Out of Phaze

16. Decision

Mach was back in the Purple Demesnes, but this time as no captive. That much Bane had assured him, in their brief dialogue before the exchange. Fleta had been freed, and the Translucent Adept governed here. Certainly he was no longer clamped to the wall; Bane had evidently stood here to overlap him, but Bane had not been shackled. He hoped Bane would be able to get free, or that Citizen Blue would free him; if not, he would have to return, for the fate of his body was his responsibility.

Purple stood before him, his face expressionless. Mach realized that the man did not know that the exchange had been accomplished. "I am Mach," he said. Now he would find out whether the truce would be honored.

"The situation has changed," Purple said gruffly. "I turned thine other self over to Translucent. He promised to have thy cooperation. Now thou art free to depart. Hast thou any message?"

"I was bracketed to the wall, there," Mach said. "I accepted no message."

"An I had mine own way," Purple muttered, "that were thy fate here too. But till Translucent's policy fail, thou canst go thy way." He turned his back and walked out of the cell.

Things certainly had changed! Mach walked out of the cell unopposed, and down the tunnel, and on out of the Purple Demesnes without hindrance. Purple really was letting him go!

At the mouth of the cave that was the Demesnes entrance, Mach paused. He stood on the side of a mountain, and could see out over the trees below. This was the north slope; theoretically most of Phaze lay before him, but all he could see was the nearest section, seemingly untouched by man.

A floating watery bubble appeared before him. Mach smiled warily. "Hello, Translucent Adept," he said.

"And a greeting to thee, Mach of Proton," the Adept replied. "What be thy current desire?"

"To find Fleta."

"She was freed by thine other self; methinks she fled to the Blue Demesnes."

"Makes sense," Mach agreed.

"I can transport thee there, an thou prefer."

"Thanks, Adept, but I think not. I won't come to you unless I'm ready to do business."

"Fair enough," Translucent said. "The door be open always." His bubble of water faded out.

Mach considered. He would go to the Blue Demesnes. But how? It might be a long march by foot, but he was uncertain of his powers of magic, particularly now that he was alone. His spells had worked well only when Fleta had helped him with her music, or when he had built up to them carefully. If he tried to transport himself, and garbled it, in what condition would he find himself? Also, each spell only worked once; there was no point in wasting them. So – he would go by foot.

He started walking north. It was slow, because of the slope; it was about as hard going down as it would have been going up, to his surprise. He was soon sweating, for it was the middle of the day and he was alive. In his robot body he neither tired nor sweated, but now he gloried in these physical manifestations.

A harpy flew into view. She wore a fright wig. "Phoebe!" he exclaimed.

She heard him and swerved to approach. "The imitation Adept! Alone?"

"I'm looking for Fleta," he said. "Have you seen her?"

"Aye, a day ago. I put her on the way to the Blue Demesnes."

Confirmation! "I'm going there now."

"Thou wilt ne'er catch her, at the rate thou art going. She was charging north on the hoof, last I saw her."

"I'll keep going, though. Thank you for your information, Phoebe."

"Nobody thanks a harpy," she grumbled. "It be just not done."

"Sorry." He waved to her, and went on.

"And when thou dost catch her, ne'er let her go!" she screeched after him.

It was advice he intended to follow. He moved on down the slope, and in due course came to the level plain. Here he made better progress, finding the approximate route they had traveled before. He knew this was unicorn country, so would be free of most predators.

He was mistaken. In midafternoon, as he was trudging tiredly along, a great shadow cut across the plain. He looked up, and spied a dragon.

He hoped the monster was just passing by. But it wasn't. Evidently it had spotted him trudging, and decided that this was suitable prey. It wasn't a large dragon, compared to the one they had encountered south of the mountains; this might be a scavenger, seeking prey that was too weak to defend itself well.

Well, he fit the description. He was not only tired, he was exposed, for there were no trees nearby and no other cover. He had no weapon. He could neither fight nor flee effectively.

The dragon swooped. Its talons were spread; it planned to snatch him up and carry him away, perhaps biting off his head to keep him passive.

Magic! He had to use a spell to protect himself!

But what? He had only seconds to come up with one. The dragon was diving toward him at an awesome rate, its little eyes and big teeth gleaming.

Something to make it too small to harm him! "Dragon fall, become small!" he sang as it closed on him. And knew that it wasn't going to work.

The dragon seemed to hesitate. It lost control, passing over Mach's head, the downdraft from its wings almost blasting him off his feet. It lifted, and wobbled, seeming huge.

Huge? The thing was growing!

Mach realized that he had really blown his spell this time. It had not merely failed, it had had the opposite of the intended effect! Instead of making the dragon fall and get small, it was rising and getting larger. He had made things even worse for himself than they had been.

He scrambled through his mind, trying to come up with a better spell, trying to concentrate to make it work, trying to generate some more substantial music and having no success at any of these efforts. He watched, morbidly fascinated, as the dragon lifted and grew.

Then the monster stalled out and dropped. It flapped its wings desperately, but could not find enough purchase for them, and crashed into the ground. The contact was a hard one; Mach felt the earth shudder.

The dragon lay still. It was either dead or close to it. Mach decided not to investigate closely; the thing might not be as badly off as it seemed He took the opportunity to get himself as far from it as possible.

But he pondered. Granted that his spell had been another disaster, confirming his caution in avoiding magic where possible – why had the dragon crashed? It had gotten larger, so should have been even more formidable.

Larger? Did that mean it also increased its mass? Surely so; here in Phaze mass had no relevance, as was evident when Fleta changed from unicorn form to hummingbird form. If it got heavier as well as larger, the dynamics of its flight would change; it would require a proportionally greater wingspan to do the same job. Many of the laws of physics did not apply in the magic realm, but it seemed that some did – those not specifically countered by magic. So the dragon's ratios had gotten wrong; it was unable to fly, because though its wings had grown with the rest of it, they needed to grow faster than the rest of it, to keep it aloft. Thus it had stalled and crashed.

His spell had done the job after all. But through no great wit or magic of his! He had once again blundered to a kind of success. He was not phenomenally pleased.

At the rate he was going, he was surely losing headway. If Fleta had galloped by here a day ago, he would be two days behind by the time he reached the Blue Demesnes. But he remained reluctant to try too much magic. Magic seemed, to him, to be fraught with the same kind of dangers as would be working with complex equipment a person did not properly understand: the consequences of some seemingly minor misjudgment could be magnified disastrously.

Still, there were dangers here, as the recent episode of the dragon showed, and if he wanted to remain long in Phaze he would need to sharpen his survival skills. So it was necessary that he tackle magic, so as to be able to use it effectively at need. And his first need was travel.

He sat down and pondered. He didn't want to risk transporting himself; the fate of the dragon made that all too worrisome. But he could conjure something that would help him travel –

In Proton, if he wanted to travel outside, he would have requisitioned a vehicle of some sort. Could he do the same here?

What kind of vehicle would be best for mixed terrain without roads? Not a wheeled one, for there was grass and some rocks and gullies, and streams. One that floated.

An aircar, its cushion of air supporting it and moving it forward.

He thought up a suitable rhyme, then hummed to work up the music. He concentrated on what he wanted, in order to get it exactly right. Then he sang: "Bring me a car, to travel far."

Fog appeared and swirled. It dissipated, leaving an object. Success!

Or was it? As he got a closer look, he realized that this was not a car; it was more like a boat. In fact, it was a canoe, floating placidly. There were two paddles in it.

What could he do with a canoe, here in the middle of the plain? There was no water in sight! And if there were a navigable river, he would have to follow where it went, rather than where he wanted to go. He had bungled the spell again.

Floating?

He stared at the canoe. It was indeed floating – in air.

He had concentrated on a floating car. It seemed that he had gotten part of it right.

He put his hands against the side of the canoe and pressed down. It rocked, threatening to overturn. But it did not descend to the ground.

Well, now. He held it as steady as he could and threw a leg over. The thing depressed slightly as it took his weight, and seemed quite unstable, but it supported him. He got himself in and took a seat. Still it floated.

He picked up a paddle. He pretended there was water, and dipped the paddle where the water should be.

There was resistance. He stroked the paddle back, and the canoe slid smoothly forward.

Mach decided not to question this any further. He was experienced at canoeing; he could move along comfortably. He did so.

Progress was not swift, but this was far more pleasant than walking. The canoe developed some inertia, so that it continued moving forward between strokes, allowing him to economize on his effort.

Even so, it was obvious that he was not going to reach the Blue Demesnes by nightfall. So he guided his craft to a copse of trees he hoped bore fruit, for he was hungry now.

He was in luck. There was fruit, and a small spring. He pulled down some vine to tie his canoe, then drank deeply. He plucked enough fruit to eat, then some more to store in his craft.

He considered, then piled some brush in the canoe and settled down on it to sleep. He didn't want the craft to drift away during the night, and he felt safer in it anyway.

He woke in the morning, refreshed, and resumed his journey. He made good progress, and came to the place where the paths diverged. He took the east path, not caring to tempt the demons of the Lattice. Even so, he stroked swiftly and nervously by the region where he and Fleta had had to turn aside to avoid the goblins awaiting them. He doubted he could outpaddle goblins.

But there were none. He proceeded north without interference. In due course he spied the blue towers ahead. He had made it!

He drew up at the moat. Should he float right on across, or call out to make himself known?

He was saved from the decision by the emergence of a beautiful older woman. He knew her immediately, though he had never seen her before: The Lady Stile, Bane's mother.

"Tie thy boat and come in, Mach," she called to him. "Supper awaits thee."

So they had been expecting him! That meant that Fleta was here.

But she was not. The Lady explained that the mare had departed two days before, going to her Herd. "But the Adept has been long eager to meet thee," she assured him.

Stile looked exactly like his father, Citizen Blue. It was eerie. Mach cleaned up and joined them for the meal, and found them pleasant to be with. But it was Fleta he had come for.

Stile shook his head. "She hath a notion to marry thee, and this be impossible," he said abruptly.

"Why? I know her nature, and I love her. I returned to Phaze to be with her."

"Ne'er in all the history of Phaze has man married animal. Thou mayst be from a more liberal frame, but thou art not in that frame. Here thou art known as the son of an Adept. It would be shame on these Demesnes."

Now the difference between Blue and Stile was becoming apparent. Mach's father had encouraged the integration of the species, so as to break down the barriers that had stratified the Proton society. But it seemed that in these same twenty years Stile had gone the opposite direction, becoming more conservative.

"But when there is love – " Mach started.

"There be more than love here," the Lady said gently. "An Adept must have an heir, or great mischief rises in the selection of his successor. Thou couldst generate no heir with a "corn."

Mach had never thought of that, but he realized that they had a point. This was not just his own business; he had the body of their son, and if he misused it, he could destroy what they had worked for. He had no right to do that.

"There be more than that," Stile said. "We have groomed Bane from birth to be the Blue Adept after me. Red has worked with him, training his talent. His potential be great; when he matures, he will be a more potent Adept than I. Potent enough, perhaps, to hold the Adverse Adepts at bay."

"I thought you were doing that well enough," Mach said.

"Nay. It be but a holding action, and we be slowly losing ground. We need magic of the old order to contain them."

"You mean back when magic was at full strength? Before the Phazite/Protonite exchange? How can you get that, without the other Adepts having it too?"

"We cannot. But with rare innate talent, and special training, and the Book of Magic, Bane might approach that potency."

Mach realized the validity of this point too. What a poor substitute he was for Bane in this respect! He had no training, and his enchantments were erratic at best, and embarrassing or even dangerous at worst. In no way was he a substitute for Bane.

He had been so eager to return to the frame, to be with Fleta! He had not considered the larger picture. He had no right to hurt the prospects for Bane's family, and for the good of the frame itself. His living being had been selfish, but his more disciplined mind understood what was proper. His dream was just that: a dream. His duty was clear enough.

"I think I must return to Proton," Mach said heavily.

"It be not that we hold any onus toward thee," the Lady said. "Nor would we deny Bane his romance in Proton. But we are fighting to maintain the good of Phaze, and to prevent its despoliation, and ne'er did we think there would be renewed contact 'tween the frames."

Of course they preferred a stable order, he realized. He and Bane, being young, were more than ready for change. It was the generation gap – just as it existed in Proton. He had been dissatisfied there, but the situation was fundamentally similar here. "Let me find Fleta and bid her farewell," he said. "Then I shall locate Bane and exchange back." He knew he was doing the right thing, but he had no joy in it.

He spent the night at the Blue Demesnes, and in the morning they loaded his boat with provisions. "I would help thee more," Stile said. "But when we learned of thy exchange with Bane, I consulted with Red, and he used the Book to evoke a limited augury. It indicated that I am apt to make one disastrous and avoidable error with regard to thee. We no longer have the Oracle in

Phaze, so the formulae of the Book are all that remain. They are powerful but general; we know not what error it be. I suspect it be one of commission rather than of omission. So I am leaving thee alone to the extent I can, so as not to make that error. That was why I came not to thine aid when the dragon attacked thee."

"You were watching?" Mach exclaimed, amazed.

"Aye, and I be not the only one. In this case I trusted to my opponents, the Adverse Adepts, who wish to use thee for their designs; they would not allow thee to be incidentally killed."

"But they did not act either! I stopped that dragon myself!"

"Methinks they waited, to force me into action, and so perhaps into that error I am apt to make. Perhaps they enhanced thy spell."

Mach realized that it was possible. He had been amazed at the reversal of his spell, thinking it his own foulup, but if more powerful magic had acted to shape it, so as to save him without apparent interference…

He sighed. "It is true: I am a babe in the woods here. I will tell Fleta, and go."

He stroked with his paddle, and the canoe moved smartly out. He had a long way to go, but knew he would get there. He understood much more than he had before.

There was a southward-blowing wind, which facilitated his progress, and he traveled much faster than he had before, with less fatigue. But he was now three days behind Fleta. He hoped she had remained with the Herd.

The wind stiffened. He shipped his paddle and let it carry him like a current. The scenery moved rapidly by. He had to take action on occasion to avoid trees, but otherwise it was a restful trip. He wished he could remain here in Phaze, but the logic of the situation was inescapable. He did not belong here, and his continued presence would harm the frame. It would be hard to part with Fleta, but it had to be done.

He reached the grazing Herd in the afternoon, and guided his craft toward it. The Herd Stallion came forth to meet him. He had a dark blue coat, with red socks, and bore a family resemblance to Fleta. Obviously this was her uncle Clip.

"I am Mach, visiting this frame," Mach said, back– paddling to hold his canoe in place. "I would like to talk to Fleta."

The unicorn became a man. "And I be the Herd Stallion. My niece passed here three days past, but went on to the local Werewolf Pack."

"Then I must go on to the Pack," Mach said.

"Not if thou beest not known to them," Clip said. "We know thee, because thou hast the likeness of our friend Bane, and Fleta told us of thy nature. But the wolves welcome strangers not."

"I must find her, to tell her farewell," Mach said.

Clip gazed at him appraisingly. "In that case, I shall send with thee a guide." He reverted to equine form and blew a brief melody on his horn. It sounded like a saxophone.

There was a stir amidst the Herd. The unicorns were of all colors and patterns, mostly mares with some younger ones. One of the young ones came forth. He was piebald, with large patches of green and orange. He blew an inquiring note, sounding like a trombone.

Clip changed back to man form. "Bone, guide this man to Kurrelgyre's Pack and introduce him," he said.

Bone changed to adolescent form. "But this be Bane! He needs no guidance there!"

"This be Mach," Clip said. "Dost seek to be expelled from the Herd before thy time? Do as I say."

"Aye, Master," the youth agreed.

"Get in and help him paddle," Clip said.

So Bone climbed in, took the front seat, and used the paddle. Suddenly the canoe's progress was faster, which was just as well, because the wind had died.

They moved east. Soon night closed. Bone guided them to a copse of fruit trees, where they tied the canoe. Mach ate and settled down to sleep; Bone reverted to his natural form and grazed.

Next day they paddled on. Bone, not content merely to paddle and guide, chatted about this and that.

"You like your life on the plain?" Mach inquired.

"Oh, sure," the youth inquired. " 'Course it'll be harder when I get evicted from the Herd."

"Evicted? Why?"

"All grown males get evicted. There can be only one Herd Stallion. So we have to range beyond it, on guard against enemies, and hope for the day one of us will achieve a herd of our own."

"But wouldn't it be fairer to have one stallion to one mare?"

"What kind of a herd would that be?" Bone inquired indignantly. "Only the fittest can sire offspring."

Mach saw another reason why Fleta might prefer to love outside the Herd, and outside her species. All the mares serviced by one stallion? There could not be much attention for individuals! "And you are the offspring of Clip?"

"Of Clip? Nay! He deposed my sire fifteen years back." He made a gesture with the paddle. "And what a fight that was! Clip had been out in the hills with but a small Herd, mainly Belle, but that must've toughened him, because he came down and challenged our Herd Stallion, who was getting pretty old, and gored him and drove him off. Of course Clip be not young himself, now, and already the males of the hills be watching him. But he be brother to Neysa, and she hath friends – Oh, does she have friends, from the Blue Adept on down! – and whoe'er takes out her brother would have to fear from those friends."

Phaze had a sterner mode of existence than he had realized! Mach could understand dragons preying on unicorns and such, but hadn't realized how tough the internal affairs of the herd could be.

"So you'll be going out, and maybe one day challenge for the mastery of some herd?"

"Mayhap," the youth agreed. "More likely get myself killed trying."

And this was the life Fleta was a part of! Was he going to return to Proton and leave her to it? His recent decision to depart the frame was shaken. Yet what could he accomplish, by taking her from her Herd, except to shame her before her kind?

By nightfall they reached the Pack. Kurrelgyre turned out to be a grizzled wolf and, when he changed, a grizzled man, middle-aged and tough. Bone was obviously wary of him, and glad to revert to unicorn form and gallop away once Mach was safely introduced.

"Aye, she was here, three or four days past," the leader of the Pack said. "She went on to the Vampire Demesnes."

Another delay! Not only was he not catching up to Fleta, he was getting farther behind her!

The werewolves served him roasted meat. He didn't inquire what kind it was. They gave him a cozy nest of hay for the night, though it wasn't as comfortable for him as it was for them, in their canine forms.

In the morning Kurrelgyre decreed that he should have a guide, and a bitch named Furramenin jumped into the front of his canoe. She put her paws on the front seat and pointed her nose in the direction he was to go, and he paddled the craft in that direction.

At noon the bitch guided him to the site of a spring, so he could stop and drink water and find fruit. She jumped out of the canoe, glanced at the fruit, then changed to girl form. It seemed that she preferred to eat fruit in that shape, rather than to hunt for meat in her natural form. Mach hardly objected; he had been somewhat wary of the bitch, though he had told himself she would not turn on him. As a woman, she was just as young and healthy, and pretty too, though he would have preferred that she be either naked in the manner of a serf, or fully clothed. Her fur skirt and halter split the difference.

She kept the human shape when they resumed travel. She paddled, but she lacked the vigor the unicorn had had, and their progress was not swift. They had to camp for the night before reaching the Vampire Demesnes.

They foraged again for food, then settled down. "You can have the canoe if you wish," Mach offered.

"Nay, I will resume bitch form and curl up in a hole," she said. But she didn't do that immediately, and that prevented Mach from settling down. He kept thinking of her as an attractive young woman, which made it awkward, especially when she leaned unselfconsciously toward him in that loose halter. He wondered how animals such as these had come to have human intelligence.

"Do you know Fleta personally?" he inquired politely.

"Aye, she be friend to me," Furramenin said. "That be why I volunteered for this hunt. We talked, and she told me of the human man she liked. Thou art that man?"

"I am. Now I seek her to bid her farewell, for I must return to my frame."

"Aye, she knew that. An thou hadst stayed, she was ready to speak the three thee's to thee."

"The what?"

"Dost thou know not? An a human or human-formed creature love truly, that creature bespeaks the other, 'Thee' three times and the splash bespeaks its truth."

Now he remembered; Fleta had told him of it. Except for one detail. "Splash?"

She laughed. "How canst thou know true love in thy frame of Proton? The splash be the magic ripple that spreads in the presence of the utterance of significant truth."

"But what if a person speaks that way, and the splash does not occur, what then?"

"Then the love be false. But there be none who would speak it, an it be not true." She smiled. "My sire, Kurrelgyre, tells of the time when Stile swore friendship to

Fleta's dam, Neysa, and the ripple was so strong it converted all present, the whole Herd of 'corns and our Pack, to friendship to Neysa too. That was the first time we know of that a man made such oath to an animal. Thereafter the Herd and Pack fought not, having too many members with a common friend. But Stile be Adept; there be no other magic like that."

"I know," Mach agreed morosely.

Furramenin changed back to bitch form and curled up under the canoe, and Mach was able at last to relax. But sleep came slowly. If Fleta had let it be known that she cared that strongly for him, how could he tell her he was never going to see her again? Yet that was what he had to do.

In the morning the trip resumed, and by noon they reached the vampire cave. Furramenin introduced Mach to her friend Suchevane, who was of course a bat, then changed to bitch form and headed rapidly for home.

The bat fluttered to ground, then became a woman. And Mach had to lock his facial muscles to prevent his mouth from gaping and his eyeballs from bulging, for she was the most stunningly lovely creature he had ever seen. Her black silk outfit was technically no less encompassing than Furramenin's furs had been, but the shape it clothed made it seem otherwise. A bat? A vampire? Any man would be sorely tempted to bare his throat for her, just for the pleasure of her contact!

Suchevane smiled, and that made it worse, for it showed her slightly lengthened canines without one whit diminishing her beauty. "We prey not on friends," she said, fathoming his thought. "In fact, we dine not regularly on blood, but only on special occasion. Have no concern for thy health, handsome man." Her voice was sultry, causing little shivers to play about sections of his torso.

"I – I'm really looking for Fleta," he said. "I have to – "

"Aye," she breathed. "And sad it be, too. She asked me whether an animal could marry a man, and I convinced her she could not. Unfortunate that be."

Surely this bat-woman was in a position to know! "But I must at least see her before I go."

"She was here four days ago, maybe five. She went on to the Red Adept."

"An Adept? Why?"

"I dared not ask."

"I must reach her!"

"I will guide thee there."

"I – I'm not sure that's wise."

She smiled again. "Dost fear I will bite thee?"

"Uh, not exactly." It was her kiss that would devastate him more! What would Fleta think, if he approached her in the company of this creature?

"We can be there by nightfall," she said, climbing nimbly into the canoe.

Mach hauled his gaze away from her phenomenal profile and wielded his paddle. If she spoke truly, he would not have to spend a night on the road with her, in either her vampire bat or luscious human form. He wasn't sure which of those worried him more. They proceeded south.

Sure enough, as evening loomed, they approached the castle of the Red Adept.

Suchevane inflated, and again Mach had to stifle a gape. "Hallooo, Red Adept!" she called. "A bat brings a visitor!"

A hole opened in the hill at the base of the castle. They paddled in. There was a tunnel there, leading to the central chamber.

Therein was a troll. Alarmed, thinking himself betrayed, Mach started to backpaddle, but Suchevane got out and approached the troll without fear. "Adept, I be Suchevane," she said. "Of the flock thou dost protect. Long have I desired an excuse to meet thee."

The troll gazed at her, evidently struck by the same qualities in her that Mach had appreciated. He was as ugly as any of his kind, but evidently no threat. "This, then, be Bane's other self," he said.

"Aye," she agreed, smiling. "He be Mach, from the scientific frame of Proton, come to see Fleta the 'corn."

The troll faced Mach, though it seemed he would rather have faced the vampiress, as any male would.

"There be reason why this be not wise," he said.

"I know," Mach said. "I only want to bid her farewell. Then I must return to Proton."

"Aye. The Adverse Adepts seek to unite the Oracle, which now resides in Proton, with the Book of Magic, now in my possession. The only way to prevent that be to keep the two of ye in thine own frames, carrying no messages."

This was new to Mach. "What is so bad about those two things getting together?"

"The Book be the compilation of all the most basic and potent formulae that underlie the laws of both magic and science. The Oracle, now called a computer, be the mechanism to interpret those formulae. The two together represent potentially the ultimate power in both frames. It were best that power not fall into errant hands."

"But Bane and I would not – "

"Not intentionally," the Adept agreed. "But there be ways of corruption, and the Adverse Adepts, hungry for that power, will practice those ways. It be best that contact between the frames be naught."

Mach had seen how the Purple Adept, and his counterpart in Proton, acted. Certainly the man was up to no good! "But I think Fleta understands this. I just – I have to see her once more before I go."

The troll nodded. "She departed here four days ago."

"I must find her, to bid her farewell," Mach said.

"I promised her that none would interfere," he said.

Mach felt sudden apprehension. "Interfere with what?"

"That I may not say."

"O, I can guess!" Suchevane exclaimed. "She goes to die!"

"To die!" Mach cried. "That cannot be!" "She knew that her dream could ne'er be," the troll said. "I could dissuade her not, so I gave her the enchantment she asked and let her go."

"What did she ask?" Mach cried.

"I may not – "

"Please, honored Adept," Suchevane breathed, leaning toward the Adept.

Mach saw the troll's face freeze in exactly the fashion his own had. Swayed, Trool yielded. "To be fixed in one form. More I absolutely will not say; I did promise her."

"But that shouldn't hurt her!" Mach protested.

Suchevane took him by the arm and turned him toward the canoe. "We thank thee, Adept," she called back over her shoulder. "Thou hast not betrayed thy promise Fleta be our friend."

"I wanted not to do it!" the troll protested, as if accused.

"We know," Suchevane said. Then they were back in the canoe and stroking the air toward the exit.

Outside, Suchevane paused, turning to Mach. "I know where she goes. She and I have been friends long; I know her mind. I can show thee. But it be a day's hard run for a 'corn, and too far for me to fly without blood, and we cannot catch her in this canoe."

"A day? She left here four days ago! That means that three days ago – "

"Nay, she was locked in girl form, remember? So it would take her perhaps five days."

"That means she hasn't gotten there yet? If I can get there in one day – "

She shook her head. "I can show thee a shortcut, an this boat be able to float across chasms and lakes and trees. But even with two strong paddlers, it be at least two days."

He appreciated her offer to help, but it was obvious that she was not constructed for endurance paddling. How could he double the normal velocity?

"I must try magic," he said.

"Bane could be there in an instant," she said.

"But I'm not Bane. If I tried to travel like that, I could destroy myself and you."

She sighed. "I feared such. I know not what to do."

"Describe the route to me, and get clear of me, and I will try my magic," he said.

"Nay, she be my friend. I will chance thy magic."

This vampiress was easy to appreciate! "Then hang on; I'll try to give us strength to do it. That seems the safest course." For he remembered when he had enchanted his own potency, in order to survive Fleta's period of heat. That seemed to be safe magic.

He worked out a rhyme. Then: "Suchevane, can you sing?"

She made a moue. "That be not my talent."

"But can you try? I need supportive music to enhance my magic, or it goes wrong."

"I will try." She took a breath and began to hum. She was right: this was not her forte. But it was music of a sort.

Mach concentrated as hard as he was able, knowing that this had to work, or Fleta's life was forfeit. He hummed along with Suchevane. Then he sang: "Give us strength to work at length."

Fog formed, and swirled about them and the canoe, and dissipated. But Mach did not feel any different.

"I don't know whether it worked," he said. "But let's try paddling."

They tried paddling, and it seemed ordinary. The canoe moved northwest. So far so good; but if they tired –

They did not tire. It was as if they weren't working; each stroke was just like the first, without fatigue.

They moved out to a downhill slope. Before, the canoe had followed the contour of the land, but this time it held its elevation. Had he modified its behavior by his magic, or was this simply a matter of the operator's will? Or was the troll, evidently a creature of good will, sneaking in a little surreptitious help? Mach didn't question it; he just kept paddling.

But darkness was closing in. "We can't stop now," Mach said. "We have only one day to catch her!"

"I know the way; I can guide thee by night," Suchevane said, never halting her paddling.

They kept moving, and their arms did not tire, and their hands did not blister. His spell was effective, and for that he breathed constant thanks. Yet their progress seemed slow; certainly they were not doing double the velocity a person might walk.

Then he realized that a five-day walk presumed five nights of sleep. If they did not halt, they could double the effective travel time. It was possible to cover two days' distance in one!

On they went through the night. Nocturnal creatures sounded their calls, and there were sinister rustlings all around, but nothing bothered the canoe. Of course Mach had been sleeping in the forest during this journey and had not been attacked, but he had assumed that was partly luck and partly the secluded niches he chose. And partly the company: one night he had had a unicorn for company, and another a werewolf. Well, now he had a vampire; perhaps that was protection enough.

He became sleepy. "Mach!" Suchevane called sharply.

Mach snapped awake. "Did I stop paddling?"

"Aye."

"I fell asleep. It seems my magic gave me strength, but not wakefulness."

"Mayhap another spell?"

"I'm afraid I might ruin the one I have. My magic is so uncertain, it isn't smart to chance it."

"Then must the one keep the other awake," she said. "An thou sleep again, I will bite thee."

That brought him quite alert. They paddled for another hour. Then she flagged.

"Suchevane," he called. "Are you sleeping?"

She snapped awake. "Aye. Sorry."

"Do that again, and I'll – " He cast about for a suitable threat, but the only thing he could think of for a creature like her wasn't what he cared to say.

"That be no threat to me anyway," she said.

He felt himself blushing. "You read my mind?"

"The mind of any male be much the same."

In her presence, surely so. Then he thought of a suitable threat: "I'll whack you with my paddle and knock you out of the boat."

"I would change form and fly away," she said. But she remained awake, evidently not wishing to get knocked.

In such manner they kept themselves going through the night. As daylight resumed their sleepiness faded. But now hunger set in. "Dare we pause to eat?" he asked. "I have supplies."

"I think the time be very close," she said. "An we delay an hour, mayhap an hour too late."

And they couldn't risk that. So, hungry, they continued working.

And as the day waned, they approached the great White Mountain range. "The ledge of the unicorns be there," Suchevane said. "But still some distance. I know not whether we be in time."

"Can – can you change form and fly ahead, and see?" he asked. "I can keep the canoe moving meanwhile."

"That distance? Aye, now. But it will be slower for thee," she pointed out.

"I realize. But I've got to know."

"Aye." She shipped her paddle, changed, and flew up and ahead. Mach continued paddling, trying to put extra strength into it so as to maintain speed, but knew it wasn't enough.

The bat returned. It landed on the seat, and changed. "She be there," Suchevane said. "I did not approach, for that would have taken too much time; I returned the moment I spied her. She be trudging up toward the ledge, just a few minutes distant from it." She resumed paddling, and the canoe picked up speed.

"Then we're in time!" Mach exclaimed.

"Nay," she said sadly. "She will reach it before we do – and then we shall be at the bottom, while she be at the top. No way to stop her, unless perchance we call and she hear."

They paddled furiously, and the canoe fairly leaped along, but the spell of endurance had not allowed for this extra energy, and they were now tiring. Mach saw sweat staining Suchevane's black halter, and her hair was becoming a stringy tangle, and he himself was panting. But the high face of the cliff was coming into sight.

Far up, on the ledge, stood a tiny figure. Mach knew it was Fleta, locked in her human form. If only she waited until he could get close –

And what would he have to say to her, then? That he had decided to leave her forever and return to Proton! What glad news would that be for her?

There was a faint ripple in the air. As it passed through him, Mach thought he heard his name cried out with hopeless longing.

"Nay!" Suchevane gasped.

Horrified, Mach saw. Fleta had just leaped from the ledge, and was doing a graceful swan-dive into the pool of darkness below.

He could not reach her in time – and could not catch her if he were there. The height of the fall was far too great. She would be dashed into oblivion on the rock below.

As if it were in slow motion, he watched her plunge, her arms outspread. He knew it was for love of him she had done this, to free him from the need to be with her. But he could not let it happen!

He cast about for some magic to use to save her, but in the pressure of the eternal moment his thoughts were glacial. He could not make a rhyme, let alone sing it! And if he could, how could his puny magic prevail against that of an Adept? All he knew was that he loved her, and could not let her go. Not for any reason. And still she dropped.

"Thee!" he cried into the void that separated them.

The frame itself seemed to still, all the sights and sounds of it pausing in place as if listening.

"Thee!" he cried again.

A haze formed, an inward-drawing expectation, fogging out all the landscape beyond their canoe, the falling girl, and the line between them. Magic was coalescing.

"Thee!" he cried the third time, and all of his soul was in it.

The power of it jumped like a lightning bolt, from him to her, and struck her, and radiated out from her like sunrise, brightening the face of the cliff, the rocky ground, and the welkin above. A soundless explosion, striking iridescence from the environment and rippling on throughout the frame.

The face of the cliff was so clear it was mirrorlike, and the colors of the trees and sky were preternaturally bright, as though washed totally clean. The air was absolutely pure.

And she was gone. Where the falling human figure had been, there was nothing.

"The splash!" Suchevane breathed, and now her sweat was gone and her hair was sparkling; she was lovelier than ever before. "Ne'er before one like that! I love all everything!"

"But my love!" Mach cried in dawning horror. "What did I do to Fleta?"

They stared into the radiant emptiness before them, aghast.

Then came the sound of the hummingbird.

Almost afraid to believe it, Mach held up his hand. The tiny bird darted in and landed on it. The feathers of the folded wings were shining black, and the claws were golden.

"The splash!" Suchevane repeated. "It nulled the spell Trool put on her!"

"And her involuntary reflex took over," Mach said. "She saved herself!"

"But none hath power to null Adept magic!" the vampiress continued. "None save another Adept. Methinks thou must be – "

The bird hopped to the canoe, and abruptly Fleta was there in girl form, her sudden weight making the craft rock. She gazed at Mach for half a moment, her eyes brimming, then fell into his embrace.

He knew he could not leave her, no matter what the consequence. All the considerations of the welfare of the frames paled beside the truth of their love.

But that love was forbidden, in Phaze, and he could not take her to Proton. What were they to do?

A watery bubble appeared beside the canoe. The face of the Translucent Adept was in it. "Come to us, and we shall defend thy right to love whom thou dost please, and ne'er will the two of ye be parted," he said. And from him emanated a lesser ripple, in no way on a par with the one just past, yet it signified the truth of his utterance. The Adept had made a promise he would keep.

Now it occurred to Mach that either Stile or the Red Adept could have prevented Fleta's suicide, had they wished to. But what better way to discourage him from remaining in Phaze, than to let Fleta die! Suddenly he understood the nature of the critical mistake the Adept Stile had been fated to make: to let Fleta commit suicide.

Mach's will hardened. "We shall go with you," he said.

Suchevane turned an appalled countenance to them. "I know it be the only way," she said. "I cannot say nay. But O, what mischief be coming o' this!" And from her, too, came the splash of complete conviction.