‘Corn was stunned. “A troll—a vampire bat—and a unicorn?”
His mother hugged him. “I’m sure your opposite number is no happier about being named after an amoebic alien creature. But we identify strongly with our Phaze counterparts; Phaze is the magic in our lives, even though we can not visit it.”
‘Corn was silent. Why hadn’t he realized this before? Nepe had spoken of her contact with Flach, and his friend Al. Al the alien, ‘Corn the unicorn! How obvious, suddenly!
They arrived at the residence. It was a cottage right out in the open, surrounded by flowering trees. But ‘Corn was becoming acclimatized to such marvels; they had serious business to transact.
Citizen Troal met them at the door. ‘Corn had never thought of his father as a troll before, but now he could see how tall and ugly he was. Of course appearance didn’t matter for a Citizen; the most beautiful woman would marry one in an instant, for the sake of the power and comfort of the life he offered. ‘Corn had assumed this was the case with his mother; now he knew that there was more to it than that.
“We are tracking the musician,” Troal announced. “He should be on the screen momentarily.”
Indeed, Clef appeared soon after they entered. He was life size on the wall screen, but the distance between planets caused his image to flicker slightly. He was a man of Troal’s age, with a severely receding hairline and the same archaic spectacles the key had shown. “I have not been in touch with Planet Proton for more than a quarter century,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor of this contact?”
“Do you remember Citizen Blue?” Troal asked. “Perhaps you know him as the Adept Stile.”
“Stile! Yes, of course; how could I forget! He fetched the magic Platinum Flute!”
“We believe he has need for your assistance again.”
“There on Proton? But I can not return there; my tenure as a serf concluded, and I am not allowed back. In any event, I have a pressing schedule in this section of the galaxy; we are organizing an interspecies orchestra.”
“Your return to Proton may be barred by Proton custom,” Troal said. “But events may override that. Citizen Blue is in serious trouble, and there is a suggestion that you are the key to the resolution of his problem.”
“I’m not sure you understand, Citizen Troal. My prior service was to enter the frame of Phaze and play the magic Flute at a critical time. Thereafter the frames were permanently separated; it is no longer possible to cross over. Since the magic Flute remains on the other side of the curtain, and only it is capable of re-establishing the connection, there is nothing I can do for you.”
“Nevertheless, Citizen Blue evidently believes—”
“I am sorry. I suspect further dialogue is pointless. I am in any event too old to travel such a distance on mere speculation that I might be of some use.”
Troal looked baffled. Clef was making sense.
“Sir, if I may talk to him,” Tania murmured.
The Citizen shrugged. “Of course. But make it brief.”
Tania stepped forward, adjusting her décolletage. “Clef, I be Tania, daughter of one thou mayest have encountered in the Phaze variation as the Tan Adept. Methinks that thou’rt the finest musician o’ our time. We believe that thou dost be the only one who can help us save Proton and Phaze from a terrible fate. We know not how thou mayest do this, but we be prepared to do anything required to make it possible. Anything! Please, I beg of thee, come immediately to this planet, that we may explore possibilities.”
Clef stared at her. “Of course.”
The others watched, astonished, as Tania made a little bow to the screen. Then the connection dissolved.
“What did you do?” ‘Corn demanded. “How come he changed his mind?”
She turned to him, a partial smile on her face. Her dress was open at the front, showing most of one breast and part of the other. Her hair was slightly wild. Her eyes seemed enormous—and as her gaze met his, they seemed to grow larger yet, sending an oddly pleasant shiver through him. “You vamped him!” Agape exclaimed.
Tania drew her dress up so that little more than her neck showed, and smoothed out her hair. Her eyes diminished. “It’s a talent I have found effective on men other than yours. I prayed for some of what my other self can do with her Eye, and perhaps I got it. It was a desperation ploy.”
“But that man is old enough to be your father!” Agape protested.
“And what is wrong with that?” the Bat Girl inquired.
Agape glanced from her to Citizen Troal. “Nothing, of course,” she said, embarrassed.
“And you used Phaze idiom, reminding him of what offers there,” Citizen Troal remarked. “That was clever of you. I wish I could have seen you as he saw you.”
“Not likely!” the Bat Girl snapped. “…sir.”
They all laughed. ‘Corn knew that his mother, perhaps the most beautiful woman of Proton, had nothing to fear from others. Still, the way Tania had looked in that moment—if it had had such impact on himself, a child, what would have been the effect on a grown man? Now Clef’s change of heart was no mystery!
Galactic travel was swift, when facilitated by a Citizen of Proton. Within a day Clef arrived.
“I don’t want to see him,” Tania said, embarrassed. “If I had thought about it at all, I wouldn’t have—”
“Clef is a gentleman,” Troal said. “Be assured he will treat you as a lady.”
“Which I don’t deserve!”
But she did meet him, completely demure in a cloak-like dress, and Clef was indeed polite. He had brought his flute made of platinum but not, he explained, magic, unfortunately. “I would give everything I have dreamed of elsewhere, to be in Phaze again, to possess the magic Flute again,” he said. “When you, Tania, perhaps subconsciously, used the Phaze idiom, it reminded me of my longing for it. So my presence here is selfish, I regret to confess. If there is even the remotest chance—” He shrugged.
“We hope there is,” Tania said, visibly relieved.
“Citizen Blue must believe there is,” ‘Corn said, showing his key, which still glowed with Clef’s picture. They explained all that they knew of the situation to Clef.
Clef nodded. “So the parallelism has strengthened in recent decades,” he said. “That suggests quite strong connections between the frames despite their seeming separation. Perhaps this is because with no way to cross over physically, the force of equalization is channeled to other mechanisms.”
“That is our conclusion,” Citizen Troal agreed.
“That may mean in turn that something roughly similar to our present meeting is occurring in the frame of Phaze,” Clef continued. “Perhaps someone is fetching the magic Flute.”
“But how can you play it, when it is there and you are here?” ‘Corn asked.
“That is the salient question,” Clef said. “But if my friend Stile—or his other self—believes that it is possible, then it behooves us to explore the matter. Perhaps the answer will offer.”
“But there is danger for all of us on Planet Proton,” Troal reminded him. “Citizen Purple is trying to eliminate all opposition.”
“I realize that. But I am in my waning years, and perhaps have relatively little to lose. We must try to consult with Citizen Blue; he is the only one who truly knows how I may help.”
“We may be able to sneak a small party in,” Citizen Troal said. “My wife and I are watched, so cannot approach the planet, but if others move in by a devious route, it may work. However, the moment you enter Citizen Blue’s premises, discovery is inevitable; you will have very little time to act.”
“Understood,” Clef agreed.
The return was more complicated than the departure, but just as urgent; they knew they had to act swiftly, or it would be too late. If Citizen Purple got well enough established to believe he could afford to kill his captives, what would be left except vengeance and ruin? It was ironic, ‘Corn thought, that the Contrary Citizens had already won their contest; h
ad they just honored the agreements, their hold over the planet would have been secure. But victory had been the signal for the falling out of thieves, and now they were hurting each other as much as their opponents.
Indeed, it might have been that internecine quarreling which enabled the foursome to sneak back onto the planet. Citizen was watching Citizen, each nervously guarding his own holdings while trying to grab those of his neighbors. Anarchy was developing. So no notice was taken when a noted musician from a far planet arrived with several sealed boxes of equipment about which he was very finicky. There was also a reaction to local custom. He made a fair scene when leaving the ship: “Naked? You expect me to strip stark naked?”
‘Corn smiled. He had been revived the moment the ship landed, as had the others, so that they could act quickly. They remained in their boxes, properly naked, ready to push open the unlatched lids and leap out at need. But as long as the ruse remained effective, they remained hidden, listening. ‘Corn was sure that Agape and Tania found this scene as amusing as he did. Clef had been a serf, and well understood the rule for serfs; but he was returning as a different man, one who had never before been to this planet. Evidently there had been some details this other person had overlooked.
The spaceport personnel patiently explained about Citizens and serfs. They had been through exactly this sort of scene many times before. They were sorry, but no matter how august the musician was on his home planet, he was reckoned as a serf here, and had to adopt serf ways. He must address any clothed person as “sir” and honor any directive that person gave implicitly; he must seek the sponsorship of a Citizen if he wished to remain on the planet more than a few days; and he must go naked.
“This is an outrage!” Clef fulminated. But in the end, with exceeding reluctance, he bared his old and portly body, for he had an important engagement for which he would not be paid unless he delivered. “But,” he assured them grimly, “you have not heard the last of this!”
The personnel did not respond. They had heard it before. Planet Proton was a very special experience, for those who arrived unwarned. Most of the functionaries had had to make similar adjustments when they first came. Clef was allowed to set foot within the dome proper, and his boxes were unloaded.
Shortly later, in the temporary apartment chamber he had rented, Clef opened his luggage. He had used a special monitor to make sure that he was not being spied on. ‘Corn and the two women got out. They had passed the first hurdle; now for the second, and critical, one. They had to get to Citizen Blue, and then see how they could help him.
‘Corn went ahead, scouting the situation. His hair had been cut and its color changed, and cosmetic tape had been used to change his facial features enough to make him unrecognizable as the boy he had been. His body was thicker; he looked pudgy now, but this was because of a spybeam sensor fitted around his abdomen. Every time he passed a hall monitor, he got a pulse against the skin of his belly, verifying the presence of the invisible beam.
All was quiet in the region of Citizen Blue’s complex. ‘Corn walked by it without pausing—but the equipment he carried verified the nature of the lock and the people inside. The lock was unchanged, which meant that Agape could enter, bringing her companions with her. Citizen Blue, Sheen and Mach remained there, apparently unhurt, held by a lethargy generator that was tuned to both living people and robots. Citizen Tan was there too, horizontal; that meant he was sleeping at the moment. Excellent!
‘Corn completed his circuit, returning to Clef’s chamber. “It’s clear!” he reported. “Only Citizen Tan is guarding them, and he’s sleeping!”
“I don’t trust this,” Tania said. “My brother is devious, as I am. It could be a trap.”
“What choice do we have?” Clef asked. “If we don’t go there, we can not rescue Citizen Blue. We shall just have to hope that either they are not expecting us, or that if they are, we can act with greater dispatch than they expect.”
Tania nodded. “Sometimes the best way to handle a trap is to spring it,” she agreed. “I am expendable; I will try to nullify my brother while you see to Citizen Blue.”
“Expendable?” Clef asked, appalled. “I should hope not!”
Tania smiled at him, and he smiled back. Evidently she had after all invoked more than just the memory of Phaze in his mind. ‘Corn observed them covertly, hoping to learn something that might be useful in his relationship with Nepe. He knew that Tania wasn’t really interested in Clef; she just wanted to be sure he helped rescue Citizen Blue. And, in the process, the one she did love: Mach. Thus she was an excellent reference for the application of sex appeal without emotion.
“In any event,” Agape said, “that lethargy box surely has settings for Tania and me and perhaps ‘Corn too. We are wearing nullifiers, but our first priority will be to destroy that box.”
“I’ll do it!” ‘Corn cried. “I’ll throw it against the wall!”
“Too bad we couldn’t get a box tuned to Purple and Tan,” Tania said.
They proceeded to Blue’s suite. Other serfs were hurrying to and fro; to them the strife between Citizens was either unimportant or unknown. They merely followed orders, whoever was in power. No one paid attention to the little party.
At the panel, Agape didn’t hesitate. She put her hand against it, and it slid open, recognizing her. She remained at the panel while the other three quickly and quietly stepped in; then she stepped through and let it close behind.
They filed silently along the short hallway leading to the main room. Tania took the lead, alert for her brother. Clef was next, holding his flute; none of them knew exactly how this instrument could help, but all believed that it related in some significant way.
‘Corn saw Citizen Blue, seated on a chair. He was conscious; his eyes moved. But he was unable to move rapidly.
“So the wanderers return!”
That was Citizen Tan’s voice! He was awake—and it was indeed a trap!
Then, before ‘Corn could react, the heavy hand of lethargy fell on him. He saw Agape and Clef sag; they felt it too. Tan had the box—and it was overriding their nullifiers! Their arrival had not only been anticipated, it had been prepared for. What fools they had been to think it would be otherwise; no wonder their arrival had been without event! Tan had wanted them to come here, where they could be captured without commotion.
But Tania was not affected. She whirled and threw herself on the Citizen, grabbing for the box. The rest of them, unable to take similar action, stood in place.
‘Corn was facing forward, and could not turn his head fast enough to view the action. Why wasn’t there a setting for Tania? Then he understood: she was Tan’s twin sister. Her setting would be almost identical to his. If he tried to use the box on her, he would suffer its effects himself. Perhaps he had thought she would not dare return, so hadn’t worried about it. Or he had thought she wouldn’t dare directly oppose him.
He had been mistaken. ‘Corn heard the sounds of their nearby struggle. Tania was female, and smaller than her brother, but she was healthy while he had evidently grown soft in Citizenship. It seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds; then the box dropped to the floor. She had beaten him!
No, she had only jarred the box from his grasp. It had not broken; the lethargy remained on them. Tan shoved her away as ‘Corn’s head slowly turned so that he could see them. She stumbled into Clef.
Tan lunged at her. Tania dodged around Clef. Then, on inspiration, she took the flute from his flaccid hand and held it like a weapon. When Tan reached for her again, she brought it down on his head.
The flute was made of platinum: a beautiful and extremely valuable instrument. Platinum was one of the heaviest of metals. The flute made a most effective club. Tan dropped to the floor, for the moment unable to continue the fight.
Tania stepped toward the lethargy box, ready to smash it similarly, so as to free them all.
Clef managed a protest. “Not with the flute!” The pain in his voice would ha
ve been funny if the situation had not been so serious.
Tania nodded. Her hair was wild and she was bruised and shaking, but she had not lost her wits. She tucked the flute under her arm and picked up the box. She found its master switch and turned it off.
Suddenly all of them were free—Blue and Sheen and Mach included.
But before they could do more than look at each other, there was a new voice. “Attempt nothing foolish,” Purple said. “I have another box—and more persuasive instruments.”
It was of course no bluff. Citizen Tan might have misjudged his sister, but Citizen Purple was more cunning and ruthless. Tania straightened slowly, and the others did not move.
Except for ‘Corn. He was at the rear of their column, closest to Purple. He whirled and leaped—
And was felled by a spot lethargy jolt. He collapsed at Purple’s feet. Indeed, the man had not been bluffing!
Purple brushed by him, orienting on Tania. “Give me that flute,” he said gruffly, “and I may make you my mistress instead of having you executed.” He held out his hand.
‘Corn, on the floor, was able to move his head just enough to see the tableau. Tania was slowly lifting the flute. Clef was just behind her, chagrined.
Why did Purple want the flute? He had to know it wasn’t the magic one! It was valuable, but Purple hardly needed more wealth. The instrument was irrelevant to Purple’s interests.
But Purple was no fool. If he wanted the flute, there had to be reason. But what could the flute do, that Purple might fear?
Suddenly ‘Corn got a notion. “Play it!” he gasped. Tania, surprised, looked at the flute she held. She was no musician. There was no way she could do more than tootle on it. But she seemed to understand what ‘Corn had realized. She lifted the flute to her mouth and blew. There was nothing except a rush of air. She wasn’t addressing the mouthpiece correctly. Purple laughed.
Then Clef reached around her and adjusted the flute. He set his hands over hers, each finger guiding one of hers. “Across, not into,” he murmured.