Now, suddenly, the planet was in trouble again, and it seemed that nothing but the Flute could rescue it. But even that seemed too little, for the Hectare were already in control. The Flute had done its job twice; there seemed to be nothing else it could do. But it represented hope, and had to be kept safe. So Clef was doing that, and as long as Clef and the Flute remained out of enemy power, that faint hope remained.
But why had the two other Adepts hidden? They had been associated with the wrong side before, and never evinced much political interest anyway. Were they merely ornery, or were they up to something?
Nepe’s thoughts were interrupted by Echo. She had found Lysander! They had known the man was somewhere in the dome, and that he was in trouble because he had refused to join the enemy, but he had turned out to be surprisingly good at hiding. They needed him, because of the prophecy. Nepe wasn’t sure she believed the prophecy, or that Lysander was the one it referred to, but Mach had said to rescue him if possible, and she was trying to do that.
She knew that Echo would not have brought him if he wasn’t ready to go. As the two approached, Nepe turned and fell in beside them. “Look for a group of three,” she said. “Man, woman, and boy.”
“Who is this?” Lysander demanded suspiciously.
“Who do you think, unbeliever?” she replied without looking directly at him.
“There,” Echo said, gesturing to three serfs walking the other way. “They’re not a group, but—”
“Turn and close on them.”
They did so, and in a moment were following the others. Nepe turned over the body to Flach, who did not have to pretend being male. He murmured some doggerel verse in a singsong: “Make those front three like he, thee, and me.”
The appearance of the three serfs changed. Now the man resembled Lysander, and the woman Echo, while the boy looked like Nepe in boy form.
Flach spread his hands, holding his companions back. They slowed, letting the mimic-three separate from them. The mimic-boy crossed away from the man and woman, going his own course, but it didn’t matter; it had simply been easier to do the magic on them as a close group.
In a moment Flach guided them into a side passage where fewer serfs walked. When it seemed likely that no one was looking, he uttered another singsong verse: “Take the rest to Oche’s nest.” He willed the implementation, and the two vanished.
Flach walked on, watching for anyone watching him. None seemed to be, but he didn’t trust that. He would wait. He turned the body back to Nepe, who was best at Proton matters.
What would Lysander think, when he found himself back under the harpy’s tree? Nepe wondered. He had just been betrayed by two girlfriends; would he be suspicious of the third? For that was what Echo would be. They had chosen Jod’e for him, but the Tan Adept had gotten her. They had to write her off, as Mach put it. They had feared they would have to write Lysander off too, but somehow he had escaped. The word was that he had banged against the door panel, and it had opened. Tan must have been furious at that malfunction at that critical time! But maybe the prophecy had known that Lysander would squeak through.
But it was more likely that he had simply drawn on his enemy knowledge to make that door open, seemingly by accident. That confirmed that Tan didn’t know Lysander’s nature. Interesting: the Hectare didn’t trust Tan either! They were merely using him, and when he was of no further use to them, they would dispose of him.
But Lysander was dangerous. If it weren’t for the prophecy, they would never have brought him in. would never have brought him in. Suppose he wasn’t the one? Then they were probably lost already, because the prophecy didn’t say there would be one, only that only such a person, alien to the culture and opposed to it, could save it. There might be no such person, or they might have the wrong one, or they might have the right one and he would choose not to save them. It seemed exceedingly chancy.
Chancy—yet their only hope. So she had rescued Lysander, the enemy agent, and Echo would be his woman. Echo didn’t know the truth; she was likely to have a severe disappointment coming up. But if that happened, they would all be lost. If it didn’t, he would save them, and their gamble would have paid off. So Echo would do her best to make Lysander happy, exactly as Jod’e would have, so that when it came to the point of decision, he would be more likely to choose for Phaze instead of for the Hectare.
Meanwhile, she had to check in with others. Satisfied that she was not observed, she ducked into a service niche. “Nepe,” she murmured. “Admit.”
A panel slid aside. She climbed into the rear service area, and the panel closed behind her. The self-willed machines were maintaining a low profile, hoping to escape the notice of the Hectare, but they cooperated with Nepe. That was part of her situation; she had lived among them for years, and her father was one of them, and her grandmother. They trusted her, though her actual flesh was alien.
“Mach,” she said, stepping into a baggage transport cart.
The cart began to move. Nepe focused on her body, changing it slowly from human boy to machine. Flach could change in an instant, but he had to use a different spell each time, so he didn’t waste it. Nepe was slower, but she could do the same form a thousand times if she had to. So she did most of the changing, when it wasn’t an emergency.
She was ready by the time the cart brought her to her father. Actually he was Flach’s father, but it was all complicated, and both Mach and Bane were really fathers to both Flach and Nepe now, since the mergence, and maybe before. She rolled out on small wheels, a spot bag handler.
She rolled up to the larger machine. Mach was in humanoid form, unloading suitcases from a baggage compartment near the airport. Without hesitation he dumped a bag on her, then picked up two suitcases and strode away down the hall. She followed, heeling like a trained canine. The conquest of the planet was fresh, but care was being taken not to disrupt the tourist trade. Many tourists, in fact, didn’t realize that a hostile occupation was in progress. They would not be bothered as long as they didn’t interfere.
“Mission accomplished,” she reported on the machine frequency. Communication of many types and many levels was required to run the complicated society of Proton, and this had not changed with the advent of magic. Anyone in authority could listen in on the machine frequency, but there was little point to it, and there were thousands of exchanges of information going on simultaneously throughout the city. Each machine had limited range, to allow the use of the same frequencies without much interference.
“Tsetse is being assigned to Brown,” Mach replied. “Investigate.”
Nepe detoured into a side hall and rolled up to a disposal unit. Her bag was a dummy. She had the unit take it in, and then herself.
Soon she was connected to the command network. Troubot—status of Tsetse, she sent.
In a moment a message came back: Order just in. Guidebot to take her to Brown Demesnes.
By whose order?
Citizen Purple.
The renegade Citizen! That meant that some sort of mischief was afoot. Yet what would Purple’s interest be in the Brown Adept? She was harmless to the Hectare, now that she was under house arrest.
Could this relate to Grandam Neysa’s odd behavior, when she had hustled Flach from that wooden castle? Well, maybe Nepe could satisfy her curiosity while performing her investigation.
Assign me.
Done. Reach this location ASAP. City coordinates followed.
Nepe disconnected and got moving. Troubot would do anything for her, even if it weren’t business. As she caught a machine transport and zoomed to the address, she reflected briefly on that.
Troubot was a machine she had associated with for years. She considered him male, and he considered her female. He was in love with her. That might have seemed ludicrous to anyone offplanet, but it was feasible on Proton, where the self-willed machines could have feelings. But in Phaze, Troubot became Sirelmoba, the pretty little bitch who was Flach’s Promised. There, the sexes were rever
sed. But for years it had been assumed that alternate selves had to be of the same sex, and almost always they were. Why was it different here?
She had pondered this before, many times, but could come to only one conclusion: the sexes did match, either male to male or female to female. The only exceptions were when one of the selves was neutral. Troubot was neutral, because a machine had no inherent sex. Troubot thought of himself as male, so he was male, but there was nothing else to substantiate it. Nepe’s father Mach (technically, Bane in Mach’s body) thought of himself as male, so he was male. Her Grandmother Sheen thought of herself as female, and indeed she looked and acted female. But all were in essence neuter machines. All could be set up with other bodies and other programming and be of opposite sex. So there really wasn’t a change of sex, just a change of perception.
Nepe herself, like her mother Agape, was also neutral in essence. Her living component was Moebite, whose species was sexless, but assumed sexual identities when visiting other planets, in deference to the prevailing standard. So she, like the machines, simply assumed a sex, and remained with it because she preferred it. So when she became Flach it wasn’t any true sex change, only an apparent one. He was male and she was neuter, technically.
Yet it certainly felt different!
She reached the location. A gray-eyed, silvery-haired serf woman of about thirty sat in a shipment station. The hair was no sign of decline; it had been permanently tinted. She was an extremely pretty woman despite being past the flush of youth. This was Tsetse, formerly Tania’s obliging receptionist, then Citizen Purple’s mistress. Beautiful, complaisant, and not unduly smart: she had been ideal for her positions.
Nepe had known Tsetse for five years, and privately liked her. The woman was fundamentally innocent, amenable to whatever was required of her. But since she was now Purple’s serf, if no longer his mistress (he knew her age), she was not to be trusted. It was important that Tsetse never suspect Nepe’s identity.
“Guidebot for serf Tsetse,” Nepe said through her speaker grille.
The woman stood. “Here.” She looked nervous, and her eyes were a bit puffy. She had evidently been crying.
“Follow.” Nepe rolled down the hall at a comfortable walking pace. There were many means of transport, but serfs typically walked unless the distance was far or their assignments were urgent; that was why the halls were usually filled. Normally a serf did not rate a machine guide, but if the mission was important it could happen. Anything could happen at the whim of a Citizen, of course, and that was evidently the case with those who served the new masters. It was also possible that the assignment of a guide was a reminder to a perhaps reluctant serf that the directive was to be obeyed without question.
Since Tsetse was the most docile of serfs, why was such a reminder considered to be in order? She should simply have been given the order to report to her assignment at a given hour, and left to find her own way there. All transport was free for serfs, on the presumption that they were serving the interests of their employers, and directories of routes were available at convenient locations. She could have gone alone.
The woman was evidently unhappy. Had there been a falling-out? Yet this was hardly a punitive assignment. The Adept Brown was a good woman. For many years she had had a werewolf servant whom she had treated well. She would surely treat Tsetse well.
But there was another mystery. Purple had been Brown’s prisoner, and now she was his. Why should he not only allow her to keep her residence, but assign a pleasant servant to her? Purple had never been noted for generosity to anyone.
Nepe rolled up to the airport entrance. “I’m going out?” Tsetse asked forlornly.
“Yes,” Nepe answered, as any machine would. Suddenly she had her answer: Tsetse didn’t know where she was going! That was why she needed the guide—and why she was afraid. She thought she was being punished for some infraction!
Nepe pondered briefly, and decided to take a risk. It might even lead to valuable input. She overstepped the nature of a normal guidebot and volunteered information. “To the residence of the former Brown Adept in Phaze.”
Tsetse pounced on the news with pitiful hunger. “To be his servant there?” She thought Purple had taken over the Brown Demesnes.
“To be her servant there.”
“Oh, if only it’s so!” Tsetse breathed, the tension going out of her.
Nepe was glad she had spoken. Tsetse might not be much intellectually, but she didn’t deserve unkind treatment. Purple was a hard master who evidently used her and abused her without concern for her feelings. He could have told her where she was going, but perhaps had preferred to make her suffer. This was true to his form.
Nepe led the way to a seat on the small airplane available. There were no other passengers. “Brown Demesnes,” she told the control panel, and the plane started moving. Its flight would be coordinated with others, controlled from the ground. They were merely passengers.
“But why should I be assigned to the Brown Adept?” Tsetse asked. “The Purple Adept doesn’t even like her!”
That was exactly what Nepe was wondering. But she was in no position to hold a dialogue on the subject, lest she betray her nature. She did not respond.
The flight was a short one, and soon the plane came down in a field beside the wooden castle. Brown had a Proton identity, but her Phaze identity was dominant, and her Proton self had effectively disappeared during the mergence.
The plane stopped. They got out. The plane took off without them. They were left in the field, gazing at the castle.
A wooden golem came out and approached them. “Who are you?” it asked.
“This is Tsetse, assigned here by Citizen Purple,” Nepe said. “I guided her here, and now am stranded.” Indeed, Purple had cared no more for the convenience of the machine than for that of the serf.
“Follow.” The golem turned and marched back toward the castle.
“I can not,” Nepe called, for her little wheels were useless here.
The golem turned again, strode back, bent, and heaved her up. It carried her awkwardly, but with the unyielding strength of wood. It made again for the castle, with Tsetse following.
The Brown Adept met them at the front door. “What be thy purpose here?” she inquired somewhat grimly of Tsetse.
“I am to be your servant,” Tsetse replied, surprised.
“I know naught o’ this.” She glanced at Nepe, who had been set on the floor. “What be thy transmittal orders?”
“To guide the serf Tsetse to the Brown Demesnes,” Nepe replied. They had assumed she was to be a servant; it wasn’t specified in the order.
Brown looked again at Tsetse. “Thou dost work for Purple?”
“For Tania, then for Purple,” Tsetse said. “I will do good work for you, if you give me a chance.”
Brown was still for a moment, evidently struck by the woman’s eagerness. It seemed that neither party had been told about this assignment. “What type o’ work didst thou do for them?”
“I was Tania’s receptionist, and whatever. For Purple, whatever.”
“What dost thou mean, whatever?” Brown asked sharply. Tsetse looked down, ashamed to answer.
Then Brown caught on. “Purple had thee for sexual purpose?”
“Yes, for a time.”
“And Tania too?”
“Yes,” Tsetse whispered. “When she had no man.”
“And thou hadst no choice, being a serf,” Brown said. “I understand. There will be not such coercion here.”
“I didn’t mind, really,” Tsetse said. “Tania treated me well.”
“And Purple?”
Tsetse was silent.
Brown put an arm around her. “My dear, mine authority be diminished, since the invasion. I remain here only by the sufferance o’ mine enemies, and I know not how long that will be. But thou needst have no fear o’ me during that interim.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tsetse said, trying to stifle her tears of relief.<
br />
“Nay, not sir. I be an Adept, a Citizen not, and in any event my power now be scant. Come, we shall get to know each other. But first needs must we clothe thee; this be not Proton, and thy fair form will be chilled in the drafts.”
“But what of me?” Nepe asked. She did not want to get stranded here; she had other business to do.
Brown glanced at her thoughtfully. “Go to my storage chamber until thy service be needed again.”
Nepe headed into the castle and down the hall, making her way to the chamber where the wooden golems stayed when not animated. The matter remained curious. She still had no hint why Purple, who cared little for the welfare of any other person, had sent a pleasant woman like Tsetse to work with Brown. Why did he allow Brown to have even the semblance of freedom? It was obvious that neither woman knew the answer, and Nepe didn’t either. She hoped Mach could make some sense of it. But she didn’t dare send a message from here; Purple was surely monitoring whatever happened at this castle.
She moved back to the darkest recess of the storage chamber. Then she changed slowly back to human form. There was no activity. The two women were probably comparing life histories. Nepe was sure it was lonely here, and the company of another woman would be a blessing to Brown. But that only heightened the mystery: Purple could have sent anyone to watch Brown: a harridan or a cruel man or a machine. He had sent possibly the most compatible person available. That was completely unlike him. Why hadn’t he simply had her locked in a cell?
When her change was complete, she shifted to Flach. He became a flea and jumped through a crack in the wall, working his way outside. When he got there, he became a small snake and slithered through the grass away from the castle. Only when he was well clear did he conjure himself directly to Hardom, where he returned the body to Nepe.
She wasted no time contacting Mach, joining him again on the baggage route so they could talk. “Report on Brown: Tsetse assigned as servant, unknown to either Brown or Tsetse. Mysterious act of generosity on Purple’s part. He let her keep her Demesnes, too.”
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