The Lady returned. “There be a geas on him,” she said.
“Nay,” Stile said. “No magic.”
“There be a geas,” she repeated.
It made sense to Neysa. A geas was a kind of obligation, imposed either magically or by honor. It restricted a person in some way, so that he could not perform with his normal freedom.
“He be prisoner now,” Stile said. “We all be glad to have him, and will treat him well, but this be not o’ his choice or ours. Also, the Adepts have access to the Book o’ Magic while he be here, so be gaining power after the years o’ impasse. That could depress him.”
“Mayhap,” the Lady agreed noncommittally.
They retired, and Neysa went out to graze; that was always her preference for the night. But her thoughts continued to turn on the boy. The Lady was right: something was wrong. Perhaps it was only his abrupt change of situation. Perhaps it was more.
In the morning Stile talked with Flach privately. Later he turned the boy over to Neysa for a ride around the premises.
This was of course worthwhile, but Neysa knew that Stile wished to talk privately with the Lady. Something was certainly wrong.
Later, the Lady told Neysa the problem: “Stile meant to have Flach commune with his other self in Proton, to establish a dialogue and initiate an exchange o’ information. In this manner may we keep pace with the Adepts and Citizens, that we maintain our position. But Flach says he can not. It seems the girl be not available.”
Neysa considered that. She had understood that Flach and Nepe could communicate with each other across the frames regardless of their geographic positions. They had demonstrated this, when trying to escape the Adept cordon around the Pack. How could they be unable to do this now?
She mulled it over the following night, consciously or unconsciously, but came to no reasonable conclusion. She was sure that Nepe in the other frame would be treated well, as Flach was in this one, because the agreement was the same there: while she visited her grandparents, the Citizens had access to the Oracle. The Adepts and Citizens had waited for four years to restore this arrangement; they would not do anything to interrupt it again.
Unless Nepe had somehow managed to hide again—even from Flach? How could she do that?
As dawn brightened, she had an answer: by going to another scientific planet! Flach could reach her anywhere on Proton, but surely not away from there. She could have somehow sneaked away on one of their ships of space! That would mean that the enemy was not making progress after all, because Citizen Blue would not let them near the Oracle unless they produced Nepe. And Flach, if he knew where she was, would not tell, for that would give her away. If he could contact her where she hid, he would not, because the Adepts would be watching for that magic, and find her as they had before, through him.
She was so excited that she galloped into the castle, and changed to woman form, panting. “Stile! Stile!”
But it was the boy who was already up. “They be late from their chamber,” he said. “Do folk their age still mate?”
“Human folk, aye, an they wish,” she agreed. “They oft regard it as entertainment.” How well she remembered! She did not want to speak of her revelation directly to the boy; he might have to deny it, and that would be very awkward. She would have to wait until Stile was alone.
She offered Flach another ride outside, instead. He countered with the suggestion that they run together. They did so, trotting across the meadows. Then they changed to their winged forms, she a firefly, he a bat, and flew. Then he became a harpy, astonishing her; she had heard he could do it, but was amazed at the reality. It was a female form.
“Aye,” he screeched in harpy fashion. “There be not those barriers we thought ‘tween us. I can be female an I choose, and Nepe can exchange and be male. But we do it not ‘cept at need; it be not comfortable.”
He had mentioned Nepe. Could she follow up on this, and verify her conjecture? She assumed woman form. “Then had thou left her in Phaze; she could have been the female harpy, and been comfortable.”
“Nay. She knows not how to change form.”
“Mayhap thou could exchange again, and we could teach her.”
“Mayhap!” he agreed brightly. Then abruptly he sobered, and said no more on the subject.
Now she was sure: it was because he could not exchange without giving away Nepe’s hiding place. She did not pursue the subject. She resumed her natural form, and he became a wolf, and they romped on back to the castle.
Later in the day, when the Lady was showing Flach how she made cookies, in timeless grandmotherly fashion, and he was showing her how he could lick the bowl clean, in equally timeless grandchild fashion, Neysa had a chance to talk with Stile.
“So he dare not,” she concluded.
Stile nodded. “I think thou hast figured it, mare! That be a relief to me, for it means the impasse remains.”
The rest of the visiting period passed amicably enough. Every day the boy did new things with his grandparents, learning spells and new games, and romped in the meadows with Neysa in one form or another. Flach brightened somewhat, discovering that they were not pushing him to contact Nepe, and it was almost as it had been in the old days.
Stile and Flach spent many hours playing chess. It seemed the boy had good aptitude, which was perhaps not surprising, considering that Stile remained the Phaze champion, and Fleta was now a ranking player; it was in Flach’s ancestry. They even played through some of the games Stile had had with Icebeard. Stile had played the snow demon to twenty-three consecutive draws, then won one, ending their private tournament. But the following year they had played again, and after fifteen draws the demon had won one. It had become a regular thing; they were delightfully evenly matched. Flach was evidently able to appreciate the pretty nuances of the moves in a way that Neysa could not.
Then, toward the end of the stay, Bane visited. Neysa was grazing nearby as Stile came out to meet him. Because Bane served the other side, by common consent they met beyond the castle, in nominally neutral territory. “How be the boy?” he inquired.
“Somewhat subdued,” Stile replied.
“To be expected, so soon after being taken from the Pack. His oath-friends there be similarly subdued, I understand.”
“How goes thy life in Proton?”
“Well enough, between bouts with the Book and Oracle.”
Neysa kept her ears unperked, so as not to give away her interest. How could they be working with the Book and Oracle?
“And how be little Nepe?” Stile inquired smoothly. “Subdued. Thou knowest that they wished to serve thee, not the others.”
“Aye. But an she be well, as be Flach, thou needst have no concern.”
“She be well, far as we can tell. She be with Blue now, o’ course. But one thing be odd: we understand that she contacts not Flach. Methought thou wouldst be using them as Mach and I be used, to keep the pace.”
“All in good time,” Stile said. “They be young, and have four years to forget.”
Bane nodded. “Surely so.” Yet he seemed surprised. “I came to ask thee to send Flach directly to Translucent’s isle, since I lack Mach’s facility in transport.”
“Readily done, an Neysa be granted entry.”
“She be.” Bane gave him a token, glanced across at Neysa, and waved. She nodded, and continued grazing as if not really interested.
Bane departed. Immediately Neysa approached Stile.
“Oath-friend, let us travel a bit,” Stile said, mounting her.
She was glad to accede.
“Methinks our conjecture was mistaken,” Stile said when they were far enough away from the castle to avoid any risk of being overheard. It was Stile’s belief that it was the castle the Adepts snooped on, rather than himself, now that things were quiet. “I wish not to alarm the Lady, but must know. Canst discover it for me?”
Neysa made an affirmative honk. She would certainly try!
She started early, so as to
have time to talk to Flach if the occasion seemed propitious. This time she bore due west, toward the West Pole and the Translucent Demesnes. Flach was quiet, seeming not enthusiastic about returning to his dam.
They had thought that Nepe had escaped, so that Flach could not communicate with her without giving away her hiding place. Now they knew this was not the case. Why, then, was he reticent? It almost seemed as if he did not want to help his grandfather, and she knew that wasn’t it. Yet she couldn’t just ask; he would have told Stile if he intended to, and had to have reason for his silence. Also, the Adepts would be watching them now, making sure the boy was delivered; they would overhear anything said.
They came to the Lattice: the great pattern of cracks in the ground. She resented the founder spell the lattice demons had hit her with the last time she was here, but she could not do much about it unless the demons came to the surface.
And there was a demon head poking up! With a half-glad snort of challenge she lowered her horn and charged. The demon disappeared, hiding in the crevice, and she passed over without contact. She had expected this; still, it was satisfying.
“Slay them!” Flach cried, taking an interest. More heads appeared. She still had the worst of the Lattice to traverse; were they going to try for her? She knew that her enemies the Adverse Adepts would never allow them to capture her, because she was on their business; still, she preferred to handle this nuisance herself. She picked up speed. “Let me, Granddam!” Flach begged. He had done well enough against the dragon, and perhaps this would make him say something. There was nothing like shared adventure to make folk talk. She made a honk of affirmation, coming to a halt on one of the Lattice plateaus.
He singsonged something. Another cloud appeared, with a grotesque face; he seemed to be partial to those, or perhaps it was the shape his magic was assuming. The demons gazed up at the cloud, distrusting it, but it seemed harmless, and after a moment they resumed their closure about Neysa.
Flach sang again. The cloud developed a nether aperture, from which a blob dropped.
“Get out, Granddam!” he cried.
Neysa bolted. The demons in front of her ducked down, but those at the sides closed in, trying to grab at her as she passed.
There was a sickly-sounding whoosh! Then the sound of coughing and choking from the bowels of the Lattice. Then the demons clambered out, not to attack Neysa, but to flee. What was this?
She slowed, curious about this inexplicable turnabout. “Don’t stop, Granddam!” Flach exclaimed.
“Why?” she asked in horn talk.
“Because I dropped a stink bomb on them!”
Then the spreading vapor caught up with them. Neysa choked; it was the most putrid stench she had ever whiffed—and this was just the edge of it.
She leaped forward, escaping the miasma. No wonder the demons were fleeing; it must be intense down in the crevices! Trust the child to come up with another childish—but effective!—ploy.
Well, she really could not blame him. She had given him leave, and certainly the demons deserved it. In fact, it seemed a fitting retribution for that founder spell!
They readily won clear of the Lattice; the demons paid no further attention to them. She came to the regular field and forest, and resumed her normal trot.
“Thou hast become quite a little Adept,” she remarked in horn talk.
“I had time to think of good spells,” he said. “It was great, being with the Pack, but time there was.” His mood had evidently lightened.
“Be it similar with Nepe?”
“Aye. She be one clever girl.”
She hoped he would amplify, but he did not. Once again, she had been unable to discover his secret.
They stopped for the night at the foot of rolling hills. Flach assumed unicorn form again, and grazed with her as before.
So it went, on the long trip to the coast. Everything seemed normal with the boy, except his connection with Nepe. The secret remained undivulged. It was enough to make her horn go sour.
They reached the west coast. Flach held the token Bane had brought them, and Neysa strode into the sea. She had never been here before, and would not be very much disappointed if the charm did not work, so that they could not proceed farther. After all, this was not the neutral territory of the Red Demesnes; this was the enemy Translucent Demesnes. Also, this was where Fleta was, and Neysa wasn’t speaking to her filly. The encounter was bound to be awkward.
But the charm worked perfectly. The water closed over their heads, and seemed almost like air; they could breathe normally. Neysa picked her way through the seaweed and shells, and found a path. She followed this on down, and it broadened, becoming a satisfactory trail from which obstacles had been cleared. This gave her the chance to look around as she progressed.
It was impressive. Fish swam nearby, seeming from this vantage to be flying without wings. Seaweed sprouted profusely, reaching for the surface, forming brushlike patches. They passed a coral reef, where the growths were intricate and flowerlike, the blooms opening and closing in the slight current.
A big fish approached, swimming with beautiful ease. Neysa recognized its type by the fin on the back: a shark! She honked warning and readied her horn, uncertain how well she could do in this strange environment. But the fish shied away from the path; evidently it was not allowed to molest legitimate travelers.
The terrain changed, becoming somehow archaic. The vegetation and swimming forms in this region were strange. Neysa made a mild honk of surprise.
“Oh, sure,” Flach said nonchalantly. “It’s the Ordovician period, three or four hundred million years ago, I forget which, with some neat creatures. See, there be a trilobite—and there be a giant nautiloid! The one with the shell like a ‘corn’s horn!”
Neysa saw the trilobite. Its shell was indeed like a unicorn’s horn, and she liked it better for that. The shell made its tentacled forepart seem less alien.
They came to a rise in the strange realm. “This be the isle!” Flach exclaimed joyfully. He slid off her back and charged ahead, plunging through a kind of curtain in the water. Neysa followed, and found herself indeed on an isle—a dry region within a giant bubble under the sea.
Flach flung herself into the arms of a young woman. That would be Fleta, his dam, Neysa’s filly; Neysa had not seen her in eight years, and really did not care to look now. Instead she gazed around the rest of the isle.
Another young woman stood there. She was in a tan cloak, and her hair and eyes were tan. Tania, sister of the new Tan Adept. What was she doing here?
Tania did not wait to be introduced. “I like thee no better than thou likest me, old mare,” she snapped. “Look not down thy nose at me, lest thou see what pleases thee not.”
Neysa felt the old heat rising. She was not about to take any sneer from this arrogant woman! She brought down her horn.
“Nay, Granddam!” Flach called, spotting this developing quarrel. “Condemn her not; she let me escape!”
What? Neysa assumed woman form. “She tried to capture thee!” she said.
“But they think I tried not hard enough,” Tania said. “So I be on duty here, to see that Fleta escapes not.”
“But I be not prisoner!” Fleta protested. “And Neysa, my dam—hast come at last to make amend?”
Neysa turned away from her.
“Thou hypocrite!” Tania screamed at her, her sinister eyes seeming to glow. “Comest all the way here to slight thy foal again?”
That did it. Neysa turned slowly to face Tania.
“Nay!” Flach cried. “This be an isle o’ peace! No fighting!”
“It be beyond such caution,” Neysa said grimly.
“Then make it words only!” he said. “No Eye, no horn!”
Neysa was not pleased with this notion, and Tania seemed no better satisfied. But the child was insistent. “An there be bloodshed here. Translucent will come, and we know not what will happen then! Let me make a spell o’ containment, that thy words spread n
ot beyond thyselves, and ye two settle thus.”
There was something about his urgency, which bordered on desperation, that made Neysa pause. The boy was bright, and talented, and had some secret she had to fathom. That caused her to go along with his foolish wish. “No horn,” she agreed.
“No Eye,” Tania agreed, as grudgingly.
Flach singsonged something. Another cloud formed, but this one had no face. It expanded to take in Tania and herself, a bubble within the larger bubble of the isle.
Neysa wasted no time in pressing the attack. Words were not her preferred medium, but she could use them when she had to. “Thou, who didst think to capture Flach, and now be here to keep his dam here, dost accuse me o’ hypocrisy? Thou, who didst spend four years pursuing him—and Bane?”
Tania gestured wildly, as if reacting in fury. But her words were oddly quiet. “Aye, mare. Listen to me now, for we have but little time, and there be danger. I sought the child that my side might gain the balance o’ power. I sought Bane that I might bind him more firmly to our side, an he think to drift. But I lost the ploy; he loves me not, yet I love him.”
“Thou—?” Neysa began, amazed.
“When I knew we had cornered the lad at last, and it came upon me to intercept him, I tried to let him go. I looked him in the eye, and knew him though he was cleverly masked as female. I stunned the figure made up to be male, thinking it were reasonable to fall for this ruse, that none could blame me. I let Flach go. But the Adepts saw through the ruse, both his and mine, and now I be confined here, nominally a guard. Canst believe that, mare?”
This was so completely different from her expectation that Neysa could hardly speak. “Why shouldst thou—?”
“Let him go?” Tania smiled ruefully. “Because it were the only way I could continue to be with Bane, an the search went on. I am descended to that level, I would be with him on any pretext, though I know he will ne’er love me.”
Neysa gazed at her unbelievingly. Why should this woman make such a demeaning confession?