Phaze Doubt

9 - Play

The Brown Adept knew it was further folly, but she was quite taken with Tsetse. The woman was beautiful and obliging, and made a perfect servant and companion. Perfect except for the fact that she was a creature of Citizen Purple’s, his former mistress and surely still his spy. It would be her job to watch Brown and report on any deviance. So she could not be trusted.

Yet what did it matter? Purple had finally fathomed Brown’s secret, and required her cooperation with the Hectare invaders on pain of the revelation of that shame. His cynical ploy of assigning a woman who had been the mistress of both a man and a woman demonstrated his complete contempt for Brown. He was happy to facilitate her shame, binding her yet more closely to his fell cause. Brown understood this, but was helpless against it.

Tsetse herself was innocent, being genuinely relieved to have a compatible assignment instead of whatever other horror Purple might have visited on her. She wanted very much to stay here at the Brown Demesnes, and eagerly did anything Brown asked. There really wasn’t much that needed doing, other than going into Proton to check the affairs of Citizen Brown, who of course wasn’t a Citizen any more. She much preferred the isolation of the wooden castle. So Tsetse’s availability for that was nice. If she reported to Purple at the same time, what of it? Brown had never been under any illusion on that score.

But Tsetse as a companion was a temptation it was hard to resist. Tsetse knew the ways of love with either sex, but preferred female. She had made it clear that such a thing would be no sacrifice at all. What was Brown to do?

For days she had stewed over this question, appreciating the horrific nicety of the trap Purple had set for her. If she got friendly with Tsetse, then Tsetse would become a hostage in a way that Brown could not. One Adept could not truly hurt another by magic; some inherent magic in the position of Adept seemed to nullify their efforts against each other. Brown had kept Purple and Tan prisoner, but had not tried to hurt them; now Purple had reversed the ploy, and was making no direct move against her. Of course the Hectare could have her killed, but it was already evident that they preferred to use native talent when they could, and that Purple had promised them to obtain her cooperation. So Purple was working on her—and if she made it too plain that he was getting nowhere, then the Hectare might do it their way.

Brown did not want to die, but neither did she want to betray her friends. She did not know which way she would go, if put to a straight choice between those alternatives. She could only hope it would not come to that. But that hope had never been great, and was diminishing as she saw how methodically the Hectare were consolidating their hold on the planet. Already all but five Adepts were captive, and the hunt was on for those. Clef they would not catch, but the others...

Tsetse hurried up, looking elegant in the temporary robe Brown had given her. “Brown, there’s something in the storeroom!” she exclaimed. “I heard it!” She used her native speech, and Brown used hers, and there was no problem between them on that score.

“Surely not,” Brown said in a businesslike manner. “But needs must we check it.” She hoped it was a certain thing, but did not feel free to speak of it. She walked to the golem storeroom with Tsetse.

Inside were the inactive golems, and the guidebot that had brought Tsetse here. “Thou dost see, all be in order,” she said. “It must have been a mouse. They do get in, and I have not the heart to trap them.”

“But it sounded like a machine!” Tsetse protested. “I heard it from outside, and it frightened me.”

“Well, there be one machine here; I had forgotten.” That was a lie, but a necessary one. “The guidebot that brought thee here; perhaps it were restless.”

“Maybe you should send it back,” Tsetse said doubtfully.

“Yes, surely I should! Unfortunately I have no ready conveyance for it, unless I have a large golem carry it.” She reflected briefly. “Yes, that may indeed be best. Why dost thou not go and fix us something to eat, while I ready a suitable golem?”

“Certainly!” Tsetse agreed readily, and hurried off.

Brown walked around the chamber, looking at golems. Then she came to the guidebot as if to check its size. “Why didst thou return?” she inquired quietly.

“Mach said you did not betray me,” the machine replied as quietly. “Though you did recognize me.”

“Of course I betrayed thee not, thou darling child! Thou knowest I support thy grandfather, as I always have.”

“But Purp will make you,” Nepe said. “I know how.”

Brown stiffened. “Thou knowest?”

“I must ask you to do something awful,” Nepe said, retaining her form as the guidebot. “My father asks.”

“What dost thou know?” Brown demanded, hoping it was something else.

“Brown, not all of us are conservative like Grandam Neysa. We don’t care how you live; we know you’re a good person. But we need your help, and you can do it if you can stand to. It would really make a difference.”

Brown realized that the child did know. “What dost thou want?”

“Do what Purp wants.”

“What?” Brown was horrified.

“Go with Tsetse. Let him blackmail you. Do whatever he says. But don’t tell on me.”

“Betray thy grandfather—to help thee?” Brown asked, appalled.

“Brown, they’ve nabbed Black and Green, but their mission was accomplished. The Adepts covered for Flach, so we could escape. Now it’s just Mach and me, and he’ll give himself up to save me. But we need your help to get Purp out of the way.”

“Thou’rt going after Purple?” Brown asked, amazed.

“In a way. I’d like to wipe him out, but we can’t afford to waste our effort doing that. So we’re just going to punish him a little, and keep him occupied.”

“What dost thou need from me?” Brown asked grimly.

“Take Tsetse with you when you go to the game.”

“What game?”

“The one Purp has to play against the Hectare.”

Brown was astonished. “I understand not!”

“We’re going to throw off the Hectare, and soon, but it’s a plot so tricky that none of us knows the whole. All I really know is that I have three messages, and I must do what they tell me. I have done one. The second tells me to do something more complicated, and that’s what I’m doing now. I need to sneak a person in past the Hectare alerts to fetch something, and this is the best way I can figure to do it. So it won’t be Tsetse with you, really, it will be this other. Don’t tell, and when Tsetse disappears, cover for her. She’ll be back. Do this, and I will accomplish my second task. If I get through all three, Phaze can be saved, I think. If I can’t, then it will be very bad. Will you help me?”

“O’ course I will, dear! But how canst thou know the Purple Adept will—“

“You go with him to his game, and help him all you can, and take Tsetse along and don’t let on about her. I can’t tell you more, Brown, because if this doesn’t work I’ll have to try some other way, and you mustn’t know anything that would hurt us.”

Brown spread her hands. “As thou sayest, dear. But it makes not much sense to me.”

“It should happen within the hour,” Nepe” said. “He’s coming here to put the screws to you. Now you know what to do.”

“An thou be sure—“

“Almost sure,” Nepe admitted.

Brown had mixed feelings. She was appalled by the notion of going along with Purple, and worried about Nepe, whom she had known as Flach, but relieved that she no longer had to choose between life and culture. She could yield to the enemy, yet not betray Phaze! If what the child said was true. And though Nepe was a child, she was a remarkably special one, and surely to be trusted.

“I put mine honor in thy hands,” she said. “I will do as thou dost ask. May it save Phaze!”

“Thanks, Brown!” the seeming machine said. “And oh, don’t tell Tsetse. She must hide, and not know why, until you return.”

“Aye, child.” Then Brown left, closing the door behind her, so that the room would not be disturbed.

She shared the meal with Tsetse. Now that her mind was somewhat at rest, she was able to consider the woman more subjectively. Tsetse was beautiful and docile; it would be easy to love her. Now, perhaps, it was time.

“I have a matter o’ some caution to broach to thee, trusting I give not offense,” Brown said.

“Have I done something wrong?” Tsetse asked, immediately worried.

“Nay, woman! My concern be this: I have by choice no man in my life, but that be not because I be without passion. It be that I prefer mine own gender. I find thee attractive, and would know thee better, an the notion not disturb thee.”

“It doesn’t disturb me!” Tsetse said, and her relief was obviously genuine.

“Yet thou dost prefer employment here, so mayhap dost feel not free to speak thy true mind. I would not seek to play on that to—“

“I’ve had both men and women,” Tsetse said. “But pleasure only with women. I think you’re a great woman!”

“Yet I be concerned. I ask thee to take time to consider, and if thou dost conclude against, I will have no onus against thee. I be minded to send thee on a day-long trip to fetch wood, and if thou dost not reconsider by thy return, we may talk further.”

“I don’t need—“

“But I need, Tsetse,” Brown said. “I am athwart a conflict o’ interest, and needs must give thee time.”

“Yes, of course,” the woman said, always amenable. “I’ll go immediately.”

“The golems know the route, and carry supplies. Thou willst be safe and comfortable. Thou has only to see that they load good wood; they choose not well alone.”

“I’ll do that!” Tsetse was eager to prove herself.

“Methinks Franken be good to lead the party,” Brown said. “He be used to carrying me in his knapsack, and will carry thee in comfort. He will obey thee when thou dost call his name, and keep thee safe. An a dragon attack, say ‘Franken, save me,’ and he will do it. But thou must speak always literally, for he be not smart.”

“Yes,” Tsetse said, less eager but ready.

Within the hour, woman and golems were gone. The large golems hauled a wagon for the wood, and Tsetse rode in Frank-en’s knapsack. There were four hauler golems, and four guard golems; she would be safe enough. There was a magic tent on the wagon, that she knew how to invoke for the night’s repose. Tsetse might not really like being alone with the golems, but it was something she needed to learn if she was to be genuinely useful, and the mission was a valid one.

Not long thereafter, a small aircraft arrived. It was Citizen Purple, as Nepe had predicted. Probably the child had gotten hold of a divination, so that she had known the timing. It had been a fairly near thing.

Purple strode into the castle as if he owned it—which was close enough to the fact now. He wore the ludicrous tentacle-cap of Hectare service. “Have you considered your situation, Brown?” he inquired brusquely. He was in his Citizen aspect, which meant he wouldn’t be using magic. That was a small relief, for a magic check could have spotted the golem party, and it would have been awkward if he realized that Tsetse seemed to be in two places at once.

“At length,” she confessed. “Thou has power now, and canst make my life difficult an I not cooperate with thee.”

“And comfortable if you do cooperate,” he said. “Look, woman, I don’t ask you to renounce your heritage. Just put your golems at our disposal, and swear that you will not allow them to harm any person or thing associated with the Hectare. I know your word is good.”

“I can keep my castle and my privacy?” she asked. There was more to that question than showed, as they both knew. She wanted assurance that her shame would not be advertised.

“Yes. You will answer only to me, and the Hectare, who are not concerned with personal details.”

“My golems I can pledge, but my heart not. I will do what thou sayest, and the golems will obey, but I will betray not my friends.”

“Soon enough there will be none loose to betray.”

“And Tsetse—“

“She’s yours as long as the golems are ours.”

“And that be the whole o’ it?”

“Almost.” He waggled a fat finger at her. “You were a temperate keeper, when Tan and I were your prisoners. But then you were honor-bound to keep us, not to harm us. Now you are not. I want your word that you will obey me personally, and seek no physical or magical harm to me. I know you don’t like me, but you will never try to lead me into harm, or refuse to help me if I am in peril.”

Brown reflected. Nepe had said they were going to punish Purple, but not actually to hurt him, and in any event that was not Brown’s doing. If she saw that Purple was actually being hurt, she would have to try to help him. That seemed to be an appropriate compromise. “An thou keep thy word to me, I will keep mine to thee,” she said. “I will obey thee and seek not to lead thee to harm, but an thou come to it by device other than mine, it will grieve me not.”

“Agreed. Now I have assignments for your golems. I want a complement set to the North Pole to ensure that no other person or creature has access to it.”

“The North Pole!” she exclaimed, surprised. “There be no such Pole!”

“There is in Proton. Now there are four. Can your golems get there and remain functional?”

“If there be no fire.”

“Snow, not fire.”

“Then they can go. I will send a complement. But I must advise thee that golems be not smart; they will prevent thy forces also from approaching it.”

“Understood. Do it.”

“That be the extent o’ mine obligation?”

“For the moment, Brown.” He got up to go.

There was a beep. Purple brought out a holo cube and set it on the table. “Purple,” he said, evidently acknowledging a call.

A three-dimensional image formed above the cube. Brown’s breath stopped. It was a Hectare, one of the bug-eyed invaders. She had shielded herself from such contact, trying to pretend the creatures didn’t exist, but here one was virtually in her castle.

The thing’s tentacles writhed, rippling around what could be its neck section, and there was a faint, unpleasant keening. They spoke by rubbing short tentacles together, she had heard, producing mostly ultrasonic whistles that the human ear could not fathom if it were able to hear them at all. Evidently it was so, for in a moment the translation started.

“I am pleased to accept your invitation to game,” the thing was saying. “A studio is being reserved. Be there with your second in ninety-four minutes.” The image faded out.

Purple’s mouth hung open. He looked as though he had received a death sentence. This communication had evidently come as a complete surprise to him.

Then he gathered his wits. “Do you know what this means, Brown?”

“I knew not e’en the invaders played games!” she protested. “Thou didst ask to play with it?”

He stared at her. “You don’t know that the Hectare not only play, they bet? That they are compulsive gamers who play for keeps?”

She returned his gaze blankly. “I know as little o’ them as I can.”

“Then you shall learn!” he said grimly. “Make yourself ready, woman; you shall be my second.”

“Thy second? I know not how—“

“My adviser, my supporter. You will do your best to see that I win that game.”

Suddenly she remembered what Nepe had said: that Citizen purple would play a game with a Hectare, and that she should go with him, and take the mock Tsetse. How had the child managed this? But she had no time to wonder; she had to do it. “I agreed to do thy bidding. Purple, but must warn thee that I know naught o’ seconding or the game, and may be o’ little use to thee. I may help thee best by urging thee to obtain a more competent second.” Absolutely true!

Purple fixed her with an abruptly steely eye. “Do you know what the Hectare do to losers?”

“Nay. I—“

“They cut off the loser’s hand.”

She stared at him, speechless.

“That is to ensure that no native throws a game to a Hectare. There is no penalty for winning, and no loss to the Hectare for losing, other than its bets. They’re not really good at the game yet, being unused to our conventions, so they often do lose. But they are getting better. They’re not stupid, and they do not forget a ploy that defeats them. It’s like Phaze magic: it won’t work twice. So I have no certainty of winning.”

“But then why didst thou challenge—“

“I didn’t challenge!” he shouted. “But the Hectare evidently thinks I did, so I’m stuck for it. Now, woman, understand this: you will be my second, and you will see that I win. Because if I lose, you lose. Do you understand me?”

Brown didn’t need to ask how she would lose. Her secret was on the line. She would have to do her very best to help him to win. Which was exactly what Nepe had told her to do. She had for the sake of integrity urged him not to use her; now her course was clear.

“Aye,” she said slowly. “But let me bring Tsetse.”

“To remind you what you’re fighting for?” He shrugged. “Bring her, then. But be ready in ten minutes. I’ll be at my plane.” He swept out.

Flustered, Brown went to the storeroom. She opened the door—and paused, astonished.

Tsetse stood there, absolutely authentic. Brown knew it wasn’t her, but the likeness was so good that it was hard to believe. “Thou needs must come—“ she said, faltering as the surprise continued to percolate.

“Yes, of course. Brown,” the woman said in Tsetse’s voice. “Whatever you say.”

Did the woman stand a little taller than before, and was she heavier? Brown peered closely at her, to see whether she had been magnified a size, but could detect nothing. This emulation would readily pass inspection. But how had they managed it?

She decided to treat the emulation exactly as if she were Tsetse, so that there could be no slip. “Something has come up. We must leave for Proton immediately with Citizen Purple. I am to assist him in a game against a Hectare.”

“A game against a Hectare!” Tsetse exclaimed, wide-eyed. “But don’t they make natives—?”

“Aye. Needs must we help Purple win. Now come.”

Tsetse followed her obediently. They went out to the waiting airplane.

“You can keep your clothing. Brown, but she’s a serf,” Purple reminded her as he climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Remove thy apparel,” Brown told Tsetse. “Thou canst have it back when we return.”

The woman struggled out of her gown, in the confines of the plane. Brown helped her. She still seemed completely real, and even her struggle to get out of the robe was authentic. Her breasts shook and her hair got disordered. But when Brown’s hand touched her body, she found that it was a good deal more solid than it looked.

Illusion! That was the secret! The other person was larger, but looked the same. There should be no problem as long as no one actually touched her.

Purple was taxiing around, getting aligned for the takeoff. By the time Tsetse was bare, the plane had gotten up speed. Purple, concentrating on his piloting, had paid no attention to Tsetse. That was just as well, since he would have caught on instantly had he touched her. He had after all had an affair with her. This remained chancy business!

Soon they reached the Hardom dome, and landed. A Citizen transport was waiting for them. They entered the chamber, and it moved into the hidden transport network of the city.

Purple touched a console. “Replay my engagement to play a game with the Hectare,” he snapped.

A wall became a screen. It was as if they were looking through a picture window to a larger room. There was Citizen Purple, exactly as now, speaking from the screen of a phone. “I crave the honor of engaging my Hectare supervisor in a game,” the figure said politely. “I feel this would benefit our mutual understanding. Of course there is no obligation, if you have other business, and I apologize for intruding on your time.”

That was it. The inset screen clock showed that this call had been made just about the time Purple was arriving at the Brown Demesnes. It was an obvious frame—to those who knew what he had actually been doing.

Brown, true to her agreement, said what she could. “Someone somehow emulated thee, Purple. But that was when thou wast talking with me, as I will attest. If thou dost explain to the Hectare, maybe—“

“Too late for that. Once the Hectare accepted the challenge, that was that. I’m hoist. But once I catch the perpetrator...”

“Methinks only Mach could do it.”

“The tech for the call, yes, Mach/Bane,” he agreed, pronouncing the names as if they were one name, appropriately. “But the emulation, that would be Flach/Nepe. I’ve tangled with that brat before, and she’s more dangerous than any of the rest. I told the Hectare, nail her first, but they didn’t understand. Now she’s getting me back.” He glanced at Brown. “I know you’re on the other side, but this need be no secret. I’ve got a healthy respect for that one, and if I don’t kill her, she’ll kill me. But you have made a deal, and you will not allow her to attack me through you.”

“I made the deal with thee,” Brown agreed. “But that extends not to betraying those who support Phaze.”

“Don’t quibble, woman. If you know where the brat is hiding, you won’t tell me. But if you know the brat is about to do me harm, you will protect me from it. She shall not use you to harm me.”

Brown realized that Nepe had set up the bogus challenge to the Hectare before approaching Brown. In fact, she had probably recorded it, and then her father had sent it at the critical moment. Nepe was using Brown to fight the invaders in some devious way, not to harm Purple directly. But if Purple lost the game, he would be harmed, and Brown would have some share of blame for that, because she was cooperating with Nepe. It was a devious situation, ethically, but as she saw it, she had to make sure that Purple won the game. “Aye.”

“I am sure you have had contact with her,” Purple continued. “Your castle is being watched, but of course she can get around that. It will be thoroughly searched during your absence. But as long as you honor the deal, no harm will come to you. Your chances of inadvertently betraying her are as good as they are of helping her. I figure that balances it out.”

“Aye.” She was developing a grudging respect for Purple. He was an unscrupulous and personally loathsome person, but he had made it possible for her to retain her loyalty and lifestyle while helping him. It was a more generous deal than she might have expected. She knew that Nepe understood that no direct attack on Purple could be tolerated now, however tempting it might be; if such a thing occurred. Brown would be obliged to betray Nepe to the enemy. Perhaps Purple, whose mind was as devious as any, was hoping for that.

The transporter stopped, and the door opened. They were at the Game Annex, about fifteen minutes early.

“Where is the game studio?” Purple demanded of the nearest serf.

“I will lead you there, sir,” the serf replied. “You are expected.”

“My second and her maid are also to be admitted.”

“The Hectare has arranged it, sir,” the man said as he led the way.

Indeed, the Hectare was ready, It stood within the studio, huge and grotesque, its myriad eye facets glinting. Brown did her best to mask the revulsion she felt at its proximity.

“Sir, this is my second, the Brown Adept, and her maid Tsetse,” Purple said.

A man stepped forward. It was Citizen Tan, wearing his tentacle-cap. “I am the Hectare’s second,” he said. “What the hell are you doing, Purple?”

“A frame,” Purple said darkly. “We need better security on the phone system.”

Tan nodded. “The brat—and maybe serf Lysander, who has computer circuitry skills. I want that one myself.” Then he turned to the Hectare. “Sir, Purple is ready when you are.”

The Hectare walked to the console, in its fashion: dozens of fat little tentacles or feet or caterpillar treads buzzed it along quite adequately. There was a chirrup, and the translator spoke. “We shall indulge the Game Computer.”

“Of course, sir,” Purple said, moving to take his place on the other side of the console. He did not look easy, for it was known that the computer could be pixyish in its selections, and if it had a grudge against Purple, he would be finished. Brown hoped it had no grudge.

The Hectare extended a tentacle and touched its side of the console. Then Purple nodded to Brown. “As my second, how would you recommend I play?”

“Thou canst consult openly?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, the Hectare permits this. It can overhear, of course. What shall I select?”

“But the Game Computer won’t give you what you select!” she said, shifting into her Proton self, because that one was better conversant with the rules of technology.

“It might. So I had better choose well.”

She saw that he had the numbers: Physical, Mental, Chance, and Art. “Avoid Chance,” she said. “And I think avoid Physical, because it might steer it into a contest where tentacles are a decisive advantage. As for Mental—that too is chancy. So it should be Art, where the human interpretations probably still prevail.”

Words flowed across the screen. SO FATSO WANTS TO WAX ARTISTIC, AND THE BEM WANTS TO PLAY WITH MACHINES. VERY WELL, THIS TIME I SHALL HUMOR BOTH. YOU SHALL BECOME ARTISTS OF THE STAGE, WITH HU-MANOID ROBOTS AS ACTORS. SINCE YOU BOTH ARE ARTISTIC CRETINS, I WILL MAKE THE SETTING CRETAN. BEHOLD: THE PALACE OF KNOSSOS, 1550 B.C., WHOSE LABYRINTHINE PASSAGES AND CHAMBERS ARE AN EXCELLENT SETTING FOR A MYSTERY.

The chamber darkened and expanded, assuming the likeness of a great stone castle or palace whose hard walls were brightly painted and whose massive columns were both cylindrical and block-shaped. The pillars were slightly larger at the top than the bottom, enhancing the seeming scale of the building. The thing was a monument to the grandeur of a bygone age that stunned Brown. She knew that much of this representation had to be holographic, for there was no room within the Game Annex for it, but still it was awesome.

Now the Game Computer spoke through its speakers, its voice sounding artificial to only that degree it chose to indicate its origin. “The king has suffered an indisposition, and it has been determined that an attempt was made to poison him. Fortunately he consumed only a trace of the tainted food before his food-taster succumbed, so ceased immediately, and survived. It was determined that the poison was in the dates, and six residents of the palace had access to those dates in the prior day. These are therefore the six suspects. One of them is the guilty party, and will be proffered to the Minotaur for whatever pleasure the bull-headed brute cares to take before it consumes the person. It should be an excellent show, as the Minotaur has been restless lately, tossing his horns about. That is to say, horny. Three suspects will be with each player, and each player will make the case against one or more of the suspects of the other player. The victor will be the one who succeeds in condemning an opposing suspect. Choose your suspects.”

A curtain lifted on a stage that had not been evident before. On it stood an assortment of humanoid robots garbed in the costumes of the time: men with belts and codpieces, otherwise naked, and women with multitiered skirts and breast-baring boleros. Older men wore robes over their briefs, and older women shawls that were allowed to cover their open bodices. All were barefooted. Behind them, a great fresco showed a young man and a young woman engaged in the dangerous sport of bull-leaping, a prominent activity of the day. At the borders were pictures of ornate double axes, religiously significant.

Citizen Purple looked at the prospects. “Take first choice, sir,” he suggested to the Hectare. “I will settle for first move.”

The Hectare moved to the stage. Its tentacles extended and took hold of a lovely damsel whose skirt layers alternated colors: red, blue, white, and tan. Her black hair was bound with chains and beads, combs, and a band above the forehead. One lock passed before the ear to dangle down the side of her face. The Hectare lifted her high and carried her to the center of the set. “So BEMs do lust after femmes,” Tsetse murmured. “I don’t care to watch this.” She backed away, and in a moment was out the door. No one challenged her; if anyone other than Brown noticed her departure, that person didn’t care.

The girl-figure came alive. “Put me down, you monster!” she exclaimed, kicking her feet. She spoke in contemporary Proton dialect, not the ancient Cretan language; the Game Computer could go only so far.

The Hectare put her down. If it felt any affront, it did not show it. Brown realized that the creature was alien to human culture, and did not understand human ways or reactions, and probably would not have cared had it grasped them.

Purple glanced at Brown. “What for me?”

“Chances should be even if you match with a similar suspect,” Brown said. “That may be safest, until we know the Hectare’s strategy.”

“Umph,” he agreed, gazing intently at the young women. He had always had extreme interest in the female human form, Brown remembered; his activities in that respect were notorious. He might want to choose three young women, even though he knew they were only robots. Robots could perform almost any task as well as living folk, and all he cared about was the form and the obedience.

Purple made his selection: a woman whose skirt bands alternated gold with blue, and whose bare breasts were especially robust; they fairly burst out of her bolero. Her hair was styled like that of the first woman, with her dark front tresses trailing down beside her bosom. She wore three separate necklaces of differing sizes, so that one fit close about the column of her neck, a second hung lower, and the third dangled across the upper curvature of her breasts and down between them. “You, cutie.”

The figure animated, and stepped down from the stage, now exactly resembling a living woman. She came to stand near Purple, expectantly.

The Hectare chose a young man. He looked athletic, perhaps being one of the bull-leapers, but his waist was so slender, and cinched yet more narrowly by the belt, that from behind he could have been mistaken for a woman. He wore a pointed cap, but no beads in his hair, which trailed almost to his waist, with a single strand behind each ear.

“Match him?” Purple inquired. He seemed determined to have Brown’s input at every stage, so that if he lost the game, she could not avoid implication.

But Brown was beginning to work out a possible plot for this play. “No. Choose parents for the girl.”

Purple shrugged, and chose a stout older man that vaguely resembled himself.

The Hectare chose a second young man. Now its cast consisted of three youths, two male and one female.

Purple selected an older woman who. Brown realized with dismay, could be likened to herself, if allowance was made for the different costume and hair style. Her breasts made the mandatory appearance, but were modest, and the shawl was a blessing. She had an apron hanging from her waist that overlaid several of the tiers of the skirt, which reached all the way to the floor.

Now Purple’s complement consisted of the elder couple and the young woman.

“You will have five minutes to consult with your seconds privately and establish your strategies,” the Game Computer said. “Then Citizen Purple will make the first statement: why he believes one of the Hectare’s players is guilty of attempting to poison the king. I will serve as referee, but a selected audience who does not know the identities of the players will make the decision as to the victory.”

They withdrew to separate private chambers to their strategy consultations. Their chamber was in keeping with the set: it resembled the architecture of ancient Crete, with a stone floor and a flower mural on the walls. The Game Computer must have been working on this set for some time, Grafting every aspect of the illusion, and had drawn on it when opportunity offered. The onset of magic in Proton had evidently brought creativity to the computer. But Brown couldn’t help responding to the setting; she found herself longing for that culture, four thousand years before, on the distant planet of Earth. She felt the nostalgia of the loss of those artistic folk, perhaps foreshadowing the loss of her contemporary culture. Had the barbarian Greeks overrun Crete and exploited its resources and made of it a secondary or tertiary power—as the barbarian Hectare were about to do with Phaze? Perhaps, but they had been assisted by a volcano, whose horrendous detonation had smashed apart the lovely palaces and buried them in ash. Phaze lacked that excuse.

“Now what are you thinking of, woman, with your family group?” Purple demanded.

Brown was jolted back to the unpleasant reality: she was helping a man she detested to save his hide. She had to succeed, or she would pay a price that horrified her. “A family group would be unlikely to seek harm to the king,” she said. “These must be nobles of the palace, favored by the king, and their highborn daughter can be a prospective match for one of the king’s sons. They would want the king to prosper, and his son after him.”

Purple nodded. “But the Hectare will make the case that the nobleman wanted to take over the throne himself, bypassing the middleman.”

“Yes, that’s an obvious target. So we must prepare a defense, while working out an offense of more devious nature, that may catch the Hectare by surprise and lead to its disadvantage. Your devious mind should be able to craft such an attack. Let me work out the family defense, while you work out the attack.”

“My devious mind,” he said. “I would take that as a compliment, if I didn’t know you.”

“I agreed to help you,” she retorted. “I never agreed to like you.”

“And you will do the one, and not the other,” he agreed. “I would rather have an honest enemy in my camp than a dishonest friend. This is why I chose you, apart from your propinquity.”

She nodded. Purple was awful in every way except cunning. Certainly she was more to be trusted than his ally Tan. His choice of her for his second made sense despite her lack of experience with the game. He had had to make a decision quickly, and it would have taken precious time to run down someone else, while she had been right there. Nepe must have figured on that. Still, Nepe was a nervy player herself.

She gazed at the wall and pondered the play-family situation. Father, mother, daughter, father accused of poisoning the king in order to assume the throne. By the rules of this contest, she was sure, any statement made by a player had to be taken at face value; if the Hectare said the father was next in line for the throne, then it would be so, and they would have to find a way to nullify that motive without denying the connection. They could do that at the outset, as Purple had the first statement, but that would be purely defensive. If they said that the father was unrelated, merely a good friend of the king’s, who had no motive to do him harm, the Hectare might merely modify the charge: the father was doing it because he had no personal ambition, and would be unsuspected; he had a secret reason to promote a third party, who had promised him a much better position. That would be hard to refute, and the effort would keep them on the defensive, a bad position to be in. So the answer must be in the attack: keep the heat on the other side, so that it could not attack the father.

She was discovering that her mind was attuning nicely to this challenge, despite her lack of experience. Perhaps it was the fascination of the setting, whose appeal made her truly want to participate.

“Time,” the Game Computer announced.

“Go for the attack!” Brown said hurriedly. “Never let up! I’m not sure of our defense.”

“My own conclusion,” he said.

They passed through the decorated stone door and reentered the main chamber. The Hectare and Citizen Tan emerged from an opposite chamber.

Now it occurred to Brown that the layout of the palace could be significant; a person could establish an alibi by showing that he was nowhere near the kitchen at the time the dates were poisoned. No, the suspects had already been determined, so must have had access. Still, the complicated network of the palace might figure in some other way; she would keep that in mind.

“We are gathered here in the South Anteroom to determine the truth,” the Game Computer said. “The scenes will be reenacted as described. Players will take turns addressing particular actors. Citizen Purple will make the opening statement.”

“I address the maiden in the multicolored dress,” Purple said.

As he spoke, that one animated, looking at him. “She is the sister of that young man.” He pointed to the narrow-waisted man Brown thought of as the bull-leaper. “She is in love with her brother’s friend, there.” He indicated the other young man. The young woman walked to the young man and embraced him, dramatizing their love. They made a pretty couple. “She wanted to marry him, but the king wanted her for a concubine.” The couple broke, and the woman gazed with evident dismay offstage, where presumably the king was beckoning. “So, in order to protect his sister, the brother tried to poison—“

“Objection!” Tan cried. “He is charging an unaddressed player.”

“Sustained,” the Game Computer said. “Statement must be limited to the addressed player.”

Purple scowled, and Brown, sharing his situation, understood. The rule should have been clarified beforehand. “Still, you can establish the motive by implication,” she murmured.

Purple nodded. “Correction: the young woman knew that the king desired her for a concubine, and that this would ruin her chance to marry her beloved, so she pleaded with her brother to do something to ease her case.” The young woman approached the man designated as her brother, and gestured animatedly as she faced him: her pleading. “She knew he would do whatever it took.” She looked confident.

Brown considered it a good attack. The Hectare could hardly afford to ignore it; even if a motive were established for some other player, that brotherly love would be persuasive. It was also a good animation. She knew that the setting was largely illusion, and that the characters were robots, but everything looked real and alive, and it was easy to suspend disbelief. The drama was coming alive for her.

The Hectare consulted briefly with his second, then made some squeaks. “I address the brother,” the translator said. The indicated young man animated. “It is true that he loves his sister, but his loyalty to his king is paramount. He would do anything to promote the welfare of his sister that does not conflict with his honor. So though she begged him to help her, and he agreed, he stressed that no action could be taken against the king. Instead, he would try to distract the king by proffering another potential concubine, the daughter of respected palace nobles.” A tentacle pointed, and Purple’s young woman animated: she was the one.

“Oops,” Brown murmured, suddenly seeing what was coming.

“Tan’s sharper than I thought,” Purple muttered. “He saw me coming with the brother ploy.”

“So he approached the other woman,” the translation continued, and the young man did just that with Purple’s young woman. “He suggested to her that the king found her interesting, but hesitated to approach her because he did not wish to offend his friend the noble. If, on the other hand, she were to approach the king, she might find a warm reception, and excellent benefits from his favor. She, taken by surprise, agreed to consider the matter. However, her father overheard, and—“

“Objection!” Brown called. “Neither the girl nor her father is being addressed.”

“Sustained,” the Game Computer said.

“As the brother left the girl,” the Hectare translation continued, “he saw her father in an adjacent chamber, separated by only a hanging rug, and realized that the man had been listening to their conversation. That made him nervous, for he knew the father to be a man set in his ways, and there was no telling what he might do if he thought his daughter was about to compromise herself with the king and ruin her value on the marriage market.”

Brown was worried. The Hectare, supposedly not comfortable with human conventions, was addressing them very well. That had to be Tan’s input; he probably was serving the Hectare as loyally as Brown was serving Purple, lest his own hide suffer.

“This I can handle,” Purple murmured. Brown was relieved, because her mind was blank on this one; she realized that she was not good at devious ploys. “I’ll throw him a curve that will scotch this ploy.”

Purple spoke to the stage. “I address the father.” The man straightened up behind the rug. “What he overheard amazed him, but his reaction was not anger but gratification. He had felt subtly alienated from the king recently, and now understood why: the king was developing another kind of interest. But if his daughter were to attract the king’s interest, the father would be right back in the king’s favor. Since the daughter seemed to have no good prospects for marriage, this was an excellent alternative prospect. Meanwhile, this development provided him with a sinister private satisfaction. He was privy to certain secrets of the palace, and knew that the fiancée of the girl whose brother was trying to save her from the king was not the sterling character he seemed. He led a double life, and had had a mistress of lower class whom he had dearly loved—until the king had taken her as a passing concubine, and she had dumped him, the friend.”

“Objection!” Tan said.

“I am not addressing any other character,” Purple said. “I am merely describing the father’s thoughts, which cover his knowledge of palace intrigues and affect his course of action.”

“Overruled.” the Game Computer said.

Purple smiled, and continued. “The father knew that the friend had of course been unable to protest, but nursed an abiding grudge against the king for that episode, though the king had been unaware of his interest in the girl. The friend’s present engagement was a matter of expedience; his heart was not in it, though he said nothing to her brother about that. When the king’s interest in his fiancée developed, the friend realized that the king might do him an unwitting favor to match the unwitting injury before, by breaking up a liaison he had concluded he did not desire. But now the king was about to ruin even that, if the brother’s ploy was effective, and leave him stuck. He realized that it was pointless to allow events to take their own course; if he was going to settle with the king for the prior injury, it had better be now.” Purple smiled. “Such were the thoughts of the father. Of course he intended to protect the king against any such attack, and resolved to watch the young man closely.”

Brown had to admit that Purple was a cunning character; he had figured out how to address two characters at the same time, defending his own and renewing the attack on his opponent’s.

There was a pause while Tan and the Hectare consulted; this one had them in trouble. Then the Hectare squeaked. “I address the friend. So he considered killing the king, but naturally did not care to do it openly. Casting about for some subtle means, such as poisoning, he went to the storage region of the palace, where the king’s special favorite dates were kept for him alone. But as he navigated the tortuous passages, he encountered another person: the girl’s mother. He realized that though her father might approve a liaison between daughter and king, the mother would not. Indeed she would be so set against such dishonor that she might do virtually anything to prevent it. He realized that he did not need to do anything; the woman would do it for him. So he look another passage, and left her to go her way. It seemed that he could not lose: if the woman took out the king, his vengeance would be complete and he would be blameless. If she did not, the king would do him the favor of taking his fiancée off his hands.”

It was Purple’s turn again. “It’s learning,” he muttered with grudging respect. “It’s going along with me, but diverting it. This may get complicated.”

“But the mother won’t have the nerve to kill anyone,” Brown said.

“Sure enough.” He faced the stage. “I address the mother. She did indeed have murder on her mind, to protect her daughter, but her encounter with the friend made her realize that she could hardly sneak in unobserved and poison the dates. Also, the closer she got to the storage room, the more appalling the notion of killing anyone became, especially the king, who was a good friend of her husband’s. She simply couldn’t do it. She would have to talk to her daughter, and persuade her not to do this thing, to save herself for some nice young man who was sure to come along eventually. So the mother set her vial of poison in a niche out of sight, and walked on by the storeroom, relieved that she had found a better way.”

Purple took a breath. “However, it occurred to her in a moment that the vial wasn’t safe there; a cleaning wench might find it. and ask awkward questions, and if they tested it on an animal they would soon know its nature. So she turned about and went to recover it, despite her nervousness about possibly getting caught with it. But to her surprise and dismay she discovered it gone. It had been only a few minutes, and there was no one else in the passage. She realized that only one person could have taken it: the young man she had encountered and walked with briefly. He must have watched her, and then gone to recover the vial the moment she was gone. Was he going to use it himself?”

Purple had turned it back on the Hectare. The mother was innocent, but the friend still had motive and opportunity—and poison now. The finale was approaching, and Purple’s situation was good.

But Tan had evidently been pondering ploys, and came up with a good one for the Hectare. “I address the daughter,” the Hectare squeaked. The daughter turned to face him, her proud breasts prominent above her tiny waist, the sparkle of her necklaces calling attention to her frontal assets. Her skirt bands matched the color of her jewelry, providing her an artistic unity that further enhanced her sex appeal. Even her bare toes showing beneath her skirt contributed, suggesting that her legs were similarly innocent of covering all the way up under the skirt. Brown found herself desiring the girl, despite everything; the humanoid robot had come alive in the play, and become for her the highborn daughter of a Cretan noble. Such a girl could readily be loved.

“This young woman has been misunderstood by all,” the translator continued. “The brother thought to persuade her to attract the notice of the king, and she seemed to be interested. Her father was glad for that prospect, while her mother was horrified. But in truth she had no intention of indulging with the king—or any man.”

Brown felt a chill of apprehension. Purple would keep her secret as long as she supported him, but she had to deal with Tan, who surely also knew her secret. Was he going to throw in lesbianism to mess her up, so that the Hectare could gain the advantage over Purple? If she lost her concentration now, the play might be done before she could regain it. She tried to steel herself.

“For you see, she distrusted men. It seemed to her that they inevitably took unfair advantage of women, and the king was the worst of all, because he had most power. Now her friend’s brother wanted her to distract the king, so that his sister could remain with her fiancé. But that fiancé was false, having secret affairs and no real respect for the woman he was to marry. If she were to distract the king, the fiancé would find another way to get rid of the fiancé. And her own father, instead of protesting the prospect of her liaison with the king, was in favor of it, because it would lend him additional status. Thus all the men were hopelessly corrupt. Only her mother supported her.” As the translator spoke, the named players animated and posed, the three men looking villainous, the mother looking noble.

But maybe he was going another route. Brown thought. Distrust of men was not the same as love of women. Brown herself did not hate men; she had great affection and respect for a number, beginning with the Adept Stile. She just didn’t care to have sex with them, any more than the men would care to have it with each other.

“So she, realizing that her mother lacked the gumption to do the job, and not trusting any man to do it, realized that she would probably have to do it herself. She hated the king and wanted him dead, because of his power over women and the possibility of his deciding to take her as a lover. Now was the time to kill him, because she had seen her friend’s fiancé go to the storerooms, and take the poison—“

“Objection!” Brown cried. “It has been established that only two people were in those halls at the time. There is no way a third could have been there.”

“Sustained,” the Game Computer said.

“She had seen him go there, and saw her mother emerge without the poison, so she knew he had taken it.”

“Objection! She couldn’t know that. He might have—“

“Sustained. A third sustained objection will terminate the turn.”

“Why are you objecting?” Purple inquired quietly. “The Hectare is framing his own character.”

“I don’t trust that,” she said. “Whatever he’s doing, I want to stop it.”

Purple shrugged. “Paranoia is good, in such a contest.”

Brown felt pleased, then condemned herself for it. She didn’t want Purple’s favor! She just had to win this game for him, and go her own way.

“She knew he could have taken it,” the Hectare said through the translator, after a pause for consultation. If it was annoyed, it didn’t show it. “Later she went herself to check, and found no poison, so she believed he had taken it. He was in a position to poison the dates.”

Now even Purple was perplexed. “The Hectare can’t be throwing the game! They play to win, always.”

“That meant that he could be framed,” the Hectare continued. Suddenly Brown appreciated the point: the buildup of the seeming guilt of a character determined to be innocent. Ouch! “So she could steal the poison from him, use it on the dates, and accuse him of the crime. In this manner she could get away with murdering the king, and another bad man would pay the penalty. It would be a double victory.”

“Brother,” Purple muttered. “This will be hard to refute. It’s him or her, and we don’t have room to show much more about him.” For the first time he looked uncomfortable; in fact downright nervous. Brown would have enjoyed the sight, if her own situation had not been on the line too.

She appreciated the problem. How could they explain away that motive, or put the young man into a situation that would make it obvious he was the guilty one? Any new wrinkle they might try could be turned around as another ploy in the frame: he looked guilty but wasn’t. The Hectare was playing with increasing competence and finesse, catching on rapidly to the nuances of the human condition.

They needed to get the girl of the palace, far away at the critical time. But they couldn’t, because she was one of the suspects; she had had opportunity to place the poison. Now she had motive, too; they could not undo that. At this stage, the jury was likely to rule against the girl. They couldn’t even give her an alibi, such as a love tryst at the critical time with her brother, because Tan and the Hectare had cleverly shut off that option by making her distrust men.

Then Brown saw the answer. It was painful for her, but it would do the job. “She was with her girlfriend at the time,” she said. “You know how to play it.”

Purple looked at her. “We made a deal. I need your golems on my side. They won’t be, if I break that deal.”

“There won’t be any deal, if you lose your hand,” she pointed out, amazed to hear herself arguing this case.

He nodded. “Play now, talk later. Maybe it will work.”

“Nothing else will,” she said.

He faced the stage. “I address the daughter,” he said, and the actress faced him, as lovely as before. “She had motive to kill the king, and to frame her friend’s fiancé getting rid of two bad men. She had intent. She had the courage to do it. But something happened at the critical time.” He paused for effect, and the play paused with him.

“As it has been established, she was a most attractive figure of a woman, but she had a grudge against men. That did not mean that she had no romantic life. She cared very much about her gender. So she went to her friend, and told her of the perfidy of men, especially what she knew about both the king and the fiancée. Her friend was not really surprised; she had tried to blind herself to the infidelities of her fiancé, had known he was no good. She had no better opinion of the king. The two women agreed that no man was to be trusted. Their dialogue became more animated and intimate, as they discovered in each other a deep current of compatibility. This became physical, and in the end they loved each other. Because this was their first such experience, it was slow, with many hesitations. As a result, their encounter lasted several hours—the very time that the poisoning of the dates occurred.”

“Objection!” Tan cried. “The exact time can not be specified. Any of the suspects could have done it.”

“Sustained.”

“The time the poisoning was believed to have occurred,” Purple said. “The reason the two women did not perfectly alibi each other was that they did not want to admit openly what they had been doing. So they allowed themselves to be considered suspects. But it seems likely that they had no care for poisoning, on that night.”

“But women don’t—“ Tan said. Then he looked at Brown, and knew that his Hectare’s case was lost. The only truly viable remaining suspect was the fiancé.

The Hectare spoke, through the translator. “I yield the contest. No fault of my second.” Then it departed.

Tan stared at Brown, scowling. Then he shrugged, realizing that it was better to leave well enough alone. The Hectare knew that Tan had tried his best, but their team had been outplayed. He would suffer no consequence if he kept his mouth shut. He followed the Hectare out.

Brown felt weak with relief. Tan wasn’t going to blow the whistle on her! He knew that there was nothing to be gained by it, as she was already cooperating, however reluctantly.

“Well, you came through,” Purple said. “I’m off the hook, and so are you. I don’t think we need that talk. I’ll take you back to your hideout now.”

Brown looked around. “But Tsetse—she got bored and went out. I can’t leave her here.”

Purple was magnanimous in the flush of victory. “She’ll be at the commons, relaxing. I’ll authorize passes out for you and her, and you can have a golem carry you back when you find her.” He raised his voice, addressing the command net. “By order of Purple: release Brown and Tsetse on their request, this day.” Then to her. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I don’t like you, you don’t like me. But you treated us fairly when you were on top, and I’m treating you fairly now. Just you honor our deal, and maybe we’ll never meet again.”

She nodded again. He left the room, which had reverted to the contemporary type.

“It was a very nice set,” she said aloud.

“Thank you,” the Game Computer replied.

“I wish this were Crete.”

“So do I.”

She left the chamber, wondering about that. The Game Computer was acting more and more like a living thing. It was of course a self-willed machine, but highly programmed; self-will did not mean freedom. Did it now have consciousness and personal desire? What was it trying to do, with its subversion of the normal game grid that had served so well for so long? She hesitated to guess.

She walked lo the commons, looking for Tsetse. She had hoped the figure would be back by the time the game concluded, and had been relieved when Purple had not concerned himself with the matter. Now she just wanted to find the figure and get it home before the real Tsetse returned. If she did not, they could all be in a great deal of trouble. If Purple caught on that she had used him to gain admittance for an enemy of the Hectare...