"I brought him here because I thought they would not be blocking off this castle as they were the Blue Demesnes," Fleta said. "But I could not tell him how to return to Proton."
"How didst thou come to this frame?" Stile inquired of Mach.
"I willed it-and suddenly it happened."
"But thou couldst not will thyself back?"
Mach shook his head. "It didn't seem to work that way."
Stile considered. "Where did it happen?"
"In a glade near the swamp."
Stile looked at Fleta. "What glade?"
Fleta gave a more accurate geographic description, and added that Bane had gone there several times before the exchange was made.
"Then Bane was trying for this?"
"Yes," Mach said.
"Thy position in Proton-how did it relate to thy point of arrival in Phaze?"
"Why, they were the same," Mach said.
"Then thy body occupied the same spot his did-one in each frame."
"Yes, I think so."
"That must be the key! To overlap the position, then will the exchange. Mayhap he facilitated it with a spell."
Mach sat amazed. Of course that was the key, suddenly so obvious! To overlap, so there was no physical motion required. And when he had walked away from that spot, the overlap no longer occurred, so they couldn't change back.
"I did it!" he exclaimed ruefully. "I left the spot, trapping him there without even realizing!"
"Then perhaps he is trying to locate thee, again," Stile said. "Does he have a mechanism for that?"
"I don't know," Mach said. "But I think so, because he knew where to be, while I did not realize that location mattered. But if so, it may not work in Proton."
"He would have used another spell," Stile agreed. "Or perhaps the two of you are attuned to each other. If thou dost try to tune in on him-"
"I never thought of that!" Mach exclaimed, feeling quite stupid. He sat still and concentrated, thinking of Bane. Where are you, my other self?
He felt the faintest of stirrings, as though he had reached something far distant. But he couldn't be sure.
"Try it again, periodically," Stile suggested. "I think this be a thing no other can do for thee." He leaned forward. "But in the meantime, there be things we must grasp. This be contact between the frames, when we thought it impossible. A psychic rapport between the two of you-mayhap a unique one. I see now why the Adepts be after thee; they knew before I did, and seek contact with Proton."
"Yes," Mach agreed. "They want me to carry messages, and have offered me anything I want."
Stile nodded. "We all be starved for news! But thou-if thou be the son of mine other self, who is thy mother?"
"Sheen."
"Sheen be the best and loveliest of women, but she also be a robot. Do robots bear babies now?"
"No. I am a robot too." Quickly Mach explained.
"Yet thou dost resemble Bane, physically?"
"Precisely, as far as I can tell."
"And thou dost have a soul, for now it be here."
"And his is in my robot body," Mach agreed.
"I suspected that a machine could have a soul when I knew Sheen," Stile said, and his eyes looked far beyond the chamber. "Now it seems we have the proof." He shrugged. "Tell thy mother I remember her, and be glad for her fortune in marrying Blue." Then he left, and only the golem remained, brown and wooden, the melting ice cream untouched before it.
"He seemed not much interested in thee!" Fleta said indignantly.
Mach smiled. "He was interested. He is like my father; only a small fraction of the thought and emotion in him leaks out. I'm glad to have met him, and I shall carry back his message."
"Methinks Stile was a bit too restrained," Brown remarked. "He will be watching thee, Mach."
"I know it." Mach looked at Fleta. "I think our time together is limited, now that I have the key to my return."
"Aye," she agreed faintly.
"I will provide you with a suite here, until the time," Brown said.
It was a nice suite. "She understands," Fleta whispered.
"She understands," Mach agreed. "She may have had some forbidden love of her own."
For the first time, they spent a night in human quarters, without fear of pursuit or discovery, and it was sheer delight. They made love with the desperation born of the knowledge of coming separation.
"But surely I need not stay always in Proton," Mach murmured. "If I could come here once, I could come here again, at least for a visit, to see you."
"Aye," she breathed with sudden hope.
"If Bane agreed. I don't know how he would feel-"
"Bane be a good man. He would do it."
They lay in silence for a time. Then he asked: "You told the Brown Adept that you love me."
"I had no right," she said.
"Surely it has happened before! With animals being able to assume human form, and sharing human intelligence-has no unicorn, or werewolf, or vampire ever before loved a human being?"
"Oh, aye," she said. "But it be discouraged for aught but play."
"Play-as in bed? But not serious, as in love?"
"Aye. Love be special."
"Surely it is! And until I occupied this human body, I think play was all I ever experienced. But now I believe I love you, Fleta, and I don't see how that can be wrong. I know what you are, and if you love me too-"
She shook her head. "Mach, mayhap there be secret love twixt our kinds on occasion, but ne'er open. Sometimes a human man will take a werebitch as a concubine, and she would do it not if she loved him not. Sometimes an animal be so fetching, like Suchevane the vampiress, that she could take a human man."
"Who?"
"Suchevane. She be the loveliest of her kind. Methinks Bane played a game with her, too." She grimaced. "But thou dost have no need to meet her," she concluded firmly.
"So animals and human beings never marry."
"Nor speak the three," she agreed.
"The three? Three whats?"
"When thy kind - and sometimes other kinds - bespeak true love, the one will address the other three times, and then there be no doubt."
"Three times? You mean if I said 'I love you' three times, then you would believe me?"
"Thee," she said. "But say it not, Mach."
"Thee? But I don't talk that way."
"Aye. Thou art not of Phaze."
"Thee - three times?"
"Say it not!" she repeated. "This be ne'er offhand!"
"I don't understand."
"Aye," she murmured, and kissed him.
In the morning they joined Brown for breakfast, then went out for a walk around the Demesnes. Mach paused to concentrate on his other self - and felt Bane much more definitely than before. "He's closer!" he said. "He must be tuning in on me, making his way here."
"Aye," she said, her lip trembling.
He kissed her. "I will return!"
"I will wait for thee."
They were coming into a pleasant flowery garden, whose blooms were all shades of brown. "I'm getting to like the color," Mach remarked.
"These be grown on the best fertilizer there be," Fleta said.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Unicorn manure."
He laughed, thinking it a joke. But she was serious. "When my dam, Neysa, met Brown, and Brown helped Stile, the unicorns agreed to provide her fertilizer for her garden, and so it has been e'er since."
That reminded him of her nature. She had not assumed her natural form since their arrival at the Brown Demesnes. "Fleta, before we part, would you-"
She glanced askance at him.
"Would you play me a tune? I think your music is lovely."
"But to do that-"
"What is wrong with your natural form?"
She hesitated. It was obvious that she preferred to relate to him in the human fashion. Then she shrugged, and became herself, with her glossy black coat and golden socks. She played a melody on her horn, and then a
two-part tune, the pan-pipes playing counterpoint. How she could do that he was not sure; he assumed that magic assisted it. Perhaps the high notes were played at the narrow tip of the horn, and the low ones at the broader base. But the music was as pretty as he could imagine. He would always remember her for this, for her sound as much as for her appearance.
She finished, and changed back to girl form. "Thou dost value me only for my melody," she teased him.
"I would value you just as much if-" Mach looked around, seeking a suitable metaphor for the occasion. They were near a pleasant pool, at whose brown-mud border fat frogs squatted. "If your horn sounded like the croaking of frogs."
She laughed, but there was an angry croak from the nearest frog, who evidently had overheard. In a moment all the frogs had the message, and were glaring at him.
"Methinks thou didst misspeak thyself," Fleta said,
suppressing a merry chortle in the way she had, at bosom-level.
Mach was abashed. It had never occurred to him that the frogs would understand. "I—"
"Croak!" the largest frog said witheringly. Then it turned about, facing the other frogs. They settled themselves in a ring around the pool, at the water's edge. Then they croaked.
Some had low croaks, and some had high croaks, while most were in the middle ranges. They croaked in sequence—and suddenly a melody emerged, each croak a note. More than that: it was the same melody Fleta had just played on her horn, in both its parts. The frogs were duplicating it in all its detail, and in this mode it had another kind of beauty, as great in its fashion as the original had been.
The frogs completed it, and were silent. They waited.
Mach knew he was on the spot. In his ignorance he had affronted the frogs, without cause. He owed them an apology.
He faced Fleta. "In fact, your horn does sound like the croaking of frogs," he said loudly. "Beautiful!"
Fleta smiled. "I thank thee for that compliment."
The frogs considered that. Then the leader jumped into the pond. After that the others followed. In a moment the mud was clear.
"I think they have forgiven thee," Fleta murmured. Then she embraced him and kissed him, in the midst of her laughter.
She changed back to 'corn form and played a new melody. This time Mach joined her, singing counterpoint. And from the pond the croaking resumed, providing a melodic background. It was as though an entire orchestra were performing.
There was a rumble. The ground shook. Fleta stopped playing, alarmed.
The pond abruptly drained away, its water disappearing into the ground beneath. The frogs scrambled desperately to escape. The mud bubbled and slid into the deepening hole.
The flower garden caved in around them. Fleta blew a startled note, bracing her four feet. Mach, realizing that something was seriously amiss, leaped for her, scrambling to her back as his footing gave way. "Get out of here!" he cried.
She leaped-but the entire garden collapsed under her hooves, dropping them down into a forming sinkhole. Fleta kept her feet, but slid to the bottom.
Now smoke showed, issuing from forming vents. "It's a caldera!" Mach cried, jumping off her back. "Change to bird form and fly out, Fleta!"
But she did not; she would not leave him in this danger.
The ground shook again, and the volume of smoke increased, obscuring everything. It seemed to form a globe about them, closing in.
"Magic!" Mach cried. "I'll try a spell!"
But in this pressure of the moment, he could think of neither rhyme nor melody. Fleta blew a note, trying to help him, but then the smoke closed in, chokingly, and they were helpless.
In a moment, it cleared-but they were no longer in the garden. They were in a chamber hewn from rock-and great ugly creatures surrounded them. The creatures pounced, grasping Mach by the arms, one of them clapping a rough and dirty hand over his mouth. Others flung themselves on Fleta, shoving her against the wall while one grasped her horn.
"Welcome, apprentice!" a man said, entering the chamber. "I am the Purple Adept, and these trolls be under my sway. As thou mayst know, I reside in the Purple Mountains, and I possess the magic of the movements of the earth. Now I want thy cooperation, apprentice, and I want thy word on that now."
At a signal from Purple, the troll removed his hand from Mach's mouth. Mach spat out gravel. "I'll give you no such word, criminal!"
"Now I know thou canst not do magic without thy mouth, and my minion will clap his hand back o'er it the moment thou dost try to sing a spell. So thou canst not escape by thy magic."
"But I won't help you, either!" Mach said.
"But an thee give me not thy word, it will go grievously with thy steed here."
"She's not my steed!" Mach exclaimed.
"Aye, she be thy concubine. I saw as much when the two of you trespassed across my Demesnes. Now I ask thee, apprentice: how much music will that mare play, without her horn?"
Fleta renewed her struggles, but the mass of trolls overwhelmed her. She could neither escape nor change form, while her horn was held.
What would happen to a unicorn whose horn was amputated? Mach didn't know, but the very fact that the evil Adept expected him to be cowed by this threat served the purpose. He had no faith in any good will by this man, and he couldn't risk harm to Fleta.
"I will carry a message to Proton," he said dully. "Release Fleta."
"Release her? Nay, she will remain with us-unharmed pending thy cooperation." The Purple Adept made another signal, and the trolls heaved and shoved the resisting unicorn from the chamber. "She will reside in an enchanted cell that be proof from her escape in any form. An thou cooperate fully, she will be well enough treated otherwise."
Mach felt a private rage such as he had never experienced when he had been a robot, but he knew he had to control it. He just could not risk harm to Fleta! "What is your message?"
"The first one will be to mine other self, Citizen Purple, just to let him know that contact has been reestablished. He will know what to do, and what message to return."
The first one. When would this brute ever give over? Not as long as he had control of Fleta!
But perhaps there was a way out. Mach suppressed that thought, not wanting any hint of it to show here. "I have to overlap the spot my other self occupies," he said. "I can't do that if you don't let me move about."
"Thou shalt move about-in my presence," Purple said. "And be thou advised, apprentice, that thy magic may be apt against ordinary folk, but cannot compare with mine own. An thou try something against me, not only will I balk it, I will let my minions at the animal's horn. Trolls hate 'corns; only the restraint I impose prevents them from making her scream."
There will be a reckoning, Mach thought, then quelled his outrage.
He tuned in on Bane-and his other self was very close now. Apparently Bane had been able to follow him here. So it would happen soon-and then he would see whether his wild notion would work.
He experimented, discovering that he could tell the direction from which his other self was coming. He faced that way, ready to walk toward Bane-but he was in a tunnel underground, and the rock wall cut him off.
So he walked along the tunnel, angling toward the other self, while the Purple Adept paced him. "As I understand this," Purple said, "thou art from Proton and have little power of magic. When thou dost exchange back, Bane will be here, and he has power. But thou must remember that any hostile magic practiced here will cost the horn of the animal, and perhaps more thereafter. So thou wouldst be best advised to deliver the message, and bring the return message-and to advise thine other self of the wisdom of this procedure. He may not care for the animal as thou dost, and will leave her to her fate otherwise."
"Understood," Mach said tightly. He kept walking.
The awareness of his other self grew steadily stronger. Mach realized that the two would overlap very soon. He resolved to accomplish the exchange without giving any outward sign. That was part of his wild plan.
The tunnel curved, allowing him to proceed directly toward his target-and suddenly it happened. Overlap! But Mach did not stop walking, and in a moment the contact slipped; he had not grasped the opportunity when it had come.
Then he felt his other self approaching from behind. Wait, it thought.
I cannot, Mach thought back, as the other paced him for a moment. I am in enemy power.
So am I! the other returned.
Mach quailed. His wild hope had been dashed. He had wanted to get help through Proton, arranging some counter pressure there that would nullify the hold Purple had oh him. If he could have made the exchange without Purple knowing, and arrange the counter-action, and exchanged back-
He kept walking, and the other phased in again, this time maintaining it. Fleta is hostage; I am helpless.
Agape be hostage here.
Quickly they compared situations-and realized that they had a chance after all. Satisfied, they made the exchange.
11. Escape
Mach found himself in the same tunnel, only now it was a passage, lighted by electricity instead of magic-glow. He was naked. The one who paced him now was Citizen Purple, a man he knew by reputation. Obviously he had taken Agape hostage in much the same fashion as his other self, the Purple Adept, had taken Fleta hostage. And Bane must have developed a close relationship with the alien female. Well, it was perhaps no stranger than his own with Fleta.
He turned to the Citizen. "Contact be near, now," he said. "What be thy message, again?" He hoped he had the language down well enough to fool the man.
"Stop stalling, boy!" Purple snapped. "You know the message!"
Mach stopped walking. "Let me see her again."
"You aren't in any position to bargain!" the Citizen said.
"An what if I go – an thou hast dispatched her already? Must I needs know she be well, now."
Purple grimaced. "You push your luck, machine. This one stall I will allow; then you will do it, or see her in the pot."
In the pot? What could that mean?
They took a side passage, and came to the cell where Agape was confined. "Let me go in with her," Mach said.
"It's your last damned smooch; make it a good one," purple said.
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