Unicorn Point

13 - Clip

It was a long trek to the Ogre Demesnes, but Clip was glad for it, because it gave him time to think. He had to represent the Adept Stile against the ogres, and he was not at all sure his unicorns could win this siege. These days of travel with the Herd allowed him many hours to ponder strategies. In the evenings and nights the Herd grazed, sleeping afoot. Clip intended to do the same, but this evening he summoned his sister and niece for a conference in human form. “My mind be taut with doubt,” he confessed. “It be easy for others to say a ‘corn can beat an ogre, being faster, smarter and more versatile, but that be illusion. In single fair combat it be either’s win.”

“Aye,” Neysa agreed. She had had experience with many kinds of creatures, and had long since lost the bravado of youth.

“But can a ‘corn not run an ogre through belly or heart with horn, and be done with it?” Fleta asked.

Clip looked at her. In human form, as in her natural one, she was much like her mother. Each had the same black hide, and the socks on the hind feet: Neysa’s white, Fleti’s golden, in contrast to his own blue hide and red socks. In this human form that meant black hair and black clothing, and white or yellow socks. Neysa was old and Fleta young, but that seemed to be most of the difference between them. He was so glad they had reconciled at last! “A ‘corn can run an ogre through, aye,” he said. “But an ogre can smash a ‘corn dead with one blow o’ his hamfist.”

“But ogres change form not,” she persisted. “A ‘corn could assume an aerial form and fly in close—”

“And the ogre will throw a rock and knock that flyer out o’ the air,” Clip responded. “Their aim be deadly!”

“Then in manform, with weapons—good bows and ar rows!” she persisted.

“An ogre can hardly be hurt by an arrow; it only tickles his hide. He can throw a rock as far as an arrow can fly, so the bowman needs must look to his own hide.” Fleta was silent; she now appreciated the problem. Unicoms normally ranged the fields, running and grazing; they seldom encountered ogres, who were more attuned to the jungle, and to canyons, where there was plenty to bash. In addition, she had been much occupied in recent years with her romance with the rovot, and the raising of their foal, and the loss of that foal. How would she know about ogres?

“How relate they to music?” Neysa asked. “That be uncertain. I was traveling alone once, and was playing my horn, and came upon an ogre who seemed to be sleeping. I paused, wary o’ him, and then he woke and growled. I was tired, and sought not a fight, so pretended to see him not. I resumed my playing and trotted on, and he just stood there listening. After, I marveled, and thought mayhap he had liked my playing; the Adept Stile has termed my horn a mellow saxophone. But I be not sure; mayhap the ogre was tired too.”

“This accords with what I have noted,” Neysa said. “Me thinks the ogres like music, or at least be intrigued by it.”

Clip was interested. “Thinkst thou that many would pause for a serenade?”

“Mayhap.”

“We could do a rare show,” Clip said, working it out. “Dancing in step, to our music, keeping a strong beat. An it distracted them, it be a fan way to fight.”

“In a siege?” Fleta asked, growing excited. “But that were folly for them!”

“Ogres be magnificently stupid,” Clip said. “Folly be well within their capability.”

“But how can we be sure? If we set up to play, and it worked not—”

“Aye,” Clip said. “Needs must we verify the effect, privately, lest we run great risk.”

“I will go ahead and play for one!” Fleta said eagerly. She changed form, and pranced as she played her pan-pipe horn, two melodies in counterpoint.

Clip paused. It had been years since he had heard her play. He had forgotten her unusual talent: one horn, two tunes! It was a very pretty effect. She might have done well in the Unilympics, had she not been barred because of her miscegenation with the rovot.

Then he returned to the serious business at hoof. “Not thou, niece. Thou be too inexperienced to risk thyself thus. I will do it.”

“But we seek to know the effect o’ a chorus,” she protested, returning to girlform. “At least let me go with thee, so we can play together. That be a fairer test.”

How neatly she had diverted his decision! She had not opposed it, merely modified it. He could not have tolerated the former, for as Herd Stallion he had a position to maintain, but could accept the latter. “Aye, then. But stray thou not far from me, an we hit ogre country.”

“Nary a hoofprint!” she promised.

“Cover for us,” he told Neysa, who nodded. If anything occurred that required his attention, she would handle it with out revealing his absence. The Herd could continue grazing undisturbed. Of course there were lookouts posted; nothing would come upon the Herd by surprise.

They started out, trotting side by side. He was fatigued from the days of constant travel, but the notion of finding a way to distract the ogres invigorated him, and he stepped right along. Fleta, younger, kept pace. He had had little to do with her, because she had been absent from the Herd most of the time, but unlike Neysa, he had not condemned her association with the rovot. In fact, he had been privately un derstanding. The rovot looked just like Bane, and she had always been Bane’s friend, and more than a friend. Animals were not supposed to have sexual encounters with human beings, but there was always a certain amount of experimentation that occurred, particularly among the young. He himself, in his youth, had encountered a human village girl who had required cheering; she had shied away from him at first, until he showed her that he was a unicorn. His problem had been that he was a stallion cast out of the Herd, a “lesser male” who was denied sex with mares of the Herd until such time as he became strong enough and bold enough to challenge a Herd Stallion for dominance. Her problem had been that she loved a village lad who did not love her; she had not wished to be unfaithful to him, test he change his mind and return to her. But she did not regard a relationship with a unicorn to be significant in that manner. In addition, she was inexperienced, and wished to gain a better notion what it was all about, so that she could acquit herself well if the opportunity arose. So there had been an affair, and they had learned much together. Unicorn mares were interested in sex only when they came into heat, whereas human girls could do it anytime. It had been most interesting.

Then the man of her interest had returned, and Clip had departed speedily and quietly. It was understood that neither of them would ever tell others of this matter; it had been purely a private thing, of no larger significance. He had never had a relationship with another human girl, but he remembered that one with fondness. Of course it had not been as good with her as with any true mare, but it had been good enough, and he had liked her. So now he respected his niece for having the courage to do openly what was normally done secretly, and to fight for her right to her relationship despite the condemnation of her dam and most others. Neysa, of course, had been far more straight-maned about it. It was not the fact of interspecies action that bothered her, for she herself had had an affair with the Adept Stile before he married the Lady Blue. It had been the openness of it, and the insistence that it be legitimized. Fleta had wanted to marry the rovot: a deed virtually unknown among unicorns, and certainly not appropriate miscegenously. That was the difference between Clip and his sister: she was more conser vative, and held more closely to the old values, flawed as they might be. It was understood that a stallion would take whatever sexual experience he could get, but that a mare would indulge outside of heat only for extraordinary reason, and then would be discreet. Indeed Neysa had been discreet; among unicorns, only he, her brother, knew for certain how close she had been to Stile.

Fleta, with Stile’s son, had been discreet. But then with the rovot she had been blatant, and that was the essence of her crime. Yet later she had proven that it could be done: that offspring was possible. That had been a shock to all ofPhaze, and values were still quivering. Now with Neysa’s change of heart, Fleta was accepted, and applauded for her courage and her achievement. Indeed, the exploits of the colt Flach had charmed them all, as he defied both parents and Adepts and remained hidden despite their worst efforts. There was true unicorn stubbornness.

Now, of course, they were fighting to recover Flach from captivity by the Adepts. Fleta might seem to be the bubbling, cheerful young creature of old, but she was not; the years of her separation from her foal had sobered her. She had wanted him to stay free, knowing how vitally that helped Stile’s cause, but she had also wanted him with her. Such inner conflict was not kind to individuals, even tough unicorns. They ran into the sunset, eyes on the ground, making what time they could while light remained. Unicorns could see well enough at night, but this was unfamiliar terrain, and when the darkness closed they would have to slow to a safe walk.

Fleta began to play a little duet on her horn, from the sheer exuberance of the sensation of freedom lent by the hour. Her hooves carried the beat. Oh, yes, it was nice music, her pan pipes! Each note was simple, but the combination was spe cial. When she played the two very similar notes there was a beat, not of the hooves but of the merging themes. Surely the rovot had been entranced by this, as by her other virtues. They slowed, proceeding onward toward the west, finding the open regions by sight and sound and smell. The air grad ually cooled, and the stars came out. It was surprisingly nice. Clip remembered his travels with Belle, the most beautiful of mares, with the iridescent mane and the sound of ringing bells. She had become his first true love, and remained so as he mastered his Herd. Of course now he had many mares to service, and she was busy with her fourth foal, but the bond between them had never been broken; she would always be his lead mare. In the early years they had had to avoid Herds and travel by night, but it had been no chore. They had played such lovely music together!

So it went, that night, a pleasure of reminiscences, as they approached the Ogre Demesnes. By dawn they were there—and by the smell, nearing an ogre family. They centered on it, tracking the odor, until they came upon it: a ponderous male, a horrendously ugly female, and a homely cub. The male was bashing a dead tree apart, while the female and cub were shaking out the big fragments and catching the vermin in them: roaches, mice, toads and snakes. A fine ogre meal was in the making.

But all three paused the moment the two unicorns came into sight. It took several seconds for the male to come to a conclusion, but it was the expected one. He roared, and lum bered toward this new prey.

Actually, two fit unicorns should have been a match for two grown ogres. But that was not Clip’s purpose in coming here. He stood his ground and played his horn. The mellowness of it spread out almost visibly, touching the ogres. Would they listen?

They paused, cocking their gross ears. Their expressions shifted slowly from rage in the male and surprise in the female and curiosity in the cub to universal perplexity. Beauty of any nature was foreign to ogres; they did not know what to do with it. Perhaps somewhere in their dim ancestry there had been a trace of it, and a suggestion of that awareness remained, a useless vestige that had not yet been properly bred out of the species.

Then the male shook it off, and prepared to roar again, to property renew his attack.

Fleta began to play, accompanying Clip’s melody. Her pan pipes augmented his saxophone timbre nicely, and the result was extraordinarily pretty.

The ogres paused again, their perplexity deepening to virtual wonder. This time the male did not shake it off; two musicians overwhelmed his single mind. It seemed that the tableau would remain as long as the music continued. Clip decided to test this further. Still playing, he advanced on the male, ready to move quickly if the ogre snapped out of it. Fleta followed, maintaining her harmony. Clip came right up to the male, and the male did not move.

Slack-jawed, the ogre listened, immobile. This was better than anticipated!

Finally Clip essayed the ultimate: he actually nudged the male ogre with the tip of his horn. The creature did not react. That sufficed. Music was the key to the control of ogres! If just two players were enough to entrance an ogre family, think what an entire Herd Orchestra could do! Clip signaled Fleta with a twitch of his horn. They retreated, never breaking off their duet. Then, at a safe distance, they ended the music.

The ogres shook their heads as if coming out of a trance. The male blinked, spied the unicorns, and opened his mouth to roar.

Immediately Clip and Fleta resumed playing. The ogre paused in mid-gape, as before.

They moved away, continuing their playing, until they were well clear of the ogre family. This had been a most successful experiment!

They headed back east. They were tired, but did not want to rest in unfamiliar country, away from the Herd. But they did not hurry; a regular walk was good enough. After a while, Fleta assumed her hummingbird form and perched on Clip’s head, resting. Three hours later, they ex changed: she resumed ‘corn form while he became a hawk and rode her head. Thus they were able to take turns resting and sleeping, without losing time.

In the afternoon they encountered the Herd. Neysa had kept it moving forward at a leisurely pace, so that any watching Adepts would not notice anything odd. There was even a small bird riding her head, that might be taken for a hummingbird from a distance, while a hawk rode another unicorn. Thus even the absence of the two was tacitly accounted for.

They changed to human form and walked while they told Neysa what had happened. They had a tool to use against the ogres!

Clip went out to meet the chief ogre at the start of the siege. “May the best team win,” Clip said, assuming man form.

“Arrrgh!” the ogre roared, taking a swipe at him. The formal amenities accomplished, they retreated to their groups. The siege was on.

Clip had divided his forces into three: Fleta was in charge of the defense of the blue flag, with a quarter of the unicorns in a number of guises. Clip was in charge of the attack on the red flag, with another quarter of the Herd. The rest of the ‘corns were scattered between, on their own; they would track individual ogres and try to take them out as opportunity of fered.

Clip hoped that there would be no real action. His attack force consisted not of the best fighters, but the best players. They would charm the ogres into stasis, so that they would not defend their flag. With sufficient luck, the siege would be won almost as it began.

His contingent trotted out, in step. From the distance ahead there was a horrendous roar as the ogre attack force commenced its charge.

The two groups came into sight of each other. The ogres hurled a barrage of rocks. The unicorns stepped aside, with out breaking step, each one dodging the stone that came for him. The aim of the rocks was good, but the range was such that there was plenty of time to see them coming. They thud ded into the ground all around the unicorns, hitting none. Then the formation closed up again. The beat had never fal tered. The ogres hardly cared; they preferred smashing things with their hamfists anyway.

As ogres and unicorns closed, Clip sounded the signal.

There was a pause of four hoofbeats. Then the music started:

Clip’s sax, joined by the other “brass” sounds: trombone, trumpet, bugle, French horn and tuba. The “wood” sounds: piccolo, violin, cello, lute, guitar and harp. The “percus sions”: cymbals, bells, xylophone, chimes and assorted drums. A few stray types, such as organ, music-box and pi ano. All of these terms were necessarily crude, because the human tongue lacked proper descriptions, just as the human instruments lacked proper quality of tone. The unicorn vari ety was more or less infinite, with each individual possessing a sound not quite like any other. A group of ‘corns playing together represented musical expertise unmatched elsewhere. The ogres ground to a halt, their maws gaping in idiotic wonder. Their remaining rocks dropped from flaccid hamfin gers. They listened to the serenade.

The unicorns marched in step, keeping perfect beat, playing their intricate melody. They guided around the standing ogres and went on toward the red flag, unchallenged. Then Neysa changed to her firefly form and flew up and ahead, going straight for the high tree from which the flag fluttered. Clip had decided not to risk a larger flying form, lest it distract the ogres from the music. Indeed, once Neysa was safely aloft, her tiny body lost to view in the distance, he brought the party to a halt. They marched in place, sere nading the ogres. The idea was to hold the ogres’ attention until the flag was safely away.

Neysa reached the flag. It was of course too heavy for her to carry in that form. She lighted on the trunk of the tree below it and changed to human form. Then, clinging with one hand, she reached up with the other to grasp the flag. It didn’t come. Clip, watching while he stepped and played, realized what the problem was: an ogre had tied it in place, and the knot was too tight for a womanform to free one handed. She would have to break off the top of the tree to get it loose.

She tried, but the trunk was too strong. That was understandable; not far below, it was supporting her human weight. She would just have to keep working at the knot; eventually it should come loose.

They continued playing, holding the ogres spellbound. The effect evidently included the ogres farther away, because there was no sound of crashing or roaring anywhere. There was only the serenade.

Neysa managed to climb up a bit farther, and to hold on with her legs. She got her teeth on the knot. Now, reluctantly, it was loosening. Soon she would have it! Suddenly there was the roar of a dragon, horribly loud. For a moment it overrode the music.

The ogres recovered. Their leader roared. Then all of them were roaring, following his example—and the unicorns were drowned out.

Disaster! The ogres, finding the unicorns behind them, wheeled and charged, roaring continuously. The music was no longer effective, because it could not be heard. The unicorns had to get away—and they were almost surrounded. Fortunately Clip had drilled them on a fallback procedure. They formed a compact group, their rears together, their horns pointing outward. The ogres could not readily attack this group without getting homed.

Meanwhile the members of the Herd who were farther back saw the problem. They assumed their manforms and brought out their bows. Soon arrows were annoying the ogres from behind them.

These ogres turned and charged the manforms. They picked their dropped rocks and hurled them, forcing the ‘corns to take cover behind trees. Then, realizing that there was a flag to fetch, the ogres tramped onward, gathering in their forces as they went, becoming a seemingly invincible force. Clip knew that this was no good. His grand ploy had failed and his ‘corns were in danger. Neysa had disappeared; she must have changed back to firefly form when the ogres re sumed action, because any who spied her in the tree could knock her out with a single hurled stone. It was time to look to their own flag!

He set the example. He changed to hawkform and flew quickly up and away. The others did the same; he had had the caution to include in this group only those who had flying forms. The ogres oriented and threw rocks, but the change was so quick that they were too late; few if any escaping ‘corns were caught.

Now they were in for it. The ogres, freed of distraction, were forging toward the blue flag. Fleta had imaginatively set some traps, just in case; when the ogres tramped straight forward, they blundered into a giant pitfall. They promptly proceeded to bash their way out of it, but this brought down a great deal of dirt, halfway burying them, and served to slow them down. Thereafter the ogres made long poles and poked them at the ground ahead, feeling out a safe path. This also slowed them, but not enough.

Manform ‘corns hid behind trees and emerged only to throw spears at the advancing horde. The ogres hurled rocks back, but took losses. Thereafter they kept their hairy arms cocked, ready to throw a rock at any living thing that showed, and the ‘corns had to desist. The ogres advanced. What were they to do? Clip’s best play had failed, and it was clear that the ogres would in time reach the flag and take it down. Was there no stopping them?

It occurred to him, in this hour of desolation, that there had been something funny about that dragon roar that had ruined his ploy of music. There were supposed to be no drag ons here! How could one have roared so loud and close as to drown out the massed unicorns? Where was that dragon? It had never shown up.

Clip ground his teeth. Was it possible that there had been no dragon? That the Adepts had made that sound to ruin his ploy? If so, they had cheated—but how could it be proven? A hummingbird came to him. It became Fleta. “Uncle, I have a plan, a ruse—willst let me try?”

“An thou hast a way, mare, try it!” he agreed.

“But methinks I will need thy help. I will lead an ogre, and thou must dispatch it only when I say. Canst do that?” Just like that: dispatch an ogre! But if the monster were distracted, it was possible.

“Aye.”

“Remember, only when I say, else all be lost. This be one odd ploy.”

Clip became cautious. “Must needs I know more o’ this.”

“I mean to lead it to our flag—“

“That be no problem! They be going there anyway!”

“Ahead o’ the others,” she continued. “And let it take the flag-”

“What?”

“Shortly before thou dost dispatch it.” Oh. Now that he thought about it, he realized that this would make it easier to eliminate the ogre, because it would be thinking only of the flag. Still, it was chancy. “Better to dispatch it before it gets the flag,” he said.

“Nay, Uncle! It must be after! Only after, when I tell thee!”

Why did she want it this way? He decided to do it her way. It wouldn’t hurt, as long as he did stop the ogre. But he did not see how this would stop the overall thrust of the remaining ogres. There would not be time to lead each of them up alone, so soon the region of the flag would be swamped with the monsters. “Aye,” he said.

She changed to ‘corn form and trotted out and around until she spied an especially big and ugly ogre, poking his way along a bit to the side of the others. She changed to girlform, while Clip assumed hawkform and perched in a tree, watch ing.

“Hey, lady-snout!” Fleta called to the ogre. “Dost put thy hair in curlers and paint thy face to make it so pretty?” Irony was of course lost on the creature. It took her words literally—and was furious, because no ogre could afford to be considered pretty. It roared and stepped toward her, but hesitated, because of the fear for pitfalls and ambushes. Its beady eyes searched the forest, and it hefted a giant stone menacingly.

“Slow, too!” Fleta taunted. “Why, I could outrun thee in this form!”

That was another potent insult, for she was a mere slip of a creature compared to him. The ogre watched for ambushes, but was just barely smart enough to realize that if he pursued her along the exact route she took, there would be no pitfalls she did not fall into first. He took off after her. Fleta ran, and now Clip saw reason for her name: she was buxom and pretty (for those who might like the human type), but also fleet of foot. Her black hair-mane flung out behind as she moved, and her buttocks twinkled in a manner that made the ogre’s mouth water. Ogres loved to eat humanform flesh, and giriform flesh was acknowledged to be the tastiest. She was the best possible lure, to make the ogre forget what little caution it might possess and pursue blindly. It would be easy to trap or waylay this ogre!

Yet she had demanded that this wait until after the ogre got the flag. Clip flew after, flitting from tree to tree so as to minimize his exposure to thrown rocks, and hoped this was not as crazy as it seemed.

Fleta, remaining just ahead of the monster, led it safely to the flag. “See, there’s our flag, and you can’t get it because then you’d lose me!” Fleta called. “What a fool thou dost be!”

The ogre grinned, pleased at the compliment. But her words did serve to remind him of his original mission. Quickly he hauled himself hamfist over hamfist up the tree, until he grabbed the flag, then slid down. Fleta, in supposed astonishment, had not moved. “Thou didst take our flag,” she exclaimed. “Be I not tasty enough?”

The ogre stuffed the flag in his ear for safekeeping and lurched after her. Fleta screamed as if in horror and ran again. She led the ogre to the side, some distance from the original flag site, then dived under a giant spruce tree. “I be safe here!” she cried.

But one of her dainty feet poked out. She had not gotten completely out of sight! The ogre grabbed—just as the foot was pulled out of the way. The ogre grabbed again, plunging under the tree, until it too was lost in the maze of branches. “Now. Uncle!” Fleta called.

Clip, hovering nervously near, was more than ready. He flitted to the ground, converting to his natural form and landing squarely on four feet. He saw the hummingbird sail up out of harm’s way; then he rammed horn-first into the bulk of the ogre tangled in the foliage.

His first strike caught the monster from behind. His horn sank in half its length before he jerked it out, but the brute had not received a mortal wound. The ogre wrenched around, a hamfist striking out. It smashed into a large branch, snap ping it off—and Clip’s second strike drove in under the ogre’s massive arm, seeking the heart.

But the angle was wrong, and he only punctured a gross lung. He jerked back, and the ogre reached for him with both arms, catching at his head. Unable to get away. Clip launched forward, his horn driving up the ogre’s flaring nose. This time the stroke was true: the tip of the horn punctured the creature’s small brain. The ogre made a gasp of irritation, and collapsed.

Clip backed out of the foliage, assuming manform. The ogre was entirely out of sight; only the broken branches and skuff-marks on the ground showed where he had gone. “Cover the traces so he can’t be found,” Fleta said. She drew from her pocket a bright blue flag.

Clip was appalled. “Thou hast our flag? We dare not touch it, lest we be disqualified!”

“Nay, this be not our flag,” she said brightly. “See, it be brighter, and not quite the right shape; it were the best we could do on the spur.”

“But-“

“I shall just put this fake flag up where ours was,” she explained.

“But all they have to do is take the real one, which they can readily do—”

“An they see it, aye,” she agreed. “Thou must make sure they do not.” She ran back toward the original flag location. Clip went back to look at the dead ogre. Sure enough, the original flag was still stuffed in its ear. He fetched a broken bough and used it to sweep the ground, masking the traces.

Then he set it on the ogre, further concealing him. Only a person who knew where to look would find either ogre or flag.

Yet wasn’t this merely delaying the inevitable? If the ogres were stupid enough to take the fake flag back, they would realize that it was fake when the authorities checked it. Then they would return to make a thorough search, and find the real one.

Unless—

Suddenly the full nature of Fleta’s ploy came clear to him! Beautiful! He changed to hawkform and flew back toward the other end of the arena, where the red flag still flew. He encountered other unicorns, in their several forms, harassing the advancing ogres. He stopped a moment with each, quickly explaining what was to occur, and how each should react. He found distressingly few; the ogres had been striking back with increasing effectiveness, and taken a heavy toll of the defenders.

He reached the vicinity of the red flag. A number of ogres were clustered at the base of its tree, ready to defend it against any enemy intrusion. At this stage, no such intrusion was likely; the ranks of the unicorns had been too drastically depleted. It was obvious that the ogres were going to win the siege.

But Clip went from ‘corn to ‘corn, explaining. Some were incredulous, but it was the only hope remaining, and they agreed to do what he asked. He knew that Fleta was doing the same, back near the blue flag.

There was a roar from the distance: the ogres had broken through to the flag! The ground shook as they charged back in a mass, and soon the lead ogre appeared, taking a swatch of blue.

A firefly flew up to Clip. He knew it was Neysa, giving up on the red flag; she was too small in this form, and too vul nerable in her womanform. “It be all right,” he said to her, quietly so that no ogre would overhear. “Just follow my lead!”

She reverted to natural form, showing doubt in every mannerism. How could he stop the ogres now? All around were unicorns, looking similarly dejected. Some few tried to balk the ogres, but these were quickly dispatched. It was obviously a lost cause.

The ogre with the blue flag charged up to the tree and climbed it. When he got high up on it, the thing bent and swayed, but he got far enough to reach the red flag. He jammed the two together. A unicorn with a percussion horn made a loud sound very like a gong. Two sides could play the game of special noises! There was a roaring cheer from the other ogres.

Clip assumed stallion form and blew a sad note. The other unicorns walked slowly toward him. None looked happy. The ogres, gruffly cheerful, punched each other roughly on the shoulders and tramped away. They would have a monstrous celebration tonight! The unicorns watched them go without comment.

When the last ogre had departed. Clip assumed hawkform and flew up to the set of flags. Several sharp pecks with his beak loosened the red one. He hauled it clear, and flew with it toward the region of the other flag. The other unicorns followed, making no exclamations, watching for any ogres who might be lagging behind. The ogres had been too stupid to realize that the game had not yet finished, because the dead had not yet returned to life. The Adepts of course would know, but were barred from interfering; they could only watch and grind their teeth. They could not cry warning, because this would be so obvious a foul that their side would forfeit. Soon Clip reached the spruce tree where the dead ogre lay. He plunged into the foliage and set the red flag at the ogre’s ear with the blue one.

The two flags touched. There was the sound of a gong. The casualties came back to life, unicorn and ogre alike. This time the siege really was over, and the unicorns were the victor.

“That be our point!” Neysa exclaimed. “Unicorn point!”

Indeed it was. They had done it for Stile.