Unicorn Point

6 - Nepe

Citizen Purple put through a query: “Troubot, what is the latest pattern on werewolves?”

“Sir, it is unchanged since your last query,” the trouble shooter robot responded. The machine was not at Purple’s site; it was on a special network that connected only selected personnel. It was one of the few self-willed machines still used by the Contrary Citizens, because it was uncannily good at its job, and related well to each client. There was a difference between machines, and compatible ones were valued.

The Citizen said a bad word. “Query the boy.” This was part of it: Troubot knew what and whom he meant when he wasn’t specific.

“Query initiated. Will you wait, sir?”

“No. Buzz me back when you have the new pattern.” Purple was a surly brute, but he never refused a call from this machine.

Troubot did not answer. It proceeded about its business. It was paging the residence of Bane, the man from Phaze, who had just transferred in to Proton. When there was no response after a reasonable interval, it paged him at the residence of Agape, his wife.

“Damn thee, Troubot, canst thou not wait?” Bane responded irritably. “I be romancing my love at the moment.” There were no secrets from this machine; it did not tell.

“Your love must be delayed a moment,” the machine responded. “Citizen Purple requires the latest pattern. You forgot to post your survey report, as usual.”

“Thou impertinent golem! It be a full month I have suffered the temptations o’ the evil female Tania, longing always for mine own female. I be near to bursting!”

“I have no sympathy. Make your report.”

“Nay! This be more urgent!”

But Agape interceded, managing to control her mirth. “Make your report, my love. We don’t want to set Purple off.”

“The merry hell with Purple! He be no better than his other self in Phaze, and that be too low to fathorn with a magic measuring rod! I have a better subject to fathorn.”

Agape cocked her head at him. “And just what were these temptations Tania worked on you, that got you so much more lusty than you ever are with me?”

“Needs must I do that report for Purple,” he said quickly.

“Because her other self here in Proton is just like her, and she seems much smitten with Mach, and so also perhaps with you. If you really believe she can offer you more—”

“I be on my way!” he cried, leaping up despite his evident state of readiness for their liaison. Agape smiled; she knew how to manage him.

So, grudgingly, Bane listed the information gleaned during the last week of his stay in Phaze. This consisted of routine statistics about Packs checked and wolf pups shifted between Packs. Such reports had been made throughout the four-year search, as the party of Bane/Mach, Fleta and Tania methodically canvassed human villages, unicorn Herds, vampire Flocks and other groups, narrowing down the remaining hid ing places for the child Flach.

“Thank you. Bane,” Troubot said as he concluded. “Now you may return to your prior endeavor. I note however that your state of readiness has diminished; do you need any assistance?”

Bane had to laugh. “None thou couldst provide, rovot! Go about thy business, and bother me not again this hour.” Troubot did not reply; it had been given a direct command, so obeyed it. However, within its frame of service it had fair latitude for discretion, and would indeed bother Bane again if it came across news it knew he desired immediately. It addressed each client in the manner specified by that client; with some it was always serious, and with others, such as Bane, it bantered. Living folk soon became bored with pure business, so Troubot embellished its business just enough to provide some variety.

This was of course well within the capabilities of a self willed machine. Indeed, it could be difficult at times to tell whether one was dealing with a machine or a living person. Those on Troubot’s net had come to depend on it increasingly for small services, and some even, in a manner, liked the machine for its personality.

No one, however, suspected it of being anything other than a robot. This was its victory—because it was not precisely a machine. It had come into existence in its present role four years before, just before the child Nepe had disappeared. The records showed that it had been manufactured, educated and tested, but had proved to be out of tolerance for the purpose for which it had been crafted, so that it had been rejected.

Because it was a self-willed machine, it begged indulgence: to be retrained rather than recycled, so that it would not lose its present consciousness. This appeal had been rejected; it was not a humanoid machine, so lacked serf status, and had no right to its present existence.

Troubot had fled this judgment. It had shown up at the residence of Citizen White and begged sanctuary. “Sanctuary—for a machineT’ the Citizen had asked derisively.

“I will give good service!” Troubot said. “Train me in whatever you will, and I will serve loyally. Only keep me from being scrapped and recycled!”

It happened that Citizen White had been having trouble with machines, requiring more sophisticated services than could be well provided by rote robots. The Contrary Citizens as a group had eschewed the use of the higher-class robots, fearing their subversion by Citizen Blue. It occurred to her that she might indeed have uses for a renegade self-willed machine, unconnected to the main group of them. She could not have it modified in the regular manner, because that would have entailed access to its circuits by self-willed technicians, so she tried training it by hand: telling it what she wanted, and letting it train itself. Troubot became her personal attendant, fixing her hair, applying her makeup, and dressing her for special occasions. It did indeed give good service, being pathetically eager to please.

Later she had the machine run errands for her—private ones that she did not want passed through official circuits. It showed aptitude, and other Citizens noticed. In due course it was running errands for them, too. When there were private trysts to be made, Troubot coordinated them. Tania’s lovely serf receptionist Tsetse was much in demand in this respect; Citizens could hire any serfs they chose, and do with them what they chose, but Tsetse was Tania’s employee, and Tania reserved her for herself, and her brother Citizen Tan supported her in that. Citizen Purple, working through Troubot, had gained access to Tsetse without Tania’s knowledge. Tsetse had been willing enough for male contact of any kind, and kept the secret, knowing that Tania would destroy her if she learned. Thus Purple owed White, in whose residence the trysts occurred, and accepted Troubot as an entity of consequence, because the robot was the intermediary. In such manner, over the years, Troubot had become secure in the employment of the Contrary Citizens, trusted by all. The self-willed machines had long since given up the effort to have Troubot recycled; the protection of the Citizens was too potent.

Physically, Troubot was a wheeled cylinder with appendages. Most of the time Troubot did not move about, but plugged into the standard networks in order to do spot research or contact specific Citizens. It moved from Citizen White’s residence only when directed to do so. During White’s absences, Troubot became caretaker of the premises. Citizen White regarded it as indispensable, and others did not argue. But Troubot was not exactly a machine. The records had been slightly modified by sophisticated means, so that, after the first few hours, no discovery was likely. Troubot was two entities: one a machine, the other an alien creature with human genes, and abilities few imagined. Troubot One was as described, but was not working under its original title. Troubot Two had taken its place, and had once been known as Nepe, Agape’s child.

This secure masquerade was about to be placed in peril.

For Nepe was naturally the first to appreciate the significance of the new pattern Purple had demanded. In Phaze, the searching trio was about to close in on the werewolf Pack of Kurrelgyre. They had cross-checked the pups traveling between Packs, and discovered one that didn’t fit. This was the one that was Flach.

Nepe had served the Citizens with absolute loyalty, excepting only the revelation of her identity. She had even assisted in their search for her, knowing it to be futile; they had never suspected that she could assume the form of a robot. In this manner she had been not only safe, but kept current on their searches in both frames. She had also been able to associate with her parents, so that she had not been nearly as lonely as she might have been. Indeed, she had come to understand a great deal more about their private life together than she had before, and in the process had learned more about sexuality than a child was normally told. She had compared notes with Flach, who had the input of wolf ways, and both had profited. But now she knew that the crisis was upon them again, as it had been when Flach sent her the “hide” message. Her hiding place was secure, but his was not—and the moment he was caught, she would be too, because of their linkage.

She paused a few minutes, considering. She dared not wait long before notifying Citizen Purple, but she had to decide her course of action first. She was older now than she had been, and vastly more experienced intellectually, but she knew she would have no chance to resist the Citizens if she were discovered. What should she do?

She had thought this through before, and decided on a risky effort. It seemed to her that its chances of success were at best even—but the consequences of inaction would guarantee the loss of their freedom. Now that the crisis had come, as she had known it would despite hoping for some reprieve, she saw no better alternative than that risky course. She would have to save Flach from capture. Nepe set her situation in order as well as she could, arranging things so that they could proceed mostly automatically. When she had adopted this machinelike form, she had also adopted machinelike ways; her mind emulated robotic circuitry. A simple directive could accomplish a fairly complicated task. She made sure that her body could function with minimum input, so that it would not betray her nature in her absence.

Then she put in a call to Troubot One, using an access code that only the two of them knew. Troubot answered immediately; he was Nepe’s closest friend, and he knew he owed his consciousness to her. It had been her genius that had enabled him to hide while she emulated him and got him the placement with Citizen White. Once that was secure, they had exchanged places, and he had had an easy menial job. Later, when Nepe had to hide, she had taken his place again, and he had hidden. Since he was no longer the object of a search, that was easy to do; he simply merged with unwilled machines, intercepting their orders and performing their tasks himself. He had excellent adaptive ability, having been constructed as an all-purpose servitor. His flaw had been in the brain: it was out of tolerance on the upside. In short, he was too smart and too independent. But neither as smart nor as independent as Nepe!

“Troubot, I must do something dangerous,” she informed him. “I will be of limited function for a while. You must watch me, and substitute for me if I get confused. There is great danger.”

“Let me do this dangerous task for you!” he pleaded. “I love you, and would not let you be hurt.”

“I love you too, Troubot.” She knew how that could be, too, because her father used Uncle Mach’s robot body in Proton. It was natural that she should emulate her mother, and love a machine, or the equivalent. It was hardly necessary to be in humanoid form in order to love! “But this thing I must do myself. Here is my update on current activities.”

“I can readily handle these,” he agreed. “But this danger—”

“I may be going somewhere,” she explained. “Another mind may use my body. I fear it is not safe to tell you more. Just protect this one as you would me.”

“That I shall do,” he agreed. He sent a trace current that translated as emotion: concern, appreciation, loyalty.

“Thank you, Troubot,” she replied, sending a similar surge.

Then she braced herself for the supreme effort. What she contemplated had never been done before, but she believed it was possible. It was the only way to do what had to be done, so it had to be possible!

When she was as ready as she could be, she did another new thing: she contacted Flach without using the cover of their fathers’ contact. Flach! Flach!

His response was startled. Nepe! There be no cover!

This is an emergency, she returned. They know where you are. They are closing in. You can’t escape.

We have had wind of their approach. I must try to get away!

I have a plan.

If they capture me, they‘ll make me betray thee, and then they‘ll have us both.

I know, Flach. But they are not going to be fooled. That’s why I must save you. My hiding place is safe. We must exchange. You hide here; I will hide your body there.

But we can ne ‘er—

Yes we can! We are opposite selves. I know it!

But we be male and female!

Doesn‘t matter. My substance can assume either sex. Now do it, before they tune in and locate us this way. Flach, realizing that crazy as this seemed, it was their only chance, agreed.

But first I must get to a private place, and warn my wolf-mates. They will help; they can be trusted.

I hope so. Nepe knew the names of the wolves; he had told her of the oath-friendships when they occurred. She gave him time to do what he needed.

It turned out to be more complicated than they had thought. The oath-friends insisted on helping. They pointed out that it would be me next day before the Adept party arrived. They would go on a hunt, the four of them, and make their first kill. That would be their pretext for ranging far from the Pack. When they were far enough away, they would make a break for it, and the Adepts would not be able to catch them. It would be dark, and the cover of night would help; the Adepts might even sleep through it.

Nepe had to agree that this was worth trying. If he could get free without having to exchange, it would save them a lot of trouble. She was afraid that the Adepts or the Citizens would tune in on their communications, but since they had never done this openly before, it might be that no one was checking now.

The wolves organized immediately. Kurrelgyre, pleased with their initiative, approved, and even suggested an appropriate region to hunt, where rabbits were plentiful this season. The four assumed wolf-forms and moved out together. There were no communications for a time. Nepe knew that Flach was sparing her the dull details of a run through forest and fields, as well as protecting them both from discovery by keeping his contact limited. He would be in touch when something happened.

Just at dusk he called her. Nepe! I made a kill! I got a rabbit, all by myself. Sirel got another!

But you didn’t go to make a kill! she protested.

I didn ‘t expect to make a kill, he corrected her. But it be the pretext, and it be a significant thing in wolven terms. Now Sirel and I can assume our third syllables, and can commit to our first mating, and take the fourth.

Mating! Flach, you are too young!

Nay, wolves can do it sooner than human folk. It takes not, but be good experience. It would be abnormal for us to do it not as soon as possible. Of course the first mating be ne ‘er the one for later breeding; that partner be forbidden. It be a thing best arranged between oath-friends, which we be.

Nepe realized that Flach’s main protection was in his similarity to the other wolves of the Pack. The longer he could act like a wolf while ranging farther from the Pack, the better chance he might have to get away. Mate with her then, and get it over with! she thought ungraciously.

Nay, we mate not actually now. She be not in heat; she be too young for that.

Then don’t mate with her! Just keep moving out!

But we must needs commit. There be a ceremony. It must be done properly, so that the naming be legitimate.

Nepe was exasperated. Such a complication had never occurred to her, and in truth she was somewhat jealous of the manner his society allowed him to step into an adult emulation so young. But if there was any hope that this would enable him to win free on his own—

They went through their ceremony of Commitment. It was, it seemed, somewhat like a betrothal. When Sirel achieved her first heat, in perhaps two years, Barel would be the one she sought for her maiden mating. Other males would respect that, knowing she was pledged. Thus their initiation into full adult status would be mutual. Never again thereafter would they mate with each other; it would be a rite of passage, not a breeding or permanent association.

In due course the two other wolves were willing to bear witness that a Commitment had occurred. Flach could now adopt Si as his final syllable, and Sirel could adopt Ba as hers. Thus they were Bareisi and Sirelba, each with another syllable to be inserted third when their kills were recognized by the Pack. Oath-friends and first mates—it was a significant occasion for them both. Henceforth they would be considered borderline adult, though some leeway for growing would be allowed. In the frame of Proton, the equivalent would be called adolescence.

But we must needs carry our kills back to the Pack, Flach thought. Otherwise

No! Nepe protested. You must get far away!

Then Flach saw a dragon flying, pursuing what appeared to be a great circle around the region where the Pack was camped. This was not normal behavior for a dragon; obviously it was acting as an agent for the Adepts. Any wolf who strayed too far would be a target of suspicion. Nepe was ready to throw things at walls, but she had to concede that normal wolf behavior was in order. They had to head home to the Pack.

Darkness closed before they reached it. This was a decent pretext to halt and camp. Flach and Sirelba shared their rabbits with the other two, saving the pelts and skeletons for evidence. Then the four settled down to sleep. But by morning the Adept party was at the wolf camp. Nepe learned this when Mach sent the message; they had moved quickly in order to prevent any wolves from departing. Flach could not return.

He explained this to the others. “Then we will help thee flee,” Sirelba growled in wolf talk. “We will lead the pursuit astray so that thou canst get free.”

But it would take more than that. Flach knew the powers of his father, and realized that no simple diversion would suffice. They would all four shortly be captive.

Now we must exchange, Nepe said with regret.

Now we must needs exchange, Flach agreed. We shall assume human form, for I doubt thou canst be a wolf.

Flach concentrated and sang a spell of exchange. Nepe simply willed herself into Phaze and into his body. They had never tried this before, but both knew how their fathers did it; they had tuned in on the patterns of magic and concentration many times, and knew them well. They imitated those patterns.

Nepe suffered vertigo. Then she stumbled and almost fell. She was in human form, standing under a tree in the company of three other children of her age. All were clothed, and so was she; that started her, until she realized that it was the way of Phaze. One was a lovely dark-haired girl; another was a tawny-haired girl; and the third was a shaggy brown-haired boy. The first girl would be Sirelba, the second Terel, and the boy Forel.

“I am Nepe,” she said as she recovered her equilibrium.

“We know, “ Sirelba said. “But we shall call thee Bareisi, that thy nature be not betrayed in speech. What be thy ruse for escape?”

Nepe gazed around, still awed by her success. This really was Phaze! “Are we private?”

“Aye. We be beyond the range of yon dragon, and we can sniff hostile magic when it intrudes. But we know not how long before the net closes. Needs must we act soon, ere the magic come.”

Nepe knew that the three were oath-friends to Flach, and that they would never betray him. But she had a reservation. “You know that Flach—I mean Bareisi—was never one of your kind. Can your Oaths of Friendship be binding?”

“They be binding,” the girl assured her. “Species matters not. Many o’ this Pack be oath-friend to Neysa Unicorn.”

“And your Commitment—how can it be honored if you help Bareisi get away, and he hides elsewhere and you never see him again?”

“I will wait till he come to me,” Sirelba said simply. “An he can, he will come. An he can not, I will seek him.”

“What if he is dead?”

“I will avenge him.”

“As will we,” Terel said. “As he would for us.”

Nepe was impressed. “How do you feel about him? I mean, I know you made an oath, but you must have some private impressions.”

“I love him,” Sirelba said. “Ne’er could we be lifemates, because we be counted as from the same packlet; we must breed outside it. So I glean o’ him what I can: first mating. An he die ere it be done, our other oath-friend Forel will do it. An I die, Terel will fill for me. But I would die for him regardless. He be the best male o’ my generation I know, though he be not true wolf.”

“But I am not he. What of me?”

“Thou dost be his other self. We help thee as we help him. Canst thou save his body from capture?”

“I hope so. But I will need your closest cooperation.”

“Thou willst have it. What—“

Sirelba paused, and the other two reacted similarly. “The net!” Forel whispered.

“Stay close!” Nepe said. “I must do magic, and I’ve never done it before!” Then she chanted:

0 Fog and 0 Smoke

The curse o’ Proton-frame—

Pollution invoke

That we may play a game!

Immediately there was a stirring in the air, as of a storm forming. It was working! She had known it should, but feared it would not. There was no storm; instead it was more like a dust devil stirred up by a gust across a dry plain. The effect expanded rapidly, rising to cloud the sky and spreading to include the small group.

“Drop to the ground!” Nepe cried. “Breathe through the turf! Keep your eyes closed until it thins!” She made an example by flinging herself down and burrowing her face into the ground.

The others stood for a moment bemused. Then the swirling black vapors caught them, and they broke into paroxysms of coughing. Suddenly they understood: this was poison! They got down and sought the filtration of the natural soil, while the foul cloud washed over them.

It took some time for the awful fog to thin. Finally Nepe sat up. Her eyes were bleary and her breathing labored, but she could handle it, having known what to expect. “It will ease gradually,” she gasped. “Now we must arrange our escape.”

Forel roused himself. “But the net!” He coughed, then recovered. “They watch!”

She smiled. “Not any more. I made a spell of magic pollution; we experience only the peripheral effects.”

“The what?”

She realized that young werewolves would not be exposed to the technical terms of Proton technology. “What we feel is at the edge, and is weak; what is at the center is strong, and that is the pollution—the smoke and fog—that obscures magic. I learned this spell from the Oracle, who put it out on general information at the behest of Citizen Blue. That way I could learn it without giving away my hiding place. It seemed a pointless exercise at the time, and few people even noticed; Blue does crazy things every so often, like making public love in vats of green gelatin. I knew he hoped I would find use for it, and now I have. No magic net can spy on us now—not until the fog clears.”

Forel nodded, smiling. “What makes us cough, gives the Adepts a real illness!”

“Close enough. Now under this cover we must act. They will be checking each creature who seeks to leave this region. I must be of a form they will not suspect.”

“But canst thou change forms as Bareisi could? He knew man, wolf, bat and ‘corn, and in secret worked on others he dared not assume lest he be discovered. Likewise he dared not do magic, though he be talented in it.”

“He worked on ogre, dragon and harpy forms,” she agreed. “And cloud magic. He thought to infiltrate the enemy ranks, where they would not suspect. But he knew that the net would catch him in the change, so he didn’t dare. But no, I can not change forms; my mother Agape was here once, and it took her a long time and much mischief to change forms. I know better than to try. The Adepts will check all creatures anyway, and know who is not natural. That was why Bareisi knew he was trapped.”

Sirelba had roused herself and become somewhat acclimatized to the choking environment. “Harpy form? But he be male!”

“Perhaps you natural form changers are confined to the same sex. We are not sure that holds for Adept form changers. Bareisi wanted to try the harpy form and see whether it was possible. Now that we have exchanged minds, I believe it is possible, for I am a female mind in his body. Only the natural body is fixed; the others can be adapted for size and appearance, and I think sex would be one of the options. But that is not the point: had he so changed, the net would have caught the flare of magic, and the Adepts would have known.”

“Mayhap,” Sirelba agreed, awed.

“Now, with the pollution spell, such form changes can not be accomplished. The enemy would have caught the flare of my spell, but its very nature quickly made that useless. The three of you must not try to resume your wolf forms; the spell would interfere, and you might get into serious trouble. So we must change our forms another way.”

“Another way?” Terel asked, the last to rouse herself. Her eyes were streaming; the pollution was affecting her worse.

“Makeup. We need clay, or something similar. Something that can be molded, and will dry in place and keep its shape.”

“There be fish-nest lining in the nearby stream,” Forel said. “It be much like clay, and holds its shape, but ne’er dries out completely. It be flesh-colored. Would that do?”

“Excellent! We must go there immediately.”

They led her to the stream, uncertain what she had in mind. The water was clear, and the pollution was less intense near it; Terel lay down beside it and found some relief. “Now we must convert this body to female, and one of you girls to male,” Nepe said, undressing. “Bitches,” Sirelba said.

“What?”

“We be bitches. Female wolves.”

“Oh. Yes. Do you see the nature of this ruse?”

“They will catch and hold the males, not the bitches!”

Sirelba exclaimed. “They will let these pass!”

“Yes. Unable to verify us magically, they will do it physically; Two males, two females—by the time they realize their error, I should be past their net.” She frowned. “But there may be danger. When they learn that they have been deceived—”

“A wolf lives by danger,” Forel said bravely, and the two bitches agreed. “We shall decoy them, and deceive them, and take the consequence. They can not be too cruel, for our Pack would react.”

“The hair!” Sirelba exclaimed. “Thy hair be dark, like mine; thou canst not pass for Terel.”

Nepe nodded. “Good point. You and I must exchange appearances.”

They went to it. They packed fish-nest lining about their crotches, masking their genitals. Nepe’s masculine appendage had to be folded down and covered, while Sirelba required an artificial appendage. Forel had great fun shaping it for her, to her embarrassment. Wolves were open about natural functions, but this reversal of roles was a new experience for the bitch.

“But watch out how thou pissest!” he said.

That made Nepe pause. “Can we make it possible? We may be many hours in these disguises. Something like that could ruin everything!”

They discussed it, and concluded that it was best to do it artfully. They poked a thin stick through the clay, and drew it out as the substance set. This left a channel, so that Sirelba would be able to urinate through it, carefully, if she had to. They made a similar channel in Nepe’s clay, slanting from the tip of her penis to the appropriate site on the surface.

“But watch out that thou dost not get a boner!” Forel warned. Nepe wasn’t sure what he meant, but a moment’s reflection clarified the reference. It would be very awkward, perhaps even a fatal complication (one that would give her away), if her penis were to change its shape while the clay was on, and break out of its confinement. She understood that this could happen involuntarily; she hoped that this would not occur in the next few hours.

By the time the job was done, and the fish-clay had solidified, they were well into night. They were tired, but could not afford to rest. The escape had to be accomplished by dawn, because sunlight would dissipate the pollution spell. They made hasty plans, then set out.

Forel went east, Terel went south, and Nepe and Sirelba went west. Since the Pack camp was north, they were fleeing it. They knew this would bring suspicion on them, but since they also knew that the Adepts were sure Flach was here, this made no difference.

They followed the major trails. There really wasn’t much choice, when they were in a hurry, because traveling by night was dangerous anywhere else. The trails were cleared, so that they could readily sniff and hear lurking predators, and they could travel much more swiftly on them. Their human bodies were ill adapted to hurry through uncharted brush, but competent enough for the trails.

They knew that all the wolves would be heading in to the Pack for the assembly required, by the Adepts. But the presence of the pollution fog would be signal enough of their attempt to escape. All the trails leading out from the origin of the cloud would be watched, probably by the Adept party, not trusting any other creatures to do the job. Three members, three escaping trails: one to each. The Robot Adept, whose travel magic would remain despite the fog, would take the others to two of the trails, and would guard the third himself.

It was in fact like a Proton Game, Nepe thought. She had to guess which trail was safest, and Flach’s father Mach had to guess which one Nepe would choose. The odds favored her: she had two chances in three to be on the trail that the robot did not check. Because Mach would know her; he was too clever to be deceived by her ruse. If he intercepted her, she was lost. But if one of the others intercepted her, she could escape. Flach had been a werewolf for four years, and had the werewolf look and smell; Fleta would hardly know him now, and Tania would know him only by description. In a pressure situation, one of those two was liable to make a mistake. The odds might be two to one in favor of such an error.

Nepe understood the dynamics of chance, because it was integral to the Proton Game. Two chances in three of getting a foolable interceptor; two chances in three of fooling that person. That figured to four or five ninths of a chance to get free, depending on the system. About even. The odds overall were not ideal, but they were a lot better than what otherwise offered. That was the best she could do for Flach. Now, as she hurried with Sirelba along the path, she contacted her other self. Flach! Are you ready to exchange back? Aye! Anytime! This frame mystifies me!

Stay alert. Once I win free, you must return, because you can change forms as I can not.

As dawn approached, the fog was thinning; she knew she had to complete her ploy before day took over, because it depended on the presence of the fog that fuzzed out the magic of the others. The sooner the better, for this confrontation!

Then, abruptly, it came: a cloaked figure stood athwart the path. Which one was it?

“You know what to do,” she said to Sirelba.

“Aye.”

They slowed as they approached the figure. It was Tania!

Nepe felt the thrill of incipient victory. Then Sirelba broke from the path, scrambling through the rough brush, heedless of the scratches. Tania turned to face her. Nepe felt the surge of magic as the Evil Eye manifested. Sirelba stumbled and fell.

“Nay!” Nepe cried, running toward Tania. “Spare him, Adept! I love him! We be promised first mates!” Tania walked toward the fallen figure.

Nepe pursued. “Take me instead. Adept! Whatever he has done, I will redeem! I beg thee!”

Tania turned and peered at Nepe. The woman’s eyes in the dusk of the night seemed to glow. Suddenly Nepe understood the power of those eyes; they were seeing right through her! Then the woman resumed her focus on Sirelba. She squatted beside the body and poked at the clothing. “Aye, this be the male, and dark,” she murmured. “This be he, at last.”

“Nay!” Nepe cried, and such was her animation in the tension of this role that she really was crying; tears were flowing. “He be nothing to thee! Oh, let him go, Adept!”

Sirelba stirred. “Get away from here, girl,” she rasped. “You will only antagonize her.”

“Good advice, bitch,” Tania said.

Nepe backed away. “Ne’er will I forget thee, my Promised!”

Then, feigning reluctance, she turned and walked on along the path. The final ploy had worked. She had gotten past! When she was safely out of sight, she thought to her other self again. Flach! Now exchange—and get far gone from here! They made their joint effort, and again Nepe felt the disorientation. Then she was back in her robotic body in Proton. She had done it! She had exchanged, and used her one spell, and her ability to act like what she was, a girl, and had sprung Flach from the trap! Meanwhile Flach had been secure here, unsuspected.

Suddenly she was very tired. She slept. Some time later Flach called: Nepe, our fathers be communicating now; we can talk.

Where are you? she asked joyfully.

With Phoebe Harpy. She be independent now, though her Flock aligns with the Adepts, and will betray me not. I be in harpy form. They will ne’er look for me here!

I’m so glad, Flach! But what of Sirelba? She decoyed for us—

I could check not directly, but Phoebe says Mach came and knew on the instant her nature, yet oddly showed no ire. They let her go unharmed. I be glad, for she—

A thrill of alarm ran through her. No ire? Flach, I fear—

Then he caught on. A trap for thee! 0, Nepe, if this be so—

Cease contact! she thought.

He cut off immediately. Now Nepe had to make a decision: should she sit tight, hoping the Adepts and Citizens had not used her contact with Flach to trace her, or should she make a break for it? She had several alternative hideouts; she could disappear as Troubot and assume a new and quite different form. But if they were closing in on her, she would not have time, and anyway, she did not want the real Troubot to take the brunt of their wrath. They might even be waiting for just such a break, to confirm her identity.

She and Flach had gone into hiding because they wanted to help Citizen Blue and the Adept Stile, rather than the Con trary Citizens and the Adverse Adepts. They had learned how to communicate with each other, but could not explain to their grandfathers how they did it. Their communication was more versatile than that of their fathers, because they did not have to overlap geographically in their frames. That ability would be invaluable to either side, but more so to Blue and Stile, because those two did not communicate at all. Blue believed that if the Oracle could analyze how Nepe did it, it could give the key to others—but if Grandpa Blue had taken Nepe to the Oracle, the Citizens would have snooped and learned everything. So they hadn’t risked it. But now that her ability was known, she had nothing to lose by going to the Oracle—except that the Citizens would never allow it, because it would help mainly Citizen Blue. What a complicated mess!

If only she had been able to remain hidden longer, until the grandfathers found some way to get her together with the Oracle secretly! Maybe, if she got through this without being discovered, that would happen.

She decided to sit tight. But her mind was whirling. Suppose Tania had recognized her, and deliberately let her go? Then told Mach, who could have used his magic to trace Flach’s route—and let him seem to escape so that he would give away any other accomplices he had, and in the end contact her in Proton while Mach was listening? While he was only pretending to be communicating with Bane, actually attuned to Flach’s communication with her, Nepe? Of course he would not be angry about Sirelba; all was going according to his plan! Had they caught Nepe at the edge of the fog, she would have refused to contact or exchange with Flach, and he would have remained safely hidden.

The longer she thought about it, the more certain she be came that all was lost. Thus she was hardly even surprised when she received a call from Bane:

“Nepe, we have you spotted. Please resume your natural form and return to our custody; we shall not harm you.” It was over. They had located her. She would not be able to help Grandpa Blue after all.

She melted. The metal-hard facade of her four-year form dissolved. This was necessary for her to resume her human form—but it was also her way of collapsing in grief.