Phaze Doubt

8 - North

Flach put together such a combination of moves and transformations that he doubted that anyone or anything could untangle them. He even assumed bug forms and spied on any Hectare that were outside of their antiseptic chambers. All seemed quiet, apart from the grim business of the takeover itself.

In the course of this, Flach got a fair notion of what the Hectare were doing. They were setting up to exploit the resources of the planet. Crews were being assembled to cut the greatest forests for exportable lumber. That would destroy the environment, and many wild and magical creatures would die. It had been exactly that type of ruinous exploitation that had ruined Proton before, so that life was possible only within the force-field domes, with all else a noxious desert. Other crews were to mine out all the remaining Protonite. That would destroy the magic, leaving the planet completely mundane. What would happen to the starving, magic-gelded creatures? It looked very much as if their flesh would be melted down for protoplasm banks.

Mach was right: it was better that the planet be destroyed, than that the Hectare have their way with it.

The Hectare themselves were true bug-eyed monsters; indeed, the serfs and ordinary folk of Phaze had instantly named them BEMs. It seemed that there were two or more major alliances in the galaxy, one of which was the humanoid. Proton had once been in the humanoid sector, but the pattern of colonization had in due course left it stranded with a few others in alien territory. So there was no hope of rescue by human forces; it would be too costly for them to penetrate this deep with sufficient force to accomplish anything—and even if they did, the Hectare might simply destroy the planet rather than give it up. So Proton was on its own—just as any alien planets were on their own when they had the misfortune to find themselves within human territory.

The Hectare themselves were simply one of a number of species in their alliance. They were the closest, so on them had fallen the chore of exploiting the planet. They had not bothered before, but when it became evident that it had magic now, they had moved it up on their schedule. It wasn’t that they understood magic, but it made the planet intriguing. It was about as easy to take over the planet as to investigate it, so they moved in.

The Hectare of course didn’t think of themselves as bug-eyed monsters, or even as monsters. They thought of human beings as asymmetric few-limbed worm segments. A Hectare was symmetrical, having no front or back or left or right; its eyes surveyed the entire hemisphere (the flat ground and dome of space above it) simultaneously. Its tentacles circled its body like a mantle, and its tread-feet took it immediately in any direction. Flach could appreciate their point of view, though a Hectare remained a BEM to him. According to Nepe, planets colonized by nonhumanoid creatures that found themselves in the human sector of the galaxy were being exploited and reduced just as savagely; there was no special virtue in being human, when it came to galactic power tides. On such planets, the horrible menace was FTS—few tentacled slugs, or human beings. Her sympathy was with the natives, there.

Once Flach was satisfied that there was no pursuit, he started on his mission. He could not go directly to the North Pole, for several reasons. Other planets, he understood, were hot at their equators and cold at either north or south poles; nothing was said about their east and west poles, oddly. But Phaze (and Proton) was hottest at the South Pole and coldest at the North Pole. A trip to the south would be difficult because of the constantly burning heat; a trip north was a similar problem, because of the intense cold. If he conjured himself directly there, he would freeze before he could do anything, unless he was all bundled up or invoked a protective spell. But that was academic, because he couldn’t conjure himself there. His magic was operative mainly within the “normal” range of Phaze, roughly between the White and Purple mountain ranges. Beyond that, the hostile magic of the demons interfered. He might be able to learn snow magic, as his Grandfather Stile had, but that would take time and practice. To the south, below the Purple Mountains, it would probably be all right; as far as he knew, nothing but dragons dwelt there, and they didn’t interfere with magic. But the more potent exercises of magic made larger splashes, similar to those of emotional commitment, that could be detected by others. With the Purple Adept searching for him, a self-conjuration of that magnitude would be folly; Purple would zero right in on it. That was why he had kept his maneuvering small-scale so far; each splash was below the threshold detectable from a distance.

So he would have to make his way to the White Mountain by a series of small conjurations, or by swift physical travel. Once there he would have to enlist the aid of the snow demons, and travel physically the rest of the way to the Pole. Then he would have to see what offered; the message hadn’t told him what he would find there, probably so as not to give it away to the enemy. He didn’t expect the trip to be fun, but it had to be done.

He started out. He assumed his unicorn form, which he could do without any splash of magic, because it was natural; he was half unicorn. He was privately proud of his pretty blue hind socks and glistening black coat. As he trotted, he played his horn to the cadence of his hooves; this enhanced the pleasure of the motion. A unicorn could trot for a long time to its own music, because there was magic in music, and it restored much of the energy expended by the body. Nepe said his horn sounded like the science instrument called the recorder, which was a woodwind related to the flute; it was blown from the end instead of the side, and had a mellower tone. The folk of the science frame tended to classify things in their own terms. His dam Fleta could play two or three notes at once, making duets with herself; that was unusual. He wished he could run with her now, or with his Grandam Neysa, sharing harmonies. Fleta was captive of the Hectare, and Neysa was playing dumb animal so as to be ignored by them. They were depending on him to save the world— or to let it be destroyed.

As night came he assumed his bal form, and used sound to track his course north. He snapped up night bugs as they offered, for though he had magically assumed the form, it didn’t fly by magic. It needed food energy. What he ate as a bat would sustain him in his other forms too, if he consumed enough. Since he could feed without pausing in this form, it behooved him to stuff himself for the next day. He was not a natural bat; he had adopted it as an alternate form, completing the normal unicorn roster of three. Thus this one also was neutral, because it was the unicorn way, and would not make a splash. The nonsplash forms were repeatable, while individual magic was not. Once a unique spell was done, it was finished; if the same thing needed to be done again, it had to be by a different spell. So even Adepts were careful not to waste magic. Fortunately, human ingenuity could devise many spells, so the limitation normally didn’t squeeze.

He had mastered other forms, however, extending his unicorn range. Grandpa Stile had trained him for this, making him the Unicorn Adept. This ability had enabled him to hide from the Adverse Adepts for four years, making a critical difference in the contest for control of Phaze. Now he hoped it made a similar difference, in this contest for the survival of Phaze.

As dawn approached, he shifted to wolf form, and ranged on through the diminishing forestland. He was making excellent time, but he was tiring, for all the forms required rest and sleep eventually. He hoped the ice demons were hospitable, so that he could get some rest there.

Being in wolf form reminded him of his Promised, Sirelmoba. What a fine little bitch she was! He almost wished he had not made the commitment to her, because once they came of age and mated, they would separate and never mate with each other again. If he had taken some other bitch as his Promised, and exchanged name syllables with her, then he would have been free to establish a permanent liaison with Sirel. But of course he wouldn’t have come to know her so well then. The wolf way was a good way, but sometimes hard. And, he had to remind himself, he was not really a wolf; he had joined the Pack when in hiding, but he was more truly a unicorn, or a man.

Finally the great White Mountains loomed beyond the scrub. Now he was glad he was moving rapidly, because even in his furry wolf guise he would have had some trouble with the cold here. Natural wolves got acclimatized, but he had spent his life in the temperate zone and was soft. Also, he lacked his full growth. In the necessary alignment of things, the unicorns and werewolves and vampire bats lived the same ages as humans; a nine-year-old human boy was as young in proportion as a ‘corn or wolf or bat. It had been a job, carrying Lysan! He had had to use supplementary magic to lighten the load.

He came to the base of the mountains. Grandpa Stile had told him of one of the tribes of snow demons he had come to know, because he had played chess against the demon champion, Ice-beard. Even demons loved good games! They had been on opposite sides in the Adept struggle, but demons did not take human altercations too seriously. In any event, they should all be on the same side now: the side of Phaze.

He found the pass leading to the demon caves. He started up, his paws feeling the ice. Soon he would have to change to boy form and invoke a spell of warmth.

A snow demon appeared, and roared a windy challenge. “Away, wolf, ere ) bury thee!” It was no bluff; the creature could set off a snowslide in a moment.

“I be friend!” Flach called in growl-talk. Not all creatures understood all languages, but there was some interaction between wolves and snow demons. With magic he could do for himself what he had done for Lysan: make their languages compatible.

“Demons have no friends!” The demon made ready to start the slide.

“I be grandpup to Adept Stile, come to see Icebeard.”

The demon paused. That name was known here. “Prove it.”

Flach assumed his unicorn form, then his boy form. He made a minor conjuration of clothing, lest he freeze. “Dost see the resemblance?” For he did have a family resemblance to his grandfather, one he had cultivated from pride.

“Aye,” the demon said grudgingly. “An thou dost be faking it, we shall make o’ thee a statue o’ snow.”

“As would be proper.” Flach agreed.

The demon led him on into a cave farther up the pass. Soon he stood before the demon chief, who was a fearsome figure. He was made entirely of ice, with wild icicles for hair and of course matted ice for a beard. He gazed coldly at Flach. “Thou claimest to be the ‘Corn Adept?” he demanded, his breath a freezing fog.

“Aye. An thou wishest, I will perform small magic.”

“Why small? An thou dost be he, thou canst make big magic.”

“And have our enemy spy my location.” Flach replied. “That were not kind to thee or me.”

Icebeard considered. “Dost play chess?”

Flach laughed. “Aye! But I be far from Grandpa’s league—or thine.”

That was a good answer. “What willst thou here?”

“Knowest thou o’ the Hectare?”

“Word reaches e’en the hinter. Thou hast dealings with them?”

Here was the crux. If the demons had sided with the enemy, he would have to risk strong magic to escape. “Aye. I be dealing to destroy them.”

The demon chief smiled. “Then we be together, this time. We ha’ no joy in aliens who would mine out our mounts.”

“Aye, I hoped so,” Flach said, relieved. “My sire the Rovot Adept opposes them, and hides the Book o’ Magic.”

“We remember the Rovot—and Fleta ‘Corn, a mare one could learn to like.” That was strong language, from those who liked no one. Flach’s dam had evidently made a considerable impression.

“Stile be their captive, and most o’er Adepts. Mayhap I alone can implement our defense.”

“And needst our aid?”

“Aye.”

“Shallst have it, ‘Corn. What needst?”

Just like that! Demons evidently wasted no time pondering. “Needs must I go to the North Pole.”

Icebeard was taken aback. “That be one hard haul. I would trust not my cold bones there. The weather be mean.”

“Aye, I fear I can make it not alone.”

“But my daughter be full o’ the flush o’ youth. She will lead thee there, with picked guard.”

“My thanks to thee, chief o’ demons!” Flach said gratefully. A demon squad could handle anything short of Adept magic— and they would not encounter that near the Pole.

“But a caution,” Icebeard said. “My cub be impetuous, and my guards be virile. Needs must a man’s presence keep them in check.”

“I be but boy,” Flach protested. “An I not be the only one remaining, this task were ne’er mine.”

“Thou dost be Adept,” Icebeard reminded him. “Canst do magic we wot not, an we oppose thee not.”

“Aye—but an I invoke it, the traitor Purple be on my tail. I can risk but small spells.”

“Illusion be but small.”

Flach gazed at him, catching on. “Make myself seem older? Maybe twice mine age o’ nine?”

Icebeard nodded. “My cub be twenty. That be close enough. She will show the way. An a guard show interest in her, do thou step between.”

Flach was daunted. “I know not if I—“

“Do thou fashion a seeming o’ robust strength and brief temper. That, plus mine orders, suffice.”

Maybe it would. Flach realized that it would have to be risked, if he was to get to the Pole. “I will try. Chief.”

“Mayhap soon I find suitable match for her. But an she fall for a mere guard, that be complicated.”

Flach could appreciate that. Each group had its own conventions about romance and marriage, and violation of them could be perilous. Flach knew the wolf conventions, and was catching on to the human ones, thanks to Nepe’s information. Icebeard wanted his daughter emotionally uncommitted until there was a good marriage lined up for her. Naturally there was no worry about a relationship with a warm-bodied man; any closeness would freeze him or melt her. There was even less concern about a nine-year-old child. The chief might be taking advantage of Flach’s mission to keep his daughter safely out of temptation until he completed his arrangements for her.

This could be good for Flach, too. Any demon help would be good, but because Icebeard valued his daughter, these would be picked guards, able to handle just about any threat. That, plus Flach’s minor magic, should get them through in good order.

“Methinks it will take thee a day to get the party organized,” Flach said. “I be tired from my trek here—“

“Didst not conjure thyself close?”

“Nay. that be strong magic. I came by land, running day and night and day.”

Icebeard snapped his icy fingers, and a demon female appeared. She was stooped, and her hair was a curtain of icicles, but she was human rather than beastly in general configuration. “Take him to a secure chamber and watch him sleep,” the chief told her.

The woman walked to Flach. picked him up, and carried him out of the room. She was taking the order literally, and taking him as she would a block of ice. He had to do a quick spot spell to prevent their contact from doing each harm.

She bore him to a bubble of air deep in the glacier and dumped him down on a bed of snow. Again he did spot magic to make the interface proper: now the snow seemed like warm feathers, and did not melt under him. He stretched out, ready to sleep for twelve hours.

The demoness stood there, gazing down at him. Time passed, and she did not move. Then he realized what it was: she was watching him sleep, literally.

So be it. He would surely be safe, this way. He closed his eyes and slept.

Next day, refreshed, he conjured some bread to eat, found a crevice for natural functions, and went to see what had developed in the interim.

Icebeard had been busy. A troop of ten stout snow demons had been assembled, and a similar number of demon dogs, also made of ice. Several were to be harnessed to a sled, and the others would range out around the group, guarding it. They were to travel in style.

“Adept!”

He turned. It was a petite young demoness, not greatly taller than himself. He was surprised; he had thought all demons, of any type, were ugly, hideous, or grotesque, but she was a perfect figure of a woman molded from ice. “Aye,” he said.

“I be Icedora, but thou mayst call me Icy,” she said, her voice like the crystalline tinkle of glass dangles. “That be spelled with a c, not a k, for I be not Iky!”

“I can see that,” he said, awed even at his age in the spectacle of her frozen splendor.

“We be traveling together, methinks.”

Icebeard’s daughter! He realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. The demon chief had said she was twenty, which was adult, and that he was trying to set up her marriage, but he had neglected to say she was beautiful by any standard. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “I be Flach.”

“I met thy dam, the ‘corn,” she said. “I were but thine age then, but she were beautiful.”

Flach hesitated, not knowing the appropriate response. ley’s the same! Nepe prompted him.

“No more so than thee,” Flach said.

Icy smiled, and that confirmed the compliment, for her smile made her seem almost warm. “Methinks we shall get along well enough,” she said.

Told you! Nepe put in. Way to a woman’s heart is flattery.

So it seemed. He would try to remember that, for the time when it might count for him. “That should be nice. Who rides the sled?”

“Thou—and I. So we had better get along well!”

“Aye.” He looked around, to make sure that no other demons were listening. “Thy father says I must pretend to be older, so I will make a spell o’ illusion. But thou must remember I be but a child.”

“Aye. But thou dost be distressingly hot. Canst make thyself comfortably cool?”

“Aye. I will seem cold, but will not be cold. I will not melt thee, and thou willst not freeze me.”

“I be glad o’ that!” she said, laughing. “We folk associate not much with thy folk, because o’ their oppressive heat. An they e’er change their ways, all will be cool.”

“Aye,” he agreed, not caring to argue the point.

On the following day they started off. Flach had generated an illusion that doubled his age, so that he looked and sounded eighteen instead of nine. He seemed larger and heavier, but he retained the strength and mind of his true age. His image moved exactly as he did, magnified appropriately. He was rather proud of the spell; he had never done this before.

Icebeard looked him over and cracked a slow smile. “An that not fade in thy sleep, it be suitable.”

“It will remain till I counter it,” Flach assured him. “My spells fade slow. But an I have to do a man’s work, I needs must use magic to amplify my strength.”

“Nonesuch be required. The story be this: my daughter has a mission to the Pole, and thou too, to help her complete it. Thou willst tell her what needs must be done, and she will tell the guards. The dogs not will attack thee.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “Canst tell me what thy business be at the Pole?”

“I know it not, only that I must go,” Flach said, appreciating why he had not been told. He could not blab the secret to anyone. “I hope to discover why when I get there. Then mayhap it will be known to all.”

“Mayhap,” the demon chief agreed, disappointed. “Come, needs must I introduce thee to my cub, lest she mistake thee for other.”

“I met her yesterday,” Flach said.

“In this form?”

“Nay, in mine own.”

“Then the introduction be needful.”

He had a point. Flach now looked completely different. He had the aspect of a powerful young man. He hoped he would be this solid and handsome when he really did grow up!

Icy was evidently impressed when she saw him. “I knew not that warm ones could be so rugged!” she exclaimed, eying him in a way that made him uncomfortable.

You should be! the inner voice that was Nepe told him. Thai’s one ho! snow demoness! She’s going to find out just what is possible, before this trip is done. She formed a mental image of wolves sniffing tails, then making ready to mate.

Flach shrugged. Nothing was possible, of course.

They got on the sledge, which was shaped to allow them to sit comfortably side by side, their backs supported by the supplies behind and their legs moderately bent in front. Icy took the reins. “Mush!” she cried, and the dogs took off.

But they were high on a mountain slope. The sledge careered down and to the side, skidding toward a drop-off. “Yiii!” Flach cried, grabbing on for dear life.

The sledge turned just before the ledge and zoomed along its edge. Flach hung on, afraid to look down into its dark depths. They seemed about to bounce off the snow and tumble right off the mountain.

“Well, now,” Icy said, her frozen breath tickling his ear. Flach opened his eyes.

She was what he had grabbed on to! Hastily he let go, steeling himself to sit upright and ignore the horrendous scene just beyond the sled, and the breathtaking one on it.

The demons skiing behind laughed. So did the racing guard dogs. So, in a moment, did the harnessed dogs. They had done it on purpose, to make him react.

Flach relaxed. If they were so sure of their footing and ley’s safety, he might as well be sure too. They surely knew every inch of these mountain slopes, and could handle them precisely. They had had their fun with him, but he would keep his nerve better from now on.

Soon they were beyond the mountains and heading north across a relatively flat plain. The dogs ran indefatigably, and the skiing demons kept the pace. It quickly got dull.

“Dost know any good games?” Icy asked with a toss of her ice tresses. “We have long to ride.”

“Well, there be tag—“

“And which o’ us gets off and runs to do that?” she inquired archly.

“It were a stupid notion,” he admitted. “I could conjure cards—“

“I have played e’ery game there be for cards!” she said crossly. “A chief’s daughter has much time on her hands.”

There’s one she hasn’t played, I’ll bet, Nepe thought. I don’t know what it’s called, but I remember how it goes.

Flach conjured a deck of playing cards. “Mayhap I have one thou hast not.”

“Willst bet on’t?”

“Bet what?”

“Consequences.”

Flach wasn’t sure he trusted this. “What consequences?”

She shrugged. “I’ll decide, after I win.”

“Suppose I win?”

“Then the consequence be thine to decide, for me.”

“I have a mission to accomplish. I can’t be diverted to—“

“Innocent tasks,” she said. “Like saying ‘I be a warm ogre bottom!’ or mayhap standing on the sledge and sunning the guards.”

“Sunning?”

“Mayhap thy kind calls it mooning.”

This was beginning to sound like the kind of challenge a person of his generation couldn’t turn down. “An thou dost lose the bet, I define a consequence for thee?” he said, making quite sure.

“Aye. So long as it be harmless and delay our travel not.”

This creature is dangerous! Nepe warned admiringly. But you better accept her challenge, or she’ll come up with worse.

“Agreed,” Flach said. “The bet be whether I have a card game thou hast ne’er played before.”

“Aye. Name it.”

“I can’t name it. But—“

“Then thou dost lose!” she exclaimed.

“Nay, that be not the bet!” he protested. “I need not name it, only describe it. An it be a good game thou has played not before, I win.”

She reconsidered. “Aye, that be fair. Describe it.”

Drawing on Nepe’s information, he described it: “Several can play, or only two. The dealer lays down cards according to a secret rule, and first to guess that rule becomes dealer.”

She considered. “I ne’er heard o’ it,” she confessed. “But be it a real game? Who wins it, who loses? How be points scored?

“The dealer wins, long’s he holds his place. It be like king o’ the hill: the one atop wins till he loses. But we could play for points an thou wishest: each wrong guess be the dealer’s point.”

“But the dealer gets all the points!” she protested.

“Aye. but the players can become dealer by guessing right, and get points. When the game end, belike one be ahead.”

“Aye,” she said, considering it. “I like this game. Thou dost win the bet. What wouldst thou make my consequence?”

Flach was tempted to make her sun the guards, but lacked the nerve. “Let’s play the game, and this be my first point.”

She looked at him. “Thou dost be generous, Flach. I would have gi’en thee worse.”

“I lost my nerve,” he admitted.

She laughed. “I like thee, warm one! I will not make thee do aught onerous.”

“An thou dost win.”

“Ne’er fear, I will win,” she said confidently. “I be not Adept, but I be sharp at card games.”

Flach marveled at her certainty. Though his own experience with the Proton Game was slight, Nepe had played it often, and her expertise was his to draw on now that they were merged. Also, he had played games with his adopted sibling wolves, among which guessing games were prominent because they could be indulged while running together through brush in quest of game (the other kind). In short, despite his youth, he regarded himself as a good competitor, quick with his wits. Could this sheltered snow girl be the same?

He shuffled the cards. They were plastic, able to withstand both his heat and her cold. “Wouldst be dealer first?”

“Nay,” she said. “How couldst thou have the first point, and thou not be dealer? Lay me out.”

He glanced at her, unsure of her terminology. She had undone her ice coat, evidently feeling too warm, and had her feather-ice sweater open to view. It was a remarkably shapely sweater, rather like a contour map with two perfectly rounded mountains.

“Some cards,” she clarified, laughing so that the mountains shook. Well she knew the nature of his confusion and his distraction.

When I grow up, I’m going to practice to make my sweater move like that! Nepe thought enviously.

That helped clarify things for Flach. He had found that sweater oddly intriguing, but hadn’t quite realized why. No doubt when he became the age he had made himself appear to be, he would have no trouble realizing why. Apparently there was a greater correspondence between the interests of demons and men than he had appreciated.

“Then thou must shuffle,” he said. “That be standard, to assure I cheat not.”

She laughed so hard that her sweater threatened to ripple apart and hurl the mountains into limbo. “Thou fool! Canst be serious?”

“Aye, serious,” he said, annoyed. “Needs must the game be played fair.”

“Willst bet on that?” she asked, suppressing a chortle.

“Aye! I would not cheat!”

She calmed down enough to face him directly, but the mountains still quivered with merry aftershocks. “This be no random dealing, Flach,” she said. “This be cards laid down by secret rules. How canst thou have a rule, an thou deal randomly—‘less random be thy rule?”

Ooops! She had caught him in an embarrassing blunder. Even his simulated aspect blushed. “Thy point,” he admitted.

Her head darted forward, and she kissed him on the cheek. The magic of the illusion was such that her cold lips scored on his own flesh, though it was not quite where the flesh of the older youth seemed. “But I tike thine honesty,” she said. “Thy foolishness becomes thee.”

That made him blush worse. He tried to ignore it. “Now must I put the cards back in order,” he said.

“Easy, Adept!” she said, taking the deck from him. “Make us a table—a sheet o’ ice will do—and I will play a game o’ clock solitaire.”

“But a game will just mix them up more!” he protested. “And what be this about a clock? Time be not o’ the essence.”

She shook her head wonderingly. “I had thought it to be dull, shepherding a boy into the bleak. Methinks I forget the joys o’ naiveté. Watch—nay, no pun!—and learn, lad.”

He conjured the sheet of ice she wanted, and they laid it across their laps. His woolly clothing and protective spell prevented his heat from melting it, and her body would only freeze it colder, so it was an excellent table. She put the cards down in a circular pattern of twelve piles, and a thirteenth pile in the center. “This be the clock,” she announced. “North be twelve, south be six, and the rest in order. An I complete the numbers before the center, I win—but that be seldom.”

“One chance in thirteen,” he remarked.

“How cle’er o’ thee to figure it!” she said, smiling. He knew she was teasing him, but he felt a surge of pleasure. She’s mistress of her trade, Nepe thought appreciatively.

She lifted the top card in the center pile. It was an ace. She put that face up under the 1 pile just right of the 12 pile, and lifted the top card of that pile. This was a 6, so she put that under the 6 pile, and took its top card.

So it went, from pile to pile, each one showing the way to the next. ley’s snow-white hands flashed cleverly from pile to pile, placing and lifting cards so quickly it was hard to follow. Obviously she had played this game many times before—and many others. She had spoken truly about her experience in this regard.

The first king showed up, and went to the center. Later another, and a third. Then the first of the circle to reach all four cards appeared: the 3 pile. Then, after only a few more moves, the fourth king.

“Hot lava!” she swore. “I be lost ere I have more than one hour on the clock! That be a bad omen.”

“I hope not!” Flach said. Omens were serious things.

She shrugged, and again the mountains moved. “Mayhap not. They say lucky cards, unlucky in love, and I have e’er been luckiest at cards. An my luck turn, my father may find a good demon for me.”

“He can find not a demon for one as fair as thou?” Flach asked, surprised. “Be appearance not the first thing men seek?”

“Aye.” Her hands resumed their motion, as she lifted the top card on the 12 stack and continued the placements. That card was an 8, and the next a 10. “Many be eager enough, but it seems I have a curse.” The 8 pile was completed, then the 2’s, and the 4’s.

“A curse? It be not apparent to me.”

Her quick hands brought up the fourth queen for the 12 pile. “Fire! Lost again.” For the 9’s and 11’s remained incomplete. She took one from the 11’s, and in a moment all the piles were done. Then she picked them up: the four aces, four 2’s, and so on. The deck was in numerical order. “An thou needst suit order, I can play a game for that,” she said.

“Nay, this be good enough,” he said, taking the cards. “But what be this curse on thee?”

“Let me see those,” she said suddenly, taking them back and turning the pack over. “I ne’er looked at the backs! This be one o’ the fairy folk!” For the picture was of a winged girl in gauzy green, flying up to pick foliage.

“Aye. I met her when I was a wolf, so put her on my cards. It were when I was in hiding.”

“Thou wast hiding?”

“From the Adverse Adepts, four years.”

“And they found thee not?”

“They found me after those years. Then it were difficult, till Stile merged the frames.”

“But were thy sire and dam not on our side? My father taught the Rovot Adept to play chess.”

“Aye. I hid from him, till he searched me out.”

“Thou didst have a difficult life,” she said sympathetically.

“Nay, it were a good life, only not with my parents. But why dost thou turn aside the subject when I ask about thy curse?”

“ ‘Cause it be my shame,” she said. “An thou beat me at cards, thou canst make me tell thee for consequence.”

That seemed fair enough. He picked out the 10 of hearts and laid it down. “When thou dost think o’ the rule, make thy guess,” he said. “It must be apparent within four cards, ‘less thou preferest other. An thou guess wrong, my point. An thou not guess it in eight cards, my point.”

“Aye. Lay thy four.”

He put down the 4 of clubs, the jack of diamonds, and the 5 of spades.

“That be not enough to define the rule,” she said. “An I guess a rule that fits, but it be not thine, what then?”

“I tell thee nay, but no penalty. Otherwise it became cumbersome for two. An several play, bad guesses help others to win, so players be cautious. But with two, there be no urgency to guess, so it can be the whole deck before a guess.” He was getting this from Nepe. “So I put limits, but thou canst protest them.”

“Nay, no protest. Thy rule be change color and diminish by six, in circular fashion. Mayhap also repeat not suit till all be used, but that were not certain.”

She had nailed it with alarming accuracy. Flach handed the deck to her.

“My deal be same’s thine,” she said, not taking up the four cards. “But my rule other.”

Flach studied the cards with new interest. “Two-digit number alternating with one-digit number,” he said.

“Nay. No penalty.”

“Lay more cards.”

She put down the 9 of spades, the 3 of spades, the 6 of clubs, and the 8 of clubs.

Flach stared at the cards. The colors no longer alternated, and the numbers no longer descended. There was no consistent pattern of odd and even. He had to admit he was stumped.

“Third card be odd,” she said.

“But the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth cards are odd!” he protested.

“Not odd in total, odd in being different from the first three,” she explained. “See: each has two symbols in top row, till the third, with one. Then two, two, and one.”

He looked, and it was so. She had looked at the cards in a different way, and been more original than he. “Thy point,” he conceded.

They played again. She dealt the 8 of hearts, 11 of spades, 5 of clubs, and 4 of clubs. When he was baffled, she dealt out the 9 of diamonds, the ace of diamonds, 7 of diamonds, and 6 of diamonds.

He was unable to get it. “Alphabetic,” she explained.

“But the ace should be first!”

“That be the one, as in one, two, three et cetera.”

He admitted defeat.

So it went. Icy was immensely more talented than he, in this game. By the time they were ready to camp for the night, he was hopelessly behind on points. Any penalties she had in mind for him were hers to dictate.

“How earnest thou so apt in cards?” he asked ruefully.

“My sire be chess champ o’ demons, and but for thy grandpa, o’ all Phaze,” she said. “From him do I inherit a memory and grasp o’ numbers and positions. None beat me at such.”

“Mayhap that be thy curse!” he exclaimed. “Demons like not to be beaten by demoness.”

She shook her head. “Thinkst I know that not? Were thou a prospective match, thou wouldst ne’er discover so helpless a female, in anything relating to male’s domain.”

It seemed she did know what she was doing. She didn’t need to worry about beating him, as he was in no way a prospect for her. It was foolish, he knew, but he almost regretted that.

They ate supper while riding. Flach conjured cold sandwiches and cold milk for himself, not wishing to upset her by having hot food, and she ate ice cream from her own store. After a while his milk froze, so they traded, and she chewed on it while he had some of her ice cream. If a person was what she ate, he could see why she was sweet.

The demon guards were hunting on the move. They skied down ice rabbits and killed them with ice spears. They fired ice arrows up at ice geese and brought them down. This frozen realm was full of life, when a person knew what to look for. Perhaps the magic that protected him from the cold, and shielded Icy from his heat, also facilitated his perception of the nature of this region. It was far more interesting than he had supposed. Now he saw that there were ice plants, too, ranging from cut-glass blades of grass to snow trees.

“I fear I be losing my touch,” Icy remarked. “Thine eyes be straying across the landscape.” She inhaled. “Dost spy elevations more symmetrical than mine?”

“Thou wouldst not tease me so, an thou knew not mine age,” he accused her.

“Aye,” she agreed, satisfied.

The dogs drew up at a bit of an outcropping of ice, perhaps a glacier that had gotten lost. To the west dark clouds were surging, blotting out the chilly sunset. “There will be nice weather tonight,” Icy observed. “But methinks thou willst prefer to be under co’er.”

“Aye. Snow and ice be not as appealing to me as to thee.”

She smiled obscurely. “Mayhap we shall see.”

The demon guards unpacked a tent made of stitched snow, and stretched it over great long icicles that made fine poles. Icy crawled in, beckoning Flach to follow. She brought out an ice lamp whose central crystal radiated cold blue light, just enough to illuminate the interior.

“There be not enough snow for two beds,” she said, brushing the snow into a central pile. “Thou willst have to share with me.”

“I can make a small spell to make mine own—“ he started.

“Nay, that were pointless,” she said, removing her coat. “Thy spell will stop thy heat from melting the snow.”

“Aye, but—“

“And I like thy company,” she continued, pulling off her fine sweater. “I like not sleeping alone, anyway.”

“But—“

“Get thy clothes off,” she said, stepping out of her layered ice skirt. “Dost want to soil clean snow?”

“But I need my clothes to keep warm!”

“Nay, thy spell protects thee,” she said, removing her scant undergarments and hanging them neatly on an ice hook. Her body was now innocent of apparel, and resembled a glass and alabaster statue animated by the Brown Adept as a lovely golem.

“But a man be supposed not to sleep beside a woman not o’ his family,” he protested.

“But thou dost be no man, but a child. Thinkst thou my memory be so brief?”

“E’en so, it be not right to be naked together.”

“So? Were that the way it be with thine o’er self in Proton-frame?”

She had him as handily outflanked as she had on the card game. Nakedness was the norm in the other frame. Of course Nepe was used to it, but he couldn’t turn the body over to her, because she lacked the magic to confine its heat.

Defeated, he undressed. He was tired, and did need the sleep, and the snow did look very soft and fluffy. Though he was clothed with illusion, his apparel seemed to fit the larger body as well as it fitted him, and when he doffed it his apparent body was as naked as his real one, in a more manly manner.

Icy lay on the bed. “Didst say thou was with a Pack?” she inquired.

“Aye. They were kind to me.”

“Then thou hadst a Promised bitch?”

“Aye. When we come of age, we will mate, and go our ways.”

Icy spread her legs. They were as marvelously rounded and symmetrical as her upper features. “Methinks I will show thee how to do it, so thou dost know, when.”

I knew it! Nepe thought. I saw it coming!

How do I get out o’ if? he thought desperately.

Why bother? It’s good information. I’m learning things from her like mad!

Fat lot o’ help thou dost be! he retorted. Aloud, to Icy, he said: “I thank thee for thy consideration, but methinks I had better sleep.”

“Dost remember our card games?” she inquired, stretching her nicely proportioned arms languorously.

“Aye. But—“ Then he caught her drift. “Consequences!”

“Bright lad! Thou dost owe me a mountain o’ them! Come, Flach, I will hurt thee not. I want only to play with thee.”

“But why? I be o’ no interest to thee!”

“Because,” she said seriously, “an I practice with thee, and find what works, mayhap I can surmount my curse and nab a good match of my own kind.”

“Tell me thy curse, and mayhap I can make a spell to abate it,” he offered hopefully.

“Come to my arms, and I will tell thee, though I owe thee not.”

Flach got down on the bed beside her. She turned over, caught his shoulder and rolled him into her. She was amazingly pleasant to He against. His spell served as a barrier against heat leakage, so that neither could hurt the other, but it allowed all other aspects of touch to register. It enabled him to catch a tactile glimpse of what grown folk found in each other, physically.

“Four times have suitors come my father deemed worthy,” she said. She took a breath, and her softness pressed caressingly against him. “Each were eager to be close to me. But each were stricken at the moment he sought to do with me as I would do with thee. Two died, one went lunatic, and one be yet in coma. Now the suitors be nay so eager, and I fear the onset o’ being an old demoness. It be the curse, that strikes down any who would love me.”

“I checked thee for malign influence when I met thee,” Flach said, trying to focus on his words instead of on her breathing. “That be no distrust o’ thee, but ‘cause my mission be dire, and I fear bad magic ‘gainst me. There be no curse on thee I can fathom, Icy.”

“Kind of thee to say so, Adept,” she said. “But then what struck those suitors?”

“Mayhap I can fathom that. I should be proof ‘gainst it, ‘cause o’ my magic, youth, and not being thy kind.” He hoped; that sounded like a dreadful curse, and the qualities he had named were barely protecting him from her wiles. If the curse turned out to be stronger than her blessings, even his magic might not be enough, since he did not want to make a big splash. “Exactly how did it happen?”

“When I get a demon close,” she said, “and I kiss him like this”—she kissed him on the mouth, and if her prior kiss on his cheek had been pleasant, this was so much more so as to resemble Adept magic instead of minor peasant spells to ward off flies. “And I squeeze him like this”—she pressed him in to the length of her body, and the length of his body responded with such a warm surge of feeling that he feared it would break across the protective spell. “And I whisper in his handsome frozen ear an endearment.” She put her lips to his ear, and breathed, “I love thee,” and though he knew it was merely a demonstration, his heart seemed to swell and burst with responding passion. To love such a woman! What could anything else matter, after that?

“Oh!” she squeaked, horrified.

Flach rolled away and scrambled to his feet, afraid of what had happened. Sure enough, there was a melted streak the length of her beautiful body. His burgeoning heat had broken through and touched her, horribly.

“O, Icy, I be sorry!” he said. “I will make magic to mend thee!”

“The pain be awful,” she gasped. “An thou canst—“

“The burn dispel, and make her well,” he singsonged, willing the healing power. This was stronger magic than he liked to use, but he felt guilty for hurting her, and had to make it right.

A small cloud of freezing vapor appeared, and coalesced against her body. The meltline disappeared. Icy relaxed.

“Ah, thy magic be profound!” she said. “The burn be gone as it never were. I thank thee, I thank thee!”

“Nay, it were my fault I hurt thee. Thy kiss, thine embrace, thy words, they heated me so it burst through the spell, and I harmed thee awfully. I beg thy forgiveness, lovely creature!”

“Nay, apologize not to me!” she exclaimed, sitting up. “I led thee to it, with my foolish game. I tried to make thee hot, as I made the others—“

She broke off, staring. Flach came to the same realization. “The heat!” he exclaimed. “I be warm, but I be but a child. An thou couldst do that to me, what couldst thou do to a grown man?”

“Well, they be o’ ice, like me—“

“But an they heated, they could melt!” he said. “That be no curse—that be o’erabundance o’ passion!”

“But such ne’er happ’d before to demonesses!” she protested.

“There was ne’er a snow creature nor as lovely neither passionate as thee before!”

“Aye,” she breathed, appreciating the validity of his observation. “Then love be my curse.”

“But now the cause be known, can we mute it,” he said. “Needs must I merely put a spell on thee to cap the intensity o’ thy effect on others. Then canst thou love freely and safely.”

“Safe love,” she agreed, delighting in the concept. “Canst do it to me now?”

Even in her innocent expressions, she’s sexy! Nepe noted jealously.

“Aye.” Flach pondered briefly, then singsonged: “Let the lady’s love be cool, not hot; his passion be but half she’s got.” As verse it was nothing, but his concept was true: any male approaching her would find his ardor muted to about fifty per cent, which should be survivable. At the very least it would slow things, and give her time to choke down her intensity if she saw the male becoming uncomfortable.

“But I feel not different,” she said.

“The effect be on thy lover, not thee,” he explained.

“Needs must I verify this,” she decided. “Come here, Adept.”

Oops. And you thought you’d gotten out of it! Nepe laughed.

Well, there were worse fates. Flach lay down beside her again, on the bed of snow. “Mayhap I should increase the power o’ my barrier spell,” he said. “I want not to melt thee again.”

“An thy magic work, no need,” she pointed out. “Thou willst not heat enough to break through. We have found the same passion which melted demons caused thee to melt me; an thou no longer melt me, nor will they melt. That be the test. I want to damp them not down more than be needful.”

He had to concede it was a fair test. Too much damping would be deleterious to her romance.

She took hold of him again and pressed him close. He felt as if he were aging several years: good, manly ones. She kissed him. He felt as if he were floating through a golden radiance of delight. She touched her ice-perfect lips to his ear and whispered, “I love thee, Adept, for the favor thou has done me.” He felt as if he were floating through a golden radiance of delight.

What? That was the last feeling! What about his heart swelling and bursting with responding passion?

It’s the feeling-cap, dummy! Nepe reminded him.

Oh. Of course. “I think thou dost be wonderful,” he told Icy. “But that be the limit.”

“Be that so?” she inquired, feeling challenged. “Mayhap I can show thee a thing or two.” She rolled him over on top of her, spread her legs, and wrapped them around his hips. The legs were evidently the two things she was showing him. She inhaled, causing his body to be lifted by cushions. That made two more things. She kissed him in a way he had not realized was possible. That was two more things, her lips, more amazing than either of the prior sets. “Where be thy limit now?” she whispered.

“I be floating on golden clouds,” he said. “And gazing at a hea’en I long to reach, but can not. I love thee, demoness, but can feel only the part o’ it. I beg thee, tease me not further, lest I find ne’er in the rest o’ my life the like!”

“Then I be proof ‘gainst heating my man!” she exclaimed, delighted. “An this not heat thee, naught will!” She flexed her legs a bit, and took another breath, and squeezed him miraculously tight yet gentle, sending him for a ride on another golden cloud.

“Aye,” he agreed sadly. “Naught will. But had I been the man I look, methinks not e’en the spell would have stopped me from melting thee to a puddle.”

“For sure. Adept,” she agreed, pleased. She let him go, and he rolled over onto his own side of the snow with mixed emotions. “But the demon I take will be ice, and his heart will melt not. He will be reduced to the performance le’el o’ a demon’s way with an ordinary demoness.”

“Aye,” Flach agreed. “Dost that abate the onus o’ all my consequences?”

“Aye, Adept!” she agreed. “But I ne’er meant to make thee pay them; it were but fancy.”

He had suspected as much. Still, it was a relief. “Thank thee, Icy. Methinks I will e’er regret I were not made a snow demon.”

“That be but natural,” she pointed out. “Now needs must we sleep, for the morrow we meet the Pole.”

He had almost forgotten his mission, in the intrigue of his dialogue with the demoness. “Aye,” he said, and closed his eyes.

But it was a while before he was able to make his way down from the golden cloud to the more ordinary bed of snow, and sleep.

The guard demons had to dig them out in the morning, for the storm had buried their tent in snow. Icy sat up and stretched and breathed the horrendously coid air that rushed in as the tunnel reached the tent entrance.

Flach saw the shoveler-demon staring. “Icy, thy clothing,” he murmured “Dost not want thy guards melting before we reach the Pole.”

“To be sure!” she agreed, delighted, and got up to fetch her clothing. Actually his warning was not well taken, because she could no longer cause males to heat enough to melt. But he was mindful of her father’s caution; Flach’s grown image was to discourage the demons from getting ideas about a woman who was intended for demonly princes, not guards.

“And thou too, lover,” Icy said mischievously, glancing back at him.

Now Flach remembered that he was naked too, and that he had the semblance of a grown man. The guard demons could draw only one conclusion about what had gone on in the tent during the night. They would be wrong in detail, but perhaps not in principle. Had he been older, and colder...

He got up and dressed. Then they exited the tent, the demons gazing jealously at Flach, and got on the sledge. They had their breakfasts while zooming on toward the Pole. They played card games, and she skunked him continually. The consequences she demanded were always the same: she would wait till a guard was looking, then make Flach kiss her on the cheek or, sometimes, the lips, while she feigned reluctance. To the demons it would seem as if Flach were the one winning, and demanding the kisses from her. She wanted the world to know that she had made a conquest, and that the man had not died. All true, as far as it went. He wished it could be more than a mere game to her, and more than an impossible dream to him. He had understood the principle of mating, but had never before properly appreciated the intense lure of it, or the utter fascination a woman could represent for a man. Already he knew that it would take a very special woman to fulfill the longings Icy had seeded in him. Would there be any such, when he grew up?

“There it be!” she abruptly exclaimed.

Flach looked, surprised. There in the middle of the plain was a pole sticking in the snow. It was disappointingly simple, a mere column of ice with spiral ridges down its length. The oddest thing was that it was half in shadow. They drew up to it and halted.

“What now?” Icy inquired. “I realize that thy mission must seem a paltry thing, after my love, but surely thou dost have aught to do here?”

The guard demons fidgeted at this seeming confirmation of their suspicions. The demoness was truly enjoying herself.

The problem was that Flach had no idea what to do. The message had simply told him to come here. What now, indeed?

He walked over to the Pole. He touched it.

Immediately the Pole rose. A circular panel of ice came up, revealing a hole beneath. There were stairs going down.

“A cave ‘neath the Pole!” Icy exclaimed, delighted. “Ne’er suspected I this!”

Neither had Flach. But rather than seem uncertain, he squatted, ready to climb down the first big step. There had to be something for him in here.

I don ‘t like this, Nepe thought.

“Adept, ne’er would I gainsay thee, since thou mastered me,” Icy said timidly, for the guards were close by, nervously watching the hole as if afraid a fire-breathing dragon might put its head out. “But I intuit some mischief.”

Flach shrugged as if indifferent to mischief. “Dost think my mission takes me not here?” he asked.

“I fear it as I fear a fire lake,” she said. “It be not hostile, yet it be deadly. O my love, go not into that hole!”

She exaggerated her sentiment, of course, but underneath she did have some concern. He was glad to accept the pretext for caution. “I will humor thee by being most careful,” he said gruffly. The guards nodded; this was the way to handle a beautiful woman with foolish notions.

He peered into the hole, his eyes adjusting to its darkness. Now he saw a rope stretched along the stairs, going down out of sight. Its upper end terminated in a loop. A trap for his foot? Would it close about his ankle and haul him roughly into the depths?

“Willst humor me just a trifle more, my hero?” Icy inquired submissively. He was coming to appreciate just how docile a woman could make herself seem, when she chose. Nepe was making avid notes. “Let me drop aught inside, to see what stirs.”

“What could stir, here at the Pole?” he asked, hoping she had an answer.

“I know not, great one,” she confessed prettily. “But thou hast beaten me so badly at cards, requiring only kisses as penalties, which in truth be not burdensome at all when they be thine—“ Here she paused to bat her fine icy eyelashes at him adoringly. “I feel I must repay thee by in some way ensuring that thy bold foot slip not on those dire steps leading I know not where.”

“As thou wishest,” he said generously. Her worry was infectious; was there some threat there? Then why would his father send him here without warning?

Icy took a handful of snow and dropped it into the center of the hole. It powdered down, drifting slightly in the breeze, half of it bright in the daylight, half fading in the shadow that cut across the Pole, But as it passed ground level, it slowed and then halted.

They stared at it. The trailing fluff continued down, but the leading snow was hovering in place, not landing on the highest step.

Flach peered closely at the phenomenon. “It be moving down, but slowly,” he said. “I pose this as a riddle for thee, fair one: what be the meaning o’ this?” He hoped she had an answer!

“I thank thee for this chance to try my skill at what thou has already fathomed,” she said contritely. “Methinks this be a slowspell, that harms not who enters it, but slows him down so that what seems ten minutes to him be an hour outside, mayhap more. An thou go in there, we could wait long ‘fore thou dost emerge.” She raised her great eyes to him. “My love, I doubt I can wait that long for thee!”

That’s one clever doxie! Nepe thought. A slowspell! She must be right.

“And how wouldst thou have me accomplish my purpose within, timid demoness, an thou be so impatient for my return?” Flach asked sternly. This was a game he could get to like!

“Why, methinks I would have thee pull on the cord,” she said. “And bring out what lies within to thee, here in normal time.”

Flach stared at the loop at the end of the rope. Not a trap, but a pull-cord! That made perfect sense!

“Well, needs must we try it,” he said. “Methinks thine answer be apt.”

Icy downcast her eyes and made a snowy flush: a mirror-gloss formed on her alabaster complexion. How visibly she appreciated the compliment from the master! He knew it was only a game to her, but he couldn’t help feeling masterly.

That creature could give lessons to any warm female in the business! Nepe thought, awed. No wonder she melted males!

Flach reached down to grab the loop. His hand moved swiftly until it reached the region of the slow-falling snow; then it slowed. He felt no different, however; if he hadn’t been watching, he would not have realized that the slowdown had occurred.

But though his hand was slow, his arm was above, in normal time. He shoved it down, and the hand had to go. Thus he was able to pass the snow and reach the loop, thanks to his leverage. But when he closed his fingers on it, they failed to respond. They seemed to flex normally, but he could see that nothing was actually happening. They would react in their own good time— which seemed inordinately slow.

But he didn’t have to wait. His fingers were partly curled already. He moved his body and arm, the hand at the end seeming like a fixed hook, and scraped it across the rope so that the fingers caught in the loop. Then he hauled his hand up, and the rope came with it. In a moment his hand was back in normal time, instantly clenching on the rope, and the loop was in his possession.

But what was on the other end? He saw that the loop was actually part of a continuous cord, the two ends of it twining about each other to make the larger rope. No chance of this coming loose! He hauled on it, and the rope came out, not heavy.

Then it went taut. Flach hauled harder, and it came. By the feel of it there was some kind of animal on the other end, walking forward as it was hauled along. But why would he have been sent here to fetch an animal?

Flach kept hauling, hand over hand. Then the animal came slowly into view.

It was man! In fact, it was the Black Adept! Flach immediately recognized the black cloak and boots. The man had been on the other side in the war of Adepts, but had been fair by his definition. He was made of the line, or the line was made of him; Flach had never quite gotten it clear.

He had been sent here to rescue this man? There had to be a reason! “Icy, caution the demons to make no hostile move,” he murmured. “This be the Black Adept, and he be not good to cross.”

“Aye,” she said, gesturing to the guards, who promptly retreated. All creatures of Phaze had respect for Adepts, having learned it by hard lessons over the decades. Flach’s magic was less potent here, but he was an inexperienced child; the older Adepts would be as dangerous here as elsewhere.

Flach finally hauled the Adept out. It wasn’t by muscle so much as guidance; the man was walking to magnify the tugs of the rope. Soon he stood beside the Pole.

“Adept, I be the so-called Unicorn Adept,” Flach said, somewhat nervously. “We met once—“

“Aye,” the man said, having no trouble recognizing him despite Flach’s added years. It was often that way, with Adepts, who knew each other instinctively. “When thou wast prisoner o’ Translucent, on his ancient isle.”

“Aye. I was sent here, but I know not why. This be Icy, the daughter o’ Chief Icebeard, who guided me here.”

The Adept nodded briefly to Icy. “Thou hast done well, fair creature,” he said.

Icy, evidently in awe and fear of the Black Adept, flushed with a truer mirror-shine than before. “My pleasure, Adept,” she said doubtfully.

“Retreat, ere Green emerge,” Black said.

Icy fled. Black turned and hauled on his own rope, which connected to him like a tail. In a moment a ball of fire emerged from the hole. Once this was in the open air, it coalesced into the form of a stout man in green. Flach recognized him too: the Green Adept.

“We thank thee for thy promptness,” Green told Flach. “It were a slow trek out, on our own, though time seemed normal to us within.”

“The Rovot Adept sent me, but he told me not why,” Flach said, amazed at this development. “Canst tell me?”

“Aye, lad,” Green said. “We set the Magic Bomb.”

“Under the Pole?” Flach asked, amazed again.

“Aye. Know this, tad: an the main ploy fail, the Bomb will destroy all. We detonate it now.”

As Green spoke, Black jerked on his line, and it came out of the hole. Evidently the cord had attached to something.

“Now?” Flach asked, appalled.

“Aye. But it be in slow time, so will break not free for six weeks. That be time enough, an thou perform as well thine other tasks as this one.”

“An I do that, thou willst turn it off?”

Green laughed. “Nay, lad! It can be turned off not. It be in process o’ explosion. None can approach it.”

“But then—“

“This be why thy sire told thee not, lest the enemy learn and come ‘fore we were done: thine other two missions will save Phaze, yea e’en from this. Take care thou dost complete them, lad, lest we all perish.”

“But I don’t know what—“

“Nor do we, lad. But the Book o’ Magic and the Oracle hatched the plot, and thou be the one to implement it. Now listen well: the part o’ Black and Green be done. We made and triggered and placed the Bomb. We be now expendable. We shall guard and hide thee so thou canst proceed about thy next mission. Check it not till thou dost be back in the pleasant latitude. Concern thyself not for us; merely see that thou be not caught.”

“But—“

“The enemy has traced thee, lad, but knows not what we do here. There will be an ambush at the White Mountains. When I signal thee, do thou assume a form none will suspect, and leave us to our fate. We will co’er for thee. Dost understand?”

Flach’s head was spinning. But it made sense, if what Green told him was true. He had to avoid capture, so that he could fulfill the remaining two directives on the message capsule. “Aye,” he said bravely.

Flach rode the sledge back, seated beside Icy as before. The Black Adept donned a white cape of snow and skied behind, seeming to have no problem with the cold. Perhaps that was because Green, in the form of another fireball, rode with him. It was a strange procession, but no stranger than the discoveries Flach was making.

“Canst tell me what be o’ such import that three Adepts join in it?” Icy inquired. “My female curiosity be about to melt me!”

There seemed to be no harm in the news now. “We have a dire plot to save Phaze from the Hectare,” he said. “An it succeed, we all be free.” He decided not to tell her the alternative.

“Aye, methought it be aught like that,” she said. “Meanwhile, howe’er that turn out, I will be fore’er thankful to thee for curing my curse.”

“Thou didst help me much,” he said. “When I grow up, I will have an awful time finding a creature as wonderful as thou.” He had mentioned this before, but realized that it bore repeating, because she was even nicer to him when complimented. It also happened to be true. Her father Icebeard was one of the finest chess players of the planet; Icy took after him in being one of the most attractive females of the planet. It was obvious that both worked very hard at their specialities.

“Aye,” she agreed complacently. Then she leaned over and kissed him, granting the reward he had hoped for.

When they camped for the evening, the two other Adepts remained apart, evidently able to fend for themselves. Flach shared the tent again with Icy. She did not try to seduce him this time; she merely embraced him and slept. It was about the finest sleep he could imagine. He was quite smitten with her, despite the formidable differences between them; she knew this, and was satisfied. She liked to win, in love as well as cards, and was generous in victory.

On the second day, approaching the White Mountains, trouble came. Geysers of hot gas erupted from the snow, appearing randomly. One formed near a guard, and the demon had barely time to scream before he melted.

“O my love, our geyser enemy be striking!” Icy cried, terrified. “We must away, ‘fore it destroy us all!”

But already the gas vents were behind them; there was no sure way out. Flach, after his association with the snow demons, well appreciated the horror of this threat. Heat was their deadliest enemy. The icedogs were whimpering and milling about, seeking comfort close to the sledge. But he didn’t know how to stop the gas. Had he known about this threat in advance, he could have devised a suitable spell to counter it, but now he couldn’t think of anything.

The Black Adept skied up on his black-line skis. “Do thou do it now!” he called to Flach.

Flach realized that he was referring to the transformation Green had spoken of. He sang his spell: “In co’er o’ fog, exchange with dog.”

Vapor appeared, hiding him. Suddenly he was in the form of one of the icedogs—and the dog was in the form of the man Flach had appeared to be. The dog was bound by the form, unable to leave the sledge—but it was a good place to be, next to Icy.

Then the green fireball sailed up and exploded. Light blinded them all. But in a moment, as Flach and the demons and dogs blinked back their sight, the hot gas vents were gone. Green, the Adept of fire, had taken charge and suppressed them.

“Go on through!” the Black Adept called. “Before the jets resume!”

Icy called to the milling dogs, and they re-formed their lines and forged forward. Flach was one of the loose dogs, running beside the sledge. He saw Icy speak to the man-image beside her, then her surprise as she realized that something had changed, for the image barked in response.

Icy, absolutely no dummy, glanced across at Flach. He nodded his head. She nodded hers, catching on. She pursed her lips in a farewell kiss. Then she turned back to the figure on the sledge, treating it as a companion, while Flach ranged outward as if searching for new threats to guard against. He was glad she understood; with two other Adepts along, and an ambush awaiting them, she knew that he had to hide again. Perhaps he had been foolish to let her know about his change of form, but he thought she would help cover for him, and he didn’t want her believing that he was captured with the others. It was his hope that beneath her humor and games she really did care for him a little. That hope would sustain him for a long time.

The group went to the White Mountains—and the ambush was sprung. Icy had just directed the dogs to skirt a bank of fog, because she did not trust fog in this cold. It might be natural ice-fog, or it might be more hot venting. But before they could clear it, it abruptly expanded, and armed men stepped out of it, forming a semicircle around the sledge. This might be the realm of magic, and the demons might be made of ice, but they knew immediately that they were helpless before this enemy. The men were armed with flame-throwers, the most deadly mundane weapon here.

The Purple Adept stepped out of the fog. “We have tracked you three, and now have you. An any resist, we shall torch the snow demons here and take him anyway; we have set a spell to snare any who try to use magic to flee. What shall it be?”

“Thinkst to employ my specialty ‘gainst me?” the Green Adept said scornfully. “I can douse those flames, or turn them against thee.”

“An thou dost, thy family pay,” Purple said evenly. “And thine, Junior Adept,” he added, looking at the figure beside Icy. “We have all in tow.” He looked at the Black Adept. “And we can cut thy line: a Hectare missile be oriented on thy castle. But the Hectare be indifferent, and will harm none not who resist them not.”

“Thou dost come too late,” Black said. “We have planted the Magic Bomb where none can retrieve it.”

“About that we shall see,” Purple said. “Now, submit yourselves to Hectare power, and it be done.”

Green shrugged. “Methinks this be not the end o’ this.” But the two Adepts went with Purple. Now a Hectare saucer-ship came into view within the fog. This trap had been thorough!

When the two of them, and the man-figure beside Icy, stood with Purple, the snow demons were freed. “Go, maid o’ ice, and tell thy folk to associate not again with enemies o’ the power that be,” Purple cried.

The harnessed dogs scrambled away, hauling the sledge, and the loose ones ranged beyond them, resuming their guard duty. Flach knew he had escaped; by the time Purple discovered his error, it would be too late to do anything about it. He was just one dog, coming into the mountains where thousands were, and no snow demon would betray him.

He hoped Icy did well in her quest for a suitable match. He rather thought she would, now.