But Tania’s brow was furrowed. “A flute—there was one, once, before our time, when Stile separated the frames. Mayhap—”
“The Platinum Flute!” Fleta exclaimed. “The elves made it, and keep it now. It—when it be played, it—”
“Brings the frames together,” Tania finished. “But only one can play it, and he be long gone from Phaze and Proton-frame. Now, with the frames fore’er parted, there be no use for this. And e’en were it so, what point? The Adverse Adepts rule here, and the Contrary Citizens there.”
“This be a mystery,” Fleta said. “But surely the Red Adept knew whereof he spoke! Why give Al this token, an it be not the key to aught important?”
Tania nodded. “It be our only hope. Needs must we go where it points, and find the Flute.”
“But that will take time, and there be naught!” Fleta protested.
“It be all we have,” Tania said grimly. “But mayhap thy dam will know what this portends. She was e’er close to Stile.”
Fleta brightened. “Aye! An she had her secret will, I’d be foal o’ Stile ‘stead o’ Stallion! An any know the key to this riddle, it be Neysa.”
“But it be far to go, and I can change not my form. An thou wouldst go alone—”
“Nay,” Fleta said decisively. “An we meet magic, thine Eye be needful. I will carry thee, as before.”
“I had hoped thus,” Tania confessed. “Al, change form and stay close; else we can protect thee not.”
Then Fleta reverted to ‘corn form, and Alien to batform, and Tania mounted. The bat flew to perch on Fleta’s head. She started off at a gallop. Fortunately she was rested; they had been proceeding cautiously, and she had grazed recently. However, the amulet of privacy was giving out; they were becoming audible and visible. It might be restored somewhat by another invocation, but that should be saved for an emergency.
She followed the direction indicated by the amulet-flute, deviating only to take advantage of open and level ground. This took her to the Animal Head Demesnes, which was a problem, as they were allies of the Adverse Adepts. Sure enough, a crow-head spied her, and she encountered a line of manlike creatures with assorted animal heads. They were armed with clubs and spears; she would not be able to run that gauntlet without getting hurt.
She slowed. Tania sat up tall and Eyed the leader, a lionhead with a magnificent mane. “We be on special business,” she said. “Direct thy minions to let us pass, and one to lead us the best way through.”
It was that simple. The lion-head, fascinated by the Evil Eye, gestured his minions back. A hawk-head ran forward, leading Fleta, and in a short time she was through what had seemed like a difficult thicket, and facing another open region. “We thank thee, lion!” Tania called as Neysa accelerated.
Tania had already justified her presence, apart from being a friend. Still Fleta could not bring herself to say what she needed to: that her objection to Tania’s play for Bane was withdrawn. She was finding herself as foolishly stubborn as her dam!
Fleta could not run forever. In the evening she had to stop. But Al had a suggestion: “An thou be hummingbird, Tania can carry thee, and I can use my night eyes to spy the way through the dark.”
“But needs must I also eat,” Fleta protested.
“I can find thee sustenance,” he said eagerly. “What wouldst thou have?”
“An ounce of nectar would fill my bird belly, but that be hard to come by.”
“I will come by it!” he promised. He assumed his batform and disappeared into the twilight.
Soon he was back, hauling something that staggered his flight. It was a leaf cunningly drawn into a bag, and inside it was a pool of sweet nectar.
“How couldst thou harvest so much so soon?” Tania asked. “Each flower has but a trifle!”
“I found a big flower,” he said proudly.
Fleta assumed bird form and tried the nectar. It was excellent, and more than she could finish; they had to store the extra for future use.
Then she settled in Tania’s tan tresses, and Tania walked, with Al flying ahead. She slept.
She woke at dawn, well rested. She flew up to spy the land, and incidentally loose some droppings; she had not felt free to do that while nesting in Tania’s hair.
They were significantly closer to the Purple Mountain Range and to the Harpy Demesnes. Tania had really been exerting herself! Indeed, as she flew back down she saw that the woman was staggering; she had moved as fast as she could all night.
Fleta assumed woman form. “Enough! Thou must eat, and I will take my turn.”
“I ate on the way. Al found fruits.”
Fleta was further impressed. The bat boy was doing his share too! She assumed ‘corn form, and Tania mounted, and Al came in. Now it was evident that he too was tired; he had been all night aloft.
She set off at a trot, following the contour of the foothills of the great mountains. She could tell by their respective postures that both woman and bat were almost instantly asleep. They deserved their rest!
At mid-morning she spied a dragon aloft, for the Dragon Demesnes were just south of the mountains. She hesitated, then decided that prevention was better than risk, and reinvoked her amulet. Then she ignored the dragon, because she knew the amulet shielded her sight, sound and smell from its awareness. She did, however, make sure to tread on hard ground, because any tracks she left would be visible. But this was about the last use she would be able to make of the amulet; its magic was exhausted.
So it went. In two days they reached the Herd where Neysa grazed, and made themselves known to her.
“So we know not what it means,” Fleta concluded. “We can fetch the Flute, an the elves yield it to us, but only the Adept Clef can play it—and he be far removed in space and frame, and can join us not.”
Neysa considered. “I have thought on such matters before,” she said. “I have discussed it—with Stile. Finally I made a point, which he in his humor called the Unicorn Point, and we laughed, thinking it lacked relevance. Now methinks he took it more seriously, and this be the reason for Al’s amulet.”
“A point?” Fleta asked blankly.
“It be this: that the most fundamental force in both frames be the same, and that its difference in the frames be but perception. In Phaze we see magic, and in Proton they see science, but the split between them be illusion. An we knew how, we could do science here, and they could do magic there. It be naught but a—a geas, or what they call a program, a rule that makes it be one way or the other.”
Fleta exchanged glances with Tania and Al. All three were baffled. “But science works here not,” Fleta said. “And magic works there not. I have been in both, and tried.”
“Because of thy mindset, and that o’ the frame,” Neysa said. “It be the same for all. The geas be unbreakable. But an the frames be merged again, both would work, drawing on either interpretation o’ the power o’ the basic rock Phazite or Protonite. The curtain between frames be but a window o’ awareness, like the screen o’ a science computer. Mergence be the answer: that be what Al’s amulet means. Only when they be together can the frames be truly at rest.”
“But we can merge the frames not, with the Flute here and the Player there,” Tania said.
“Methinks Stile could,” Neysa said firmly. “An he be ensorceled, thou must do it instead.”
“I be no Adept!” Fleta protested. “I be but a mare in want o’ her colt, sore beset!”
“Thou dost be more than that,” Neysa said. “The frames be already one, an we but perceive it. Since the separation, the parallelism be more, mayhap lacking other way to abate the imbalances caused by the acts o’ people. Once there were two Lady Blues, one in each frame, but when the one in Proton died, the other could cross and fill her place. Now with no crossing, the void be filled by another, and that be the Lady Sheen. All the Adepts and most o’ the others be parallel, or growing so. The events too: what occurs in one frame, occurs in the other, if not exact, then close. Each contes
t was won by the same side; it could be not otherwise. Now what thou dost here, thine other self be doing there. If thou canst prevail here, so will it be there, and the way will open. What thou achievest be known in Proton, though there be no seeming contact between thee and the alien. All that thou canst accomplish be double weight. That be the remainder o’ the Point.”
Fleta knew it was true. She was awed by the realization; the evidences of the parallelism had been there all along, but she had never appreciated them this way. She had to succeed!
“But an somehow the frames be merged—what o’ the folk?” Fleta asked. “Willst become just one set o’ folk for both?”
“Aye.”
“But I—”
“Will merge with Agape, methinks. And all others, as their pairs exist. It be a monstrous notion.”
“A monstrous notion!” Fleta echoed, intrigued and appalled. She liked Agape, but how could she be merged with her? What then of Mach and Bane—and Tania? Of their triangle?
That was all Neysa would say. Neysa had never been much for words, and once she had made her point—her Unicorn Point—she was done. She was old, and they did not want her to risk the rigors of their mission (or to be slowed down by her: that was unsaid), so they left her at the Herd, pondering her insight. The Unicorn Point—what mixed promise and mischief lay there!
Another day’s travel brought them to the spot at which the flute-amulet pointed—and there was nothing there. It was on the slope of the Purple Mountains, in the Elven Demesnes, with nothing but silvery flowers growing. They paused, baffled. First the mystery of the Unicorn Point, then this!
It was Alien who figured it out. “The Flute be underground! The little folk keep it not up in plain sight, and their warrens go ne’er direct. We must find the entrance!”
They quested about, and in due course discovered an elven entrance. Fleta assumed woman form, removed her amulet, and handed it to Tania. “Mayhap this will protect thee aught. I must broach them now. Al and I will do it, while thou dost hide, in case.”
“In case what?” the bat boy asked.
“Elves be not always friendly.”
He nodded, sobering. Then Fleta knocked at the portal, alerting the elves.
A man appeared. He was about the height of Alien, but considerably stouter. His clothing was the color of platinum, and his skin light blue. “Well, two prisoners!” he exclaimed, drawing his sword. “A fair damsel and a servant boy.”
“Nay!” Fleta cried. “We be ‘corn and bat, on a mission o’ surpassing import!”
“Not any more,” the elf said grimly.
Fleta didn’t want to have to fight him, but she could not let herself be considered a prisoner. She would have to change to unicorn form, which would be competent to deal with the sword.
Then the elf man turned, startled. His eyes glazed. “Oh, aye,” he said. “These be emissaries.”
Tania had stepped in. Out of contact with her, Fleta could neither see nor hear her other than dimly; the dwindling power of the amulet was more effective with only one person to cover. Evidently she had touched the elf, and used her Eye to fascinate him. Now, in effect, he was their prisoner.
The elf led them into the passage in the hill. Wan light struggled down so that it was not completely dark, but it remained uncomfortably close. She would not be able to assume unicorn form here; she would be jammed into the walls. At least Al would be able to move; as a bat he could readily handle this region.
They came to a chamber wherein sat an extremely wizened elf, obviously a leader. He wasted no time in amenities. “Thy magic be that o’ the Adverse Adepts. Know, O intruders, that we be overtly neutral, but privately we favor Stile and will help thy side not.”
Fleta smiled, relieved. “Canst thou be Pyreforge, friend to my foal’s grandsire? I be Fleta, and this be Alien, son o’—”
“And thou be helping the wrong side!” he snapped. “Be glad I grant thee the courtesy o’ truce, else—”
“Nay, we changed sides,” she cried. “Now Mach and I be with Stile, only my foal be captive, and there be enchantment on Blue and Red and Bane, and we alone be free to seek—”
“How can I know that? That Evil Eye—”
“Tania changed too! She be aiding Stile now!”
Pyreforge stared at her. “An thou canst convince me o’ that, with her Eye hooded, mayhap my aid be thine.”
It took time, but in due course the old elf was satisfied. He turned over the invaluable Platinum Flute. It was in pieces, in a box, but could be readily assembled at need.
“But we know not how to use it,” Fleta said. “The amulet guided us here to it, and my dam says we must merge the frames, but—”
“Let me research in my references.”
More time passed. The elves gave them bread and water while they waited, treating them with courtesy now that their loyalty to Stile was known. Tania had to give up the fading amulet of privacy and become fully apparent.
“Ah, now I see!” the elf exclaimed as he saw her clearly. “Thou hast the stigmata o’ love for Bane! That be why thou didst change sides!”
Tania was taken aback. “Shows it thus?”
“Ordinarily, nay. But thy whole nature has changed, and that be evident. But an the frames merge, what o’ thee?”
“O’ me?”
“Thou dost love the man o’ this frame, who be not with Fleta. Thine other self loves the rovot, who be not with the alien. But—”
“The alien!” Al exclaimed. “My namesake!”
“Aye,” Fleta said. “When she and I exchanged, and she were in Phaze, she helped thy parents get together, so they named thee after her. Likewise there be a child in Proton-frame, Mach tells me, named ‘Corn, though methinks I contributed not to that.”
“Mine other self!” Al said, pleased.
“As I were saying,” Pyreforge continued gruffly, “An the frames merge, so will thy two selves—and there will be one man with one woman. Bane will have the alien, and Fleta will have Mach, all together in one, and none be open for thee. So what o’ thee?”
Tania looked crestfallen. “I know not,” she said faintly.
This was the matter that Fleta had not been able to raise. It was the separation of Mach and Bane that made compromise possible; without that separation, and the two distinct frames, there would be no free man, or free aspect of him.
“Then canst thou labor to merge the frames, an it be possible?”
Tania considered. “I sought to vamp Bane, to win him o’er to our side—I mean the Adverse Adepts—and make a fitting mate for me. I wanted to marry below my station not. But the ploy turned, and he won me to his side, which now be Stile’s, and made o’ me his creature though ne’er did he touch me. Now must I do what he would have me do, and I would save him though I lose him. I can explain it not else.”
“It will do,” the old elf said. “Take the Flute to Blue and it will rouse him and enable him to throw off the geas on him. Then will he know what to do.”
“There be the answer!” Fleta exclaimed. “To fetch the Flute and bring it to him!”
“Else would we ne’er give it thee,” Pyreforge agreed. “An this instrument fall into enemy hands—”
“I will die before that happen,” Fleta said, and the air around her rippled.
“Aye,” the elf agreed.
Soon they were on their way again, trotting north toward the Blue Demesnes. They passed through the Werewolf Demesnes, but they neither paused there nor made themselves known, for fear the enemy would discover them.
Fleta carried the Platinum Flute, in its box, tied to her barrel. She could feel its latent power, warming her side and lending strength. She knew it could revive Stile!
In two days they were near the castle of the Blue Demesnes. But how were they to get inside? They knew that there would be formidable magic barring their way, and that their amulet would not protect them from discovery here, even if any real strength remained in it.
“Mayhap th
ey be busy elsewhere, not guarding this,” Al said hopefully. “I can fly in and spy it out, and if naught happens to me—”
“Aye, go,” Fleta said. She did not like putting him in danger, but she couldn’t risk bringing the Flute near until she knew it was safe.
Alien changed form and flew low and circuitously toward the castle. In due course he returned. “Tan be there, guarding—but he be sleeping!”
Without a word, Fleta advanced on the castle in her human form. It would have been faster in her natural form, but she didn’t want the sound of her hooves waking the Adept. Tania followed. They took advantage of whatever cover they could find.
They crossed the moat and entered the castle. It was unnaturally silent; the animals that usually came for healing were gone, and the normal activities of cooking and working were still. The geas had been laid on it, and it was in effect deserted.
Fleta stepped into the main chamber. There was Stile, sitting frozen, only his eyes alive. His magic involved singing; he could not sing, and so was helpless. Fleta repressed her horror, and tiptoed toward Stile.
“Hold, mare.”
She jumped, turning to face the voice. It was Tan, awake! Of course he had feigned sleep, to trick Al and lure them in here; now he had sprung his trap all too neatly.
“Look not at him!” Tania cried.
But it was already too late. The Adept’s gaze was on her, meeting her own. The volition drained from her body as his eyes loomed large.
A bat flew at Tan, going for his eyes. But the Adept merely nicked a glance at Alien, and the bat stiffened and fell to the floor, unable to fly. Fleta had some resistance, being a unicorn, but the vampires did not. The boy had done a brave and foolish thing, and now was stunned. The terrible gaze resumed its reduction of her defense; the Adept wasn’t even straining.
Tania leaped in front other. “I will stop him!” she cried. “Take the Flute to Stile!”
But Fleta, tagged peripherally by the Evil Eye, could barely move. She could feel her volition recovering, but the process was distressingly slow. Only her right hand, holding the Platinum Flute, was fully functional; it had not been affected by the Eye. Indeed, it was the source of her recovery; volition was extending along her arm and toward her shoulder. She had thought the power of the Evil Eye was exaggerated; now she knew that her contempt for it had been because of ignorance. Tania had never used it on her, and her respect for Tania was rising.