“Then here is the way I play it, and if you don’t like this variant, we’ll try another. Since we both play by the same rules, it will be fair once we agree.”
She used the flat of her foot to wipe the dirt smooth, then carefully scuffed the diagram. “This is called Heaven and Earth Hopscotch,” she said. “But there’s Hell in it too. I’ll mark everything so it’s clear what I’m talking about.”
In due course she had it complete: twelve boxes in a column marked HEAVEN, HELL, EARTH, and numbered 1 through 9.
HEAVEN
HELL
9
7 8
6
4 5
3
2
1
EARTH
Then she glanced at the Hectare. “Can you hop? You have to hop from box to box. One foot, like this.” She lifted her left foot and hopped on her right.
The monster considered. Its feet were short, thickened tentacles, with wartlike excrescences that evidently served for traction. They also resembled caterpillar treads, in a way. It hardly seemed that such a creature could hop!
Then it separated its foot tentacle treads into two segments, shifted its mass, hoisted up one segment, and heaved itself up. Its torso rippled grotesquely and the “foot” came up, then landed to the side. The body tilted as if about to fall, until the other foot came down to catch it.
“That’s it,” Nepe agreed, impressed. “Only in the game you have to stay on one foot when you land, except in some places. Let me show you.”
The tentacle extended, and tilted down.
“You don’t want to play?” she asked, concerned. If the BEM changed its mind now, her chance would be gone. The tentacle made its rotary motion.
“Turn around?” she asked blankly.
It turned around.
“Something else? That turning motion means neither yes nor no?”
It turned up.
She was getting better at interpreting the signals. “You are playing, but not the way I said?”
The tentacle whirled.
Well, she had thought she was getting better! What was the creature getting at?
“Maybe it wants to go ahead and play now,” Sirel suggested.
The tentacle pointed to Sirel, tilted up.
“You mean I should take my turn, and you’ll learn from that?” Nepe asked. “If I explain as I do it?”
The tentacle turned up.
This must be one smart monster! It figured to catch on to the whole set of rules, with one example. That was a chilling signal of its confidence!
Nepe addressed the diagram. “Oops, I forgot the markers! We need one for each of us.” She looked around. “A stone, or chip of wood, or a bag of sand—maybe those balls of moss.” She went to fetch a selection. “Something that you can throw accurately, so it doesn’t bounce or slide away, because if it winds up outside the box or on a fine, you lose your turn.” She laid the objects out in a line. “Choose one.”
The tentacle pointed to her.
“Okay, I’ll choose first.” She picked up a bit of bark with moss covering it, as though it had sprouted hair.
The Hectare picked up a bit of twisted root, whose rootlets resembled tentacles.
She cleared away the other fragments, then addressed the diagram again. She stepped into the EARTH square. “This is where you start. You have to stand inside it. Then you toss your marker into Block One.” She did so, dropping it into the center of the right side. “Then you hop there, pick it up, and hop back.” She did so. “Only in Earth—or later in Heaven—can you stand on both feet and rest. That’s the basic game, but it gets more difficult as it goes.”
She stood again in the EARTH square and threw her marker into Block Two. Then she hopped to it, picked up the marker, and hopped back. “You keep going until you make a mistake; then it’s the other player’s turn.”
She played to Block Three, then to Block Four, the first of the paired blocks. “Once you pass these two, you can put both feet down as you pass,” she said. “But only in Blocks Four and Five, and in Seven and Eight, and only when you’re traveling past them. When your marker’s there, you have to hop as usual.”
She played on, concentrating harder as the tosses got longer. When she aimed for Block Nine, her marker bounced into HELL. “Hell!” she exclaimed. “That means not only does my turn end, I have to start over from the beginning next time. If I had missed anywhere else, I could have picked up next time where I left off.” She walked around the diagram, picked up her marker, and set it in a corner of EARTH, showing her place in the game. “Your turn, Hectare.”
The Hectare stepped into the EARTH box, hefted its marker on a tentacle, and flipped it into Block One. It lifted its left foot-tentacle-tread, and hopped lumberingly into the box. It extended the tentacle to pick up the marker. Then it hopped back to EARTH, not turning; to it, any direction was forward.
Nepe quickly saw that the creature had unerring aim, but was relatively clumsy on the hopping. She, in contrast, might miss her throw but never her hop. It seemed to be an even game, so far.
The Hectare proceeded smoothly through Block Five, then lost coordination as it tried to put down both treads on the way to Block Six. It had gotten balanced for one, and the attempt to put down two, then return to one was too much; it recovered balance, but one tread nudged over a line.
The Hectare left the marker, stepped out of the diagram, and waited for Nepe to resume her turn. She had not challenged the error; it had acted on its own. She had to respect the creature for being a fair player. Lysander had said that honor was a BEM specialty; evidently it was.
She went quickly through the opening squares, and concentrated intently as she reached the Nine. This time her marker landed in the center. She hopped to it, picked it up, and returned to EARTH.
“This is just the first and easiest course,” she said. “Now I must toss my marker into HEAVEN, go there, and use it as the base to play the squares in reverse order.”
She tossed her marker, having less trouble with the larger square. Then she hopped to it. When she was in HEAVEN, she picked up her marker and tossed it into Block Nine. She continued to play in that direction.
She made it through, and started on the next sequence: shoving the marker with her lifted foot as she hopped from EARTH to HEAVEN, and from HEAVEN to EARTH.
“Next I have to balance it on one foot,” she said. “If I make it through this, the next is balancing it on my head.”
But she didn’t make it through. She lost it as she picked it up on Block Six and tried to put both feet down on Four and Five; the shock of the contact with the ground jogged it loose. “I’ll have to pick up at Block Six next time,” she said with regret. “You have to do it right, all the way, before you can go on.”
Now the monster took its turn. Starting on the same Block Six, but with a simpler exercise, it proceeded on through the course. It had learned how to hop better, from practice or from watching her, and was much smoother now.
Indeed, it went on past her, having no trouble shoving the marker while hopping. It also was able to balance it on the lifted fool. The rate at which the creature gained skill was disheartening; Nepe was very much afraid she was going to lose. She would not be able to cry foul, because it was her choice of games and the Hectare was playing fair. She would have to betray her society, and perhaps the last hope of saving her world from destructive exploitation.
The Hectare proceeded to the next course. It set the marker on the top of its head. But this was awkward, because its head was composed entirely of eye facets. It evidently did not like having something sitting directly on an eye, understandably, but the facet was glassy, and the marker did not seem to hurt it. However, that same glassiness posed a problem. When the Hectare hopped, the marker slid, and only with a special effort did the creature retain it. And hopped into a line. Its turn had ended.
Now Nepe’s hope revived. She played on from the Six, and with inspired balancing got th
rough. Then she started on the head. Her eyes were not on top, so that did not disturb her; indeed, her wild hair helped hold the marker in place.
To a degree. The Six Block caught her again, because she had to put both feet down on Four and Five, and it changed her orientation. The marker slid off.
The Hectare resumed at Block One, with its marker on its eye facet. It hopped—but again the marker slid off. It was evident that when the monster’s sight was obstructed, in however minor a manner, its equilibrium suffered, ruining its concentration.
Nepe stepped up to take her turn. Now she had a real chance, for the monster had not passed her by in its turn!
The Hectare stepped forward, barring her play.
“But it’s my turn!” Nepe protested.
The Hectare picked up its marker and dropped it at her feet. Then it walked away from the diagram—and the West Pole.
“It’s conceding!” Alien cried. “Thou didst win, Nepe!”
Nepe, amazed, realized that it was so. The Hectare had realized that she had a decisive advantage at this stage. Only it knew how difficult this course was for it. Rather than continue to flub turns, it had yielded the victory.
“It’s true?” Nepe asked the Hectare, who had taken a stance a short distance apart from them. “You will let us go to the Pole, and you won’t interfere or report us?”
The tentacle extended and turned up. The BEM was one good loser!
“Then I want you to know that you played a good game, and I thought I was going to lose,” she said. “I didn’t know you would have that trouble with the marker on your head. I would have served you if I had lost, and I am glad to see that you are honoring our deal too.”
The tentacle tilted up. That was all. The Hectare watched, but made no other motion.
Nepe was coming to respect the BEMs. They did have honor, as well as intelligence and skill.
“Come on, then!” she exclaimed to her companions. “We’re in time after all.”
They approached the spot. It was marked by an X on the ground. That was all.
“This be where the curtains crossed, in the old days,” Alien said. “My sire spoke o’ it.”
“But there are no curtains now,” Nepe said. “Everything’s merged, so there’s no line of separation. But it has to be important some way.”
She squatted, tracing her fingers through the dirt. The X was actually a ridge, not a mere marking. She took hold of the ridge and pulled.
It came up. The others jumped in to help, and in a moment the lid covering a hole was all the way over and back. Below was darkness.
“But methinks the BEM could have done this,” Sirel said. “Why did it but guard?”
“Because time changes inside,” Nepe said. “It may be slower in there, which makes it dangerous for anyone who doesn’t belong.” She stared down into the mysterious region. “And maybe for us too. But either we have to go in—or just drop the seed in.”
“Alien and I would have been asked to come with thee not,” Sirel said, “an there be not reason. Needs must we go in, come what may.”
That seemed to be the case. “Then we shall do it,” Nepe said. She put her foot to the hole—and found a barrier. It would not go down.
“But I think not in this form,” she said after a moment. “Maybe it is barred to human beings and aliens.”
Sirel assumed her bitch form. She extended a paw, and it passed the barrier without impediment.
Alien became the bat, and flew down into the hole. He neither slowed nor fell; indeed, he bounced back out so suddenly Nepe was surprised. He resumed human form. “It be fast in there!” he exclaimed. “When I went down, it were the two of you who froze, responding to me not.”
“Fast!” Nepe exclaimed. “That may explain much!”
“It be not deep,” Alien continued. “I fathomed it with mine ears, and it turns below and makes a slanting tunnel a wolf could walk.”
She changed her structure, forcing the Hectare seed out. She held it in her hand, protecting it. Then she turned the body over to Flach. He would have to take it from here, for only magic could relate properly to this.
Chapter 12
Weva
Flach held the seed. “Methinks I be best off in a bat form, with Alien,” he said. “Canst carry the seed, Sirel?”
The bitch lifted her nose, and took the seed gently from his hand. Then Flach became a bat. “We go together!” he called in the bat language to Alien. “Cling to Sirel, and let her go in. An we spy danger, we can guide her clear.”
They lit on the wolf’s back. Then Sirel stepped into the hole. She dropped only a short distance before landing firmly at the tunnel floor.
Now Flach’s ears confirmed what Alien’s had perceived. This was a curving passage, spiraling down below the Pole. Above, in the lighted hole, motes of dust hung motionless. They were living much faster now. He should have realized that it would not be identical to the situation at the North Pole. What point, slowing down, when they had so little time to forge the weapon against the invader?
Reassured by their contact, Sirel walked on down the tunnel.
Several loops down it broadened into a chamber, where there was light: at first dim glows from fungi, then brighter glows from lamps. As Sire! stood at the edge, there was a growl, coming from darkness beyond the chamber.
“Who dost thou be?” the growl demanded. Flach could understand it because of his years with the wolves.
But Sirel couldn’t answer, because she was holding the seed in her mouth. So Flach changed forms and assumed his wolf form, Barelmosi. “We be three, coming as directed to the West Pole,” he growled.
“Who dost thou be?” the growl repeated.
“I be Barelmosi, also known as the Unicorn Adept. With me are Sirelmoba, who be my Promised bitch, and Alien, o’ the vampire bats. Now, in fairness, tell us who thou dost be, and what thou dost demand o’ us.”
The other came in view. It was an animal head: a man with the head of a wolf. “I be but a servant o’ our cause: to save Phaze from being ravished. Hast brought the seed?”
“Aye.”
“Give it here, and follow.”
Flach, assuming human form, reached to take the seed from Sirel’s mouth, and carried it to the wolfman. The wolfman took it and turned to walk into the gloom at the far end of the chamber. They followed, Alien assuming human form, Sirel retaining bitch form. Flach wasn’t certain what was coming, and knew the other two were as nervous as he.
Soon they arrived at a deeper, brighter chamber, where a group of animal heads stood. Prominent among them was an elephant head. “Eli!” Flach exclaimed. Then he had a second thought. “Or be it thee? Thou dost look older.”
“We be all older,” Eli said. He used the language of the animal heads, which was a mixture of those sounds common to most of them; Flach understood it because he had learned a number of animal languages when he mastered the animal forms. Eli had helped his father Mach train in table tennis, before Flach’s birth, for an important game with his other self; the elephant head held the paddle with his trunk, and played marvelously well. Flach had come to know him in the past year, and liked him. “We be ten years in this den, preparing for thee.”
“But I saw thee nigh three months ago!” Flach protested. “With my sire, the Rovot Adept. Dost not remember?”
“I remember. But much o’ a month ago in thy time, we descended to this realm and fashioned o’ it the Pole Demesnes, that we might train thee and make the decoys. That be ten years, our time, and aye, we be older.”
“But thou must get out, then, before thou dost age too far!” Flach exclaimed, horrified. “Thou and thy companions!”
“Nay, Adept, not so! Our lives be as long as e’er, in our terms; we feel not the loss. We have been constructively busy, and now the region be nice for thee and thy companions. For thou must remain with us a time.”
“But came I here only to deliver the Hec seed! Needs must I do one more errand before I rest, so save
the planet.”
“Aye. But this be part o’ thine errand. Thou must be trained here, three years.”
“Three years!” Flach exclaimed. “But the Magic Bomb will ravage the planet within six weeks! Five weeks.” For a week had passed since he had stood at the North Pole with wonderful Icy. Ah, the demoness—Don’t get distracted! Nepe snapped.
“Three years our time,” Eli clarified. “One week, outside. We be at gross velocity: an hundred and forty-four times norm. Well we know the outside limit!”
Flach looked at his companions, appalled. But as he did so he realized that their presence here was part of the plan, whose nature he did not understand. Certainly he had no reason to distrust Eli.
“I must trust thine information,” he said. “We be at thy service.”
“First must we take thy companions to the laboratory,” the elephant head said.
“The laboratory?” Flach asked, upset again. “That be a science notion!”
“Aye, lad! We have rovots and computers here and the rest o’ science, but the wolf and bat must needs be fresh for our purpose.”
“What purpose?” Flach demanded. “I can suffer no ill to my friends!”
“Nor shall there be ill to any,” EH reassured him. “We but need tokens from their bodies, that we may craft what be needful.”
“Tokens?”
“We may not tell thee more now,” EH said. “For thou must go out again amidst the enemy, and the secret be not secure there. But thou shallst see they be not harmed. Now do the two o’ you come w’ me, while Flach takes his leisure at thine apartment. The wolf will show thee there, Adept.”
Sirel assumed girl form. “It be all right, my Promised,” she said to Flach. “We knew we came not here for naught. We will see thee presently.”
Flach watched them go with dismay. This was not at all what he had expected.
The wolf head guided him down another tunnel to a chamber that turned out to be very much like a Proton room. There was a video screen and a bed and a machine for dialing food. “I thank thee,” he said shortly to the wolf head, dismissing the creature. He felt like a prisoner.
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