Phaze Doubt

11 - West

Nepe knew it was silly, but she rather liked Lysander. He was an android with a Hectare brain, a spy for the other side, but that was balanced out by the fact that the prophecy made him necessary to the final victory of their planet. She had watched him for alien ways, but he seemed just as human as anyone else, and more so than she herself. When he had first come to the planet he had had affectations, but these had promptly faded; he was a quick study of local custom. Now that the Yellow Adept’s love potion had made him love Echo, he was more to be trusted than before. He might think he remained independent, but he had not had occasion to test it. The moment his mission conflicted with his love, he would discover the love’s power!

Meanwhile, she had to compose herself. She wished Bane had not given himself up. Now Flach was the only Adept left free, except for Clef and Tania, who had disappeared. Only Mach had known where they went, and he had erased the memory before letting himself be captured. She had depended on her father to support her when she faltered, and now she knew she was on her own. That made her nervous.

What was at the West Pole? Flach had been surprised by the North Pole, with its slowed-down time and the two Adepts there. It would have been worse if the snow demon’s daughter hadn’t distracted him. Nepe had learned a lot from Icy; when she came to adult status and modeled her flesh, she was going to make it just like that, only warm, and fling it about similarly. The only problem was that there was really no prospective man for her. Oh, she liked ‘Corn well enough, but he wasn’t a mixedbreed like herself, and so probably wouldn’t do for the long haul.

Well, it would all come to nothing if they didn’t manage to throw off the yoke of the Hectare. For now, she just had to go one step at a time, and get the three messages taken care off. Flach had gone to the North Pole; now she was taking the Hec seed to the West Pole. Both of these missions had proved to be more complicated than they seemed. She hoped the third one would not prove to be more of a challenge than she could handle. She knew that the fate of the planet hung on her success, and she was nervous about that.

She settled into a puddle and slept.

Next morning the golem party and Tsetse arrived with the wood. Nepe hustled Lysander out; he remained invisible, but of course she could tell where he was, because Flach had made the spell. They slipped out to join the party and take Echo away; Tsetse would enter the castle alone, where she and Brown would sort things out in their own fashion.

Now they were three: Nepe, Lysander, and Echo. While the other two embraced ardently (though it looked as if the woman were pantomiming, because of the man’s invisibility), Nepe changed slowly to wolf form. An observer would have found it a strange scene: a child becoming an animal, and a cyborg woman embracing air. But Nepe wanted no observer, because Purple was alert, and must not catch on to this secret mission. She wished there had been some way to recover Lysander’s clothes from Purple’s plane, to eliminate any trace of what was going on. But it just wasn’t possible to catch every detail.

She carried the Hectare seed inside her. She had joked about it, to Lysander, but privately it revolted her; she liked nothing about the Hectare, physically or mentally. They were true bug-eyed monsters, and they were out to despoil the planet and leave it deprived of its resources, especially its magic. All so they could use the Protonite to power their machines, and the wood for their construction, and the flesh of the animals for their larders, and the magic for whatever devices they could work out. They were still consolidating their conquest, but soon the serious ravaging would proceed, and then nothing would stop it. They had left a trail of lemon-squeezed planets behind; they were very efficient at what they called investment and reduction.

Yet Grandpa Blue had explained to her at the outset that the Hectare were only part of the problem. There were dozens of conquerer species out there, forming their galactic alliance, and any of them could have conquered Proton. The Hectare just happened to be the species the lot had fallen on. If they failed, another species would be allowed to try, because the alliance wanted the resources of this exceptional planet put to good use by its definition. Proton had been a low priority acquisition, before the mergence, because the magic was out of reach. But when it became apparent that magic was present and genuine, the priorities abruptly shifted. So if Proton, and especially Phaze, were to be saved, they had to forge a defense that would be effective against all invasions. That was a mighty tall order.

The truth was that Proton’s presence in the alien sector of the galaxy made little difference, overall. The human sector was just as bad, for human beings were the greatest exploiters of all. The humans were taking over alien planets in their sector for similar reduction. Once they had squeezed them dry, they would start on the lesser alien planets—just as the aliens would start on the lesser alien planets once the easy pickings were done. The Hectare themselves might in due course be reduced to servant status by some more powerful alien species. It was the predatory chain, unceasing in its hunger for power.

“And so,” Grandpa Blue had told her, “we must be either the eaters or the eaten. We can no longer drift in our isolation. If we do not set out to rule the galaxy, we must suffer the exploitation of those who do. Since we lack either the power or the desire to become galactic, our fate is sealed. Unless we find that perfect defense.”

“Then we must find it,” she had said.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t exist. At least, there is no mechanism to make it feasible. Conquest seems unavoidable.”

“But we can’t just give up!”

“Hardly that, Nepe! Fortunately there is a prophecy that guides us and suggests that we can craft our mechanism, in time.”

“How much time, Grandpa?”

“About seventeen years,” he said.

She stared at him. “But it only takes the Hectare two years to denude a planet! If we don’t get rid of them within two months, we’ll suffer awful harm!”

“True. But the prophecy indicates that we shall need the help of the enemy to succeed. So we shall have to let them get started, and then see what we can do.”

“Grandpa, I think there’s something you’re not telling me!”

“Whatever gave you that notion, cutie?”

Then she was sure. “But when the time comes—“

“Then you will know as much as you need.”

Now, remembering, Nepe still did not know the plan. It seemed impossible to forge a seventeen-year weapon in two months. But she believed in Grandpa Blue, who was also the Adept Stile, and in the others who supported him. More recently she had seen how even the Green and Black Adepts, former enemies, supported him too, even to the extent of giving up their freedom to help Flach get away. They could have saved themselves, but hadn’t even tried, preferring instead to distract the enemy. Then Bane himself had done the same to protect the spy Lysander, just so he would be able to fulfill the prophecy—if he chose. So she was protecting Lysander too, and also doing this other awful thing, carrying the Hectare seed to the West Pole. They had discovered how the North Pole related, because of the Magic Bomb—but how could the West Pole relate? Well, soon she would find out, she hoped.

Now she was in wolf form, and Lysander and Echo had finished their first passionate reunion, after a separation of a whole day. Nepe was jealous; she hoped some day to love like that. Of course it was because of the Yellow Adept’s potion, but it was genuine; the potion merely enhanced what nature would have done in time. Their love was true, whatever else was artificial.

“We must travel,” Nepe told them. “But we need more. You two hide while I go summon the others.”

Echo stared. Then she understood. “You aren’t really a wolf, so you can make your wolf-mouth talk human speech.”

“Yes. Don’t let Purp or the golems catch you.” Then Nepe loped away. She knew that the two would find something to do while they waited, and would hardly miss her. It didn’t matter that Lysander was invisible; Echo could feel him, and he could feel her. She would merely close her eyes.

Kurrelgyre’s wolf village was not far away. Nepe was familiar with the region, because Flach’s mind was with her. Flach had been content to tune out the past two days, lost in the bliss of foolish fond imaginings relating to snow demonesses. But that was wearing off now, as reality seeped in; Icy was not for him, for about three excellent reasons: age, species, and mission. The last was the most important; if he did not help save Phaze, none of the snow demons would survive.

Right, he agreed, her thought clarifying his sentiment. Bear left.

She bore left. He knew every bypath here, while she knew only the approximate routes. It would have been easier to give him the body, but both the Hectare seed she carried and the danger of Purple’s snooping on their magic ruled that out. Maybe when they got farther into the hinterland, on the way to the West Pole, it would be safe to transform. So she jogged on, though her emulation of a wolf was not nearly as good as his. She was an amoeba assuming the form, whereas he could change into a real wolf, capable of all the lupine things, including (in due course) reproduction.

Maybe Sirel’s approaching her time! he thought.

But Sirelmoba, his Promised, was only nine years old, the same as he was. It should be two years yet before her first season. Still, it was better for him to be thinking of her than of Icy, for Sirel would be coming with them to the Pole.

Yes, he agreed, brightening.

They reached the werewolf village. Well before Nepe entered it, the guard wolves were pacing her. But they knew her, and knew why she was here. In a moment Sirelmoba appeared, formally sniffing noses and tails, and politely concealing her distaste for the alien odor. No mock-wolf could deceive a true one!

“And three more,” Nepe said using human speech because she could not use the wolves’ growl-talk effectively.

Old Kurrelgyre assumed human form. “Runners are going for them. They will join thee on the way.”

“But we shall be hiding!” she protested.

“No one hides from wolf or bat at night. He will find thee, and will alert the mares when they draw nigh.”

He will, Flach assured her.

“If you will cover our trail—“

“Done,” Kurrelgyre said. “And good fortune to thee, little bitch.”

“Thank you.” She appreciated the sentiment; it was a compliment to be called a bitch by a true werewolf.

She turned to go, the young werebitch beside her. The others of the Pack faded to the sides. They would cross and recross the trail, obliterating it, so that no one would be able to trace the route of the two by sight or odor. They would also serve as an early guard, so that nothing would get through to attack the small party while it remained in the local Wolf Demesnes. They would be unobtrusive about it, so that there was no commotion. They did not know the details of her mission any more than she did, but were well aware of its importance.

Sirel and Nepe ran silently. The bitch held her pace back, because Nepe could not match it. Even so, Nepe was getting tired; she would have done better in human form, because she had had a great deal more practice in it, though it was no more natural to her than wolf form.

They reached the place where she had left the ardent couple. Sirel knew it well before Nepe did; her keen nose picked up the foreign scents. “They be not standing guard,” she said in growl-talk.

Nepe could understand the growls better than she could make them. “Love potion,” she explained.

“Aye, and strong!”

They made just a bit of noise approaching, so that the couple could disengage. Nepe suspected this would be a problem as they traveled; instead of sleeping at night, the two would be wasting their energies in amour. But it couldn’t be helped; it was part of the price of the mission.

Sirel blinked as they came in sight of the couple. Her nose made it plain that the man was there, but her eyes couldn’t find it. “Flach made him invisible,” Nepe explained.

“Should have made him unsmellable,” Sirel growled.

“This is the werebitch Sirelmoba,” Nepe said, introducing her to the couple. “And the android Lysander, and cyborg Echo,” for Sirel’s benefit. “We must travel together.”

Sirel growled assent, not wholly pleased. She would rather have traveled alone with Nepe—or better yet, with Flach. But she knew that the preference of any of them had little to do with it.

“We go to the West Pole,” Nepe said. “We have three days to make it, and we must all get there. If Citizen/Adept Purple catches on, he will try to stop us, and we will have to scatter and rejoin later, but we must keep moving. Sirel and Echo can sustain the pace, but Lysander and I can not, so we will have help. There will be one more member of our party who will not have a problem traveling.” But she realized that there could be a different problem there. She hoped they would be too busy traveling for that to manifest.

“The West Pole!” Sirel said, assuming her girl form, which was much like Nepe’s human form except that her hair was always dark. Nepe’s hair was whatever color she chose when she assumed the form; she had recently worn it neutral brown, and just long enough to cover her ears, so that she did not have to bother to form ears. “But there be naught there!”

“Maybe there will be something by the time we get there,” Nepe said, hoping that was the case.

“Well, there is still a portion of the day left,” Echo said. “Why don’t you folk start walking, and I will spy out the terrain ahead.”

“Thank you,” Nepe said.

“I’ll go with you,” Lysander’s voice came.

“I think not, handsome man!” Oche the harpy screeched, flapping up into the sky.

“Point made,” he agreed ruefully.

“I will range out the same on land,” Sirel said. “Not all can be seen from above.” She slid into the bush, disappearing in a moment.

Nepe started walking, trying not to limp; her temporary muscle structure was becoming uncomfortable.

“But Nepe, why can’t you assume some form that will enable you to travel more readily?” Lysander asked her.

“All my forms are unnatural,” she replied. “I would get tired in any, and waste time and energy changing between them.”

“But as Flach—“

“The others can change forms without trouble, as many times as they wish,” she explained, “because those forms are inherent in their natures. The werewolves are descendants of men and wolves, and the harpies have vulture and human ancestry. There is no significant magic splash when they change. But when Flach changes forms, other than his natural ones of unicorn and boy and maybe wolf, he has to use a new spell each time, and the splash is detectable throughout Phaze. Purple is watching for it, and would be here in a moment. So Flach has to be very limited in his magic. That, along with the problem of carrying the Hec seed—“

“I understand. You have amazing abilities in either aspect, but you have limits too. You are surprisingly candid about them.’

“If Purp closes in on us, you’ll have to help me get away, or you won’t learn what we’re up to.”

“Yet if you are the only one who knows how to implement the resistance ploy, then if you are stopped, it may be stopped too.”

“Unless I am the only one I know of who can implement it,” she said. “If there are others I don’t know about, you will never have a chance to stop them, unless you help me get together with them according to the plan.”

“True.” He believed that she was the only one, but it could have been set up to give him that impression so that he would stop looking. Even the story of the prophecy could have been concocted to deceive him. It wasn’t safe to stop yet. “So I must continue to support the enemy, until the full nature of the resistance is known.”

“Meanwhile, you can love Echo,” she said. “And maybe by the time you know the whole thing, you won’t want to mess it up.”

“Maybe by then she will understand that I have to do what I have to do, and will join me in it.”

“And maybe even if she does, when the Hec ravage the planet the magic will go, and Oche will die, and then Echo will be nothing but a machine with a dead brain.”

It sounded as if someone had struck him in the gut. He stopped moving, and evidently leaned against a tree.

“I’m sorry, ‘Sander,” she said. “That was a mean thing to say.”

“You scored, Nepe.” He sounded out of breath. “I think I didn’t really believe the power of that potion! I do love her, and I couldn’t let that happen to her.”

“Maybe they’ll let you save a bit of Phazite for her, so she can be all right. It’s a chip of Protonite that runs her robot body, and that’s the same stuff. If you keep enough of that—“

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, managing to resume his walking. “It’s not in your interest to do so.”

“Grandpa Blue taught me you can’t win a chess game by cheating. You can hide your strategy, but you have to tell your opponent when you put his king in check, and his queen too, if you want to be sure. We gave you a queen, and she’s in check.”

“That you did, and that she is,” he agreed.

“But it’s our whole world in check.”

“I appreciate your position.”

“If you had it to do over, would you go with Echo and take the potion?”

“I didn’t know about the potion until I was locked in with it.”

“But you didn’t really believe in it, so you didn’t try to escape. But now you know it works—if you could go back and avoid it—“

He walked for a while, pondering. “Alyc was just a diversion; she and I both knew that. Jod’e could have been real; I’m still sorry about the way Tan got her. I would change that if I could! Echo was nobody special. I just went with her because she had a way out, never expecting to love her. But now I have had the experience of loving her, and that is something I would not change. Before I had only my mission; now I have my mission and love, and that has made a dimension in my life that was not there before. So if I had known the whole of it, I would have proceeded exactly as I did. Love is too valuable to bypass.”

“I wasn’t teasing you,” Nepe said. “I just wanted to know. I like a lot of people, and I love my folks, especially Grandpa Blue, but I’ve never had romantic love. I figure if it’s not worth it, now is when you’ll know.”

“It’s worth it,” he said. “But I still have my mission. If you fell in love, you would still have yours.”

They walked on. Nepe thought about her relation with Troubot, and Flach’s with Troubot’s other self, Sirelmoba, and knew that these were friendships, not romantic love. She flirted with Alien or ‘Corn, but again, she knew this was a far cry from the kind of commitment she had seen in adults. The fact was that there was no person or creature of her generation that was like her: part alien, part human, and on Flach’s side, part unicorn and part machine. Or maybe he had the human lineage and she the machine; it was a matter of definition, since their fathers had used each other’s bodies. She was also a male/female mergence, which was fine for association with Sirelmoba/Troubot, but not with anyone else. Thus she was a complex creature, and in her fashion unique to the planet; no one else had her variety of affinities or abilities. If she could meet another like her, only different—

But how could she? It would require strenuous effort to make another like her, which was impossible in the face of the Hec conquest, and even then the result would be at least ten years younger than she. So she was alone in her special fashion.

“Why do I have the feeling that despite all your talents,” Lysander asked, “you have an emptiness like that of mine before love?”

“Because you know I’m one of a kind!” she snapped. “IT never have true love!”

“You don’t need another like you for love,” he protested “All you need is a suitable companion, and a love potion. I happen to know.”

She laughed, feeling better. Maybe he was right.

The harpy returned. She flapped clumsily down until close to the ground, then manifested as Echo. “Which side do the goblins serve now?”

“Ours,” Nepe said. “All the creatures are with us, because they’ll all die if Phaze is despoiled. But if they don’t know the importance of my mission, they may figure it’s business as usual.”

“Then we had better steer around the goblin camp to our west,” Echo said.

They steered around, cutting north. But as they followed a path beside a streamlet, they heard a commotion ahead. There was a crash and a yipe, as of an animal getting snared.

“Sirel!” Nepe exclaimed, as Flach recognized the sound. “She’s in trouble!”

They charged forward, and soon were there. Sure enough, the werewolf was caught in a raised net, that had evidently been set to spring up around anyone who stepped where it was hidden across the trail. This was goblin mischief!

The net had formed a bag, that gave Sirel no purchase for escape. It closed into a rope above, that passed over a fork in a medium small tree and back down to the ground. The tree had been tied down, and when released had carried up the net, closing it about the prey. It was a clever enough device, the kind that goblins had been proficient at for centuries. All that was required for release was to untie the knot at ground level.

But the goblins were as fast as their party had been. Five of the tough little creatures charged up from the opposite extension of the path. “Dinner!” one cried exultantly. “Bitch stew!”

“Keep quiet, ‘Sander,” Nepe warned. “Echo, you talk.” She hoped they understood: the goblins must not learn the full nature of this party.

“No you don’t!” Echo cried. “That’s my wolf!”

The squat goblin chief paused, looking at her. “Thy wolf be at thy side,” he said.

“Both be mine. Cut the bitch loose, or we shall have a reckoning.”

The four other goblins began to move forward, hefting their knobby clubs. “Methinks we shall eat e’en better than we thought,” the chief said.

“I will use my talent to hurt you,” Echo threatened.

“Ye be Protonite,” the chief replied. “No magic.” Meanwhile, the four were coming close.

Echo pointed at the chief’s head. “Hurt!” she cried.

Something struck the big head. The goblin blinked, but seemed surprised rather than hurt. He brought his club around.

“Hurt!” Echo repeated, pointing to his feet.

Something crunched down on the chief’s big toes. This time he reacted more vehemently. “Ooooff!” He danced on one foot, holding the other.

Now Nepe understood what was happening. Invisible Lysander had gotten close, and was striking the goblin at Echo’s command. First on the head, which was relatively impervious, then stomping a foot, which wasn’t.

“Now cut down my wolf, or it will go hard with you,” Echo said.

“Listen, bitch—“ the goblin started, and since his kind had no respect for wolves, this was no compliment.

Then his eyes goggled. He squirmed a moment, as if suffering some kind of seizure. Lysander was putting some kind of hold on him.

“Let her go,” the chief wheezed.

The four, about to attack Echo, were puzzled. “But Chief—“

“I changed my mind,” the chief said, wincing. “We want bitch stew not.” He winced again. “We’ll hunt for something else.”

“Well, I want bitch stew!” one of the four said. He took a step forward.

But Nepe, standing quietly, had extended a tendril along the path, making it the same shade of brown as the forest floor. It had reached the goblin’s foot and fastened to it. When he took his step, she yanked—and he crashed down on his ugly face.

Echo strode forward herself, brushing past the three surprised goblins. One tried to swing at her, and she touched his shoulder with her hand, seemingly lightly. But there was the force and hardness of metal in that soft-looking hand, and the goblin jumped, bruised.

Echo caught the rope that supported the net. She started to untie it.

“Hey, thou canst not—“ the chief started. Then he winced again, and was silent.

Echo completed the job, and the rope separated. She clung to it, so that her weight counterbalanced the smaller weight of the wolf, and let Sirel down gently to the ground. The net fell open, and Sirel got to her feet and scrambled out.

The chief made one more effort to protest, but failed again. They walked past him and on down the path. When they were at a bend, the goblin gave an exclamation and crashed into the brush. They heard feet pounding.

“Let’s get away from here!” Nepe said. They ran, and the pounding feet ran after them, gaining. None of them wanted to be close when the goblin chief recovered his composure. He surely had not lost his taste for bitch stew.

A shape loomed ahead. It was a bat. It flew down to the path, and took the form of a boy Nepe’s age. “If I’d known thou wast having so much fun, Nepe, I’d have hurried!” he said, running with them.

“Alien!” she exclaimed. “You found us!”

“How could I miss thee? As a wolf thou be laughable!”

They slowed, satisfied that the goblins were not in close pursuit. “Echo, Sirel, ‘Sander, this is Alien, the next of our party,” Nepe gasped. “The Red Adept’s son, and”—she paused, not just for breath—“my boyfriend, when Troubot is not around.”

“We’ve met,” Sirel said. Troubot was her other self, in Proton. “But mine accounting be with Flach, an my season come.”

Nepe changed the subject. “Some of us can’t travel well at night, so we must find a place to camp. We’ll have to forage for some food, and maybe Alien can keep watch—“

“So long as I get to sleep by day,” Alien agreed.

Echo assumed her harpy form again and flew ahead to scout for a good camping site. The others walked at a relatively sedate pace. “What happened?” Nepe asked Sirel.

Sirel assumed human form again. “I spied the goblin camp, so circled around, and had almost completed the loop. Became I careless then.” She flushed in the human fashion; it was most embarrassing, even for a half-grown pup.

Soon Oche returned. “There be fruit trees near,” she screeched. “And a field full o’ rabbits.”

“Excellent!” Nepe said. Her legs were so tired now that she could hardly wait to dissolve into a relaxed puddle.

In the morning, somewhat refreshed, they set off anew. Nepe assumed her human form, with an especially thick mass of hair, and Alien clung to it and slept. He preferred to hang upside down, but could manage in any position when the need arose. Sirel and Echo, both in human form, walked beside each other, and Lysander brought up the rear, still invisible. At the rate they were going, they would never make it to the West Pole in time, but Nepe wasn’t concerned about that. Their rate would change.

Then the last two members of their party intercepted them. A blue heron flew slowly overhead, and immediately Echo turned harpy and flapped up to hail it. The heron followed her down, and manifested as Belle, the purple unicorn with the iridescent mane. There was a healing scar on her rump. From her back a firefly flew, and manifested as Neysa, the black unicorn with white socks.

“Grandam Neysa!” Nepe exclaimed happily, hardly caring about the technicality that she was Flach’s grandam.

Now Nepe rode Neysa, and Lysander rode Belle, whom he had met before. Oche perched on Belle’s rump, careful not to dig in her claws, and Alien continued to snooze on Nepe’s hair. Sirel resumed wolf form and ranged beside them. Their party of seven was complete, and ready to move swiftly.

The two unicorn mares were old, but were ready for this effort; their strength and endurance had been magically enhanced. They set off like fillies, achieving a hard gallop that covered the ground in a manner few other creatures could match. Nepe relaxed; they knew where they were going, and they knew the terrain. There should be no problems.

The unicorns were indeed prepared. They pounded ahead not only through the day, but through the night, pausing only for natural-function breaks. Sirel was unable to maintain the pace; she assumed girl form and joined Nepe on Neysa; the two together weighed about what Lysander did, so the unicorn was not overburdened.

It was not dull, riding for hours without surcease. The unicorns played music to the beat of their hooves, Neysa’s harmonica and Belle’s bells merging in extemporaneous melodies and harmonies. Along their route the little animals came out to listen and watch, for the sound and sight of traveling unicorns was always special. These mares might be old, but they remained glorious in their motion.

So it was that on the third day, in plenty of time, they approached the West Pole. There was nothing fancy about it; it was just a place on an island. The water had posed a small problem, but four of them had flying forms, and the other three simply swam across. The two unicorns could have taken to the water to spear any creature who threatened the swimmers; perhaps aware of that, the predators had stayed clear. It was also possible that even the predators realized that this was a very special party, on a very special mission that would benefit every creature of Phaze.

But as they came to the Pole, they had an ugly shock. There was a Hectare guarding it. Nepe had been ready to handle a golem; the wooden things were not smart, and simple illusion could do a lot. But a BEM—this was disaster!

Alien was the one who spied it, flying ahead in the predawn darkness, scouting the way as he fed on insects. As ‘Corn he had seen the Hectare, when his father turned himself in; ‘Corn himself had been beneath notice, and promptly assumed his Phaze identity so as to remain clear of the invader. The Hectare had been cognizant of the fact that operations would be smoother if households were allowed to maintain themselves, so only the dangerous individuals were impounded. Thus Trool, the Red Adept, was prisoner, his Book of Magic mysteriously missing. But his wife, the beautiful vampire woman Suchevane, and son Alien remained at the Red Demesnes. Similar was true elsewhere. The families remained scrupulously inactive—until this present mission with Nepe.

They halted as soon as Alien returned to give the alarm. None of them could afford to be spied in Nepe’s company by a Hectare, and Nepe hardly dared show herself in recognizable form. But the Hectare was standing directly on the West Pole; there was no way to avoid it.

They took shelter in the lee of a great gnarly blue birch tree and consulted, all taking human forms except Belle, who had none. So she lay and rested in feline form, alert for any intrusion from without, while they focused their lesser human senses on the problem.

“ ‘Sander, you know about Hectare,” Nepe said. “Maybe now is when you fulfill the prophecy. How do we get to the Pole? Can we lure the BEM away, distract it, or something?”

“You can’t do that,” Lysander said from seeming air. “No Hectare has any interest in anything local except its assignment, which is obviously in this case to prevent any native from approaching the Pole. I presume that someone told them that the Pole was important, so they covered it.”

“Mayhap they espied us coming here, so laid in wait,” Sirel said.

“More likely they realized that there was activity at the North Pole, so set guards at all the Poles,” Nepe said. “I think Purp made Brown send golems north, but the West Pole is temperate, so a Hec can handle it. But we have to reach that Pole by the end of today, or we fail.”

“Fail in what?” Lysander asked.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you!” Nepe retorted.

“Now wait, Nepe,” Echo protested. “You want his help, but he has to know how his expertise relates if he is to provide it. Maybe between what you know of the mission, and what he knows of the Hectare, you can find a way through.”

She was right. Echo was a woman in love, but she had a good human mind. “I apologize, Lysander,” Nepe said. “I’ll tell you all I know, if you’ll te!l us all you know that relates.”

“It’s a deal,” he agreed.

“I have three messages, which I must listen to and implement in order, not even listening to the next until the first is done. The first was to go to the North Pole. So Flach went. He got the help of the snow demons, and used his magic to keep them from freezing him or him from melting them, and they took him to the North Pole. Under it was a chamber where the Black and Green Adepts were. They had planted a Magic Bomb which will destroy the planet if we don’t stop it. We came back with them, and they gave themselves up to the Hec. My next message was to take a Hec seed to the West Pole, by the end of today, and to bring along whom the wolves sent. I don’t know what’s there, but maybe another chamber. Maybe that’s where the Book of Magic is. So I have to take the seed there, and that’s all I know.”

“That must be all the Hectare know, too,” Lysander said. “If there had been anything there to find, they would have found it. So they posted a guard and are waiting to see what your business here is, if there is any. They are probably guarding all the Poles as a matter of routine precaution, after discovering the activity at the North Pole; they may not know whether any other Poles have activity. So this is probably just a guard, not an administrator. But why haven’t they dismantled the Bomb at the North Pole?”

Nepe smiled. “It’s not possible. It turned out that it’s frozen slow under the Pole. They actually set off the Bomb, but things are so slow there that it’ll take six weeks for the blast to get out of the chamber. When it does it’ll destroy the planet, and all of us with it. So the Hec will never get to exploit this world, no matter what. Maybe Clef is waiting with the Book of Magic to null the Bomb at the last moment after the Hec give up and go home; I don’t know. I just know I have to do what I have to do, or it’s all gone.”

“The Adepts are playing hard!” Lysander remarked, and the others nodded agreement; this had been news to them too. “But it gives me a notion. There must be a similar chamber below the West Pole, that the Hectare can’t enter because it would take them far too long to do so. Similarly, they can’t nullify it from outside, because it is what’s inside that has to be affected; they might destroy it from outside, but if it contains the spell to nullify the Magic Bomb, that would be disastrous. So they are waiting for you, to see how you approach it.”

“But I don’t know how to do that!” Nepe protested. “All I can do is drop the Hec seed in, and then listen to my third message.”

“So if we do nothing,” he said, “your mission will fail, and the planet will be lost. Presumably the nullification process involves the seed, and has to be started today or it will be too late. If your mission fails, so does the Hectare’s mission, because in six weeks they will only have established the apparatus to exploit the planet; they can’t do the job on any faster schedule. So I can appreciate the beauty of the Adept ploy, and I see that I have to help you succeed, for your side and mine.”

“You have the idea,” she agreed. “Now tell me how we can get by that Hec. Can we sneak up on it, or charge it and knock it out?”

“Hardly. The Hectare’s eyes cover the full hemisphere that is the side of the planet where it stands. Those facets are the lenses for its thousand-plus eyes. Each covers one section of the hemisphere, and nothing is missed. It surely saw Alien fly by, but because bats are a normal part of the night it took no action. You can not approach it without being observed as soon as there is a line of sight, and you can not attack it, because the moment you tried to it would recognize the weapon and use one of its lasers to stop you. That single Hectare guard could simultaneously laser all seven of us, because it would orient several eyes on each and coordinate them with the weapons-tentacles. When it comes to observation and combat, no creature on this planet can match the Hectare.”

She had suspected as much, because of the way the Adepts had yielded to the Hectare. The Hectare had their ships threatening the planet, true, but they would not have been eager to destroy it; they wanted to exploit it. So they had to be good on the ground, too. They knew what they were doing, and they were individually sharp. “But there has to be a way!” she said.

“There may be. But it’s a gamble—a big one.”

“Go on. It can’t be worse than the gamble of not getting through.”

“It may be. You will have to approach the Hectare under a flag of neutrality and challenge it to a game.”

“They are gameoholics!” she exclaimed, seeing it.

“And if it agrees, then you can bargain for the stakes. If you win, it must let you and your party through. But if you lose—“

“My left hand!” she said, feeling the pain of amputation, though she would be able to restore the hand from her body mass.

“And perhaps that of any member of your party who wants to pass with you,” he said. “The Hectare like to game, but they like equivalent stakes, too. Since it can stun you and turn you in and gain a commendation for wrapping up the resistance, you will have to offer a lot to balance that out.”

“More than my hand?”

“More than your capture, probably. Since it would know that it is wagering its own betrayal of its side...”

“More than my capture?” This was more serious than even she had imagined.

“Probably you would have to agree to serve the Hectare loyally, betraying all your former associates.”

Worse yet! “I don’t think I can do that. I mean, the fate of the planet—“

“Yes. The fate of the planet, because it would terminate your mission and mine. But you have to bargain in good faith. If you expect it to do so. It will match your honor. The Hectare are creatures of honor; it is their specialty. So my advice to you, as a commonsense thing, is not to make that wager, because you stand to lose everything if you lose, while if you win, you gain only the chance to complete the second part of your mission.”

“But if I do nothing, and don’t complete my mission, we lose anyway!” she protested.

“Unless there is some other mission you don’t know about.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, troubled. “No, I have to go on with it. But I’m supposed to take Sire! and Alien with me, so the risk is theirs too.” She looked at the werewolf and vampire bat. “What do you two say?”

“We must do it.” Sirel said, looking uncomfortable.

“I agree,” Alien said, evidently feeling no better.

“Then the three of us will approach the Hectare and bargain,” Nepe said. “The rest of you will have to wait for us—if we win. If we lose, you must go back and tell the others to hide from us, because we will be your enemies. You must not delay, because the Hectare will be after you.”

Neysa, in human form, nodded. Echo looked doubtful.

“If Nepe loses,” Lysander said, “Echo joins me, and the unicorns take off. If Nepe wins, we will wait for her return, and continue helping her.”

That seemed reasonable. Lysander was going along with the Hectare wager. This made it easy for Echo to remain with him, without having to betray her culture. “Then you four remain and watch. Lysander can watch without being seen. By the day’s end you will know.”

“We will know,” Echo said grimly.

“I’m not sure what form to take,” Nepe said. She hadn’t thought of this aspect before, because she had never expected to encounter a Hectare here.

“It will know that this can not be an innocent encounter,” Lysander’s voice came. “Best to identify yourself clearly, and bargain honestly. If you try to deceive it. it will refuse to listen to anything else you say.”

That seemed to make sense. Why would three children come alone to the West Pole? The monster had to know it was important the moment they showed themselves.

“Hold something white aloft as you approach,” Lysander said. “The Hectare will know the human parley convention.”

“Something white,” Nepe said, casting about and finding nothing.

“I have a slip Tsetse gave me,” Echo said. She lifted her skirt, took hold of the undergarment, and pulled it quickly down. It was suitably white.

“Thank you,” Nepe said. “I hope I can return it.”

“That means nothing,1’ Echo said. “You and I will be on the same side either way.”

That was true. Nepe nerved herself. “We must do it now; we do not know how long the game will take.”

Sirel and Alien stepped forward, retaining human form. Nepe suddenly realized that they made a nice couple, this way; it wasn’t evident that they were actually wolf and bat—or, in their Proton identities, robot and human being. Stranger liaisons had occurred; how well she knew!

Nepe took the slip and held it aloft. She walked around the tree and toward the Pole. Sirel and Alien fell into step behind her. The others neither spoke nor moved.

Soon they came into sight of the Hectare. Nepe had seen the creatures before, but this time she felt a special chill, because she knew she was going to have to brace this one directly, and that her freedom and planet were on the line. She had no certainty of winning the game; indeed, she didn’t know what game it would be. Suppose they couldn’t agree on one? Then the Hectare might simply capture the three, and it would be over.

The Hectare gave no sign. It stood there as they approached, unmoving. But the fact that it had not fired on them was a positive sign.

At last the three stood before the monster. The Hectare, indistinguishable from any other of its kind, loomed above the three children. Its eye facets were greenish, as were its central mass of tentacles, but its lower portion was brownish. It seemed to have no front and no back; it was a bit like a giant toadstool. She understood that the Hectare breathed the air, but this was not apparent; probably they passed it continuously through hidden gills.

“We come to parley,” Nepe said. “Do you understand?”

A single tentacle extended, and its end turned up.

“Do you recognize us?” she asked.

Three tentacles extended. The one pointing to Nepe turned up; the ones pointing to the other two turned down.

“Then we shall introduce ourselves,” Nepe said. “I am Nepe. whom you are seeking. The boy is Alien, a vampire bat. The girl is Sirel, a werebitch. Both are my friends of long standing.”

The tentacle toward Alien made a turning motion. Alien nodded, then assumed his bat form, hovering in place. In a moment he resumed boy form.

The tentacle toward Sirel gestured. She became the young wolf, then reverted.

Now all three tentacles turned up. The Hectare knew them as well as it cared to.

“We must go to the West Pole,” Nepe said. “You must let us do this.”

The Hectare neither budged nor signaled—which was answer enough.

“I will play a game with you,” Nepe said. “If I win, you will let the three of us do what we wish, and will not report our presence here. If you win, we shall join the Hectare and loyally serve your side against our own culture. We prefer not to lose our hands, but we shall be in your power for whatever you decide—if I lose.” And there it was: her offer of betrayal, which she would honor if she had to. The notion appalled her, but she believed Lysander: if she did not honestly put her loyalty on the line, she could not expect the Hectare to agree to let them pass, for its loyalty was also on the line. They were wagering for betrayal.

The Hectare did not even pause. The tentacles straightened, then turned up. It had agreed. Lysander was right, so far: they were gameoholics who could not resist an honest challenge, whatever the consequence.

“We must choose the game fairly,” Nepe said, her voice sounding controlled though she was fighting to suppress a feeling of terror. She had no commitment from the monster about the nature of the game; she should have put that in her initial statement.

But the tentacle turned up in agreement. It seemed that the thing desired a fair game.

Nepe used her foot to scuff a line in the dirt. She made a second line, and a third. “We have no Game Computer,” she said. “But we can place choices, and play the grid. One grid. Agreed?”

The Hectare agreed. It remained a bug-eyed monster, but its responses were so sure and just that she was coming to respect it despite her antipathy to its person and all it stood for. Actions did indeed count more than appearance!

“Is a grid of nine enough?” she asked as she made the cross lines.

Four tentacles extended. “Four on a side?” she asked.

A downturn. “A four-box grid?” she asked, surprised. “Two placements by each?”

The tentacle turned up.

“Okay. That’s fair. We can place our choices slantwise, and then choose our columns. Is there an even way to do that?”

The tentacle turned up again. Nepe didn’t know what the Hectare had in mind, but was coming to trust it. “I choose the game of marbles,” she said, and used her finger to write the word in one corner.

The Hectare extended a tentacle, reaching the ground readily. The tentacles looked short, but stretched. It wrote LASER MARKSMANSHIP in a box.

She would be lost if she had to compete in that! She knew how to do it, and surely the monster would lend her a weapon, but she knew that all Hectare were perfect shots with such weapons. Suddenly she doubted that her childish game of marbles was a good choice; those tentacles could probably also shoot little glass spheres with perfect accuracy.

She thought a moment, then came up with something that might be impossible for the monster: “Hopscotch,” she said, and wrote it in her other box.

Unperturbed, the Hectare wrote POKER in the final box. Was it good at card games, or did it merely enjoy the challenge? Now she was uncertain. A true gameoholic might want a good game more than a victory.

The box was now complete: HOPSCOTCH and POKER on one row, LASER MARKSMANSHIP and MARBLES on the other.

“How can we choose columns?” she asked.

Tentacles pointed to Alien and Sirel. “Face away and throw one of two fingers!” Nepe exclaimed, seeing it. She used the numbers 1 and 2 to mark both the horizontal and vertical columns. “I will take the horizontals, the one if they throw odd, the two if they throw even. You will take the verticals and the same numbers, in your turn. Agreed?”

The tentacle turned up. The Hectare evidently wasn’t fussy about the details as long as the choosing was impartial.

“Do it,” Nepe said. “This is random, but it always is, really.”

The two faced away. “Now!” Nepe cried.

Both lifted hands. Sirel had one finger extended, Alien two. “Odd,” Nepe announced. “I choose the number one line. Now throw for the Hectare.”

The two threw fingers again. This time Sirel lifted two, and Alien one. “Odd,” Nepe said. “So it is column one for the Hectare.”

Nepe looked at the grid. Box 1-1 was HOPSCOTCH. She had won her choice!

But she couldn’t relax. “Do you know how to play?” she asked the Hectare.

The tentacle extended, first turning up, then down.

“You mean you know generally, but not the variants?”

The tentacle turned up.

“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 through. 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.