart from Proton society, would otherwise be at a serious disadvantage because of his lack of experience with the breadth of games available. With intensified specific training they could ameliorate this liability, making it a fair contest.

To this stipulation the Adepts agreed. The contest was now established. All they had to do was decide on the first set of games.

They set up a special console. Trool carved it from stone, and animated it by magic: it now had an operative screen just like one in a Game Annex of Proton. A similar, but science-animated, console was set up at the same spot in Proton. But Bane and Mach did not stand on opposite sides; they stood on the same side, over lapping each other, so that what one did was known to the other.

The Game Computer operated the console in Proton, and the two selves relayed the signals so that the same information appeared on the one in Phaze.

The grid appeared:

It felt just like home!

Mach wasn’t sure that a physical game could be played between the frames, so he touched 2. MENTAL. After a brief pause. Bane evidently made his choice, for B.TOOL developed a highlight. The box for TOOL ASSISTED MENTAL GAMES brightened and expanded to fill the screen.

E. BOARD

F.CARDS

G. PAPER

H. GENERAL

5. SEPAR            6.INTERAC    7. PUZZLE            8. COOPER

1.PHYSICAL            2.MENTAL            3.CHANCE    4.ARTS

A. NAKED

B. TOOL

C. MACHINE

D. ANIMAL

PLAYERS: MACH—NUMBERS

BANE—LETTERS

Mach had the letters this time, so he touched E.  BOARD. Bane chose 6. INTERACTIVE. The 6E square expanded.

Now it was time to assemble their own grid. There was the usual list of choices down the side. Mach had the first choice, so he touched CHESS, OCCIDENTAL and put it in the center of the nine-square array. He had played many variants of chess, and liked them all; he had many standard strategies filed in his memory.  Bane probably had not put the same type of time into it, though he certainly could be familiar with the game.  But Bane’s chances of mastering a sophisticated chess variant in only one month were minimal.  Bane put GO BANG in a corner. That was a relatively simple game in which each player tried to be the first to set five stones in a row.

Mach put SHOGI next to Bane’s choice. That gave him two choices in a row. Shogi was Japanese chess, like Occidental but with extra pieces such as “silver” and “spear” and extra motions and strategies. For example, castles and bishops could be “crowned,” or promoted, taking on additional abilities, and captured pieces could be made to fight for their captor.  Bane put CHINESE CHECKERS in that row, preventing Mach from having three of his own choices there. Had he gotten that, and then had his choice of rows rather than columns, he could have been set!  Mach put POLE CHESS in the center of the bottom row. This was a minor but intriguing variant developed in the last centuries, first as a joke, then seriously.  Bane put FOX AND GEESE, one of the hunt games, in the center of the top row.

They continued, Mach with variants of chess, Bane with simpler games. At the end they chose their line and column, and Mach got one of his choices: POLE CHESS. He had a definite advantage; he had played the grid to win, and now was in a fair position to do so.

But Fleta had a question. “Thou willst play here, in Bane’s body?”

“Yes. But my basic knowledge of the game carries over.”

“And Bane will play in Proton-frame, in thy body?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And has he not access to all thy memories and skills?” Mach froze. She had just identified a critical flaw in his thinking! Of course Bane had all the robot memories and skills; they were inherent in the nature of the machine and its programming. He, Mach, had even made a recording of his experiences on Planet Moeba for Bane to enjoy. Bane could do anything as well as Mach could!

All his savage strategy had been wasted. Citizen Blue and the Oracle would see that Bane started at Mach’s level, and proceeded from there to a higher level. In fact, the infallible machine brain could probably play chess better than the fallible human brain, for it would not make the kind of error Mach was not prone to.  Such as this one, of forgetting the elementary liability of his strategy!

“I’m in trouble!” he muttered. “I outsmarted my self.”

“Magic will enhance thy capacity,” Translucent said.  “That is why we have made thee an Adept. Thou willst play better than ever thou didst as a machine.”

“So will Bane,” Mach responded glumly.

“I meant not to cause thee distress,” Fleta said contritely.

At that he had to smile. “Good thing you brought me to my senses, filly!”