Robot Adept

Chapter 14 Chase

They played the grid again. This time it did not seem remarkable to Bane that he could match against his other self through the console; the three grueling chess games had made it seem natural. But this time he intended to stay well clear of board games; Mach’s experience in that regard was far greater than his, and it had been mere luck that he had learned chess from his father, Stile, and been able to add that experience to Mach’s stored knowledge and the advice of the Oracle. If he encountered a game in which he was inexperienced, he would not be able to upgrade sufficiently to be competitive. It had been close, as it was.

He had the numbers, so he chose 1. PHYSICAL. That eliminated the major region of danger! He had had a lot of experience with physical games of all types. Mach had too, of course, but Bane now had Mach’s physical body and could match any of his experience by opening the appropriate memory file. He wasn’t sure how they would be able to play a physical game, but the Oracle said it would be arranged. Soon he would discover what the Oracle had in mind.

Mach chose A. NAKED. So it was to be man against man, unadorned. The man in the machine body against the robot in the living body. Bane was ready, if the framework could arrange it. The second grid appeared on the screen:

5. SEPAR 6. INTERAC 7. COMBAT 8. COOPER

E. EARTH F. FIRE G. GAS H. H20

He had the numbers again. He chose 6. INTERACTIVE, becoming more interested in the challenge to the system than in the game itself, for the moment. A separate game would be easy enough: they could race against a common clock, or lift similar weights, or do individual dives for rating on a common scale. But Interactive meant that they had to touch or at least be affected by each other, as with Hide and Seek. How could they do that, physically, across the frames?

Mach chose H. H2O. So it was to be a water sport! Bane had no fear of that; he had swum joyfully since infancy. Were they going to stretch a pool across the frames?

But as it turned out, the H category was more than water; it was a catchall for all the surfaces: Flat, Variable, Discontinuous and Liquid. The list of qualifying games included one as simple as splashing, and one active as water tag, and—

Bane gaped. The magic games were there too! Levitation Tag, Conjuration Dodge—how could these be played in the frame of Proton? If he tried to make himself float magically, he would get nowhere; if he tried to conjure a snowball to hurl at his opponent, none would appear.

But there had to be a way, or the grid would not be showing these choices. This gave him the chance to select a game with which Mach had no experience!

They assembled and played the third grid, and the result was Transformation Chase. Bane had never actually played that one, because of the number of formchanging spells required; a single game would have exhausted his spells for months. But he had always liked the idea of it, and envied the unicorns who could play it with their natural magic, changing forms effortlessly. Human magic was versatile, but limited to one invocation for any given spell; the animals could do their particular magic without limit. In that way they were superior to man. But they could not do any other magic.

The game was set. There would be a month for training. But Bane could hardly wait to talk to the Oracle, and ask: how? How could he transform his body into the several animal forms that would be required for the proper playing of this game? Mach would have no trouble; they could teach him the necessary spells. But this was Proton!

“Mach is in 1A,” the Oracle explained. “You are technically in 2C—Machine-Assisted Mental. He will transform directly; you will transform in emulation.”

“I be in Machine-Assisted Mental? But the grid—”

“This is a special situation. What he can do directly and physically, you cannot. But the emulation will make it equivalent.”

“How can we know that? Mine emulated figure could have powers my physical one has not.”

“The emulation will exactly match the powers of your physical body. There will be no advantage physically. You will have to convey game information to Mach so that the Red Adept can set it up there, but this will be no problem.”

“But magic—transformations—”

“Your consciousness will be attuned to the game setting, and to Bane’s mind. It will be as real to you as your current existence is, and as accurate.”

Bane realized that the Oracle knew more about altered states of reality than he did, but still he argued. “Look, if we are to play this chase game properly, one o’ us must be the Predator and the other the Prey. When the two come together, the Predator be the victor; an we complete the circuit without that happening, the Prey wins. So we can overlap not during the game itself. Therefore there can be ne’er any connection then. So—”

“The connection will be maintained,” the Oracle explained patiently. “The awareness will be displaced. Your body will pace his throughout, but your awareness will be with your representation in the game. Have no concern.”

Bane gave it up. His lifetime in Phaze simply had not prepared him for the peculiar convolutions of science. “If everyone else be satisfied…” He shrugged.

He joined Agape. “I think I have a few hours off before training for the next round starts. What be good for relaxation?”

“Normally it does not require so much effort for you to think of your favorite relaxation,” she said with a smile.

He had to smile back. “Thou’rt so certain we males have but one interest!”

“Not so, Bane. You have but one interest at a time, in the manner of an animal. That’s not quite the same.”

“Let’s go walk in the park.”

They took a conveyor to the park. This was designed to resemble a wooded region of Old Earth, with fair-sized trees spreading their branches overhead, and ferns growing below. It was arranged to seem considerably larger than it was, because of the premium on space within the dome, but the illusion was effective. Stray breezes wafted through, making the leaves quiver, and butterflies flitted randomly about.

That reminded him of his spying missions. He regretted those, now, despite the importance of the information gleaned. Would it have been better not to have done it? That would have meant falling into Tania’s trap, and also he would have avoided the need to be with Fleta, when—

“There be much in this I like not,” he muttered.

Agape did not misunderstand. “But also much to like. I will always be glad for the visit I was able to make to Phaze, and the folks I was able to know there, though I had to borrow Fleta’s body.”

“Aye. But what future have we? An I win, we be soon parted. An I lose, the frames be in peril. What choice be that?”

“It would be easier if your kind was like mine in this respect,” she said. “With no set sexes.”

“And no love between them,” he agreed. “Is that the way you prefer it?”

“No.”

They went on through the park. It had not changed, but his mood had improved.

Next day he overlapped Mach and relayed the information about the arrangements for the game. The Game Computer had worked out the basics and compressed them into a few code words for Mach to tell Trool. They would overlap again in a few days for verification.

Then: I wish we were locked not in this struggle between ourselves. Bane thought.

The issue must be settled, one way or the other, Mach responded. It would have arisen elsewhere, if not with us.

And that was probably true. Dost know that the source of our exchange be the lingering connection between Stile and Blue?

Mach was surprised. It’s not because we are alternate selves?

Nay. Other alternates can do it not, only us—because we relate to our sires.

And our loves relate to us, Mach concluded.

Aye.

That was all. They separated.

Bane reported for the first game of Round Two. “Plug in,” the Oracle directed.

Bane plugged the cable into his ear.

Suddenly he was standing in Phaze. Mach was standing beside him, and there was a little collection of chairs in which Fleta, Agape, Trool, the Translucent Adept and the Brown Adept sat. Before them was a shimmering curtain concealing the setting of the game, reminiscent of the historical curtain between the frames.

Trool rose and walked to them. “Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” he asked Bane.

“Aye, Adept,” Bane said. “But not the nature o’ this dream!”

“It be no dream, Bane,” the troll assured him. “Only thy presence here be a vision and that o’ thine alien friend; all else be real. Do thou play the game to win.”

“Aye, Adept.” The Oracle had told him it would seem realistic, and it was! It seemed that his body was overlapping Mach’s, but his awareness was being projected to the representation of his body here. Thus he saw everything that Mach saw, here in Phaze—without actually being here. He was actually in the Game Computer’s mock-up of the scene, and the mock-up was based on the actual scene of Phaze. Technology was emulating magic.

“Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” Trool asked Mach.

“Yes, Adept.” Mach was in Bane’s body, so looked like Bane. Bane glanced down at himself: it was the robot body.

“The machine in Proton-frame has made Bane the Predator, this time,” Trool continued. “Mach be the Prey. An the Prey lap the course three times, he be victor; an the Predator catch him first, the Predator be the victor. The Prey be given a five-second start. Ready, players?”

“Aye.”

“Yes.”

“Then begin.”

Mach stepped forward, into the setting. He disappeared.

Bane glanced at Agape. It was incongruous to see her here in Phaze in her own form, but of course with magic any vision could be Grafted. He waved to her, and she waved back. He wondered whether Agape and Beta were talking together, and if so, what they were saying.

“Go, Bane,” Translucent snapped.

Bane stepped through the curtain.

He found himself on four feet, in a solid, striped body. He was a tiger! His passage through the curtain had triggered the first of the transformations, rendering him into the predator animal.

The setting was an irregular landscape with projecting rocks and descending gullies. There were a number of trees; in fact, parts were as solid as a jungle. This would be a good region to hide and pounce—but he knew he could not afford that. He had to run down the prey, lest it lap the course before he catch it.

He sniffed the air. He smelled mongoose. That would be the Prey form, for the moment. As a tiger, he could readily kill it; the problem was running it down. On an open plain, in real life, that would be simple, but this terrain offered many hiding and dodging places; it would be hard to catch it here.

In fact, that five-second head start made the task of location a problem, let alone the task of catching. The mongoose could be through this region and into the next medium, while the tiger was still trying to sniff out the trail.

So he played it smart. He bounded directly across, going for the lake he saw in the distance ahead. If he could get there first, and cut off the mongoose—

But as he ran, bounding along the highest ground, he peered into the low regions, noting which ones offered the best protection and clearest access for a mongoose. This was a vital part of the game; what he overlooked could cost him the victory.

He had almost reached the water when he heard a splash. The mongoose had raced right through to the next medium!

Bane charged for the lake, trying to catch up a little. In this game, the traveling velocities of the creatures were identical, whatever they might be in life. The Predator gained only by cutting corners or by taking advantage of opportunities like this, when he knew the location of the Prey. This slight advantage of the Predator was unlikely to make up for the five-second delay of the start, in the course of any one medium, but would inevitably close the gap a little each time. All he needed to do was to make no error, and the Prey would be his.

He did not step into the water, he leaped into it, trying to gain another fraction of a second by entering it at speed. He came down with a horrendous splash—and found himself in the form of a dolphin.

Ahead was a shark. A shark might not be considered prey to most creatures, but in life a dolphin could kill a shark by knocking it with the snout. Thus the shark fled the dolphin, in this situation.

The water was not deep. Aquatic plants were rooted in its sediment, reaching their stems up to the surface, forming patterns of thin columns where they clustered. Sponges were grouped on rounded nether rocks. Some rifts showed below, partially filled with sediment, and a few dipped into dark holes that might be blind caves or might be tunnels. Small fish darted about, giving way to the far more massive dolphin.

Bane forged after the shark. But the lead was still too great; he knew he could not catch up within the limit of this lake. Rather than expend his full energy trying to do so, he kept the pace and watched the surroundings, mentally mapping the terrain. The thickest growths of plants offered concealment, but also slowed progress of larger swimmers. Velocity of the contestants was equivalent, but not if they moved foolishly; he would feel better about plowing through those plants if he were smaller. As for the bottom—he paid special attention to the darkest holes, so that he would be able to spot them without faltering when he came this way again.

The shark moved toward the bottom, and swerved around a greenish rock. Bane remained higher, and so was able to cut across above the rock, gaining another fraction of a second. He knew the shark would have to come up again, to enter the next medium, so in this, too, he was saving time. The fact was that Mach was not managing his forms perfectly. That was probably because a month’s training for this game was not enough to compensate for a lifetime as a robot. Mach was simply not acclimatized to the nuances of the motions of wild creatures. But he would probably catch on rapidly enough, with this experience.

However, the shark was doing the right thing, overall: swimming swiftly ahead, never pausing or looping back, so that the dolphin could not close the gap significantly. While the Predator could always gain by proper management, the longer he took to close the gap, the more chances there were for something to interfere. It was best to catch the Prey as quickly as possible, to reduce the element of chance or error.

Now the lake was turning shallow. They were approaching the far bank. The shark swam up, as it had to; there was nowhere else to go, without turning back. Bane gained another bit of distance.

The shark shot up to the surface, and through, and disappeared. Bane angled up too, breaking into air—and he was winged, with feathers and beak. In fact he was a hawk, flying strongly: a predator bird, a raptor.

Ahead of him, ascending the sky, was a black bird, a crow. The Prey.

The day was clear, with a few fleecy clouds. But on the horizon was a darkening cloudbank. A wind was stirring; if a storm were brewing, it was coming this way. That could complicate things for flying but the hawk was a better flyer than the crow. In a storm, Bane could gain on his Prey. But the storm was not close, and they would be through this medium of air before it arrived. All he could do was keep flying, and try to close the distance.

The horizon did not recede as they moved. This was the game setting, not reality; it was limited. As the crow flew, the line of the sky descended, heading down to touch the ground, sealing off further progress. The Prey had to seek the next medium.

The crow plunged through the limit, just above the horizon, and disappeared. Bane swooped down to a similar level, because it would not do to turn landbound too high in the air, and went through also.

He was back in the first medium, as he had known he would be. But this time he was not the tiger, he was the mongoose. The forms did not repeat for a player, they only progressed. That was why he had studied the layout the first time through: so that he could handle it well as the mongoose.

Ahead a big snake was slithering out of sight, probably a cobra. A mongoose could handle a cobra, being swift enough in close quarters to avoid the poisoned strikes. But in this situation, he could not run any faster than the snake could slither.

But he could take a more direct route. The snake’s fastest travel was along the ground, while the mongoose could bound over some obstacles. Bane bounded, slowly closing the gap. By the time they reached the water he was only two seconds behind.

In the lake, Bane was now the shark—pursuing a squid. The squid was almost as large as the shark, and its trailing tentacles made it longer. But its body was soft, and the shark’s teeth were hard; a few chomps would sever the tentacles and render it helpless, and soon the squid would be consumed. So it fled, jetting water behind so that it shot forward as swiftly as a fish. Its motion was jerky, because it had to pause to take in more water, but the overall velocity was the same as that of the shark.

Would the squid dive, and seek refuge in one of the dark recesses at the bottom? That would be risky for it, for if it entered a blind cave, it would be trapped. There would be no caves that the shark could not eventually penetrate; the game allowed no indefinite hiding. If it had located a tunnel, it might swim through and out the far end, while the shark hovered at the near end; that would gain the Prey the time it needed to complete the course unscathed.

Mach did not take the risk. He jetted straight across, and out the far side. Bane followed, perhaps a second and a half behind.

He was now the crow, and Mach was an owl. The theory for the game was that the owl was a nocturnal creature, at a disadvantage by day, so the crow harassed it, napping about just out of reach and interfering with its hunting so that eventually it starved. The hawk would not do that; if it came at the owl, it would dive straight in, and the owl, being larger would simply grab it and destroy it with talon and beak. Bane doubted that interaction like that ever occurred in nature, but that hardly mattered here; the crow chased the owl, and if they looped through the course again, the owl would chase the hawk in the vicious circle that was the hallmark of this game. It was a good game, even in mockchange form, and Bane had always liked it.

Mach took a moment getting oriented in owlform, and Bane gained a full second before their flights became straight. The end was close—if nothing happened.

They plunged through the sky-curtain. Bane readied himself before he crossed, curling his crowform into as tight a ball as he could, passing through like a stone and plunking into the ground.

This time he was the cobra, and though he wasn’t coiled, he was bunched. He launched a strike at the nearest object even as he landed, having judged the Prey’s position by the passage through the curtain. If there were that moment of reorientation, before the run began…

He caught the tail of the tiger. His fangs sank in, delivering the poison—and the game was over. The Predator had caught the Prey.

That night he did make love to Agape, but it was not enough to take his mind from the situation. “I have beaten mine other self in the first round, and I am ahead in the second. An I win again tomorrow, it be over—and I lose thee and he loses Fleta. Mayhap there be justice in it, but I like it not.”

“But the benefit of the frames—” she started. “Aye, I know, I know! My mind does claim I be doing right—but mine heart be doubtful. What be his crime? That he loves the ‘corn? Fleta be worthy o’ love! That did I see when—” He broke off, embarrassed.

“Bane, I understand,” Agape said. “I occupied her body, I learned her life, her ways, and her land, and came to love them all, as I love you. Of course she is worthy of love! Of Mach’s love, or yours.”

“A love I would sunder!” he said bitterly. “Damn, would I could honestly lose this match!”

“No, you have to try your best, and win it if you can. That is where your honor lies.”

“Aye, aye! And try I will, though I fear success!”

“That is all anyone can ask of you,” she said.

He hugged her tightly. “Ah, alien creature, I do love thee! Would I could get closer yet to thee, to be a part of thee, and thee of me, forever!”

“It can be done,” she murmured. “Not forever, but for a time.”

His eyes popped open. “What meanest thou?”

“I hold human form because that pleases you, but it is not my natural one, as you know. It is possible to embrace you amoeba-style, though I fear that might repulse you.”

“Thou dost in no wise repulse me, Agape! Embrace me thy way!”

“As you will. Speak if you change your mind; I will hear you.”

She lay on top of him, on the bed, her breasts and thighs pressing on him. She kissed him, once, then put her head to the side. She started to melt.

Bane lay still, feeling the change in her flesh. Her breasts lost cohesiveness, and so did the rest of her. She became like a huge pillow, warm and yielding. Then more like a water bag, and then like loose jelly. Her body spread out, making contact with all of his upper surface. The strange effect caused him to develop an erection; her melting protoplasm surrounded it warmly. She sagged, then flowed around him, between his arms and his body, between his legs. She became a padded wetsuit, a layer of warm wax all around him, and as far under him as his contact with the bed permitted. He raised his arms and legs slightly, and she completed the enclosure there; then he pushed back his head and hoisted his torso up, and she flowed around it and merged with herself.

From his neck to his feet, he was encased by her, and it was the most comfortable feeling he could remember. His body, in Proton, was of metal and plastic; it did not matter, for now it felt Alive. Every part of him except his face was in her, and now she crept around his head and across that too, stopping only at the eyes, mouth and nose.

“In this body, I need not to breathe,” he reminded her. “Complete it.”

She closed the remaining gaps. Now he was cocooned by her substance, and it was like floating in warm water, only better, because she pulsed gently against every part of him, as if he had a heartbeat. He drifted in that wonderful alien embrace, and it seemed like an eternity. Truly, he was in her, and if it could only be for an hour, it was a phenomenal hour.

In the second game of the round, Bane was the Prey. He did not know what animal he would become; that was a surprise to both players. How Trool and the Oracle had managed to come to an understanding of such details without either Bane or Mach knowing was hard to guess, since they were the conduits for the information. Perhaps they had code phrases that had meaning only for computers and trolls.

He stepped through the curtain. He was on a broad plain, with a rocky escarpment to the north, that descended from a mesa. He was a monkey. He started running immediately, knowing that whatever form Mach took would be able to destroy the monkey.

Sure enough, in five seconds a panther appeared behind him. He ran straight ahead, giving the big cat no chance to gain on him by cutting comers. But he watched the escarpment. Some of it was clifflike, and some was a jagged slope. From this distance he could not be certain, but he suspected there would be caves. If he could reach a cave, next time around…

What form would he be in? What would lose to a monkey, but overcome a panther? He could not come up with an answer at the moment, but he decided to make for the caves next time, and if his form could take advantage of them, he would do so. He did not slow or swerve to get a closer look; he wanted to give his opponent no hint of whatever strategy he might have in mind. But he considered options. Go directly to the escarpment, circle it, and pop into a deep cave? Climb to the mesa? If he climbed, he might just lose time, but if there were a good cave entrance that could not be seen from below…

He reached the shore of a wide river and plunged in. The river flowed toward the north, curving in a broad meander toward the escarpment and disappearing behind it, but it should be possible simply to swim across it and enter the medium of air quickly. He still had his five-second lead.

He was a sting ray. He swerved to swim downriver, wanting to explore the section that brushed the escarpment. He hoped the Predator would assume the Prey was swimming straight across, and lose a second or two.

No such luck. A walrus appeared upriver, and immediately reoriented and stroked down. But at least he had not lost any time.

He veered to the left, angling up. The walrus matched him, cutting the corner. Then he veered right and down, deep. As a ploy it was no good; the walrus merely matched the maneuver, cutting the corner again, picking up a bit of time.

Then Bane saw what he was looking for: a weedshrouded cave, underwater in the right bank. It could be blind, but it could also lead to the mesa, or somewhere amidst the escarpment.

He swerved back to the left, as if trying once more to shake the pursuit. Once more, it didn’t work. This time he carried across to the left bank, and angled up and out, sailing into the air.

He was a four-winged insect—a dragonfly. He zoomed over a great field of flowers, but they did not tempt him; dragonflies were predators in their milieu, not pollen eaters.

Behind him, by about four seconds, a bat sailed up out of the river. He could not fight that! He flew straight, maintaining his lead, until he plunged through the horizon, completing the first lap.

He landed on the plain as a skunk. So that was what would balk the panther! But why not the monkey?

He angled for the mesa. The ground soon became rocky. Behind him the monkey appeared and pursued.

When the monkey encountered the stony section, it paused just long enough to scoop up a stone. Bane discovered this when that stone came flying past his head. That was how the monkey stopped the skunk—by catching it from a distance! Those stones were heavy and sharp; his skunk body was vulnerable. He needed more than four seconds’ distance, to get out of range. Meanwhile, he would have to dodge, which would cost him time. The chase was heating up!

He reached the foot of the escarpment and scooted up. Monkeys were better climbers than skunks were, but he had scouted this terrain from a distance the first time through, and was on the gentlest part of the slope. He found a series of ledges that ascended along the south face of it, working up toward the mesa-top.

He encountered one gravel-strewn section, and scraped with his four feet, sending gravel and pebbles sliding down into the face of his pursuer. That gained him a second or so, and he made it to the top with above five seconds’ leeway.

He ran directly toward the river, watching for openings. There were none; the mesa was grassy and even. Soon he came to the brink, and scrambled over it, sliding and tumbling down the steep slope.

Then, down near the river, he spied it: a rock-blocked cave entrance. His skunk body was small enough to wedge in between the rocks, and he squeezed inside before the monkey caught up.

He didn’t pause; he followed the cave down into darkness. Then he found water. He slid into it quietly, and became an eel. Good enough: the walrus could crush the sting-ray, the sting-ray could sting the eel with its tail, and the eel could shock the walrus. There was the endless circle.

If his strategy worked, the Predator would not realize that the cave went through to the water, and would waste time either pulling away the rocks that blocked it, or waiting for the skunk to emerge, or throwing stones down into it. There was always a way for the Predator to get through, so there could be no impasse, but that way was not always obvious. Bane had gambled that the cave connected to the one he had spied below the water level of the river, and had won.

He swam across the river. There was no pursuit. It had worked! He had gained enough time to ensure completion of the course without being caught.

Unless the monkey waited, and devised a trap for him. That was within the rules; it was possible for Prey to nab Predator if the Prey had time to set a clever snare that injured or delayed the Predator so that it could not complete the course.

He emerged from the river and became a mosquito. Now how could a mosquito put away a bat? By stinging it, and giving it some lethal disease. Far-fetched, perhaps, but viable for the purpose of the game. All these animal sets were only analogies for the root game: scissors/paper/stone. Scissors cut paper, paper wrapped stone, stone crushed scissors, making the circle. No doubt many current games derived from similarly obscure originals. A mosquito stinging a bat was as realistic as paper demolishing a stone by wrapping it.

He flew swiftly—more swiftly than any genuine mosquito could have—across the field of flowers, and came back to the land medium. Now he was the panther. He had lapped his opponent, and that made him the Predator. It did not give him the victory automatically, but it certainly gave him the advantage.

But, wary of a trap, he walked to the foot of the escarpment, and climbed it as carefully and quietly as he could. There was no sign of any trap. Perhaps it had been set in the lower plain, where he might be expected to run; by choosing this route, he might have foiled it.

He came to the cave entrance. The obscuring stones had been pulled aside, so that a creature the size of a monkey could enter it. Apparently Mach had decided it was a blind cave, and gone down to catch the Prey. Indeed, that would have been the correct decision, had the cave not gone through to the river! It would have been smarter for Mach to go directly to the water, and watch there to see whether any new fish appeared; indeed, he could have lain in ambush, for the Prey could win only by completing the full course, and that meant crossing the river at some point.

He sniffed the region. The smell of monkey was definitely there—but was the monkey still inside, or had it—

He heard a noise just above him, on the slope. He looked up—and the blast of the skunk caught him in the face, blinding him.

Too late, he realized what had happened. He had not lapped Mach; Mach had followed, one medium behind, keeping out of sight, and come up on him while he was distracted by the cave. The slope of the mountain had concealed the Predator, so that he needed only a few seconds’ distraction time to get close enough. Bane had given him that time, and lost the game.

All he had had to do was keep moving, completing the course. Mach could never have caught him. But, wary of the nonexistent trap, he had fallen into a worse one: the trap of incaution.

“I saw it,” Agape said. “The Game Computer puts the games on holo. We saw him following you, and creeping up on you at the end.”

“What a fool I must have seemed!” he lamented.

“It is always easier to judge the play when you aren’t in it,” she reminded him. “We knew he had not remained, so could not be caught by your lapping him and putting him away so you could finish the course. But you did not know, and we knew that too.”

But his chagrin went deeper than that. “Could it be that I dawdled because I wanted not to win? That I betrayed my cause?”

“You wouldn’t do that!” she protested.

“How can others be sure? How can I be sure?”

She paused, considering. “There is another game tomorrow.”

“Aye. Needs must I prove therein I be no malingerer.”

“You will,” she said. But she could not ease his doubt.

Bane was Predator again for the third game. This was the critical one; if he won, the match was over.

Mach stepped through the curtain. Five seconds later, Bane followed.

He was a dragon. Not a fire-breather, not a flying creature, but nevertheless a dragon, with horrendous teeth and claws.

Ahead of him was a salamander. That was a far smaller creature, but formidable enough in its own right, because it could set fire to any vegetation it touched, and burn most other creatures. Dragons, however, were immune to heat, because so many of them were firebreathers; even those who were not, like himself, possessed enough of the fire-resistant scales and mouth armor to resist the efforts of the salamander. Thus the dragon could chomp the salamander, and the salamander was the Prey.

The landscape was fantasy too: exotic enchanted plants grew high, bearing blossoms that natural flowers could never manage. Bane recognized poison sprayers and sleep weeds and illusion spikes. As a dragon, he had little to fear from these, but a man would have had, literally, to watch his step.

However, there could be aspects of this setting that could damage a dragon, such as clefts in the ground covered by illusion. He would have to watch the path taken by the salamander, and if he saw anything strange, be warned. Meanwhile, because of the prospects for illusion, he could not afford to let the Prey get out of his sight; he could lose critical time trying to locate it through the fog of illusion.

They wound through a forest whose trees supported monstrous webs. The hidden giant spiders could not hurt either contestant because only a contestant could harm a contestant, but they could impede progress significantly. If the salamander got entangled, the dragon could catch it; if the dragon got caught, the salamander could gain vital time.

The trees thinned out, and they came to the water.

This was an inverted lake: broadest at ground level, with the water extending up instead of down in an irregular dome. Effects like this did not exist in Phaze; this magic setting was Grafted of imagination rather than reality.

The salamander plunged in. Bane followed. He was now a sea serpent, chasing a kraken. The kraken was a monstrous magic weed whose stems and branches were tentacles. They had little stickers that stung and poisoned the flesh of ordinary creatures, but the hide of the sea serpent was too tough to be affected. If he caught up with the kraken, he would simply bite off its tentacles, making it helpless.

The kraken was aware of this, and propelled itself through the water by stroking with flattened tentacles, making the same speed that the serpent could by threshing its coils. The two of them churned the water, generating myriads of bubbles that sank quickly to the bottom surface.

Bane was gaining. The kraken could move as rapidly as the serpent, but it took Mach a while to catch on to the most efficient use of his paddle-tentacles. By the time he plunged out of the far side of the lake, Bane was only two seconds behind.

In air, Bane was a roc: a monstrous predatory bird, said to be able to carry an elephant aloft in its talons. Bane believed that was an exaggeration; nevertheless, very few creatures on land or in the air debated territory with a roc. Mach was a wyvern: a small fire-breathing flying dragon. He was of course no match for the roc, but dangerous to most other creatures.

They flew through colored clouds: red, green, blue, yellow, black. These might be harmless, but could also be nuisances; the wyvern brushed by a green one, and its substance adhered, stretching like taffy, fouling a wing. The wyvern whipped back its snout and blew fire at it; the green taffy shriveled and smoked and let go, but Mach had lost time. Bane was now only one second behind.

Thereafter they both skirted the clouds. Most were probably just vapor, but neither player could afford to take the chance that it wasn’t. Time was at stake, and a shift of a single second could make the difference.

They plunged through the horizon, and now Bane was the salamander, chasing a basilisk. There was the completion of the circle: the basilisk was a small lizard, but its glance could stun or kill other creatures. It could not hurt the salamander, because the salamander could engulf it in a wave of fire, obscuring its glance in smoke and flame and cooking its body. But it could stun the dragon, who lacked the fire.

But with only one second separating them, the basilisk had no time to turn and glare back, and the salamander no time to start a fire. They simply ran, both maintaining the pace, keeping to the same path as before, avoiding the devious plants.

They reached the inverted lake and plunged in. Now it was Bane who was the kraken, and Mach was a siren: a creature with the body of a mermaid and a voice that could lure ships and large creatures to their deaths against great rocks in the water. That would be bad for the sea serpent, who would naturally have a taste for so soft and lovely a creature, and who would be charmed by her eerie voice. But the kraken was tone-deaf, and its appetite was too ravenous to be charmed away by prey, and rocks did not affect its streaming tentacles. It would simply squeeze the siren to death, then suck the body dry.

Bane knew how to use the tentacles to move the creature forward, but Mach was having no trouble with the siren, so the distance between them did not narrow. They forged through the water and out to the air.

Bane became the wyvern, and Mach was a harpy. There, again, was the circle: the wyvern could blast the harpy with fire, if it ever got close enough to remain in range while it took a deep breath, but the harpy’s poisoned talons could poison the roc.

They followed their curving route between the clouds, which had not moved, neither risking any deviation. Mach, again unfamiliar with the dynamics of the new creature, lost another half-second before attaining full velocity. Then they proceeded to the horizon, and through.

Bane was the basilisk, and Mach the dragon. Now the basilisk could glare forward—but the dragon could not be stunned from the rear, only from the front. Impasse, again.

But the dragon snagged a claw on a root, and stumbled. The basilisk almost caught up, but still could not get a line on the head, because of the mass of the serpentine body. They plunged on.

This was the last circuit; if Mach could survive the next two media, he would make it through, and win. But Bane was now within chomping distance. The next medium was the lake, and he would be the siren; she could charm from behind, because it was her voice that did it. Deep in the water, that voice would be distorted, but actual contact would undistort it. Touch the tail of the serpent, sing—and the serpent would be charmed into destruction.

The dragon dodged to the side, sideswiping a stout tree by the inverted bank, and lunged ahead. Bane, much smaller, gained time by making a leap to the water. He sailed surprisingly high.

And, in midair, he saw the dragon whip its tail around the tree. Its body reacted like rope; it snapped about, smacking against the other side of the tree.

Then Bane landed in the water, and became the siren. He was ready; he had actually gotten in ahead of the other!

And Mach did not follow.

Then Bane realized that he had been tricked. Mach had let him come deceptively close—and balked. Bane had been tricked into the one-way transformation, and could not return. He could not make the circuit, lapping his opponent, as he had tried to do before; he would be out of the game, because he would have gone through every form in every medium. All he could do was wait for the other to come through—and the other would never do so, now. It was an impasse—and that meant victory for Mach, because he had not been, and could not be caught.

Bane had lost the game, and the round. The very closeness of his pursuit had done him in, denying him the reaction time he needed to stay clear of the lake. Mach had won by using his mind.

Bane experienced relief. He knew that he had done his utmost, only to be caught by a trick that would have surprised all the watchers too. He had lost with honor. But there was one more round to go. Nothing had been decided yet.