Meanwhile, Tania blocked off the Adept Tan, countering his gaze with hers. Neither moved; the Eyes were all.
“Dost think to oppose me, turncoat?” Tan inquired with infinite scorn. “Thou canst not, and I will tell thee why. I am the Tan Adept, not thee, and this be not because I be male, but because my power were e’er greater than thine.”
Fleta, staring at Tania’s back, saw the woman shiver. He was speaking truly!
“Moreover, thou has lost the edge thou hadst,” he continued inexorably. “Thou fool, thou didst let Bane turn the worm on thee, draining thee o’ thy nerve. Now thou dost be mushy soft, thine Eye weak.”
Tania’s body shook. She was losing the contest, and Fleta still lacked control of her legs. She was a unicorn, resistant to hostile magic, but the Adept had stunned her in a moment. If she tried to walk to Stile, she would fall.
“Were thou not my sister, it would go hard with thee. As it is, I will put thee merely to sleep while I deal with these animals. At least thou has done one thing right: thou didst bring to me the Platinum Flute, that else would have been their only remaining threat.”
Fleta jammed the box containing the Flute forward, into Tania’s back. “Take it!” she said. “It will give thee strength!” She slid the instrument across the woman’s back, around her body to her arm, so that she could grasp it.
Tania’s body straightened at the contact. The Flute was lending her strength! Despite Tan’s brutal words, Tania’s power was nearly the equal of his, and she was able to fight back. She took the box, her gaze still locked with that of her brother, and slowly opened it. Stage by stage she assembled the Flute, and her posture showed that she was still gaining strength. At last she held it before her.
Now it was Tan’s turn to shake. The Flute made the difference, and Tania was beating him back! Her Eye was becoming stronger than his.
Tan tried to back away, but in a moment came up against the wall. Tania followed, holding the Flute, never relinquishing her gaze. She had to fascinate him, or he would fascinate them all and take the Flute.
Alien stirred. Fleta, almost completely recovered, went to him, picking him up. Her contact helped; he lifted his mouselike head, his big eyes blinking.
Now Fleta was free to take the Flute to Stile—but she didn’t have it, and couldn’t take it until Tania had finished with Tan. Tania was winning, but it was obviously a debilitating contest; perhaps never before had Eye been opposed to Eye.
At last Tan sank to the ground, his eyes clouding. He had lost; his mind was captive to his sister’s. But Tania was little better off. She wavered, and Fleta hastened to support her before she fell. She seemed dazed. Her tan hair glistened with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes were turning bloodshot. Even with the help of the Flute, she had had to give her all in the effort to prevail.
The castle shook. There was a rumble from below. Then the stone floor clove asunder, and the Purple Adept rose through it, buoyed by a waft of smoke.
There was no time for thought. Both Fleta and Alien knew what to do. They hurled themselves at the Adept, Fleta changing to her natural form as she did so.
Purple raised his hand. The floor bucked, throwing Fleta to the side. A jet of purple gas shot out of a fissure and swept Alien out of the air. Both landed at Stile’s feet, half stunned. How true it was: ordinary folk had no chance against any Adept!
Now Purple approached Tania as she stood swaying in her sweat-sodden cloak. “I see thou be better talented than we judged,” he said. “Now give me the Flute, girl.”
Fleta made a desperate effort to protest, but all she could manage was a double note on her horn.
Tania blinked. She looked at Purple, then at the Flute in her hand. It was obvious that she had no way to resist him; her power was spent, while his was strong.
“Thou’rt a pretty thing,” Purple said. “Give it me, and I will spare thee punishment, and mayhap take thee for my mistress. I want not to destroy thee.” It was obviously no bluff, either way; Purple had all the powers of the deep earth, and he liked women of any type.
Slowly Tania lifted the Platinum Flute. Fleta blew another protest, but could manage no more. There seemed to be no way to keep Purple from his victory.
Alien changed to his boy form. He was too battered to rise, but he could speak. “Play it!” he gasped.
Tania paused. A strange look crossed her face. She was not musically inclined. There was no way she could perform on such an instrument. But she seemed to hear a voice the others could not. She did not pass the Flute to Purple. She lifted it instead to her mouth. She blew.
Then things became strange indeed.
‘Corn had been dozing before the holo show when the key began pulsing. Suddenly he was alert; that was the signal for dire emergency!
He turned off the holo—he had seen it before anyway—and held up the key. It was a small flat metallic plaque—a dog tag, his father had joked, though no animals on Planet Proton wore such tags—imprinted with his identity and a secret message. The message could be evoked only by a qualified adult;
Citizen Troal trusted his son, but not quite that much. But the pulsing meant that it was time for that message.
‘Corn used his father’s terminal to run a quick spot trace on all the appropriate adults. This immediately showed the nature of the crisis: of the six on the list, five were marked in red. This meant that they had been in some way incapacitated or compromised, and should not be approached. Citizen Blue, his wife Sheen, their son Mach, his other self Bane, and their maid Agnes—all off the list. Only Bane’s wife Agape remained. He had to get to her in a hurry, before something happened to her too!
He borrowed his father’s private transport capsule. Citizen Troal and ‘Corn’s mother, the beautiful Bat Girl, were offplanet, on a holiday alone; he might be able to call them, but he knew better than to try. When his key pulsed, it meant not only trouble, but that speed and secrecy were of the essence. Any offplanet call could be monitored, so nothing private was done that way. The same was true of intraplanet communications. But ‘Corn had not communicated; he had merely checked a listing without acting. Now he was acting, in the manner he had to.
He set the capsule on Agape’s identity and activated its FIND mechanism. It set off, swiftly orienting on the alien female. Soon it caught up with her.
‘Corn opened the exit panel and stepped out—right in front of Agape, who was walking down a hall with another beautiful naked woman, Tania. Both women jumped, caught by surprise.
“Aunt Agape!” he exclaimed. “Come into my carriage; there is mischief afoot.” She was not really his aunt, of course; she was the mother of his friend Nepe. But for reasons never fully clarified, his parents had indicated that this was an appropriate way to address her.
Agape didn’t hesitate. She caught Tania by the arm and both followed him into the carriage. He set the destination for RANDOM, so that no one could readily intercept them.
“Aunt Agape, my key is pulsing!” he said, holding it up. Nothing showed, of course; the pulsing was a rhythmic trace vibration that only he could feel. “This means trouble! My parents are away, so I must act, and you are the only one left who can evoke the message!”
“But what of the others?” Agape asked, alarmed. She could make herself into any form she wanted, but she looked worn and nervous.
“All are marked red. Something has happened to them! I don’t dare even go to look; there must be danger for anyone who goes near them.”
“My brother!” Tania exclaimed. “I knew it! He’s up to mischief, and Citizen Purple too!”
“It must be,” Agape agreed. “We were checking on Citizen Translucent, to ascertain why he dropped out of the proceedings. They probably took him out first, then went after Blue and the others after they got the Oracle. We should have known they wouldn’t honor any agreements, once they got power!”
“And we are next,” Tania said. “Me because I defected, you because you are of Citizen Blue’s camp, and—” She broke
off, glancing down at ‘Corn, as if realizing that the matter was not fit for a child.
‘Corn knew what it was, though. He had seen the holo of the game, where Citizen Tan had raped Agape in emulation. He probably wanted to do it in reality too. That was why Agape looked nervous; she knew that her horror hadn’t finished.
“But what can we do?” Agape asked. “If the enemy’s power is so complete—and it must be the same in Phaze, because of the parallelism—how can we hope to counter it?”
“My key,” ‘Corn said. “You must evoke it.”
“Evoke it? ‘Corn, this is not Phaze! We have no amulets here.”
“Evoke its message. This is why I sought you. You are the only one left who can do this.”
“I? I know nothing of this!”
“Just touch it, please!”
She extended her hand and touched it with one finger.
The key glowed. A picture of a man appeared in its surface: thin, evidently of the older generation. He wore archaic spectacles on his face, and his hair was shading well into gray.
“I don’t know this man,” Agape said. “Do you?”
“No. But maybe—” ‘Corn turned over the key.
There on the other side was a name and address. “Clef, musician,” Agape read. “But he’s on a far planet!”
“Clef,” Tania said. “I have heard that name. Wasn’t he the one who played the—the famous Flute, and brought the frames together?”
“That one?” Agape asked, amazed. “I have heard of a friend of Stile’s who—who turned out to be the most amazing Adept of all, even though he was just a serf of Proton. But—”
Tania was staring at the picture on the other side of the key. “That must be him. What an elegant man!”
“But so far away! How can he have anything to do with what is happening here?”
“I—I think—” ‘Corn said hesitantly. “Maybe—you have to fetch him?”
Agape stared at Tania. “So he can play again?”
Awed, they realized that this could be it. “We need to get offplanet in a hurry anyway,” Tania said. “Before Citizen Purple and my brother catch us.”
“I can take you to the spaceport,” ‘Corn said bravely. “Then I can travel around, leading them away—”
Agape put her arms around him and hugged him to her. This was a unique experience, for young as he was, he understood the nature of her beauty. “We can not leave you, ‘Corn. You must come too.”
“But I am a minor,” he protested with mixed emotion. “I can’t leave planet without my parents’ consent.”
“And we dare not call them,” Agape said, frowning.
“We’ll have to sneak him out,” Tania said. “Ship him as baggage.”
“But baggage is shipped in the cargo hold,” Agape said. “Not pressure or temperature controlled.”
“He’ll have to be drugged and sealed into a capsule,” Tania said. She glanced at ‘Corn. “You have the use of Citizen Troal’s carriage; can you also authorize his luggage?”
“Yes,” ‘Corn said, brightening.
“Make out a routing slip in your father’s name for one sealed capsule, and an authorization for two serfs to see to its security. We shall be those serfs. The port officials won’t question it unless the alarm is already out, and my guess is that Purple will try to make his coup secretly until all opposition has been eliminated. Remember, he’s double-crossing his own, too; Citizen Translucent’s personnel will be in an uproar. We’ll leave planet together on the first ship out—specify that in the order. This can be done, but it has to be fast.”
‘Corn took a slip from the papers in the carriage and filled it out. “But how can I be drugged? The moment we go to a medic—”
“I am able to contact the self-willed machines,” Agape said. “I have a code. They support Citizen Blue completely.”
“Don’t make a call!” Tania warned. “They will be monitoring all calls!”
“No call,” Agape agreed. “There will be a private access at the spaceport.”
They arrived. There was no alarm, so far. Actually, only a few minutes had passed; Citizen Purple was probably still securing his base elsewhere.
Agape paused at a maintenance panel. She tapped on it, then spoke a few words. There seemed to be no response, and ‘Corn was afraid she hadn’t gotten through. But then a cleaning vehicle rolled up, its lid lifting to reveal a dark interior chamber.
“Get in,” Agape said quietly.
“But—” Corn protested, abruptly nervous.
“Do you not know me, friend?” the machine inquired.
“Troubot!” ‘Corn cried. Without further protest he climbed in, and the lid closed. He was in darkness, a prisoner, but now he felt secure.
He wanted to inquire how the machines were arranging things, but before he could do so he was unconscious.
He woke, disoriented. Where was he?
Then a lovely female form leaned over him, her arms reaching around his body to draw him to a sitting posture. “You’ll be a little woozy, ‘Corn, but that will pass in a moment,” she said.
“Tania!” he exclaimed. “But you have clothing on!”
Indeed she did. She wore a silken tan dress cinched at the waist by a blue sash, and there was a blue ribbon in her hair. She was amazingly beautiful; the clothing made her look every inch a Citizen.
She smiled. “We’re offplanet, ‘Corn. You’ll have to don clothing too. Offworlders don’t necessarily understand about serf nakedness. We have a red suit for you.”
“Red suit?” He was still dazed, as much by the changed circumstance as the effects of his drugging. Obviously he had been put under in Troubot—trust his friend to make it easy!—and sealed in and shipped, and now they were—where?
“Red is Citizen Troal’s color,” she reminded him. “As it is for his opposite in Phaze, the Red Adept. We are at the spaceport at your father’s vacation planet; soon he will be meeting us, and we want you to be suitably attired. Then Agape and I will go on to locate Clef.”
He let her dress him, bemused. He knew that clothing was worn offplanet, but this was the first time he had been away from Proton and it was hard to set aside the conditioning of a lifetime.
He felt the need to say something, but he didn’t know what.
So he asked her a personal question. “Tania—if I may ask—aren’t you in love with Mach?”
Her work never paused. She was putting socks on his feet, and then shoes. She had evidently had prior experience with such things. “True.”
“Then how is it you are friends with Agape? I mean, Bane uses the same body—”
“My love is doomed,” she said. “Mach does not love me. No doubt in time I will get over it.”
“But didn’t he promise—”
“I want his love, not his promise!” she flared. Then, immediately, she apologized. “I’m sorry, ‘Corn; I shouldn’t have said that. My situation is no concern of yours. I have been foolish in my emotion; see that when you grow up you are more sensible.”
“Too late,” he said wryly. “I love Nepe, and she loves Troubot.”
Tania stared at him. Then she hugged him. “You do understand!” she murmured, and he felt the wetness of tears at his neck. Suddenly he was very glad he had spoken.
Agape appeared, resplendent in a blue dress. It was amazing what clothing did for a person! ‘Corn, standing now before a mirror, hardly recognized himself; they were like three different people.
They walked out to meet Citizen Troal. But it was the Bat Girl, in bright red, who came to meet them. He had never seen her dressed before, either; she was the loveliest of all! “Mother!” he cried, and flung himself into her arms.
“Tania and I must go on to find the musician Clef,” Agape said. “ ‘Corn’s key indicates that this is our only avenue to reverse the treachery of the Contrary Citizens.”
‘Corn’s mother smiled. “My husband is already contacting him. We shall hold a video conference. Our cottag
e is about fifteen minutes away.”
They rode in the odd conveyance of this planet. It was like a boat, that sailed above a rail set in the ground. Its magnetic suspension was smooth, and as it moved it really did seem to have the buoyancy of a waterborne craft. But even stranger was the landscape through which they rode: there was no dome! The atmosphere of this planet was unpolluted; it was possible to breathe anywhere. There were even plants and trees growing as far afield as he could see. As with the clothing: he had known this was the case with many planets, but it was an awesome thing actually to experience.
Made giddy by this new environment, ‘Corn was emboldened to ask his mother a personal question. “Why are you called the Bat Girl, Mother, when you don’t look anything like a bat?” The oddest thing was that he had never wondered about this before; seeing her in clothing had changed his view of her in more than the physical sense.
She laughed. “Your father named me that! It is because of Agape.”
“Agape?” he repeated, startled.
“Some time back, I exchanged places with Fleta the unicorn in Phaze,” Agape answered. “In Phaze I was helped by an ugly old troll and a beautiful young vampire. I talked to each, and learned that each was afraid to broach a certain matter to the other: he because he believed that no woman could care for a troll, she because she regarded herself as an animal, having originated as a bat. Because I owed each a debt I could not myself repay, I urged the lady bat to approach the troll.”
“But what has that to do with my mother?” ‘Corn demanded.
“They did get together, and soon married,” Agape explained. “They had a son whom they chose to name after my Proton identity, calling him Alien. Because things tend to be parallel between the frames, something similar happened in Proton, and the happy couple named their son Unicorn, after the person whose body I used in Phaze.”