“Is that an order, sir?” she replied defiantly. There was laughter from above; of course it wasn’t an order, in a game like this.
“Now I’ve got you—oops!” Obviously she had slipped out of his grasp. It was almost impossible to hold on to a person in this slippery stuff. Both remained out of sight.
Sheen screamed again, signaling that he had caught her again.
“Spread your legs, wench!” he ordered.
“Spread them yourself, sir!” More delighted laughter from above; the audience could picture exactly what was happening.
“If you don’t, I’ll tickle you!”
There was a pause. Then, hesitantly: “Where will you tickle me, sir?”
“Maybe on the feet.”
“That’s all right.”
“Then maybe on the knees.”
“The knees? I think I can handle that.”
“Then maybe the thighs.”
A pause. “I’ll survive it somehow.”
“How about the belly?”
“Oh, no, not the belly! Anywhere but there!”
“Anywhere?” His voice was quivering with suggestion.
“Uh—just where else did you have in mind, sir?”
“WHERE DO YOU THINK, WENCH?”
“I’ll spread my legs!”
“Too late! I’d rather tickle you. Just let me get my finger in there—”
She screamed yet again, piercingly. The laughter from above was almost overwhelming.
What the audience did not realize was that the activity under the whipped gelatin was quite different from that suggested by the dialogue. Sheen opened a breast-cabinet and brought out heavy makeup materials. She applied paint to his hair, wherever it occurred, changing it to match her own. She put green contact lenses into his eyes, so that they also matched hers. She removed both her breasts and fastened them to his body with flesh-colored adhesive, and applied pseudoflesh to his hips and buttocks. She used more of it to cover his genitals and mold them into a mound like hers. This was feasible because her midsection was larger than his; there was room for layering. Soon Blue resembled her so closely that only a careful inspection would give him away.
Meanwhile, instead of tickling her—it was difficult to tickle a robot—he was helping her to assume his form. He removed her hairpiece and put on one that resembled his hair. He used a special pen to draw lines on her legs that made them look thinner and more muscular. He used pseudoflesh to thicken her waist. He removed her ears and substituted a set she had brought that resembled his. And he applied to her crotch a prefabricated unit of pseudoflesh that was cast in the shape of his male genitals. Then he smoothed out her now-flat chest, and painted a few hairs. The double transformation was complete.
At this point they were grunting suggestively, as though engaged in heavy activity, while the audience above quieted, striving to overhear and interpret what was occurring. All sex was free on Proton, and serfs indulged at will (or the will of their Citizen employers), but again the concealment enhanced the fascination. Blue made a final, satisfied groan, and they were quiet.
Then Blue stroked upward through the froth so that his head broke the surface. “Well, I didn’t get tickled!” he said in his best emulation of Sheen’s voice.
“Liar!” Sheen called from below, in his voice. “You got well tickled inside. If you haven’t had enough—”
Blue looked alarmed, and clambered out of the vat. Patches of lather covered portions of his body, making it more difficult for anyone to tell that he was not a naked woman. He hurried out, as if afraid the Citizen was about to call him back for another round.
“It’s better when they resist,” his voice came from behind, as Sheen broke the surface in his likeness. “Next time, translucent gel!” The audience applauded. The serfs had seen far less than they thought, and were convinced they knew what had happened below. A majority of the males now had erections. There would be a mass sex orgy the moment Sheen, as Citizen Blue, gave leave for general use of the vat. It was significant that none of the women was trying to leave early.
He hurried to the connected shower stall, and quickly rinsed the foam from his hair and body. Sheen, in the guise of the Citizen, would have a portable shower brought in, and the serfs would gladly operate it and the dryer, and help her back into his blue cloak. Then she would take his transport back to their suite.
He had to smile. Sheen was a machine, but what a machine! She did things so well. He trusted her absolutely, and yes, he did love her.
He emerged from the shower, stood in the dryer a moment, and departed the premises without attracting undue attention. He walked down the hall to a public transport, got on, and rode across the city. When he reached the far side he got off, then took another transport, glancing around as if to see whether anyone was following. Reassured, he proceeded to the jetport and boarded a flight to the dome of Gobdom. This took a while, and he sat absolutely still and straight, in the manner of a robot who had tuned out, not snoozing in the human manner.
At Gobdom he walked around as if on business, checking again for any pursuit. When there seemed to be none, he boarded a flight to Anidom.
He knew he was being watched, and that his exchange with Sheen had not fooled the eyes that were following him. They would be equipped with sensors that read beneath the surface, fathoming his fleshly nature, and Sheen’s robotic nature. The serfs had surely been deceived, but not the Citizens. Still, it was a good ruse, for it had a reasonable chance of making the Citizens think that he was trying to conceal his activity. Indeed, the exchange would have been effective, had ordinary lenses been used; the best ones were considerably more expensive than the standard ones, and required far more sophisticated application. But for this all-important purpose, he knew the best was being brought into play.
So the Citizens thought he was trying a simple ruse to fool them, making a public show of his location and a very clever identity exchange so that no one would suspect. Now they might believe he was going to his true rendezvous. Indeed, they had a potent confirmatory hint in the crossword game he had played with Sheen. For there was a key word written therein, supposedly concealed. From the top left, slantwise down, crossing both the horizontal and vertical words: ANIDOM. The dome to which he was now going.
How might he have gotten this message to Nepe? They would just have to make their own conjectures. Obviously there was a way. Perhaps the child had access to a Game Grid screen, and could tune in to the game he had played long-distance with Sheen. The moment she saw that slanting message, she would know, and she would be there at the appointed hour to meet him. Then they would have her.
Blue kept a straight face, maintaining his robotic demeanor, but internally he was smiling. The Citizens would be so sure of their victory—and so disappointed when it slipped away. For Nepe would not be meeting him here, or anywhere else. Her orders were never to meet him or contact him at all. She was entirely on her own. That way no action or word of his could give her away, no matter how closely the Citizens monitored his every eyeblink.
He had confidence in her, and yet he feared for her. She was so young! If only he had had another year to train her, even six months, to perfect it. But he trusted the judgment of his other self in Phaze; if Stile had concluded that the break had to be made now, that was surely the case. Perhaps things had gotten tighter in Phaze than in Proton. Probably the Adverse Adepts had been about to catch on to the true powers of little Flach, and had been planning a preemptive captivity.
Well, he was doing his part, protecting Nepe to whatever extent he could. He would dally for several hours in Anidom, poking into obscure comers, and in the course of it perform another identity switch in a seeming effort to shake any pursuit that remained. Then he would give it up and go home. If the Citizens had not found her by that time, they were unlikely to thereafter.
For Nepe would be hiding in the manner they least expected: in the form of a robot. Stile could not make himself into a machine well enough t
o deceive the special eyes, but Nepe could. She could form her flesh into metallic hardness throughout, and function so like a robot that only a physical dissection could expose her nature. He and Agnes had drilled her on this until she had it almost perfect: the impossible identity. She might be one of the mechanical servitors the Citizens used as they searched for her. Blue himself did not know what variant she would assume, or where she would operate. His only concern now was that she hide successfully. The success of this ploy depended on Nepe and Flach in Phaze. But it was also true that he loved the little alien creature, and wanted her safe even if his power and the welfare of Proton were not on the line.
His thoughts turned naturally to Phaze. Why had he never sought to make direct contact with the other frame, now that Mach and Bane had demonstrated that it was possible, and Nepe and Flach had confirmed it? He had learned that it was his continuing link with Stile, and their exchanged identities, that kept the frames from separating completely. He was a native of Phaze, living in Proton, while Stile was from Proton, and living in Phaze. As long as that was the case, the frames would be linked. Presumably if he overlapped his other self and made the effort, he could exchange with Stile, and be back in Phaze. So easy, perhaps, yet he had never even made the effort.
He knew why. It was because he preferred Proton, and Stile preferred Phaze. Blue loved Sheen, whose marvels of body and accommodation had been demonstrated today, and never wanted to leave her. Stile loved the Lady Blue similarly. Suppose they overlapped, and exchanged—and were unable to return to their present situations? The frames might be forever separated, their final link cut, and Blue would be stuck in marriage with the Lady Blue, and Stile with Sheen. The Lady Blue was a fine person, but it had not worked out between them, just as it had not worked between Stile and Sheen. No, he dared not risk it, and he knew Stile felt the same. They would never contact each other direct. Not unless the salvation of the frames depended on it.
And if that should ever turn out to be the case—well. Blue had a little ace in the hole that might allow him to rejoin Stile without losing everything. It was so enormous a gamble that he would never risk it except as the final resort. If successful, it would still change the faces of the frames forever. If it failed—there was no telling what would happen.
He knew, because of the increasing parallelism of the frames, that Stile had a similar notion, to be similarly implemented. For the actions had to be together. And, because one or both of them were likely to be in straits too dire to allow direct implementation, he had set the trigger in a place no one would suspect. It could be summed up in one key word: ‘Corn.
Chapter 5
Tania
To guarantee privacy, they held the meeting at the Translucent Demesnes, under the water near the Isle of the West Pole. Tan and Tania rode in a watery bubble the Translucent Adept sent, floating over the forests and plains of Phaze at rapid velocity before descending into the sea. Tania affected the same blasé reaction her brother did, but the truth was that she got a fair thrill from this type of travel. She could fascinate folk with her gaze, because she shared with her brother the magic of the Evil Eye, but could not perform physical magic in the manner of other Adepts. Hers was not an inferior talent, merely more subtle; when it came to questioning a resistive client, or to persuading someone, the others deferred to her. Yet she often wished for just a little of the other kind of power!
The bubble coursed through the water, brushing aside reaching sea plants, coming at last to the hidden palace. At the entrance it landed and popped out of existence, leaving them standing dry, though the sea loomed around and above them. It was a nice effect; Translucent did things right.
They entered. The other Adepts were already there, having had faster magic transportation: White, who used the runes and glyphs; Yellow, with her potions to govern animals; Black, who was entirely made of lines; Orange, whose magic was of plants; Green, whose hand gestures controlled fire; and Purple, with the forces of geology. Eight of them in all, counting Tan and Tania as one, and, of course, Translucent. Against them were ranged only three: Blue with his singsongs, Red with his amulets, and Brown with her golems. Yet so far the three had had their way more often than not: a distressing situation, long overdue for redress. This was because the Red Adept, a literal troll, had the Book of Magic, the most potent single instrument in Phaze. Now their access to that Book had been cut off, precipitating the crisis.
Translucent began without preamble: “Blue suckered us. He trained the boy Flach to be a nascent Adept with natural form changing from his unicorn side. We were just beginning to catch on, when the boy made his move. He substituted a golem for himself, and that was what arrived at the Blue Demesnes. Blue waited just long enough for the real boy to be thoroughly hidden, then pulled the plug on grounds we had delivered not. Bane tells me the same happened simultaneously in Proton: the little girl took off. The ploy be this: we had a covenant that we were allowed access to the Book of Magic only during the time when the boy was with Blue. Since the boy did not reach the Blue Demesnes, our use of the Book be cut off. Until we recover the boy and deliver him to Blue, we can use it not. It be clear that Blue realized that we were on the verge o’ a breakthrough, and would assume dominance shortly; he acted just in time to scotch that. We be here to consider our alternatives.”
“I knew thou wouldst bungle it!” Purple exclaimed. “Thou didst say thou wouldst get the damned rovot to go along with us!”
“He did, Purp!” White snapped. “And he got Bane in with us too. That’s a potent pair, and they have decamped not.”
“They must have been in on it,” Purple said. “How did the brat in Proton know, else?”
“They knew not,” Translucent said. “In retrospect we realize that this break be more significant than that. The two children can speak to each other directly. ”
This was news to the others. “Same as Bane and the rovot?” Yellow asked.
“That be our conclusion. We were guilty o’ narrow thinking; we ne’er thought it possible. We thought it mere parallelism or coincidence. Had we caught on, we would have secured those brats instantly.”
“Then we must have those children!” White exclaimed.
“I had concluded as much,” Translucent said dryly. “I had suspected that the boy was able to assume more forms than just man and ‘corn, and thought to have Tan speak to him to ascertain just what these might be. That would have revealed aught we ne’er dreamed o’! Somehow Blue must have realized, and spirited the boy out o’ our grasp. Nor rovot nor ‘corn parents suspected; they believed the boy retarded.”
“He fooled e’en his own parents,” White said, thoughtfully. “That lad be dangerous.”
“That brat be power!” Purple said. “We capture him, we’ll need not mare or rovot!”
“Which is where Blue scored,” Translucent agreed. “He knew—and doubled his ploy by making us liable for losing the lad. Gain back the lad, and we score double oursel’es. There be our challenge. But methinks the lad will be not easy to find.”
“Trace his route!” Purple said. “He started with the mare; where did he leave her?”
“I have traced the route, and queried the auspices,” Translucent said grimly. “We had warners where’er magic occurred, and tags on both boy and mare. He left the mare only four times. The first was west o’ a pack, when he took a piss break. The second was when the mare went ahead to break up a dragon attack on pups leaving the Pack: she be oathfriend to that Pack, and fought for its pups, but endangered not the boy. The third was near her Herd, when the boy took another rest break, and the fourth halfway ‘tween there and the Blue Demesnes, another rest break. I checked further and learned that traces o’ urine were only at the first stop; by this I conclude that the last two were the golem substitute, making pretense. We are assured it was the living boy up to the first stop, and the golem at the third. That puts the second in question.”
“Could he have joined the pups?” White asked alertly.
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“Nay. They were four coming in, and four going on; an he joined them, there had been five. An he switch places with one, then it be a werewolf riding the mare—and it were no wolf arrived with her.”
“Then where did he go?” White demanded.
“Methinks he changed form under cover o’ the mare’s changes; our warners can tell simultaneous changes not from one. We found no tracks, no traces ‘cept scratches on the bark o’ a tree there. I believe he changed to bird form and flew, and where he be now—” He shrugged.
“Bird form!” Yellow exclaimed. “He could have flown anywhere by now!”
“True. Therefore our effort to trace him be doomed. We underestimated him, supposing him to be capable o’ but two forms instead o’ four, and thus he slipped away.”
“Four?” Purple asked. “Man, ‘corn, bird, and what?”
“Whate’er he changed to when his flying was done. He would not remain a bird; that be too limited a form, its life too hazardous.”
“He could be human or unicorn, and merge with a village or Herd,” Purple pointed out. “We can search them all and find him.”
“That be why he would have a fourth form,” Translucent said. “He made this cunning escape not to be readily recovered.”
“But he be but four years old! His kind masters but three forms!”
Translucent shook his head. “We underestimated him once; needs we must not do so again. He could be anything.”
“Then recovery be hopeless?” Purple asked challengingly.
“Nay, merely difficult. We shall be obliged to search every settlement or group, human and animal, methodically, until we find him.”
“How can we find him, an we not know his form?” Purple demanded. “That be searching for one straw in a haystack!”
“Tan must question each prospect,” Translucent said. “We know the lad’s age; only those that age need be checked. An we knew what form, it would be a matter o’ weeks or months. As it is, months or years. But it can be done, and must be done.”