“Aye,” he agreed sadly. “Naught will. But had I been the man I look, methinks not e’en the spell would have stopped me from melting thee to a puddle.”
“For sure, Adept,” she agreed, pleased. She let him go, and he rolled over onto his own side of the snow with mixed emotions. “But the demon I take will be ice, and his heart will melt not. He will be reduced to the performance le’el o’ a demon’s way with an ordinary demoness.”
“Aye,” Flach agreed. “Dost that abate the onus o’ all my consequences?”
“Aye, Adept!” she agreed. “But I ne’er meant to make thee pay them; it were but fancy.”
He had suspected as much. Still, it was a relief. “Thank thee, Icy. Methinks I will e’er regret I were not made a snow demon.”
“That be but natural,” she pointed out. “Now needs must we sleep, for the morrow we meet the Pole.”
He had almost forgotten his mission, in the intrigue of his dialogue with the demoness. “Aye,” he said, and closed his eyes.
But it was a while before he was able to make his way down from the golden cloud to the more ordinary bed of snow, and sleep.
The guard demons had to dig them out in the morning, for the storm had buried their tent in snow. Icy sat up and stretched and breathed the horrendously cold air that rushed in as the tunnel reached the tent entrance.
Flach saw the shoveler-demon staring. “Icy, thy clothing,” he murmured “Dost not want thy guards melting before we reach the Pole.”
“To be sure!” she agreed, delighted, and got up to fetch her clothing. Actually his warning was not well taken, because she could no longer cause males to heat enough to melt. But he was mindful of her father’s caution; Flach’s grown image was to discourage the demons from getting ideas about a woman who was intended for demonly princes, not guards.
“And thou too, lover,” Icy said mischievously, glancing back at him.
Now Flach remembered that he was naked too, and that he had the semblance of a grown man. The guard demons could draw only one conclusion about what had gone on in the tent during the night. They would be wrong in detail, but perhaps not in principle. Had he been older, and colder…
He got up and dressed. Then they exited the tent, the demons gazing jealously at Flach, and got on the sledge. They had their breakfasts while zooming on toward the Pole. They played card games, and she skunked him continually. The consequences she demanded were always the same: she would wait till a guard was looking, then make Flach kiss her on the cheek or, sometimes, the lips, while she feigned reluctance. To the demons it would seem as if Flach were the one winning, and demanding the kisses from her. She wanted the world to know that she had made a conquest, and that the man had not died. All true, as far as it went. He wished it could be more than a mere game to her, and more than an impossible dream to him. He had understood the principle of mating, but had never before properly appreciated the intense lure of it, or the utter fascination a woman could represent for a man. Already he knew that it would take a very special woman to fulfill the longings Icy had seeded in him. Would there be any such, when he grew up?
“There it be!” she abruptly exclaimed.
Flach looked, surprised. There in the middle of the plain was a pole sticking in the snow. It was disappointingly simple, a mere column of ice with spiral ridges down its length. The oddest thing was that it was half in shadow. They drew up to it and halted.
“What now?” Icy inquired. “I realize that thy mission must seem a paltry thing, after my love, but surely thou dost have aught to do here?”
The guard demons fidgeted at this seeming confirmation of their suspicions. The demoness was truly enjoying herself.
The problem was that Flach had no idea what to do. The message had simply told him to come here. What now, indeed?
He walked over to the Pole. He touched it.
Immediately the Pole rose. A circular panel of ice came up, revealing a hole beneath. There were stairs going down.
“A cave ‘neath the Pole!” Icy exclaimed, delighted. “Ne’er suspected I this!”
Neither had Flach. But rather than seem uncertain, he squatted, ready to climb down the first big step. There had to be something for him in here.
I don’t like this, Nepe thought.
“Adept, ne’er would I gainsay thee, since thou mastered me,” Icy said timidly, for the guards were close by, nervously watching the hole as if afraid a fire-breathing dragon might put its head out. “But I intuit some mischief.”
Flach shrugged as if indifferent to mischief. “Dost think my mission takes me not here?” he asked.
“I fear it as I fear a fire lake,” she said. “It be not hostile, yet it be deadly. O my love, go not into that hole!”
She exaggerated her sentiment, of course, but underneath she did have some concern. He was glad to accept the pretext for caution. “I will humor thee by being most careful,” he said gruffly. The guards nodded; this was the way to handle a beautiful woman with foolish notions.
He peered into the hole, his eyes adjusting to its darkness. Now he saw a rope stretched along the stairs, going down out of sight. Its upper end terminated in a loop. A trap for his foot? Would it close about his ankle and haul him roughly into the depths?
“Willst humor me just a trifle more, my hero?” Icy inquired submissively. He was coming to appreciate just how docile a woman could make herself seem, when she chose. Nepe was making avid notes. “Let me drop aught inside, to see what stirs.”
“What could stir, here at the Pole?” he asked, hoping she had an answer.
“I know not, great one,” she confessed prettily. “But thou hast beaten me so badly at cards, requiring only kisses as penalties, which in truth be not burdensome at all when they be thine—” Here she paused to bat her fine icy eyelashes at him adoringly. “I feel I must repay thee by in some way ensuring that thy bold foot slip not on those dire steps leading I know not where.”
“As thou wishest,” he said generously. Her worry was infectious; was there some threat there? Then why would his father send him here without warning?
Icy took a handful of snow and dropped it into the center of the hole. It powdered down, drifting slightly in the breeze, half of it bright in the daylight, half fading in the shadow that cut across the Pole. But as it passed ground level, it slowed and then halted.
They stared at it. The trailing fluff continued down, but the leading snow was hovering in place, not landing on the highest step.
Flach peered closely at the phenomenon. “It be moving down, but slowly,” he said. “I pose this as a riddle for thee, fair one: what be the meaning o’ this?” He hoped she had an answer!
“I thank thee for this chance to try my skill at what thou has already fathomed,” she said contritely. “Methinks this be a slowspell, that harms not who enters it, but slows him down so that what seems ten minutes to him be an hour outside, mayhap more. An thou go in there, we could wait long ‘fore thou dost emerge.” She raised her great eyes to him. “My love, I doubt I can wait that long for thee!”
That’s one clever doxie! Nepe thought. A slowspell! She must be right.
“And how wouldst thou have me accomplish my purpose within, timid demoness, an thou be so impatient for my return?” Flach asked sternly. This was a game he could get to like!
“Why, methinks I would have thee pull on the cord,” she said. “And bring out what lies within to thee, here in normal time.”
Flach stared at the loop at the end of the rope. Not a trap, but a pull-cord! That made perfect sense!
“Well, needs must we try it,” he said. “Methinks thine answer be apt.”
Icy downcast her eyes and made a snowy flush: a mirror-gloss formed on her alabaster complexion. How visibly she appreciated the compliment from the master! He knew it was only a game to her, but he couldn’t help feeling masterly.
That creature could give lessons to any warm female in the business! Nepe thought, awed. No wonder she melted males
!
Flach reached down to grab the loop. His hand moved swiftly until it reached the region of the slow-falling snow; then it slowed. He felt no different, however; if he hadn’t been watching, he would not have realized that the slowdown had occurred.
But though his hand was slow, his arm was above, in normal time. He shoved it down, and the hand had to go. Thus he was able to pass the snow and reach the loop, thanks to his leverage. But when he closed his fingers on it, they failed to respond. They seemed to flex normally, but he could see that nothing was actually happening. They would react in their own good time—which seemed inordinately slow.
But he didn’t have to wait. His fingers were partly curled already. He moved his body and arm, the hand at the end seeming like a fixed hook, and scraped it across the rope so that the fingers caught in the loop. Then he hauled his hand up, and the rope came with it. In a moment his hand was back in normal time, instantly clenching on the rope, and the loop was in his possession.
But what was on the other end? He saw that the loop was actually part of a continuous cord, the two ends of it twining about each other to make the larger rope. No chance of this coming loose! He hauled on it, and the rope came out, not heavy.
Then it went taut. Flach hauled harder, and it came. By the feel of it there was some kind of animal on the other end, walking forward as it was hauled along. But why would he have been sent here to fetch an animal?
Flach kept hauling, hand over hand. Then the animal came slowly into view.
It was man! In fact, it was the Black Adept! Flach immediately recognized the black cloak and boots. The man had been on the other side in the war of Adepts, but had been fair by his definition. He was made of the line, or the line was made of him; Flach had never quite gotten it clear.
He had been sent here to rescue this man? There had to be a reason! “Icy, caution the demons to make no hostile move,” he murmured. “This be the Black Adept, and he be not good to cross.”
“Aye,” she said, gesturing to the guards, who promptly retreated. All creatures of Phaze had respect for Adepts, having learned it by hard lessons over the decades. Flach’s magic was less potent here, but he was an inexperienced child; the older Adepts would be as dangerous here as elsewhere.
Flach finally hauled the Adept out. It wasn’t by muscle so much as guidance; the man was walking to magnify the tugs of the rope. Soon he stood beside the Pole.
“Adept, I be the so-called Unicorn Adept,” Flach said, somewhat nervously. “We met once—”
“Aye,” the man said, having no trouble recognizing him despite Flach’s added years. It was often that way, with Adepts, who knew each other instinctively. “When thou wast prisoner o’ Translucent, on his ancient isle.”
“Aye. I was sent here, but I know not why. This be Icy, the daughter o’ Chief Icebeard, who guided me here.”
The Adept nodded briefly to Icy. “Thou hast done well, fair creature,” he said.
Icy, evidently in awe and fear of the Black Adept, flushed with a truer mirror-shine than before. “My pleasure, Adept,” she said doubtfully.
“Retreat, ere Green emerge,” Black said.
Icy fled. Black turned and hauled on his own rope, which connected to him like a tail. In a moment a ball of fire emerged from the hole. Once this was in the open air, it coalesced into the form of a stout man in green. Flach recognized him too: the Green Adept.
“We thank thee for thy promptness,” Green told Flach. “It were a slow trek out, on our own, though time seemed normal to us within.”
“The Rovot Adept sent me, but he told me not why,” Flach said, amazed at this development. “Canst tell me?”
“Aye, lad,” Green said. “We set the Magic Bomb.”
“Under the Pole?” Flach asked, amazed again.
“Aye. Know this, tad: an the main ploy fail, the Bomb will destroy all. We detonate it now.”
As Green spoke, Black jerked on his line, and it came out of the hole. Evidently the cord had attached to something.
“Now?” Flach asked, appalled.
“Aye. But it be in slow time, so will break not free for six weeks. That be time enough, an thou perform as well thine other tasks as this one.”
“An I do that, thou willst turn it off?”
Green laughed. “Nay, lad! It can be turned off not. It be in process o’ explosion. None can approach it.”
“But then—”
“This be why thy sire told thee not, lest the enemy learn and come ‘fore we were done: thine other two missions will save Phaze, yea e’en from this. Take care thou dost complete them, lad, lest we all perish.”
“But I don’t know what—”
“Nor do we, lad. But the Book o’ Magic and the Oracle hatched the plot, and thou be the one to implement it. Now listen well: the part o’ Black and Green be done. We made and triggered and placed the Bomb. We be now expendable. We shall guard and hide thee so thou canst proceed about thy next mission. Check it not till thou dost be back in the pleasant latitude. Concern thyself not for us; merely see that thou be not caught.”
“But—”
“The enemy has traced thee, lad, but knows not what we do here. There will be an ambush at the White Mountains. When I signal thee, do thou assume a form none will suspect, and leave us to our fate. We will co’er for thee. Dost understand?”
Flach’s head was spinning. But it made sense, if what Green told him was true. He had to avoid capture, so that he could fulfill the remaining two directives on the message capsule. “Aye,” he said bravely.
***
Flach rode the sledge back, seated beside Icy as before. The Black Adept donned a white cape of snow and skied behind, seeming to have no problem with the cold. Perhaps that was because Green, in the form of another fireball, rode with him. It was a strange procession, but no stranger than the discoveries Flach was making.
“Canst tell me what be o’ such import that three Adepts join in it?” Icy inquired. “My female curiosity be about to melt me!”
There seemed to be no harm in the news now. “We have a dire plot to save Phaze from the Hectare,” he said. “An it succeed, we all be free.” He decided not to tell her the alternative.
“Aye, methought it be aught like that,” she said. “Meanwhile, howe’er that turn out, I will be fore’er thankful to thee for curing my curse.”
“Thou didst help me much,” he said. “When I grow up, I will have an awful time finding a creature as wonderful as thou.” He had mentioned this before, but realized that it bore repeating, because she was even nicer to him when complimented. It also happened to be true. Her father Icebeard was one of the finest chess players of the planet; Icy took after him in being one of the most attractive females of the planet. It was obvious that both worked very hard at their specialities.
“Aye,” she agreed complacently. Then she leaned over and kissed him, granting the reward he had hoped for.
When they camped for the evening, the two other Adepts remained apart, evidently able to fend for themselves. Flach shared the tent again with Icy. She did not try to seduce him this time; she merely embraced him and slept. It was about the finest sleep he could imagine. He was quite smitten with her, despite the formidable differences between them; she knew this, and was satisfied. She liked to win, in love as well as cards, and was generous in victory.
On the second day, approaching the White Mountains, trouble came. Geysers of hot gas erupted from the snow, appearing randomly. One formed near a guard, and the demon had barely time to scream before he melted.
“O my love, our geyser enemy be striking!” Icy cried, terrified. “We must away, ‘fore it destroy us all!”
But already the gas vents were behind them; there was no sure way out. Flach, after his association with the snow demons, well appreciated the horror of this threat. Heat was their deadliest enemy. The icedogs were whimpering and milling about, seeking comfort close to the sledge. But he didn’t know how to stop the gas. Had he known about
this threat in advance, he could have devised a suitable spell to counter it, but now he couldn’t think of anything.
The Black Adept skied up on his black-line skis. “Do thou do it now!” he called to Flach.
Flach realized that he was referring to the transformation Green had spoken of. He sang his spell: “In co’er o’ fog, exchange with dog.”
Vapor appeared, hiding him. Suddenly he was in the form of one of the icedogs—and the dog was in the form of the man Flach had appeared to be. The dog was bound by the form, unable to leave the sledge—but it was a good place to be, next to Icy.
Then the green fireball sailed up and exploded. Light blinded them all. But in a moment, as Flach and the demons and dogs blinked back their sight, the hot gas vents were gone. Green, the Adept of fire, had taken charge and suppressed them.
“Go on through!” the Black Adept called. “Before the jets resume!”
Icy called to the milling dogs, and they re-formed their lines and forged forward. Flach was one of the loose dogs, running beside the sledge. He saw Icy speak to the man-image beside her, then her surprise as she realized that something had changed, for the image barked in response.
Icy, absolutely no dummy, glanced across at Flach. He nodded his head. She nodded hers, catching on. She pursed her lips in a farewell kiss. Then she turned back to the figure on the sledge, treating it as a companion, while Flach ranged outward as if searching for new threats to guard against. He was glad she understood; with two other Adepts along, and an ambush awaiting them, she knew that he had to hide again. Perhaps he had been foolish to let her know about his change of form, but he thought she would help cover for him, and he didn’t want her believing that he was captured with the others. It was his hope that beneath her humor and games she really did care for him a little. That hope would sustain him for a long time.
The group went to the White Mountains—and the ambush was sprung. Icy had just directed the dogs to skirt a bank of fog, because she did not trust fog in this cold. It might be natural ice-fog, or it might be more hot venting. But before they could clear it, it abruptly expanded, and armed men stepped out of it, forming a semicircle around the sledge. This might be the realm of magic, and the demons might be made of ice, but they knew immediately that they were helpless before this enemy. The men were armed with flame-throwers, the most deadly mundane weapon here.