Out of Phaze

8. Chase

How much time passed Mach could not be sure, but it seemed to him that the sun had shifted in the sky by the time he emerged from his embrace with Fleta. "I suppose we should be on our way," he said.

"I can carry thee anywhere, rapidly," she said. "Now that thou dost know my nature."

"I would prefer to go slowly," he said.

"My natural form pleases thee not?"

"If you take me to the Blue Demesnes quickly, I shall have little further time with you. Let's walk."

"Oh." She smiled. "Mayhap it will take two days to get there."

"I wish it were two years," he murmured.

"Sirrah?"

"Nothing. Of course we must go."

"Of course," she agreed. "But we can camp the night on the path."

He liked the notion of camping out with her.

They started out on the east path, the one they had not taken before. They made decent progress, and as night approached Mach judged they were parallel to the spot they had been on the Lattice. Had he realized that the demons would be roused, or what they were like -!

"Methinks we should camp now," Fleta said. "But there be something odd about the way the demons came at us. Best I check around ere we sleep."

"But you've been walking all day!" he protested.

She smiled. "In other form, an thou have no objection."

"Oh. Of course." As the unicorn, she could of course range far more widely before it got dark.

She vanished-but the black unicorn did not appear. Mach blinked.

There was a hummingbird, hovering in place. Just like the one who had helped him cross the river at the Harpy Demesnes.

"Fleta!" he exclaimed. "Another form!"

The hummingbird buzzed one loop around his head, then took off to the north.

Mach shook his head, bemused. He had never made the connection! Fleta had three forms, not two, and the bird was the third. She had assumed the flying form when that was needed to draw the thread across for the rope ladder over the river, then returned to her human form. Of course she hadn't told him, because she was doubtful about his reaction to shape-changing women. But now that he knew her nature, she changed freely and openly.

And now that he knew her nature, he discovered that he liked it. In Proton he had associated with human beings, and with robots, and cyborgs and androids of either sex, thinking nothing of it. Even, briefly, an alien creature. All had looked human, but their internal operation had been entirely different, and he had known that and accepted it. Fleta's overt forms differed widely, but she was the same person-and it was the person

that counted. Was she called an animal? If so, he liked the animal better than the pseudopeople he had known in the other frame!

What, after all, was he? A machine! Who was he to quibble at whether a person was technically human, when he himself was not? At the moment he occupied a human body, and its chemistry was wreaking havoc with his emotional control, but in essence he knew he remained a robot. If Fleta could accept that, he could accept her.

He plucked fruit from the tree they had stopped at. He didn't recognize the type, but it seemed to be juicy and sweet, and his living appetite thrived on that sort of thing.

What did Fleta prefer to eat, really? Since her natural form was equine, did she usually graze? If so, she must be getting hungry by now. He would have to ask.

The hummingbird returned. Suddenly Fleta stood before him. "Mach, I fear trouble," she said breathlessly.

"More trouble?" He knew she wasn't joking.

"There be goblins lying in ambush to the north."

"Goblins? Little men?"

She frowned. "The Little Folk be decent; they mostly mine and work their crafts. Goblins be something else."

"Why would they be lurking in ambush?"

"Methought it coincidence that the rope ladder was wrong. And that the demons were roused. Now do I wonder."

"You mean those were traps laid for us? But why?"

She shook her head. "I know not why. But I fear it."

"Maybe they're just three types of mean creatures who like to eat human flesh?"

"They knew my nature."

"Then they must have known they couldn't possibly catch you! That you could change form and fly away."

"Aye," she agreed pensively.

His logical mind began to work. "Then it must have been me they were after." "Aye."

"Yet you helped me escape-and they must have known that you would."

"Not in human form."

"They wanted to force you to reveal your nature to me?" He smiled. "In that they were successful-but what did they gain?"

"Mayhap they hoped thou wouldst revile me, when thou knew, so that I would leave thee."

"And then they could trap me without hindrance!" he concluded. "Yet they couldn't know I am not Bane. Surely they could not attack him with impunity!"

She laughed. "Goblins attack an Adept? That be so funny it be no longer funny."

"So what could they expect to gain? As far as they know, we're both poison."

"That be what dost bother me. It makes not sense."

"Unless," he continued slowly, "they somehow know my nature. That I am no magician."

"Adept," she corrected him. "Bane be an apprentice Adept."

"Whatever. My status makes me vulnerable. But how would they know? And why would they go to all that effort for one morsel?"

"Methinks they tried not to slaughter thee, but to capture thee," she said. "The talons o' the harpies be poison, but they scratched thee not. And the demons grabbed but did not bite."

"And why would three different types of creatures try it? They can't be working together, can they?"

"Nay. Not unlessŢ She trailed off.

"Unless what? I think we had better explore this."

"Unless there be Adept involvement," she said reluctantly.

"Aren't we going to see an Adept?"

"Stile be but one Adept. There be others, less friendly."

"What would an Adept want with me? I'm of no value to anyone here, and of not much value to myself."

"To me, thou dost have value."

"That, too, I must question. You are a lovely creature, in whatever form, and you know the ways of Phaze. But I am an impostor without much talent here. I don't see how I can be worth much to you."

She shrugged. "Fain would I have been closer to Bane, but ne'er could that be. Now hast thou his likeness, and-O, I know I be a foolish creature, but I be smitten with thee."

Mach did not care to argue with that. "So there is something we don't yet understand, here. Unless they realize that I don't have Bane's proper powers, so they want to eliminate me, and then he could never return. If there are other Adepts who don't like Stile, this could be a good way to get back at him."

She nodded. "To strike when the enemy be weak."

"But if another Adept is behind it, why bring in the monsters? Why not just take me out with a spell?"

"Methinks that would be too open. If Stile knew an Adept had done it-" She shuddered. "If Stile be not the strongest Adept in Phaze, it be Red-and Red be friend to Stile."

"But if a harpy or a demon or a goblin did it, Stile might not suspect. If one of those groups took me captive and hid me somewhere, or delivered me secretly to an Adept, perhaps as a hostage-" Mach nodded. "I think we have it, now. They have been ambushing us along the route to Stile's demesnes."

"O, Mach!" she cried. "If there be Adepts behind this, we be in trouble indeed! No creature can withstand the power of an Adept except another Adept."

Mach nodded. "I think we can't afford to continue heading for the Blue Demesnes; they'll catch us for sure. But where else can we go?"

Fleta pondered. "If they be Adepts 'gainst us, must we gain the protection of an Adept. But surely they will watch, and if we head for the Red Adept-"

"They will trap us on the way," Mach finished. "Anyone else-whom they might not suspect?"

"There be the Brown Adept, she of the golems. She might understand thee better than some."

"But if the others spied us heading for her-"

"Another ambush," she agreed.

"Suppose we took a circuitous route-one no one with any sense would take?"

"Such as through the Dragon Demesnes?"

Mach swallowed. "Yes."

"That would fool friend and foe alike."

They looked at each other, and nodded. Then they hugged each other, with joy or grief or something in between.

"I suppose we can't rest now," Mach said regretfully. "They'll be coming down the path to check on us, when we don't arrive on schedule."

"I can carry thee."

"And tire yourself further? No, I'll walk. Maybe we can hide somewhere unexpected."

She nodded. Silently she pointed west.

"But that's right toward the-!" he exclaimed. But then he understood: that was the least likely direction for them to go. Toward the site of their last ambush.

They walked, this time stepping carefully so as to avoid leaving a trail. When darkness finally made progress impossible, they cast about for a suitable camping spot. The best that offered was a tree with thick foliage and a large fork some distance up that seemed to be well shrouded by the leaves. "There," Fleta said, pointing to it.

"Me? But I think there's only room for one of us!"

"I have another errand," she whispered.

"Oh-privacy?"

"A false trail."

Smart notion! So he climbed the tree and lodged himself in the crotch, while she walked on, leaving a trail that could be traced and did not end at the tree.

He hoped she would return soon, though he still did not see how she could join him here. Then he heard the hum of the hummingbird. She was back!

The bird perched on a nearby twig and tucked her head under her wing. She had a good place after all!

Mach sighed. He could not argue with the sense of it, but somehow he had wished he could be with her in her human form, and not too much clothing. He resigned himself to the inevitable, and slept.

In the morning he descended. Fleta flew down and transformed to girl form. "Didst thou have a comfy night?" she inquired brightly.

"Aren't you getting hungry? You haven't had much chance to graze."

She laughed. "I found nectar in flowers along the way as I flew."

"But that could only sustain a hummingbird! What of the unicorn?"

"It matters not what form I take; food for that form suffices."

"You mean you can run all day as a unicorn, and sustain yourself with a hummingbird meal?"

"Aye. That be part of the magic."

"Magic indeed!" But it did make sense in its fashion.

He ate some more fruit, which was marvelously sustaining. Of course he had the advantage of Fleta's advice; she pointed out what was best, and what was worst, saving him much mischief. Then they resumed their trek.

There was no sign of pursuit, but they continued to step carefully and to keep their voices low. There was no way to hide securely from Adept perception, Fleta advised him, but goblins and demons were fallible.

They skirted the southern reaches of the Lattice, and no demons appeared. This gamble had been won: once the prey escaped, the demons had returned to their nether reaches, not bothering to keep watch. But there would be a lookout at the jump-sites; the path toward the Blue Demesnes was safe only to cross, not to travel.

At noon they paused for lunch, and this time Fleta did change to unicorn form and grazed for an hour. Mach watched her, admiring her glossy black coat and golden hind-socks and gleaming spiraled horn. "Sometime you must play your horn for me," he said.

She heard him, and played a brief pan-pipes double melody.

"A tune!" he exclaimed. "You can play a tune!"

She looked at him questioningly. In her unicorn form she did not speak; her mouth was not right for it.

"I mean, I heard you play a chord, back in the swamp, but I thought that was all. To actually play a tune-!"

She came in and changed to girl form. "All my kind play music," she explained. "My dam, Neysa, plays a harmonica, as thy kind call it; I play pan-pipes, or so Bane said. My sire played the accordion."

"A different instrument for each animal!" he exclaimed. Then paused. "Oops-I didn't mean to-"

"We are animals," she said. "An ye mean it not as affront, say it freely."

That helped. He had indeed used the term in a less complimentary sense, back in the crater, when she had objected.

"Why didn't you decide to go the other way, and intercept your Herd?" he asked. "The goblins would not have followed there, would they?"

She sighed. "There be a matter I did not explain to thee," she said. "My sire retired some fifteen years ago, and my uncle Clip assumed mastery o' the Herd. That concerned not my dam, Neysa, his sibling, because she no longer marched with the Herd. She stayed at the Blue Demesnes."

"Why should your mother be concerned about her brother getting promoted?"

"It be the Herd Stallion who breeds all the mares."

"Oh! And she's too closely related!"

"Aye. And I be too. So it became needful, as I came of age, to seek another herd. I was on that mission when I heard thy cry for help in the swamp." "What a coincidence!" Mach exclaimed. "I'm glad I arrived at the right time! I would have been roach-food otherwise!"

"Nay, I was near throughout. I-I knew Bane was going often to the glade, and I hoped to see him again, yet hesitated to intrude, an he be on Adept business."

"So you just sort of stayed in the vicinity for a while," Mach said. "Understandable. How long were you there?"

She murmured something.

"What was that? I didn't hear."

"A fortnight," she said, somewhat less faintly.

"Two weeks? Just in the hope he might decide he wanted to see you?"

"Aye," she said, abashed.

"You really were stuck on him!" Then Mach regretted his choice of words. "I mean-"

"Thy meaning be clear," she said, blushing.

"And so you rescued me, thinking I was him. And stayed with me, because you liked him."

She nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh, Fleta-I'm sorry! Without ever knowing it, I brought you so much mischief!"

"Nay, Mach. Thou didst bring me joy."

"But you know I am not the man Bane is-not here in Phaze! Without your help, I'd have been lost many times over. I'd still be lost without you! Bane would have been no burden to you at all!"

"Aye, he needed me not," she agreed.

He looked at her, slowly understanding. "You need-to be needed." Then he took her in his arms again and kissed her.

But after a bit another thought occurred. "Two weeks-you must be overdue at the other herd!"

"Aye," she said.

"And now I am keeping you from it. This really is not fair."

"I wanted to join the other herd not really that much," she confessed. "Better to roam free, as my dam did, before my time."

"Well, you are welcome to my company as long as you like it," he said. "I'm in no position to refuse it, even if I wanted to."

There was a spot in the sky to the east. Fleta looked nervously at it. "Mayhap just a bird," she said. "But if a harpy-"

"On a search-pattern for us," he agreed. "Where can I hide?" They were in open meadow; there was not even a substantial tree nearby.

"Take my socks," she said.

"Your socks?"

"Take them," she repeated urgently as the flying shape came closer. She became the unicorn.

"But Fleta, that's just the color of your fur on your hind feet! No way-"

She fluted at him. Mach shrugged and squatted to touch her hind leg. To his surprise he discovered that the golden color did come off; in a moment he held two bright socks, and Fleta's legs were black.

Fleta resumed human form. "Put them on, quickly."

Mach put them on over his shoes. And stood astonished.

His body changed. He now seemed to be a golden animal. A horse-or a unicorn. He could see illusory hindquarters behind him, and suspected that his head resembled that of a horse with a horn.

"Graze," Fleta whispered, and changed back to equine form herself.

Mach leaned forward, trying to get his illusory head into the proper position for grazing. Evidently his performance was satisfactory, for Fleta did not correct him.

The flying form turned out to be a large bird, perhaps a vulture. It flew overhead and did not pause. False alarm, perhaps, but Mach was glad they hadn't taken the chance. If the Adepts interrogated the bird, all they would get was a report of two unicorns grazing in the field. Meanwhile he had learned another thing about his fascinating companion!

Fleta changed back to girl form. "It was nothing, I think," she said. "But here we be dawdling when we should be traveling. Methinks I must carry thee, to make the distance."

"But I don't want to burden you-"

"An we get spotted, how much greater a burden!" she exclaimed. She changed into unicorn form.

Mach realized that she was correct. Quickly he removed his socks and put them back on her feet; then he mounted her.

She started walking, then trotting, then galloping. Now they were moving like the wind, covering the ground far more rapidly than they had. She headed straight southwest, angling toward the distant Purple Mountain range. All he had to do was hang on.

She began to play on her horn, a lovely tune whose cadence was set by the beat of her falling hooves. Mach, delighted, picked up the melody and hummed along with her. His father was musical, and music was part of the Game, so Mach had trained on a number of instruments and learned to sing well. He had perfect pitch and tone as clear as an instrument could render it, being a machine himself, but it was more than that. Through music he could come closest to the illusion of life and true feeling. Now, of course, he really was alive, and this body had a power of voice almost as good as his own. So he hummed, first matching Fleta's tune, then developing counterpoint, and it seemed to facilitate her running. Unicorns, he realized, were made to play while moving. He knew that their combined melody was a kind of a work of art, for Fleta was very good and so was he. There was rare pleasure in this, despite the urgency of their traveling.

An hour passed, and still she ran at a pace no horse could have maintained. Her music became less pretty, more determined. Her body became warm, but she did not sweat. Instead, he noted with surprise, her hooves got hot. Sparks flew from them when they touched the hard ground. She was dissipating heat through her hooves!

As evening closed, they were near the great mountains. Now at last Fleta slowed. Mach could tell from the way her body moved that she was extremely tired; she had covered a distance of perhaps three hundred kilometers in short order without respite. Her melody had faded out, the energy it expended now required for her running. Finally she stopped, and he jumped off, sore of arm, leg and crotch. He had learned bareback riding for the Game, but never this extreme!

They were near a grove of fruit trees, probably by no accident. "Rest, Fleta!" he said. "I'll forage for food!"

She didn't argue. She went under a tree, changed to girl form, and threw herself down as if unconscious.

Mach collected fruits and located a nearby spring. This was an ideal location!

Then he heard something. He flattened himself against a tree.

It turned out to be a party of what he took to be goblins. They were like gnarled little men, about half his own height, with huge and ugly heads, and correspondingly distorted hands and feet. "Damn nuisance!" one was muttering as they passed, traveling a faint forest trail. "No unicorns here!"

"But we've got to check anyway," another said.

The six of them trekked on. They hadn't spotted Mach; they hadn't really been looking. This was just a pointless assignment to them; evidently they hadn't been told the reason for it. Mach relaxed.

"Hey, I see something!" one exclaimed.

Mach's living heart seemed to catapult to a crash-landing against his breastbone. Had they seen him?

No, they were hurrying away from him. He started to relax again.

"A doll!" a goblin cried.

They had spied Fleta!

"A damn nymph!" another exclaimed. "Sleepin' by a tree."

"Well, let's have at her! Anything like that we catch-"

"That's no nymph," another said. "See the horn-button in her forehead? That's a unicorn!"

Fleta woke. She tried to scramble to her feet, but they were upon her, grabbing at her arms and legs. "Hold her horn!" the leader cried. "So she can't change form!"

A goblin clapped a calloused hand on Fleta's forehead, covering the horn-button. The others virtually wrapped themselves around her limbs, one to each. She struggled, but she was still very tired and they overwhelmed her.

Mach had noted all this as if detached; meanwhile he was charging to the rescue, drawing his axe. The goblins, preoccupied by their capture, did not see him.

"Now, mare, tell us where the man is, or we'll take turns raping you," the leader said, yanking her cloak up. "You animals don't like that much, do you!"

Fleta's forehead was covered, but not her eyes. She saw Mach charging in. "No!" she cried. "Not that way!"

But Mach was already committed. His axe swung down at the goblin-leader's head. The goblin turned, but too late; the axe chopped into his face, slicing off his nose.

The goblins were no cowards. They let Fleta go and pounced as one on Mach. Before he could get in a second blow, four of them were on his arms and legs. They had surprising power; they bore him back and down, spread-eagling him on the ground.

The goblin leader, amazingly, retained his feet. His nose was gone, but he seemed otherwise unbothered. "That be him!" he exclaimed. "The one we seek!"

Mach struggled, but the goblins were too strong for him. Now he understood why Fleta had tried to warn him off. She had known he could not handle these creatures. Who would have thought that monster's skull could be so hard as to make the axe shear off! For Mach knew he had scored directly on the goblin's forehead; had it been fashioned of ordinary stuff, the stone blade would have cut right in. Instead it had been turned aside by the super-hard bone, doing what was apparently only minor damage to the goblin's face. How could an ordinary man fight such creatures?

"Tie him up," the leader said. "I'd love to. chew up his eyeballs, but orders are orders. The Adept wants him intact. We'll have to content ourselves with the animal." He looked about with sudden alarm. "Who's holding her?"

"I am!" the sixth goblin cried. But though he still had his hands on Fleta's forehead, his touch nullifying the magic power of her horn, he was now the only one. Fleta's arms and legs were free, because the other four goblins were now holding Mach.

Fleta smiled. She reached up and grabbed the goblin's hands in her own, hauling them down while she straightened up. He might be stronger than she, but he could not keep his hands in place while she was moving her body. He needed more hands. In a moment her forehead was clear.

Abruptly she vanished. In her place was the hummingbird, and its buzz was quite angry. It darted at the goblin leader.

One of the goblins holding Mach began to laugh, for such a tiny creature could hardly hurt a goblin. But the laugh was cut off when the unicorn manifested almost in the leader's face. The forward motion of the bird translated into a plunge by the unicorn.

The long horn speared right through the goblin's head.

Then Fleta lifted her head and flung the goblin off her horn. She whirled to face the ones holding Mach, but these were already scrambling desperately away. Their skulls might be too tough for Mach's crude axe, but the unicorn's horn was another matter! In a moment there was not a live goblin in sight.

Fleta fluted, blood spitting from her horn as she blew it. She stood by Mach, angling her head.

He needed no further urging. He scrambled to her back, and they were off. It was obvious that the goblins would soon spread the news of the discovery of the prey, and greater numbers of them would be in hot pursuit. He hated to make Fleta run again, when she had had so little rest, but they had to find a better place to hide.

Where was there? If the goblins roamed this forest, that was no good. But out in the open the harpies would be able to spot them. It was getting dark now, but what of the morning?

Fleta was pounding directly south, toward the looming Purple Mountains. Mach had to have faith that she knew what she was doing. But he could feel the fatigue of her body; she shouldn't be running at all, right now!

Well, he could do nothing about it at the moment. He just had to hang on and hope it would be all right.

Meanwhile, he realized that he had learned some new things. A unicorn couldn't change form if her horn was covered; thus she could be held captive, or even raped, despite her normal powers. So if they were ever in a situation like this again, his first job would be to eliminate whoever was holding her horn, so as to free her magic. That was the way he should have proceeded before, had he but known. He could have thrown himself upon the goblin at her head, dragging it off for that necessary instant.

But also, the goblins had confirmed that it was an Adept behind this. And that it was Bane's presence, not his death, that was wanted. That meant that their guess about trying to eliminate Bane during his weakness was wrong; the Adept wanted something else.

What could the Adept want? Mach was simply not very effective as a resident of Phaze! Without Fleta he'd have been dead several times over already. He was learning to do magic, but even that was only a poor suggestion of what Bane could do. He wouldn't be worth much even as a hostage, since he was the wrong person.

He shook his head. He just couldn't make much sense of it. But he was sure he didn't want to get hauled in to that enemy Adept!

Fleta slowed. He feared it was because she was exhausted, but he discovered it was the terrain; the level plain had ended, and the slope of the mountain range was beginning.

"I'll walk now!" he said quickly. "You've done enough!"

She did not object. Mach slid off. It was now dark, except for the light of three moons. Proton had seven small moons, which meant that Phaze did too, and several were normally in view. Most were pale shades of gray; the one blue moon seldom showed.

She changed to girl form, showing the way up the mountain slope. Mach was amazed by the amount she evidently knew of far-flung terrain. She must have done a lot of exploring in her day! He followed, covertly admiring her rear view, though he knew that her human shape was exactly what she had chosen and crafted; naturally she had not devised an ugly one.

Then she stumbled. Mach hastened to join her, putting his arm about her waist. But she sagged, too tired to keep her feet.

"The hummingbird!" he exclaimed. "Change to that form!"

"Nay," she whispered. "It takes more energy to fly than this!"

"Not to fly," he said. "To perch! You carried me; let me carry you, now!"

She turned her head to him. She nodded. She became the bird. He put out his hand, and she flopped in it. He lifted her to his shoulder, and there she perched, her little claws anchored on his homemade shirt.

"Sleep, Fleta," he said. "I will climb this hill."

Climb he did. It made him feel good to do his part, his strength filling in for hers. His legs were stiff, but he had plenty of remaining energy. As the way became steeper, he hauled himself up by grabbing handholds on saplings. He hoped he got them wherever they were going. It was so dark now that he could barely see the next tree before him.

There was an angry squawk from ahead. Startled, Mach paused.

"Who the hell art thou?" a voice screeched. "Stay out o' my bower!"

"A harpy!" Mach exclaimed with dismay. He gripped his axe. Fleta, on his shoulder, was so tired that she didn't wake.

"What didst thou think it be-a damned goblin?"

"Yes," Mach said. Could he escape her surveillance in the darkness, or were they in for another horrible chase?

The harpy laughed raucously. "Well, no such luck! Come not near me, lest thou catch the tailfeather itch!"

Mach knew he should shut up and hide, but something nagged at him. Why was this foul creature talking instead of attacking or summoning her cohorts? "I'm just a weary traveler," he said. "I have no tailfeathers to itch, but I will detour around your bower. I apologize for bothering you."

"Thou dost what?" she screeched.

"I apologize for bothering you," Mach repeated.

"Nobody doth apologize to a harpy!"

"I don't want any trouble, I just want to get somewhere where I can rest for the night."

"Thou dost speak strangely. Who be ye?"

"I am called Mach." If she knew his identity, his name made no difference now. "I am a robot."

"What kind of monster be a rovot?" she demanded.

"One that looks like a human being."

"Oh, hell, come into my bower," she said. "I be lonely for company."

Stranger yet! Was it a trap? Well, might as well spring it as have it pursue him. Mach climbed forward.

He parted a thick curtain of leaves and came into a snug chamber padded with ferns. There was a tiny bit of glow, so that he could ascertain its approximate size and see the form perched on a stick at one side. This was the harpy.

"Why, thou dost be a man!" she exclaimed.

"I said I looked like a human being."

"Aye, that be true. And a bird on thy shoulder."

"My companion." Fleta was stirring now; what would she think of this interview?' "I be Phoebe," the harpy said.

Mach checked through his memory. "I know of a bird of that name. Nondescript, except that it wags its tail."

"Aye, that be why the name," she agreed. She rustled about as if to make the point. "But it be uncomfortable as hell, and not just in the feathers."

"You really do have a tailfeather itch?"

"Aye, and no cure, so I be exiled from my kind."

"You mean you're not part of the pursuit?"

"What pursuit?" Phoebe demanded.

"We've been chased by harpies, demons and goblins," Mach said. "We don't know why."

"I know naught o' that! I've had no contact with my kind in a year."

Could he believe that! Or was she just trying to lull him while others closed in?

"No offense-but you don't smell. The other harpies I encountered-"

"I wash my feathers daily to keep down the itch, but always it returns," Phoebe said. "An' another o' my kind come near, it will spread. That be my curse."

Fleta jumped off his shoulder, then materialized as her girl form. "Know thou my nature?" she asked the harpy.

"A werebird! Ne'er saw I the like before!"

"Nay. Unicom."

"And thou comest to roust me out o' my bower? For shame, 'corn; I have no quarrel with thee!"

"Willst swear so on my horn?"

"For sure, an thou attack me not."

Fleta parted the leaves of the bower wall and stepped out.

The harpy peered after her. She shrugged with her wings. "Hell, trust must begin somewhere, and I have no life worth living alone." She half-spread her wings and hopped out after Fleta.

Mach followed her out, not certain what was happening.

Outside, he could just make out the dark unicorn shape. Fleta lowered her horn, and the harpy hopped up to it. The horn touched her feathers. "I swear I have no quarrel with thee," the harpy said.

Fleta fluted.

"What, turn about?" Phoebe asked, evidently understanding her. "What for?"

Fleta played several notes.

"That?" the harpy asked incredulously. "Thou wouldst?"

An affirmative note. Mach tried to fathom what this was about, but it baffled him.

The harpy turned about, and Fleta put her horn to the creature's tailfeathers. For a moment there seemed to be a kind of radiance, but Mach could not be sure.

"Mine itch!" the harpy cried. "Gone!"

Fleta returned to girl form. "Grant us rest in thy bower for a day, and all's repaid," she said.

"For this cure?" Phoebe cried. "Thou canst stay a year!"

Fleta made her way back into the bower and curled up on the fern. In a moment she was asleep.

"But-how could you know that we had no quarrel with you?" he asked the harpy.

" 'Corns be stubborn beasts," Phoebe said. "They betray not who betrays them not."

"And she cured you-just like that?"

"Aye, the horn has power, an there be ailment. But for 'corn to cure harpy-that be rare indeed."

"We were looking for a place to rest in safety," Mach said.

"Ye have it now." Phoebe wiggled her tail, appreciating the lack of itch.

Mach went in and lay down beside Fleta. It seemed that his willingness to talk with the harpy had paid off; she was not after all an enemy. In a moment he slept.

Fleta slept all night and much of the following day. It was evident that she had seriously depleted her resources in the long run. Mach, less tired, found himself talking with Phoebe. The harpy brought fresh fruit and

edible roots, but urged him to wash them in a nearby spring. "I wash, but my talons form the poison, and it gets on what I touch," she explained. Mach was happy to wash the food.

"There be my sisters in the sky, and goblins o'er the plain," Phoebe announced after taking a flight. "An thou knowest not why they seek ye?"

"An Adept sent them," Mach said. "He wants me alive; he doesn't care about Fleta. She carried me from the Lattice in a day."

"In a single day? Lucky thou art she died not on the hoof!"

"She's a good creature," Mach agreed.

"And for the love o' thee!" She shook her head. She was as awkwardly endowed as all her kind, with a human head and breasts and the wings and hind parts of a vulture. Her face was lined and her breasts sagged; her hair was a wild tangle. About the only pretty part of her was her wings, which had a metallic luster. Her voice was harsh, sounding like a screech even when she talked normally. Mach could see that if she had behaved the way the others of her kind did, allowing filth to encrust her body, she would have been monstrously ugly; as it was, she was merely homely. "My kind has no such love."

"If I may ask-just how does your kind reproduce? I understand there are no males of your species."

"Aye, there be none. We lay eggs and leave them scattered about; an one survive the animals long enough to hatch, an the chick not get consumed, she grows to size and lays her own eggs. Legend has it that only a fertilized egg can hatch a male harpy-but only a male of our species can fertilize it. So it be an endless circle. We be chronically bitter about that, and take it out on all creatures." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish it were otherwise. But what else be there?"

Mach shrugged. "I don't know. It does seem a tragedy. But why didn't you revile me when I showed up in the night?"

"I should have, I know," she confessed. "But after a year denied the company of mine own kind, awful as that be, I was lonely. So I was foolish."

"And got your tail fixed."

"It passeth all understanding."

"Phoebe-are harpies supposed to be ugly?"

"What point to be other?"

"If you get lonely, you are more likely to find company of any kind if you look nice."

She laughed with her raucous cackle. "What a notion!"

"Why don't you let me do some work on your hair, and see what happens?"

"Thou canst not make me beautiful," she said. "That would take the magic o' an Adept!"

"I'm just curious."

She shrugged. "It be a mere game, but I be beholden for thy company. Play with my hair, an thou wishest."

"I need a comb." Mach looked about. He found a piece of a fish bone with a few ragged spikes.

He pondered. Then he sang: "Give this home one big comb."

The fish bone shimmered, and became a huge mass of wax and honey. The stuff dripped from his hand.

"A honeycomb!" Phoebe screeched, snatching it out of his hand. In a moment she was gobbling it, getting it all over her face and in her hair. Then she paused. "Oops, my harpy manner o'ercame me. Didst conjure it for thyself?"

"No, welcome to it," Mach said. "I wanted a hair comb."

"Check in my purse. Mayhap there be a comb there."

Harpies had purses? Mach found her handbag and sorted through it. It contained several colored stones, a moldy piece of bread, a dozen acorns, a large rusty key, two large red feathers, a number of prune pits, a fragment of a mirror, the skeleton of a small snake, three pottery sherds-and a fine old comb.

"But we'll have to get the honey out," he decided. "Can you wash your hair?"

"Aye, it be time for another dunking anyway," she said. She licked off her claws-evidently the poison didn't affect her own system-and launched herself clumsily into the air. She flapped toward the spring, folded her wings, and dive-bombed into it.

So that was how she bathed! Mach and Fleta had drunk from that spring in the morning. Suddenly he felt queasy.

Phoebe emerged. For a moment, with just her head and bosom showing above the surface, she looked distinctly human. Then she spread her wings, and clambered into the air, and the effect was gone.

She came to a crash-landing beside him, spattering water on him. "I be clean now," she announced.

But what of the water in the spring?

Mach took the comb and began working on her hair. There were tangles galore, so the job was tediously slow, but he didn't have anything better to do while waiting for Fleta to recover.

Gradually the hair straightened, and as it did so, drying, it began to assume some of the metallic luster of the wings. Small iridescent highlights glinted as the sunlight struck it.

"Thou didst conjure that honeycomb!" Phoebe exclaimed, belatedly realizing what he had done.

"I tried to conjure a comb," he reminded her. "I always mess it up."

"But then thou canst do magic!"

"Not a fraction as well as the one whose body I'm using. As a magician I'm a dunce."

"But to do any magic, aside from that of werecreatures and the like-that be special!"

"Well, my other self is an apprentice Adept."

She drew away from him, shocked. "Adept!"

He smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not an Adept! I'm just a clumsy imitation." "But that must be why they seek thee! One who dost do clumsy magic today, may be Adept tomorrow."

Mach paused. "Do you think so?"

"What else? They know they must abolish thee today, else thou willst abolish them another time."

"But they want to capture me. Why not just kill me?"

She shrugged with her wings. "I know not. But thou dost be nothing ordinary, an thou canst conjure."

"Maybe I should save myself time and conjure your hair combed."

"Mayhap. Combing a harpy's hair be a thankless task, methinks."

Mach pondered. Then he hummed to try to intensify the magic, and sang: "Make this hair beyond compare."

A cloud formed about her head; then it cleared and her hair was revealed.

It was an absolute fright-wig. Spikes of it radiated out in all directions, making her most resemble a gross sea urchin.

"I think I botched it again," Mach groaned.

Phoebe flopped over to her purse and snatched up the fragment of mirror. She peered at herself. "O, lovely!" she screeched. "I adore it!"

Mach was taken aback. "You like it?"

"I'm beautiful! I ne'er thought it possible!" And, amazingly, as she straightened up in admiration of herself, the lines in her face eased and her breasts firmed. She did indeed seem to be a fairly handsome half-specimen of womanhood.

Mach decided to leave well enough alone. He returned to the bower and settled down for another nap.

By the following morning they were ready to resume traveling. The search in sky and on land seemed to have abated; it was now safer to be out. They thanked Phoebe for her hospitality.

"Ah, it be the two of ye must I thank," the harpy screeched. "The one did cure my tail, and the other my head!" She scrambled for her purse and drew out one of the feathers. "An ye need my presence, burn this feather. I will smell it and come, where'er ye may be."

"Thank thee, Phoebe," Fleta said graciously, tucking the feather into her cloak.

They headed on up the steepening slope. Now it was faster going, because it was daylight and Fleta was rested and back to her normal self. Indeed, she seemed brighter than ever, almost effervescent; Mach had to scramble to keep up with her.

By noon they had reached the crest of the mountain-which turned out to be a mere foothill; the real range was farther south. They paused for food, finding plentiful fruits. "I'm amazed that there is so much to eat in Phaze!" Mach exclaimed. "Everywhere we go, there are more fruit trees."

Fleta snorted, sounding in that moment very much like a unicorn though she remained in human form. "The trees be not common at all; it be that I sniff them out as we travel."

"Oh. Well, I always knew I had some reason to travel with you."

She laughed, then turned sober. "There be a problem soon upon me," she said. "I fear I must leave thee for a time."

"Leave me!" But immediately he regrouped his emotion. "Of course there is no requirement that you remain with me, Fleta. I never meant to hold you from your-"

"It be not that I want to leave thee," she said. "But I think it may be best."

"Best? Why?"

She opened her mouth as though planning to speak, but could not formulate the sentence. "Let me explore," she said after a moment. She shifted to hummingbird form and buzzed off.

Mach stared after her. What was the problem? She had seemed so vigorous and cheerful during the climb, completely recovered from her hard run of two days before. There was no evidence of pursuit at the moment. Why should she have to leave him now, if she didn't want to?

He ate his fruit and rested, admiring the countryside. She would surely tell him in due course, and meanwhile this was about as nice a region as he could imagine. He had never had physical experience with either mountains or forests before, there being only holo representations of such things in the dome-cities of Proton, and he liked them very well. The hill sloped gradually down to the south, and then the nearest segment of the Purple Mountain range heaved up to an extraordinary elevation, the highest peak spearing a cloud and anchoring it so that it could not drift away.

Actually, it wasn't just the terrain that exhilarated him, he realized. It was the living body. He had discovered that eating was not the nuisance he had imagined it to be, when in robot body; it was a pleasure. In Proton, as a robot, he had lacked the sense of taste, it being unnecessary to his survival; here it was a glorious perception. Even the complication of periodic elimination was not really bothersome, once he knew how to handle it expeditiously. The rest of it was wonderful: the feel of the wind against his skin, the pleasure of healthy exertion, the sheer satisfaction of slaking thirst. The act of living was a dynamic experience.

Fleta returned and changed to girl form. "There be a good path ahead," she reported. "There be a dragon to the east, but it moves not from its stream; an we steer clear o' that, no problem."

Mach looked at her. "What about this matter of-" he began, but then sheered off, deciding not to press the mystery of her need to leave him. "Clothing? How is it that you have no clothing in animal form, yet do now? Where does it go when you change?"

She laughed with a certain relief, as if she had feared another type of question. "That be no mystery, Mach! I wear clothing in all three forms. In one it be called feathers, and in another, hair."

So simple an answer! And it seemed that anything she carried with her in human form she carried with her in animal form, transforming it to feather or fur.

They resumed their travel. But Fleta seemed increasingly uneasy. Something certainly was bothering her.

In the hollow between the slope of the foothill and the slope of the mountain, she turned to him with a strange expression of hunger. Suddenly he remembered his fear of the unicorn, the first night, not knowing what it fed on. As it had turned out, unicorns were herbivores; his concern had been groundless. But now-

"Are you all right, Fleta?" he asked nervously.

"I think I must leave thee now," she said tightly. "I had hoped to see thee safely o'er the mountain, but that must needs wait."

"Fleta, where do you have to go?" he asked.

"To the herd I was destined for, before I met thee."

"Well, of course you can go there, if you wish! But why right now?"

"Mayhap I can go, and return in a few days to see thee the rest of thy journey. Thou shouldst be safe here."

"Well, yes, if that's the way you feel! But-"

"It be fairest to thee." She looked about. "There be fruit trees ahead, and so long as thou dost not go east to the river, and dost avoid being spotted from the air-"

"Fleta, please tell me why! Have I given you some offense? If I am too much of a burden-if I'm not doing enough-"

"I see I must needs tell thee. I must go to the stallion to be bred."

"Right now?"

She made a wan smile. "As soon's I can reach him. It be a fair distance."

"Another long run? You'll wear yourself out! Can't it wait for a more convenient time?"

"Mach, must I speak more directly than I like. With thy kind, breeding be at convenience. Not so with my

kind. When a mare dost come into heat, she must be bred; she doth have no choice. Be she in the wrong herd, the local stallion must do it; no choice for him either. That be why I could not approach mine own Herd in this time."

Mach remembered what he had learned of horses and other animals. The females came into heat at intervals, and bred compulsively. They had no interest in such activity at any other time, but were desperate for it then. Fleta was an animal and so followed this pattern. She had seemed so much like a human being, especially because she had remained most of the time in her human form, that this aspect of her nature had not occurred to him.

"Now at last I understand why you had no concern when we went naked," he said. "When you-saw me aroused. You knew that-that breeding occurs only within a creature's own species. So you had no interest in-" He found himself beginning to flush, and didn't care to discuss it further.

"That be but a half truth, Mach," she said. "I would fain have played with thee as I did with Bane in years o' yore. But it be not seemly, when the parties are of age to know better."

"Yes, of course. We are two different species. There can be no such thing between us." He sighed. "Go and do what you must, Fleta; I will wait for your return."

"Aye." But she did not move, and he saw her lower lip trembling again.

"What's the problem, Fleta? Don't worry about me; I'll be fine, here."

"I fear for thee nonetheless," she said. "If the goblins spy thee-"

"I'll take that chance! Please, Fleta, don't let me interfere with your life any further!"

"O, I wish there were the right plants in these mountains!" she exclaimed.

"Plants?"

"Herbs. We eat them at need, to suppress the cycle."

"Oh."

"O Mach, I love thee and would not leave thee vulnerable to the dangers of Phaze. I want to leave thee not!"

Mach took a step toward her, his arms outstretched, intending to comfort her, but she backed hastily away. "I dare not touch thee now!" she whispered.

"But I mean you no harm, Fleta!" he protested.

"Dost thou not see-it be thee I would be bred by, not some stupid stallion!"

Mach was stunned. "But-but I'm not your species! We agreed that it was not proper for us to-"

"Aye, we agreed," she said, biting her lip. "And no way it would take. I be a pighead even to say this, but-"

"Are you saying-you and I-?"

"The body knoweth not; it thinks one breeding be as good as another. I could stay with thee till the time pass-"

"Stay-and-?"

"Dost despise me now?" she asked, her face wet with tears. "Fain would I ne'er have had thee know, but me-thought I could get thee to safety before-"

Mach worked it out aloud, to be sure there was no misunderstanding. "If you and I tried to breed, nothing would come of it because of the difference in our species. But then you would not have to run off to the stallion. You could stay with me."

"That be my thought. I know I have no right-I know it be wrong-"

"Fleta, I come from a different culture. Robots and androids and human beings-we do this sort of thing all the time, knowing none of it can take. I myself am the offspring of an impossible marriage between a man and a machine. I have not-not tried to engage in-not with you, because-I understood you did not want it!"

"Ne'er did I say I wanted it not," she said. "I said it should not be. I spoke not for myself, but for my culture."

"Then we have no problem!" he exclaimed. "I have-have longed for-if I had realized-"

"Then-thou wouldst do it?"

"Just tell me when!"

Something gave way in her. "Now?" she asked faintly.

Mach stepped toward her again, and this time she did not retreat. "Now and forever!" he cried.

They came together, and he discovered in a moment that this was no ordinary tryst. He tried to kiss her, but she was too busy trying to tear off his clothing and her own. All she wanted was one thing, and she wanted it instantly.

They did that one thing, but such was the urgency and haste of it that it was not, for him, the fulfilling experience he had anticipated. He lay beside her on the leafy ground, his clothing half off, her cloak the same, and wondered whether that really could be all there was to it, in the living state. No preliminaries, no caressing, no speaking, not even kissing; just the straight, raw thrust of it. Yet of course she was an animal, and this was the way her kind did it, regardless of the form assumed. He should have known.

She turned to him, on the ground. There were twigs in her hair, and dirt was on her breasts. "Mach?"

"Yes?"

"Canst-again?"

"Again? Now?"

As a robot, Mach could have done it; as a living creature, he found it difficult. "Um, let's work up to it a bit more slowly, this time," he said.

"But I need it now!" she protested.

To be in heat: to have a temporary but insatiable appetite for sex. He understood this intellectually, but his body could not keep the pace. "I'll try," he said.

He tried, and to his surprise found he was able. The body was young and healthy, and the mind retained desire. This time the culmination was slower, but she seemed satisfied.

He relaxed, glad he had gotten through. She would not have to charge off to the herd.

But in a few minutes she stirred again. "Canst-?"

"Fleta, there is only so much flesh can do!" he cried.

"But an it not do more, must needs I seek the stallion-and this I want not!"

Because her body governed this need, not her mind. Mach would have found this baffling, had he not had his own experience with involuntary arousal.

So Mach tried again. This time he made a production of it, deliberately kissing her and playing with her breasts and stroking her body. She tolerated this, but it was not her interest; she craved the breeding, nothing else. Finally he was able to do it a third time, and then she relaxed.

But too soon she stirred again. "Canst-?"

Mach lurched to his feet. "Must-urinate," he said, and headed for the bushes.

In the bushes he did what he said he would do, but his mind was elsewhere. He had thought that one or two acts would satisfy the need; now he knew that the need was as far beyond his means as the galloping travel across the plain had been. Yet Fleta was under the control of her cycle; she had to be bred, as she put it, and if he could not serve in lieu of the stallion, she would be compelled to seek that stallion. He had to find a way to accommodate her, at least until her cycle moved on.

He gazed at his limp anatomy. This was hopeless! Then he had a notion. He worked it out in his head, and then hummed to summon his magic. "Grant me the skill to perform at will," he sang, thinking of sex.

The fog formed and dissipated-and abruptly his potency was restored. For once his magic had worked the way he wanted!

He strode back to Fleta. Without a word he took her in his arms and did what she wished. There was no special joy in it; the spell merely made him potent, not satisfied. Perhaps that was why it worked, he realized: he now had no more satisfaction in the act than she did, therefore was never satiated. Then, before she could stir again, he did it again. And again. He was magically competent.

Finally, after half a dozen repetitions, she was satisfied. She embraced him and slept. He relaxed, but his anatomy did not. Sure enough, in half an hour she woke, wanting more.

So it was for the afternoon, and the night, and the following morning. Finally, in the afternoon, her cycle moved on, and she needed no more from him. It was Mach's turn to sleep the sleep of exhaustion, as the energy drained from his body by the potency spell had to be restored. If Fleta had run hundreds of kilometers in an afternoon, he had performed a similar feat.

They resumed their journey, climbing the great Purple Mountain. But now some of the urgency was gone. Why was he going to see the Brown Adept? Mach asked himself. To find out how to return to Proton? What, then, would become of Fleta? To escape the pursuit by the various monsters? They seemed to be free of it here. Yet if he did not go-if he just stayed here-what of Bane, whose body and world these really were? He had no right to think only of himself.

Fleta paused, looking at him. "Thou'rt all right?"

"Just wishing I could stay here forever, with you. But that would be at Bane's expense."

"Aye. And he be an apprentice Adept. Our love be not for eternity." She looked so forlorn as she said it, that he had to take her in his arms and kiss her. This time she responded warmly.

"Funny thing," he said. "Yesterday, when-you wouldn't kiss me."

"This be love," she said. "That be breeding."

"But can't the two be joined?"

Her brow furrowed. "They be two different things!"

"Not in my frame."

"What a funny frame!"

"I suppose so." What point to debate it with her? Her nature did not equip her to understand.

They found a niche to spend the night, well up the mountain. After they had eaten, and the darkness closed in, Mach brought up the question of the afternoon again. "When you're out of heat, you don't seek sex," he said.

"Aye. It be pointless, then."

"But can you do it?"

"Can, aye. Did, as game with Bane. But why?"

"Because I prefer to combine love and sex. That's the way it is, with human beings."

"But when it be impossible to breed-"

"When we did it, it was impossible to breed. But we did it anyway, for another reason."

"To prevent me from running away," she agreed. "And glad I am that thou didst manage that, Mach! But now there be no danger o' that."

"So even your kind can do it for other reason than for breeding."

She considered. "Aye."

"I'd like to do it for other reason now. For pleasure."

"Why of course, Mach, an it please thee! It meaneth naught to me, other than as a game." She hiked up her cloak and spread her legs. "But be not long about it, so I can sleep."

"My way," he said. He kissed her, and kissed her again, and proceeded from there, and she cooperated warmly, though evidently confused about his progress, until at last they completed the act in the midst of another kiss.

"Oh, Mach," she whispered breathlessly. "I think I like it thy way better!"

"Aye," he agreed, smiling.

"Let's do it again!"

"Tomorrow!" he said.

She sighed. But she rested her head against his shoulder and slept, instantly. Mach suspected she had been teasing him, but he was not about to inquire.

They crossed the range at a high, chill pass, where the wind cut through bitingly. Fleta changed to unicorn form for this occasion, because this body was better for both the terrain and the cold, and Mach rode her, huddling as low as he could.

But as they moved toward the shelter of the tree-line, a shape loomed in the sky. It was a harpy, and not Phoebe, for the hair was wrong. In a moment there were several harpies, closing in. They had been spotted.

Fleta raced for the trees. Then she stopped, and changed to hummingbird form, and Mach climbed a twisted tree and hid as well as he could in the foliage. The harpies flapped close and peered about, calling out curses, but could not locate the fugitives. Frustrated, they departed, for they too were getting chilled.

Mach descended, and Fleta joined him in human form. "But they will alert the goblins," she said. "And from the goblins we cannot hide thus."

"We'll just have to move as far as we can, so they don't know where we are," Mach said. "In a direction they don't expect."

They moved southwest. Fleta showed the way in bird form, and Mach charged along as rapidly as he could. When they came to a clifflike formation that would have taken time to skirt, Mach managed to conjure some rope, and used it to swing himself down, drawing on a skill developed for the Game. In this manner they made good progress, hoping to get beyond the range the goblins would search.

They succeeded. By nightfall they were painfully tired, but there was no evidence of pursuit. They snatched fruits to eat and found some soft ferns to sleep on.

"And now it be tomorrow," Fleta murmured, snuggling in close.

"What?"

"When I did say 'Let's do it again,' thou didst reply 'Tomorrow,' " she reminded him.

"Oh." Mach was so tired that this had entirely slipped his mind.

Then she laughed, and slept. She had indeed been teasing him. It remained largely a game to her. "But if you try that tease tomorrowŢ he muttered as he faded out.

But in the morning the goblins were casting closer, knowing that the prey was somewhere in the vicinity. Mach and Fleta hardly got moving before they were spied.

Fleta changed to unicorn form and Mach jumped on her back. She galloped past the goblins and on down and out of the mountains at a rate the goblins could not match. But as they emerged on the southern plain beyond the mountains, the goblins were not far behind. A broad wave of them advanced, preventing any possible cutback to cover.

Then ahead a new shape appeared. "Oh, no!" Mach breathed. "A dragon!" He remembered that in Proton the dome-city of Dradom was in this region. That meant this would be the Dragon Demesnes in Phaze. If there was one thing worse than goblins-

Fleta slowed, wary of the dragon. It was a huge fire-breather; they could tell by the plume of smoke drifting up from it. The monster was winged, so it would be able to go after them in the air; they could not avoid it or outrun it. The only escape would be straight back the way they came-and there the goblins waited, in a giant cup-shaped formation. The goblins obviously believed that the quarry would choose to turn back and be captured, rather than proceed forward and be toasted and eaten.

But Mach knew that though he might be spared, the goblins had no such intent for Fleta. She would be raped and/or eaten by the army of little monsters. He couldn't allow that.

"Let me try magic," he said to her furry ear as she slowed her running. She twitched the ear, acknowledging.

Mach concentrated, humming a tune to build up his magic. He was gradually getting the hang of it. Music, concentration, and a firm notion of exactly what he wanted-these were the important elements. That firm notion was perhaps the most vital part of it; he had to really want it, subconsciously as well as consciously. Thus his effort to conjure a comb for the harpy misfired, because it was a minor matter to him, while his spell to generate his own potency had worked, because he had really known he needed it. The sung rhyme mostly triggered the magic, somewhat the way one told a computer to "execute." He had to be sure everything was right before he sang the rhyme; any sloppiness ruined the result.

The dragon was getting close. It was licking its giant chops. Fleta fluted nervously-and that gave him another idea. "Play a tune!" he cried to her. "I'll sing to it, when I cast the spell!"

She played. She was worried, but her music, as always, was lovely. He listened for a moment, enjoying it, getting the feel of it, trying to attune himself to it to the maximum. Then he sang: "Make our flight be out of sight!"

Fleta vanished. Mach found himself riding along above the plain. She was still there, but she was entirely invisible. He glanced at himself, and found nothing. He was invisible too. This time the spell had really worked!

"We're completely invisible," he told her. "I suppose we can be heard and smelled, so we'd better shy away from the dragon, but no one can track us by sight. I think."

She swerved, and the dragon did not. The dragon seemed confused, its head swinging this way and that as it peered about, trying to spot the prey it had seen a moment before. The wind was from the west, carrying their scent east, so Fleta swerved to run east. But her hooves kicked up sand, so she slowed to a walk. Now they were truly invisible.

They walked sedately away from both dragon and goblins. They circled back to the mountains, recovering the protection of the trees at the base. Mach did not dare dismount lest he lose track of Fleta, or she of him, so he continued to ride. But at this pace it was no strain on her.

In the afternoon they came to the river that emerged from the range. "This must be the one the dragon is in, upstream," Mach said. "Maybe we can spend the night here, since no one can see us."

Fleta fluted agreement. "If we get separated, make some music and I'll come to you," he said, walking to a tree for some fruit.

But there was no danger of her getting lost. In a moment he felt her hand in his. She had changed back to girl form, invisibly, and rejoined him.

As they settled down for the night, she whispered, "Is tomorrow here yet?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" he said, and grabbed her.

It was a strange and wonderful thing, doing it invisibly. The first time he kissed her, he got a mouthful of hair; then she turned her head to bring her lips into play, giggling. It occurred to Mach that he should neutralize the spell, which he presumed he could do merely by making up a rhyme to that effect, but the invisibility was so convenient for foiling the pursuit that he decided to leave it in place.

And so it was that they made their way east to the large river that cut through the mountains from the north, and along its shore until they reached the wooden towers of the Brown Demesnes.