Unicorn Point

  Agape knew that she had lost her opportunity to win this fall; it would take more than three hours to get her actress settled down. She let Deerie disengage and seek solitude; there was nothing else to be done.

  Except to prepare for the final session. Tan’s actor would come calling, and this time he would not be limited to words. He would be allowed to coerce or even rape her, and certainly Tan would encourage that. Tan’s vengeance was in the making; Agape could have avoided it only by winning this second fall. She had failed, and now the score was even, and there would be hell to pay.

  She decided that her best chance was to hide so that he couldn’t find her. Since she couldn’t leave the Commons without defaulting, she would have to hide by concealing her identity. It would also be better if she were in a crowd; he would be less likely to try rape among people. For one thing, she could scream, and other men would surely come to her rescue. Sex was all right, and could even become a deliberate show, but rape was considered a form of violence by most women and some men. In addition, she could fight. She could put a defensive strategy into Deerie’s mind, so that Deerie would understand what to do when the time came.

  By the time of the third period, Agape was well prepared. She had caused Deerie to take some dirt from a flower pot and go to a toilet stall, where she rubbed the dirt into her hair and face and torso. Thus she became darker and wilder, looking quite different in the mirror. Her hairstyle was changed too, now being plaited and plastered. It had taken some urging to get the woman to do this, but the persistent thought that Handy had turned angry and intended to humiliate her did the job.

  Then Deerie went quietly to a darkened show chamber where a dull holo was being played. She sat on the floor in back and watched as if mesmerized. With luck, she would never be found, and both of them would be spared a horrible ordeal. She was there before the second period ended, so that when the onus changed and Tan/Handy started looking, there would be nothing to see.

  But moments after the third period commenced, a shape loomed in the entrance to the chamber. It was Handy—and he seemed to know exactly where he was going and what he was looking for. He must have been watching her all along, anticipating this ploy of hers!

  He paused long enough to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. Then he made his way toward her. Should she scream? But he might be searching all the chambers this way, trying to make her identify herself by reacting; she had better keep quiet and hope he passed on by. If he did, then she was on her way to winning.

  He did not. His face was contorted; Agape could not guess what thoughts Tan had put into Handy’s mind, but it was evident that they had driven the man beyond reason.

  “I will scream!” Agape cried.

  Deerie opened her mouth—but Handy’s hand clapped down on it, stifling her.

  “I will bite!” Agape said. But already the man was pulling the woman over, coming down on her, crushing her; she was too disoriented to pay further attention to Agape’s thoughts.

  But one thing Agape had put into her mind before paid off: Deerie’s knee came up, aiming for the man’s groin. The blow would have been devastating if it had connected, a definite game winner. But it only struck his outer thigh; he had been on guard against it. Trust a man to know how to rape better than a woman knew how to defend against it! Handy pressed Deerie down flat on her back on the floor, his hand still stifling her, one of his knees wedged between her legs so that she could not clamp her legs together. Her effort to knee him had only put her leg out of position, giving him this opening.

  “I will strike him with my free hands!” Agape cried desperately. “I will poke out his eyes! I will hurt him until he stops!” But Deerie was beyond that; terrified, she was retreating into an emotional shell, becoming passive. In fact, she was close to losing consciousness.

  “A message for you!” Handy gasped, evidently coached by persistent if meaningless (to him) thoughts. “I owe you this, alien mare!”

  “Fight him! Fight him!” Agape cried. “Roll, struggle, bite/resist!”

  But Deerie did not. The man positioned himself and began his thrust. The pain began—and Deerie passed out. There was screaming.

  The screen went dark. The input from the actress had ended with her consciousness. Agape found herself gasping, her throat raw; she was the one screaming. She was also melting; her lower section was puddling on the floor. Truly, she had been violated.

  She had lost the fall and the match, in the worst possible way. Citizen Tan had had his vengeance, on her personally and on Citizen Blue for opposing the Contrary Citizens.

  Agape let go, dissolving the rest of the way. In a moment she too was unconscious.

  Chapter 15

  Sirelmoba

  The days on the undersea isle would have been completely delightful, had it not been for their awareness that a great decision was in the making, and that it was going against the Adept Stile and the animals who supported him. Sirelmoba romped with Barelmosi in wolf and human forms, hunting and gathering and eating and sleeping and attempting to mate. They had been unable to complete the last, because she was too young for her first heat, but the urge for it came in cycles and she knew that in due course those cycles would intensify until completion became feasible. Of course once they succeeded, that would be the last of that, because she would enter on her adult stage and would seek a mate elsewhere; her Commitment to Barel, and his to her, would be done. So she was not sorry that they couldn’t do it yet, because the trying and failing was a delightful process rife with mystery and hope. Success would end the mystery and promise, and end that aspect of their relationship, and that would have its sadness. So perhaps they were not trying too hard, after all. Actually they were able to go through the motions in human form, but that had no significance; only wolf form counted. Bitches often did it with human men just for sport; sometimes they were even able to fool the men into believing that they were human women. It was a good test of their ability to emulate the conventions as well as the body of that species. They always had a good laugh when the men finally caught on. Sometimes the men laughed too.

  The sieges were set up, and the Translucent Adept made a spell that enabled them to see the action as a magic image over the isle. They watched the harpies beat the bats, thanks to the valiant final action of Phoebe. They knew she didn’t really want to win, but had to try her best as a matter of honor, and she had done that and brought the victory she deplored. They had seen the ‘corns beat the ogres thanks to the stratagem of Barel’s dam Fleta, and that was highly gratifying. Barel had been so proud of her!

  But meanwhile came the news of the similar contests in Proton-frame. Nepe kept Barel informed, and some of it was very bad. Nepe’s rovot granddam—grandbitch?—no, grandmother—sometimes she got the various terms confused!—had dueled against the Adept—no, the Citizen Purple, riding dragons, and in the end gone down. It really hadn’t been fair, because they were Purple’s dragons; naturally they had seen to his victory. Then Nepe’s rovot friend Troubot had climbed the glass mountain, throwing water bombs at the lovely bitch Tsetse—oh what fun!—and won the siege. After that Barel had used the bit of magic he was allowed to fashion water balls, and they had re-enacted it, throwing balls at each other in trees. Sirel wondered whether her human form would ever approach the lushness of Tsetse’s. Unicorns could assume other forms, and make of them what they wished, so they were always powerful or esthetic or whatever else the ‘corn wanted, but werewolves were more limited because both their forms were natural. It was similar with the vampire bats. So she would just have to make do with what she had, and hope for the best.

  Then had come the contest between Nepe’s mother Agape and the awful Tan Adept—Tan Citizen—wherein they had to make efforts to mate in much the fashion Sirel and Barel had. But there were differences. For one thing. Agape was permanently mated to Nepe’s father Bane, so didn’t want to do it with Tan. For another, it was a contest, with one wishing to mate and the other opposed, and so they had to n
egotiate. Barel and Sirel both found this process fascinating. But because there was no heat—it seemed that human beings had some other and less certain mechanism for breeding—nothing had come of it at first. But then at the end Agape must have come into heat after all—perhaps because she was really an alien creature—and Tan had come at her like any male who winded an available female in heat, and done it. In truth, it hadn’t looked like very much fun for Agape, perhaps because in acceding to it she lost the siege.

  So now the enemy side had won two of the three Proton conflicts. That meant they got the Oracle and the service of Mach or Bane to use it in connection with the Book of Magic in Phaze. There was only one chance to stop them, and that was to have Stile’s side win the final siege in Phaze. Then the enemy would not have access to the Book, and would not be able to make the powerful magic that would enable them to prevail in their frame.

  And that was why the wolves had to win against the goblins! They were the last good hope.

  All of which led to the present need for Sirelmoba to rejoin her Pack. Kurrelgyre needed every wolf for this greatest of sieges, even the cubs!

  “So must needs I leave thee, O mine oath-friend,” she said tearfully. “But when this be done, then will it change.”

  “Well I know it, beloved bitch,” he agreed, hugging her. “I will watch thine every motion, hoping thy presence dost make the difference.”

  They separated. She walked to the edge of the isle. “I be ready to go, O Adept!” she called.

  Translucent’s big water bubble appeared. “Aye, pup; I will conjure thee now to thy Pack.”

  There was a splash around her, and she felt a wrench. Then the water faded into fog, and the fog dissipated, and she was standing outside of the old palace of the Oracle. The Oracle was no longer there, because it had been moved to Proton-frame, but the palace remained.

  She changed to wolf form and lifted her nose to sniff the wind. Sure enough, she caught the mixed scent of the Pack nearby. She loped toward it, and soon was in the circle of wolves.

  She trotted up to Kurrelgyre. “Pack Leader, I be reporting for service with the Pack,” she growled. In growl-talk it was more of an attitude and sniffing of noses, but the essence was precise.

  He growled assent, and dismissed her. This, too, was Pack protocol. Now she was free to rejoin her companions. In a moment she was frisking with Forel (now Forelmo!) and Terel, sniffing noses and tails and growling reunion tokens. Her absence from them had not been long as such things went, but it was her first, and suddenly she felt its impact. It had been fun with Barelmosi, and she had regretted leaving him, but it was fun with her Pack and oath-friends too.

  Later Kurrelgyre summoned her for a private conference. He assumed manform, so she assumed girlform.

  He asked her about the isle and what she had noted of the activities of the Translucent Adept, and she reported all that she could remember. Then he surprised her. “Sirelmoba, thou willst participate in the strategy session in the morning.”

  “I?” she asked, astonished. “But I be but a pup!”

  “Aye. Thou be not yet grown. In human-guise thou be very like a gobliness.”

  Her human eyes rounded. Small, like a lady goblin! She might infiltrate the goblin ranks and get the flag!

  “Nay, not exactly,” he said. “Thou willst try for the flag, aye, but from hiding, while others distract. But an they see thee, then mayhap they will not realize thy nature. This be dangerous; be thou ready to risk it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Come to the session.”

  “Aye,” she repeated faintly.

  “Bruit this not about; we fear goblin ears.”

  “Aye,” she said once more.

  That was it. Awed by the importance of her mission, she changed back to cub form and returned to her friends. But all she could tell them was that she had been told to report to the strategy session.

  The Pack strategy, it turned out, was direct and brutal. The main body of wolves would attack the goblins, attempting to take out as many as possible so that few would remain to defend the red flag. Meanwhile Sirel would circle around behind the flag, hide under a bush, and wait. When she saw an opportunity she would assume girlform and walk slowly up and take the flag and hide it in her clothing. Then she would walk back the way she had come and hide again, concentrating on concealment rather than speed. If the goblins discovered her, she would assume wolf form and run for it.

  Sirel, uncertain, asked what would happen if she got caught. “I mean, who will carry the flag, then?”

  The wolves considered. Then they assigned her oath-friends to this mission also: Forelmo would lead, Sirelmoba would follow when he had found a safe way, and Terel would follow her and move up if Sirel were taken out. Meanwhile Terel would mount rear guard. The object of all of them was to remain unobserved, and to do what they had to to get Sirel to the flag.

  “Mark well,” Kurrelgyre growled, “the harpies used a similar ploy ‘gainst the bats; the goblins will be on guard. But by similar token, they will assume we will not be so foolish as to try a known ploy. Ye three will masquerade as goblins, as the harpies could not, and that be the key we hope enables you to succeed. Only small folk can do this; otherwise we would ne’er put a pup at such risk. Now when this session be o’er, come to me, that I may guard you from observation while you practice the goblin ways. Say naught elsewhere.”

  They were glad to agree, appreciating the importance of secrecy. The Pack Leader had ways of guaranteeing privacy that others did not. If the gobs got any whiff of this, the ploy would be useless; the three of them would be ambushed and dispatched immediately.

  After the main strategy was determined, the wolves discussed the likely goblin effort. Goblins were sneaky creatures, sure to come up with bad tricks, and these had to be anticipated. One of the bitches, Homirila, had been at one time a captive of goblins; they had tortured her and forced her to assume woman form as an object for their lust. She had in due course escaped by using her dull human teeth to gnaw through her bonds; the goblins had not expected that. She had returned to the Pack battered in body and spirit, and with an implacable hatred for goblins. But she also had a thorough knowledge of their ways. She had made it a point to range out alone and kill stray goblins, each kill being only a pittance of vengeance, but all she could do to mitigate her malaise of spirit.

  Now she explained the likely goblin organization and approach. They would be armed with small spears and clubs, and each would have a knife. Some would have had military training, having served on one of their more disciplined campaigns, and those would be the organizers. They were tough little fighters, fearless in combat, but tended to dissolve into mobs, each intent on grabbing loot for himself. Their females were relatively gentle and often quite pretty in the human style; these would be assigned noncombat duties as far as possible.

  The goblins were good at tunneling, seeming to have some magic that facilitated this. It was Homirila’s judgment that they would try to tunnel to the blue flag, and draw it under, collapsing the tunnel behind so that pursuit was awkward. But they would surely try any other stratagems they could devise, and the wolves would have to be constantly alert. “Ne’er assume a gob is dead unless you have killed him,” she warned. “Bite one and he will scream and fall and lie still—then stab you when you turn away. Stay clear o’ any bodies, or dump them in a ditch and guard it. No gob can be trusted, living or dead.”

  They decided to form a disposal crew that would follow after the fighters, and use spears to stab any dead gobs, then would haul them to a central depot and guard them. That way they would be sure, and not be trapped by gobs feigning death. If they got all the goblins in that pile, fine; then the red flag would be vulnerable.

  “I believe we can take them,” Homirila concluded, “if we fall not into one o’ their traps. Care be the watchword; take time and take naught for granted, and forge a slow victory.”

  The session broke up. The three cubs remained for their
special instruction. This was done by Homirila, who showed them how to fashion goblin garb and darken their manform skins to goblin hue. Forelmo had to practice grimacing, and to add covers to his ears to make them huge and ugly, and fluff his hair out wild to make his head look big enough and put on special shoes that resembled the gross goblin feet. The bitches had less trouble, being much more like gob women, but did have to pad out their shirts to look grown-breasted.

  “But will they not know us for non-tribesmen?” Sirel asked. “Their group be not much larger than ours—”

  “Three times ours, in numbers,” Kurrelgyre said. “They deem three gobs to be equal to one wolf, and it behooves us not to question that, lest they increase the number.”

  “E’en so,” Sirel persisted, “they should know their own, as we do. We know all o’ ours, and many o’ other Packs, and many ‘corns and bats too, and some elves. The gobs be not stupid like ogres.”

  “Needs must I explain,” Homirila said. “Gobs be not like decent folk. They be creatures o’ annoyance, ire and hate. They band together because they hate all others worse than they hate other goblins, but it be an uneasy association. All too readily goblin males fight goblin males, and gob women are fair game for erotic pursuit, whether they will or nay. It be a point o’ pride that gobs o’ both genders have no friends and few acquaintances; all others they detest. Their cubs are cursed into grudging obedience, and leave their dams early as they can. There be no families; offspring be from rape, coercion, deception or, if all else fails, seduction.”

  “Deception?” Terel asked, morbidly intrigued.

  “Gob girls be e’er naïve and hopeful. They want to think that a gob man be decent inside, and that his violence and bad manner be but a show. So when one says he loves a girl, an only she give him a suitable time, she believes, and gives him that time. That may endure till he forget himself and revert to normal, and start hitting her. But by that time she may be gravid. Mostly they bother not; a male simply threatens her with a bashing an she not do for him, or he bash her anyway so she can resist not. Before long the girl comes onto the truth, that there be no good in any gob male, and that be her initiation into womanhood. Thereafter she avoids males when she can, and submits when she has to, that she be not beat on too badly. But by that time, too, she has little use for any other o’ her species, and be as isolated as the males. Nay, an ye three look like goblins, and like young ones, none will challenge.”