She halted in place. “What?”
“When I changed the color of our clothing, there was a flash. My magic ne’er did that. Be there a way science could have done it?”
“Changed the color? Oh, yes; some material is sensitive to certain types of radiation, so that when it flashes—”
“Methought so. And true goblins bluff not so readily; must always destroy a few ere they give over. But mainly, the vampires. They were not.”
“But the fact that we did not see them change form does not mean—”
“Oh, they might have changed form, by some device. But the friends I named—” He shook his head.
“But they really could be away,” she said.
“The first, yes. But the second, Vidselud—he be the son of Vodlevile, for whom my father did a favor. Vidselud be six or seven years my senior, but we be friends because with me he can safely travel.”
“He can’t with his own kind?”
“Nay. He has a problem with the assimilation of blood that crops up every so often. They keep a potion in the cave that cures it, and they never let that potion go out, because it cannot be replaced. So he flies ne’er beyond walking distance of the cave, unless with me, because I can conjure him home if need be.”
“But then he should be home!” she said.
“He should be home. Yet the guard said he was not.”
“Still, that’s not proof—”
“And the third one, Suchevane.”
“He could also be—”
“She.” Bane said succinctly.
“Female? But the guard said ‘he’—”
“Precisely.”
“Maybe the guard forgot.”
Bane smiled. “No male forgets Suchevane!”
Agape looked sharply at him. “She is—?”
“Almost as lovely as thee, in girl form. And still married, when I left Phaze. If there be any male he doth not turn when she goes by, that head be blind. Even the werewolves howl for her.”
“But how, then—”
“No way,” Bane said with finality. “This cannot the vampire mountain I know, and since there be only one like this, these be other than vampires, and this be other than Phaze.”
“But why would—”
A bat flew down from the sky. As it neared the ground, it changed abruptly into a beautiful woman. “Lovelier than I?” she demanded.
Bane gazed at her. “Nay.” Then, after a pause, “Sir.”
The woman changed appearance, becoming the young-seeming Citizen White, then a woman about twenty years older, still garbed in white. “So you cannot be fooled, young man,” she said.
“No, sir.”
“It is true; this is all a setting. I was able to make it authentic because when I was a child, I did visit Phaze, and knew the vampire colony. But in twenty years the personnel have evidently changed, and without contact, we cannot change with them.”
“True, sir,” Bane agreed.
“So this is pretense, agreed.” She gazed hard at him. “But you are not. You really are from Phaze; you have demonstrated that.”
“But sir, why?” Agape asked, disturbed. “Why bother to play such a cruel game with two serfs who intended you no harm?”
“That you are about to discover,” the Citizen said. She snapped her fingers, and the entire setting disappeared, leaving a large empty chamber. She smiled, and it was not a pretty smile.
“I think we be in trouble,” Bane murmured.
“Not necessarily,” Citizen White said. But the cruel lines that manifested about her mouth gave her words the lie.
Chapter 8
Chase
How much time passed Mach could not be sure, but it seemed to him that the sun had shifted in the sky by the time he emerged from his embrace with Fleta. “I suppose we should be on our way,” he said.
“I can carry thee anywhere, rapidly,” she said. “Now that thou dost know my nature.”
“I would prefer to go slowly,” he said.
“My natural form pleases thee not?”
“If you take me to the Blue Demesnes quickly, I shall have little further time with you. Let’s walk.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “Mayhap it will take two days to get there.”
“I wish it were two years,” he murmured.
“Sirrah?”
“Nothing. Of course we must go.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But we can camp the night on the path.”
He liked the notion of camping out with her.
They started out on the east path, the one they had not taken before. They made decent progress, and as night approached Mach judged they were parallel to the spot they had been on the Lattice. Had he realized that the demons would be roused, or what they were.
“Methinks we should camp now,” Fleta said. “But there be something odd about the way the demons came at us. Best I check around ere we sleep.”
“But you’ve been walking all day!” he protested.
She smiled. “In other form, an thou have no objection.”
“Oh. Of course.” As the unicorn, she could of course range far more widely before it got dark.
She vanished—but the black unicorn did not appear. Mach blinked.
There was a hummingbird, hovering in place. Just like the one who had helped him cross the river at the Harpy Demesnes.
“Fleta!” he exclaimed. “Another form!”
The hummingbird buzzed one loop around his head, then took off to the north.
Mach shook his head, bemused. He had never made the connection! Fleta had three forms, not two, and the bird was the third. She had assumed the flying form when that was needed to draw the thread across for the rope ladder over the river, then returned to her human form. Of course she hadn’t told him, because she was doubtful about his reaction to shape-changing women. But now that he knew her nature, she changed freely and openly.
And now that he knew her nature, he discovered that he liked it. In Proton he had associated with human beings, and with robots, and cyborgs and androids of either sex, thinking nothing of it. Even, briefly, an alien creature. All had looked human, but their internal operation had been entirely different, and he had known that and accepted it. Fleta’s overt forms differed widely, but she was the same person—and it was the person that counted. Was she called an animal? If so, he liked the animal better than the pseudopeople he had in the other frame!
What, after all, was he? A machine! Who was he to quibble at whether a person was technically human, where he himself was not? At the moment he occupied a human body, and its chemistry was wreaking havoc with his emotional control, but in essence he knew he remained a robot. If Fleta could accept that, he could accept her.
He plucked fruit from the tree they had stopped at. He didn’t recognize the type, but it seemed to be juicy and sweet, and his living appetite thrived on that sort of thing.
What did Fleta prefer to eat, really? Since her natural form was equine, did she usually graze? If so, she must be getting hungry by now. He would have to ask.
The hummingbird returned. Suddenly Fleta stood before him. “Mach, I fear trouble,” she said breathlessly!
“More trouble?” He knew she wasn’t joking.
“There be goblins lying in ambush to the north.”
“Goblins? Little men?”
She frowned. “The Little Folk be decent; they mostly mine and work their crafts. Goblins be something else.‘
“Why would they be lurking in ambush?”
“Methought it coincidence that the rope ladder was wrong. And that the demons were roused. Now do I wonder.”
“You mean those were traps laid for us? But why?”
She shook her head. “I know not why. But I fear it.”
“Maybe they’re just three types of mean creatures who like to eat human flesh?”
“They knew my nature.”
“Then they must have known they couldn’t possibly catch you! That you could change f
orm and fly away.”
“Aye,” she agreed pensively.
His logical mind began to work. “Then it must have been me they were after.”
“Aye.”
“Yet you helped me escape—and they must have known that you would.”
“Not in human form.”
“They wanted to force you to reveal your nature to me?” He smiled. “In that they were successful—but what did they gain?”
“Mayhap they hoped thou wouldst revile me, when thou knew, so that I would leave thee.”
“And then they could trap me without hindrance!” he concluded. “Yet they couldn’t know I am not Bane. Surely they could not attack him with impunity!”
She laughed. “Goblins attack an Adept? That be so funny it be no longer funny.”
“So what could they expect to gain? As far as they know, we’re both poison.”
“That be what dost bother me. It makes not sense.”
“Unless,” he continued slowly, “they somehow know my nature. That I am no magician.”
“Adept,” she corrected him. “Bane be an apprentice Adept.”
“Whatever. My status makes me vulnerable. But how would they know? And why would they go to all that effort for one morsel?”
“Methinks they tried not to slaughter thee, but to capture thee,” she said. “The talons o’ the harpies be poison, but they scratched thee not. And the demons grabbed but did not bite.”
“And why would three different types of creatures try it? They can’t be working together, can they?”
“Nay. Not unless…” She trailed off.
“Unless what? I think we had better explore this.”
“Unless there be Adept involvement,” she said reluctantly.
“Aren’t we going to see an Adept?”
“Stile be but one Adept. There be others, less friendly.”
“What would an Adept want with me? I’m of no value to anyone here, and of not much value to myself.”
“To me, thou dost have value.”
“That, too, I must question. You are a lovely creature, in whatever form, and you know the ways of Phaze. But I am an impostor without much talent here. I don’t see how I can be worth much to you.”
She shrugged. “Fain would I have been closer to Bane, but ne’er could that be. Now hast thou his likeness, and—O, I know I be a foolish creature, but I be smitten with thee.”
Mach did not care to argue with that. “So there is something we don’t yet understand, here. Unless they realize that I don’t have Bane’s proper powers, so they want to eliminate me, and then he could never return. If there are other Adepts who don’t like Stile, this could be a good way to get back at him.”
She nodded. “To strike when the enemy be weak.”
“But if another Adept is behind it, why bring in the monsters? Why not just take me out with a spell?”
“Methinks that would be too open. If Stile knew an Adept had done it—” She shuddered. “If Stile be not the strongest Adept in Phaze, it be Red—and Red be friend to Stile.”
“But if a harpy or a demon or a goblin did it, Stile might not suspect. If one of those groups took me captive and hid me somewhere, or delivered me secretly to an Adept, perhaps as a hostage—” Mach nodded. “I think we have it, now. They have been ambushing us along the route to Stile’s demesnes.”
“O, Mach!” she cried. “If there be Adepts behind this, we be in trouble indeed! No creature can withstand the power of an Adept except another Adept.”
Mach nodded. “I think we can’t afford to continue heading for the Blue Demesnes; they’ll catch us for sure. But where else can we go?”
Fleta pondered. “If they be Adepts ‘gainst us, must we gain the protection of an Adept. But surely they will watch, and if we head for the Red Adept—”
“They will trap us on the way,” Mach finished. “Anyone else—whom they might not suspect?”
“There be the Brown Adept, she of the golems. She might understand thee better than some.”
“But if the others spied us heading for her—”
“Another ambush,” she agreed.
“Suppose we took a circuitous route—one no one with any sense would take?”
“Such as through the Dragon Demesnes?”
Mach swallowed. “Yes.”
“That would fool friend and foe alike.”
They looked at each other, and nodded. Then they hugged each other, with joy or grief or something in between.
“I suppose we can’t rest now,” Mach said regretfully. “They’ll be coming down the path to check on us, when we don’t arrive on schedule.”
“I can carry thee.”
“And tire yourself further? No, I’ll walk. Maybe we can hide somewhere unexpected.”
She nodded. Silently she pointed west.
“But that’s right toward the—!” he exclaimed. But then he understood: that was the least likely direction for them to go. Toward the site of their last ambush.
They walked, this time stepping carefully so as to avoid leaving a trail. When darkness finally made progress impossible, they cast about for a suitable camping spot. The best that offered was a tree with thick foliage and a large fork some distance up that seemed to be well shrouded by the leaves. “There,” Fleta said, pointing to it.
“Me? But I think there’s only room for one of us!”
“I have another errand,” she whispered.
“Oh—privacy?”
“A false trail.”
Smart notion! So he climbed the tree and lodged himself in the crotch, while she walked on, leaving a trail that could be traced and did not end at the tree.
He hoped she would return soon, though he still did not see how she could join him here. Then he heard the hum of the hummingbird. She was back!
The bird perched on a nearby twig and tucked her head under her wing. She had a good place after all!
Mach sighed. He could not argue with the sense of it, but somehow he had wished he could be with her it her human form, and not too much clothing. He resigned himself to the inevitable, and slept.
In the morning he descended. Fleta flew down and transformed to girl form. “Didst thou have a comfy night?’ she inquired brightly.
“Aren’t you getting hungry? You haven’t had much chance to graze.”
She laughed. “I found nectar in flowers along the way as I flew.”
“But that could only sustain a hummingbird! What of the unicorn?”
“It matters not what form I take; food for that form suffices.”
“You mean you can run all day as a unicorn, and sustain yourself with a hummingbird meal?”
“Aye. That be part of the magic.”
“Magic indeed!” But it did make sense in its fashion.
He ate some more fruit, which was marvelously sustaining. Of course he had the advantage of Fleta’s advice; she pointed out what was best, and what was worst, saving him much mischief. Then they resumed their trek.
There was no sign of pursuit, but they continued to step carefully and to keep their voices low. There was no way to hide securely from Adept perception, Fleta advised him, but goblins and demons were fallible.
They skirted the southern reaches of the Lattice, and no demons appeared. This gamble had been won: once the prey escaped, the demons had returned to their nether reaches, not bothering to keep watch. But there would be a lookout at the jump-sites; the path toward the Blue Demesnes was safe only to cross, not to travel.
At noon they paused for lunch, and this time Fleta did change to unicorn form and grazed for an hour. Mach watched her, admiring her glossy black coat and golden hind-socks and gleaming spiraled horn. “Sometime you must play your horn for me,” he said.
She heard him, and played a brief pan-pipes double melody.
“A tune!” he exclaimed. “You can play a tune!”
She looked at him questioningly. In her unicorn form she did not speak; her mouth was not right for it.
“I mean, I heard you play a chord, back in the swamp, but I thought that was all. To actually play a tune—!”
She came in and changed to girl form. “All my kind play music,” she explained. “My dam, Neysa, plays a harmonica, as thy kind call it; I play pan-pipes, or so Bane said. My sire played the accordion.”
“A different instrument for each animal!” he exclaimed. Then paused. “Oops—I didn’t mean to—”
“We are animals,” she said. “An ye mean it not as affront, say it freely.”
That helped. He had indeed used the term in a less complimentary sense, back in the crater, when she had objected.
“Why didn’t you decide to go the other way, and intercept your Herd?” he asked. “The goblins would not have followed there, would they?”
She sighed. “There be a matter I did not explain to thee,” she said. “My sire retired some fifteen years ago, and my uncle Clip assumed mastery o’ the Herd. That concerned not my dam, Neysa, his sibling, because she no longer marched with the Herd. She stayed at the Blue Demesnes.”
“Why should your mother be concerned about her brother getting promoted?”
“It be the Herd Stallion who breeds all the mares.”
“Oh! And she’s too closely related!”
“Aye. And I be too. So it became needful, as I came of age, to seek another herd. I was on that mission when I heard thy cry for help in the swamp.”
“What a coincidence!” Mach exclaimed. “I’m glad I arrived at the right time! I would have been roach-food otherwise!”
“Nay, I was near throughout. I—I knew Bane was going often to the glade, and I hoped to see him again, yet hesitated to intrude, an he be on Adept business.”
“So you just sort of stayed in the vicinity for a while,” Mach said. “Understandable. How long were you there?”
She murmured something.
“What was that? I didn’t hear.”
“A fortnight,” she said, somewhat less faintly.
“Two weeks? Just in the hope he might decide he wanted to see you?”
“Aye,” she said, abashed.
“You really were stuck on him!” Then Mach regretted his choice of words. “I mean—”
“Thy meaning be clear,” she said, blushing.
“And so you rescued me, thinking I was him. And stayed with me, because you liked him.”
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