“Pleased to meet thee, Lysan,” the girl said. “Thou hast no Phaze form?”
“No Phaze form,” Lysander agreed.
“Then I assume mine other form, to greet thee,” Sirel said—and abruptly a wheeled machine sat in her place. “I am Troubot, the trouble-shooting robot,” it said via a speaker. “I love Nepe, but I fear my love is vain.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nepe said, appearing, naked as she had been in the dome. “But unless you want to put on a humanoid body like Daddy’s—”
The wolf-girl reappeared. “It be more fun being a bitch.”
Bitch: a female dog or wolf. Now Lysander had it straight.
“I must on,” Flach said. The changes were so quick and natural that it seemed pointless to try to track them. “We be going to see Tania.”
Sirel frowned cutely. “Thou knowest I like thee not with that woman.” The way she said it, “woman” sounded the way “bitch” did away from Phaze.
“Dost forget she played the Flute, that we might beat the e’il Adepts?” Flach inquired, smiling.
“Nay, I forget that not, neither her power.”
“Which she would waste not on me,” he retorted.
Sirelmoba relented. “Aye, why waste anything on thee!”
He made a grab for her, but she turned wolf again and glided away. Flach turned wolf himself, and growled after her, then reappeared as the boy. “Come, Lysan,” he said, extending his hand.
Lysander took it—and they were at the base of another section of the Purple Mountains. Partway up was a pleasant cottage, with a thatched roof and plaster walls. An easy path led up to it.
“If I may inquire,” Lysander said cautiously, “what is significant about the Adept Tania?”
“She has the power o’ the Evil Eye,” Flach explained as they walked up the path. “When her brother were the Tan Adept, and sought to destroy what Grandpa Blue had wrought, she fought for us, and helped us prevail, and now she be the Adept while Tan be prisoner.”
“But why should I see her? I am of no significance.”
The lad glanced at him with a disturbing hint of understanding. “Blue takes serfs not for naught, and sends them to Phaze not for naught. Least does he put us”—Nepe flashed momentarily, showing that he meant the combination—“in charge of such, e’en for an hour, without reason. It be our task not merely to show thee magic, but to fathom thy nature. Tania will do that.”
“Fathom my nature? I’m an android!”
“But what is thy mind, Lysan? Thinkst thou to step into the Blue Demesnes unchallenged? An thou be sent to assassinate Blue, needs must we know it early.”
“I’m no assassin!” Lysander protested, appalled.
“An we take thy word on that, be we smart?”
“I see your point. So Tania will know? What is she, a mind reader?”
“Not exactly. She will compel thee with her Eye, which be not truly e’il now, and thou willst tell thy nature.”
Lysander felt a chill. If the woman could do that, he was lost! But perhaps it was a bluff. What could a child know, after all?
They completed the ascent to the cottage. Flach knocked on the door. “Adepts, this be Flach! I bring a serf from Proton-frame.”
The door opened. A beautiful woman of about thirty stood within, in a tan dress. Her hair was tan, and her eyes too. Suddenly the significance of the name registered. Tan, Tania. The color was a badge.
“Welcome, Flach,” she said smiling. “We be e’er pleased to see thee, and any thou dost bring.” She glanced at Lysander—and he felt another chill. Her eyes abruptly seemed larger, and intense, as though capable of hideous power. “Come in.” She stepped back to give them access.
Inside was a pleasant room with a picture-window view of the mountainside and open field beyond. There was also a man, somewhat older than Tania, bespectacled and of slight build, though healthy. Lysander realized that he must have qualities that didn’t show, to be the companion of such a woman.
Flach performed the introductions. “This be Lysander, new serf o’ Blue, from offplanet. This be the Adept Clef.”
Clef walked forward to shake hands. “Welcome to Phaze, Lysander. What brings you here?”
Was there any point in telling his story? But he realized that all he could do was bluff it out. “I am an android, trained in games and computer feedback circuitry. I hope to achieve both pleasure and information during my tenure here, and money too, so as to be a person of account on my home planet when I return.”
“Yes, I remember my own tenure as a serf,” Clef said. “When I washed out in the game, I thought to depart Proton, never to return. But Stile showed me Phaze, and later Tania brought me back.” He went to the woman and put his arm around her affectionately. She turned immediately and kissed him with an eagerness reminiscent of that of Alyc. But she was no Alyc; what was it that made Clef a figure to compel her devotion?
“Methought Tania could test Lysander, to be assured of his constancy,” Flach said. “We like strangers not around Blue.”
Again Tania glanced at Lysander. She shifted subtly. “Why not put him on a lie detector?” she asked.
“If he’s an assassin,” Nepe said, “he would be trained to fake through that. But he can’t fake you, Citizen.”
Lysander realized that Tania had shifted to her Proton form, which was evidently the same as her Phaze form. So she was also a Citizen! That meant that she had enormous power, if she chose to exercise it, despite her rustic residence.
“You know my wife does not like to use her power carelessly,” Clef said. “She can orient on a given subject only once.”
“Gee, I forgot,” Nepe said, abashed. “I was thinking it was like the weres or ‘corns, always there.”
“Always there for a new subject,” Clef said. “If there is any chance that Stile might want him checked at a later date, we should wait on that. But perhaps I can be of service, instead.”
“Would you, dear?” Tania asked, evidently relieved.
“For you, anything,” Clef said. He seemed to be speaking literally. He walked across the room and fetched an instrument from a shelf.
Lysander wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or increased concern. These people obviously intended to check him out—but how did they propose to do it? Nepe was right: no lie detector would betray him; he had been manufactured to be resistant to the human signals such machines interpreted. Only a direct mind probe could fathom his truth, and his masters had not anticipated that on this planet. In immediate retrospect, he realized that he had blundered into accepting employment directly with Citizen Blue; of course the man was careful about his associates, being the leading figure of the planet! Had Lysander sought employment with a lesser Citizen, he should have passed unnoticed. He had asked for trouble, and now was getting it.
The instrument turned out to be a shining silver flute. No, not silver—platinum. This was the Platinum Flute the unicorn Belle had mentioned, that Clef had played to merge the frames. That had seemed like mythology, but now it seemed literal. But what could a flute really do?
“Sit down,” Tania said, indicating chairs and taking one herself. “It’s always such a pleasure to hear him play.”
“Aye,” Flach agreed. “Ne’er heard I the like!”
Lysander did not anticipate pleasure. If the Flute really could somehow fathom his mind, it would be the end of him. Yet maybe it was illusion or bluff.
Clef played. It was immediately evident that he was an expert flautist; the music was sure and sweet. But how could mere music verify whether a man was an assassin? Of course that was not the case with Lysander; he was merely a counterinsurgency agent, who would kill only at need. He liked Citizen Blue and his family, and would do his best to avoid doing them harm, so long as his mission was fairly accomplished. Still, the premature exposure of his mission would be fatal to it and probably himself.
The music intensified. Lysander felt it orienting on him, entering him, drawing him out of him
self. It was as if he were floating up and looking down at his body and the bodies of the others. But he wasn’t dying, he was relaxing; it was pleasant. He would be satisfied to float forever on this magical music!
But if they had intended to make him talk about his true mission, they had failed. He felt no compulsion at all to talk about anything, merely to float and reflect. So he could relax, until the Hectare came. Then—he would see.
The music ended. Lysander thought it had been only a minute or two, but the sun seemed to have jumped forward in the sky beyond the picture window. It had been at least an hour. That music was potent!
The others were silent as Clef put away his flute. They seemed to be recovering from the effect of it, just as he was.
“Did I pass inspection?” he inquired, trying to be light.
Clef turned to him. “I suspect you are the one we want. It is fortunate that Citizen Blue hired you.”
“For work on circuit feedback?”
“There is a prophecy that a great trial will come to our culture, that can be ameliorated only by a particular person, a newcomer to the planet. We have been watching for promising arrivals. The music suggests that you qualify. I hope it is correct.”
“A prophecy?” Lysander asked, surprised again. “A magical prediction?”
“You might call it that. Actually, prophecies are more difficult to assimilate, as they are often vague about details, and considerable interpretation is needed. But they are always correct in the end. If you are the one, you will be invaluable to us.”
Lysander spread his hands. “Somehow that seems like more than I should be credited with. I’m really not a planet-saving type.”
“Perhaps.” Clef shrugged as if unconcerned. “It was pleasant to play again, at any rate.”
“It was fun to listen!” Flach said. Then Nepe appeared. “But I guess we better go on back to Grandpa Blue.” She extended her hand to Lysander.
He took it, relieved that he had gotten through their test. Evidently the magic had oriented on his special mission, but not clarified its nature. Save the culture? Not by their definition! He was on the other side.
He blinked. They were back in Citizen Blue’s apartment, all naked except for the Citizen, and Alyc was there, gazing at him expectantly. “Yes, I now believe in magic,” he said, forestalling her. “This little lady showed me quite a world!”
Chapter 3
Decision
After polite dialogue of the adult kind, Citizen Blue packed Lysander off with Alyc for the familiarization tour of Proton. But he held Nepe with the tiniest indication of a finger. She faded back, but did not depart. She had known it would be thus.
When things were clear, the Citizen held a brief meeting with Sheen, Agnes the maid, and Nepe. “Verdict?” he asked Nepe.
“Clef piped out his soul, and says he may be the one.”
Blue nodded. “I thought that might be the case. His arrival was too pat. How much is Clef sure of?”
Nepe shrugged. “He didn’t say, because ‘Sander was there. Just that there’s a prophecy, and he might qualify as the special person we want to help us get through the bad time.”
Agnes snorted. “Special person! The man’s an enemy agent!”
“If he is the one,” the Citizen said. “And if he is the one, we desperately need him. I don’t think Clef would have mentioned the prophecy if he wasn’t fairly sure.”
“He may be sure the man is an enemy,” Sheen said, “but not that he is the one we need.”
Blue nodded. “It would be premature to take action at this time. But at least we can use this as a focus for our investigation. I shall arrange to keep him occupied with the Game Computer.”
Sheen pursed her lips in exactly the fashion of a living woman. “But if he is versed in computer circuitry—”
“Have no fear, my love; he will not have access to the circuitry. The Oracle will divert him cleverly enough. Meanwhile, we shall be taking his measure, and discover perhaps in exactly what way he may be useful to our effort.”
Sheen nodded, satisfied. If the Oracle was working on this, there would be no errors.
Blue glanced at Nepe. “You and Nessie know what to do.”
Nepe nodded. So did Agnes.
“We shall cover for you as required,” Blue concluded. “Otherwise, you’re on your own. Project Phaze Doubt depends on you.”
She laughed, though she knew it wasn’t funny. “Phased out by a little girl!”
He smiled. “Don’t get cute, amoeba face. We love you, and want you to succeed.”
How true that was! She would keep her doubt to herself, and do her utmost to complete her mission. She could not afford to dwell on its immense responsibility; she would tackle one step at a time.
Nepe went up and embraced her grandfather, then her grandmother. “Nessie will update me,” she said, wiping away a tear.
“And so will we, while we can,” the Citizen said. “Until Alyc turns us in.”
Another laugh bubbled up in Nepe, despite the gravity of the situation. “Maybe she’ll turn him in too!”
“Maybe,” Blue said, smiling.
Then Nepe took Agnes’ hand. “Follow my lead, Grandam.”
The woman nodded. Nepe changed to Flach and conjured the two of them to a vacant chamber across the city. There she reverted to Nepe-form, and melted into a pool of protoplasm. Agnes, who was Nepe’s mother’s elder portion, melted with her. Soon the two Moebites were flowing across the floor, and into a disused drain channel.
I don’t think anyone’s watching. Nepe thought, her direct contact with a creature of her species making communication possible, though they were not telepathic. It was simply a matter of tangential nerve signals. But we don’t know how many other spies there are, or when the invasion’s coming, so we have to be careful.
Agreed.
This leads outside, near a horse range. Flach’ll be a horsefly, till we get to Clef.
Just don’t bite me!
Nepe sent a peal of laughter that jarred loose the contact.
They flowed out of the pipe and settled on the ground. It had been seeded after the mergence, but the grass had not yet filled in completely near the dome.
Nepe shaped herself back into girl form, hiding against the wall, then became Flach, who would have had trouble dealing with puddle form. The mutability of the Moeba complemented that of the Adept, each able to change in ways the other could not. They found it best to assume human form at the exchange platform, to avoid miscues.
Flach became the horsefly. He buzzed up, looking around with his multifaceted eyes. There were horses grazing not far off, attended only by a mobile watering station.
He buzzed down to Agnes. He touched her briefly and sheered off.
She was more facile than he in the change, having had more experience. She went directly from pooled protoplasm to unicorn, standing in the shadow, where her black hide helped her fade out. She had white socks on her hind legs, and a spiraled horn. She was Neysa, the Adept Stile’s longtime companion, and perhaps the one who knew Flach best.
Flach flew down to light on her head, between her ears. She walked beside the wall until the site of their emergence from it was not clear, then turned outward. She put her head down to take a bite of grass, so that the watering robot would see the outline of a grazing horse. After a moment she moved on, keeping her horn angled away from the machine.
In this manner she worked her way to the fringe of the seeded turf. Then she stepped out onto the natural ground of Phaze, and quickly lost herself in the higher bushes growing there. Once she was fully clear of the dome of Hardom, she worked into a trot, moving at moderate speed westward, then southwest, toward the great Purple Mountain Range. If anyone saw her now, she was just one more unicorn traveling her own course, like so many who ranged out from the Herd to find choice foraging.
As afternoon closed they came to the mountains. Flach remained in fly form, taking no chances. Even if it wasn’t necessary right n
ow, it was good policy for the future.
As they neared the residence of Clef and Tania, Flach buzzed off Neysa’s head, and she assumed her third form: a firefly. As horsefly and firefly, they buzzed up to the cottage. They flew to the picture window, and Flach banged against it several times, making a noise.
In a moment Tania spied him. She nodded, and opened a smaller window. The two flew in, lighted on the floor, and assumed their human forms.
“We were expecting you,” Clef said, joining them.
“I be glad to see thee here, our past differences done,” Tania said separately to Neysa.
“Thou didst shame me to forgiving my filly,” Neysa responded to her.
“Because I loved Bane—and Fleta,” Tania said. “Before Clef came, and fulfilled my life.”
“It was mutual,” Clef said. “Now I suspect you want my full report on the visitor.”
“Grandpa Blue has put us on alert,” Nepe said, taking over from Flach. She was better at talking, and at Proton matters. “But he needs to know more before he acts.”
“I am as yet not adept, as it were, at reading souls,” Clef said. “But there is no doubt in my mind that Lysander is a hostile agent. He appears to mean no personal ill to us, but his loyalty is to a foreign power. When that power strikes, he will support it.”
“Yes, Grandpa Blue is investigating his origin. He’ll find out who ‘Sander works for. But since the prophecy says that only the right one can save us, that won’t be enough. We have to know if he’s the one.”
“Exactly,” Clef said. “The difficulty is that Lysander doesn’t know the answer himself. That is why I mentioned the prophecy. I hoped to elicit some reaction that would clarify the matter. But there seemed to be only perplexity.”
“Exactly what is the prophecy, and what does it say?” Tania inquired. “I had not heard of it before.”
“Trool came across it in the Book of Magic,” Clef said. “He had seen it before, but it wasn’t relevant to the immediacies of prior situations, and there is so much in that book that he ignored it. But when we merged the frames, he remembered, and spoke of it to a few of us. We did not bruit it further about, not wishing to alarm others. But suddenly its relevance is manifest. The wording is simple, just two sentences: ‘When frames merge, comes a time of great trial. Only one alien to the culture and opposed can save it—an he choose.’ We interpret that to mean that an enemy will attack, and that a member of the enemy force can help us prevail, if we can convince him to do it.”