Unicorn Point

18 - ‘Corn

‘Corn had been dozing before the holo show when the key began pulsing. Suddenly he was alert; that was the signal for dire emergency!

He turned off the holo—he had seen it before anyway—and held up the key. It was a small flat metallic plaque—a dog tag, his father had joked, though no animals on Planet Proton wore such tags—imprinted with his identity and a secret message. The message could be evoked only by a qualified adult;

Citizen Troal trusted his son, but not quite that much. But the pulsing meant that it was time for that message. ‘Corn used his father’s terminal to run a quick spot trace on all the appropriate adults. This immediately showed the nature of the crisis: of the six on the list, five were marked in red. This meant that they had been in some way incapacitated or compromised, and should not be approached. Citizen Blue, his wife Sheen, their son Mach, his other self Bane, and their maid Agnes—all off the list. Only Bane’s wife Agape remained. He had to get to her in a hurry, before something happened to her too!

He borrowed his father’s private transport capsule. Citizen Troal and ‘Corn’s mother, the beautiful Bat Girl, were off planet, on a holiday alone; he might be able to call them, but he knew better than to try. When his key pulsed, it meant not only trouble, but that speed and secrecy were of the es sence. Any ofiplanet call could be monitored, so nothing private was done that way. The same was true of intraplanet communications. But ‘Corn had not communicated; he had merely checked a listing without acting. Now he was acting, in the manner he had to.

He set the capsule on Agape’s identity and activated its FIND mechanism. It set off, swiftly orienting on the alien female. Soon it caught up with her.

‘Corn opened the exit panel and stepped out—right in front of Agape, who was walking down a hall with another beautiful naked woman, Tania. Both women jumped, caught by surprise.

“Aunt Agape!” he exclaimed. “Come into my carriage; there is mischief afoot.” She was not really his aunt, of course; she was the mother of his friend Nepe. But for rea sons never fully clarified, his parents had indicated that this was an appropriate way to address her.

Agape didn’t hesitate. She caught Tania by the arm and both followed him into the carriage. He set the destination for RANDOM, so that no one could readily intercept them. “Aunt Agape, my key is pulsing!” he said, holding it up. Nothing showed, of course; the pulsing was a rhythmic trace vibration that only he could feel. “This means trouble! My parents are away, so I must act, and you are the only one left who can evoke the message!”

“But what of the others?” Agape asked, alarmed. She could make herself into any form she wanted, but she looked worn and nervous.

“All are marked red. Something has happened to them! I don’t dare even go to look; there must be danger for anyone who goes near them.”

“My brother!” Tania exclaimed. “I knew it! He’s up to mischief, and Citizen Purple too!”

“It must be,” Agape agreed. “We were checking on Citizen Translucent, to ascertain why he dropped out of the proceedings. They probably took him out first, then went after Blue and the others after they got the Oracle. We should have known they wouldn’t honor any agreements, once they got power!”

“And we are next,” Tania said. “Me because I defected, you because you are of Citizen Blue’s camp, and—“ She broke off, glancing down at ‘Corn, as if realizing that the matter was not fit for a child.

‘Corn knew what it was, though. He had seen the holo of the game, where Citizen Tan had raped Agape in emulation. He probably wanted to do it in reality too. That was why Agape looked nervous; she knew that her horror hadn’t finished.

“But what can we do?” Agape asked. “If the enemy’s power is so complete—and it must be the same in Phaze, because of the parallelism—how can we hope to counter it?”

“My key,” ‘Corn said. “You must evoke it.”

“Evoke it? ‘Corn, this is not Phaze! We have no amulets here.”

“Evoke its message. This is why I sought you. You are the only one left who can do this.”

“I? I know nothing of this!”

“Just touch it, please!”

She extended her hand and touched it with one finger. The key glowed. A picture of a man appeared in its surface: thin, evidently of the older generation. He wore archaic spectacles on his face, and his hair was shading well into gray.

“I don’t know this man,” Agape said. “Do you?”

“No. But maybe—“ ‘Corn turned over the key. There on the other side was a name and address. “Clef, musician,” Agape read. “But he’s on a far planet!”

“Clef,” Tania said. “I have heard that name. Wasn’t he the one who played the—the famous Flute, and brought the frames together?”

“That one?” Agape asked, amazed. “I have heard of a friend of Stile’s who—who turned out to be the most amazing Adept of all, even though he was just a serf of Proton. But—“

Tania was staring at the picture on the other side of the key. “That must be him. What an elegant man!”

“But so far away! How can he have anything to do with what is happening here?”

“I—I think—“ ‘Corn said hesitantly. “Maybe—you have to fetch him?”

Agape stared at Tania. “So he can play again?”

Awed, they realized that this could be it. “We need to get offplanet in a hurry anyway,” Tania said. “Before Citizen Purple and my brother catch us.”

“I can take you to the spaceport,” ‘Corn said bravely. “Then I can travel around, leading them away—“

Agape put her arms around him and hugged him to her. This was a unique experience, for young as he was, he understood the nature of her beauty. “We can not leave you, ‘Corn. You must come too.”

“But I am a minor,” he protested with mixed emotion. “I can’t leave planet without my parents’ consent.”

“And we dare not call them,” Agape said, frowning.

“We’ll have to sneak him out,” Tania said. “Ship him as baggage.”

“But baggage is shipped in the cargo hold,” Agape said. “Not pressure or temperature controlled.”

“He’ll have to be drugged and sealed into a capsule,” Tania said. She glanced at ‘Corn. “You have the use of Citizen Troal’s carriage; can you also authorize his luggage?”

“Yes,” ‘Corn said, brightening.

“Make out a routing slip in your father’s name for one sealed capsule, and an authorization for two serfs to see to its security. We shall be those serfs. The port officials won’t question it unless the alarm is already out, and my guess is that Purple will try to make his coup secretly until all opposition has been eliminated. Remember, he’s doublecrossing his own, too; Citizen Translucent’s personnel will be in an uproar. We’ll leave planet together on the first ship out—specify that in the order. This can be done, but it has to be fast.”

‘Corn took a slip from the papers in the carriage and filled it out. “But how can I be drugged? The moment we go to a medic—”

“I am able to contact the self-willed machines,” Agape said. “I have a code. They support Citizen Blue completely.”

“Don’t make a call!” Tania warned. “They will be monitoring all calls!”

“No call,” Agape agreed. “There will be a private access at the spaceport.”

They arrived. There was no alarm, so far. Actually, only a few minutes had passed; Citizen Purple was probably still securing his base elsewhere.

Agape paused at a maintenance panel. She tapped on it, then spoke a few words. There seemed to be no response, and ‘Corn was afraid she hadn’t gotten through. But then a cleaning vehicle rolled up, its lid lifting to reveal a dark in terior chamber.

“Get in,” Agape said quietly.

“But—“ Corn protested, abruptly nervous.

“Do you not know me, friend?” the machine inquired. “Troubot!” ‘Corn cried. Without further protest he climbed in, and the lid closed. He was in darkness, a pris oner, but now he felt secure.

He wanted to inquire how the machines were arranging things, but before he could do so he was unconscious. He woke, disoriented. Where was he?

Then a lovely female form leaned over him, her arms reaching around his body to draw him to a sitting posture. “You’ll be a little woozy, ‘Corn, but that will pass in a moment,” she said.

“Tania!” he exclaimed. “But you have clothing on!” Indeed she did. She wore a silken tan dress cinched at the waist by a blue sash, and there was a blue ribbon in her hair. She was amazingly beautiful; the clothing made her look every inch a Citizen.

She smiled. “We’re offplanet, ‘Corn. You’ll have to don clothing too. Offworlders don’t necessarily understand about serf nakedness. We have a red suit for you.”

“Red suit?” He was still dazed, as much by the changed circumstance as the effects of his drugging. Obviously he had been put under in Troubot—trust his friend to make it easy!—and sealed in and shipped, and now they were—where?

“Red is Citizen Troal’s color,” she reminded him. “As it is for his opposite in Phaze, the Red Adept. We are at the spaceport at your father’s vacation planet; soon he will be meeting us, and we want you to be suitably attired. Then Agape and I will go on to locate Clef.” He let her dress him, bemused. He knew that clothing was worn offplanet, but this was the first time he had been away from Proton and it was hard to set aside the conditioning of a lifetime.

He felt the need to say something, but he didn’t know what.

So he asked her a personal question. “Tania—if I may ask—aren’t you in love with Mach?”

Her work never paused. She was putting socks on his feet, and then shoes. She had evidently had prior experience with such things. “ True.”

“Then how is it you are friends with Agape? I mean. Bane uses the same body—”

“My love is doomed,” she said. “Mach does not love me. No doubt in time I will get over it.”

“But didn’t he promise—“

“I want his love, not his promise!” she flared. Then, immediately, she apologized. “I’m sorry, ‘Corn; I shouldn’t have said that. My situation is no concern of yours. I have been foolish in my emotion; see that when you grow up you are more sensible.”

“Too late,” he said wryly. “I love Nepe, and she loves Troubot.”

Tania stared at him. Then she hugged him. “You do understand!” she murmured, and he felt the wetness of tears at his neck. Suddenly he was very glad he had spoken. Agape appeared, resplendent in a blue dress. It was amazing what clothing did for a person! ‘Corn, standing now be fore a mirror, hardly recognized himself; they were like three different people.

They walked out to meet Citizen Troal. But it was the Bat Girl, in bright red, who came to meet them. He had never seen her dressed before, either; she was the loveliest of all! “Mother!” he cried, and flung himself into her arms.

“Tania and I must go on to find the musician Clef,” Agape said. “ ‘Corn’s key indicates that this is our only avenue to reverse the treachery of the Contrary Citizens.”

‘Corn’s mother smiled. “My husband is already contacting him. We shall hold a video conference. Our cottage is about fifteen minutes away.”

They rode in the odd conveyance of this planet. It was like a boat, that sailed above a rail set in the ground. Its magnetic suspension was smooth, and as it moved it really did seem to have the buoyancy of a waterbome craft. But even stranger was the landscape through which they rode: there was no dome! The atmosphere of this planet was unpolluted; it was possible to breathe anywhere. There were even plants and trees growing as far afield as he could see. As with the cloth ing: he had known this was the case with many planets, but it was an awesome thing actually to experience. Made giddy by this new environment, ‘Corn was embold ened to ask his mother a personal question. “Why are you called the Bat Girl, Mother, when you don’t look anything like a bat?” The oddest thing was that he had never wondered about this before; seeing her in clothing had changed his view of her in more than the physical sense.

She laughed. “Your father named me that! It is because of Agape.”

“Agape?” he repeated, startled.

“Some time back, I exchanged places with Fleta the unicorn in Phaze,” Agape answered. “In Phaze I was helped by an ugly old troll and a beautiful young vampire. I talked to each, and learned that each was afraid to broach a certain matter to the other: he because he believed that no woman could care for a troll, she because she regarded herself as an animal, having originated as a bat. Because I owed each a debt I could not myself repay, I urged the lady bat to approach the troll.”

“But what has that to do with my mother?” ‘Corn demanded.

“They did get together, and soon married,” Agape ex plained. “They had a son whom they chose to name after my Proton identity, calling him Alien. Because things tend to be parallel between the frames, something similar happened in Proton, and the happy couple named their son Unicorn, after the person whose body I used in Phaze.”

‘Corn was stunned. “A troll—a vampire bat—and a unicorn?”

His mother hugged him. “I’m sure your opposite number is no happier about being named after an amoebic alien creature. But we identify strongly with our Phaze counterparts; Phaze is the magic in our lives, even though we can not visit it.”

‘Corn was silent. Why hadn’t he realized this before? Nepe had spoken of her contact with Flach, and his friend Al. Al the alien, ‘Corn the unicorn! How obvious, suddenly! They arrived at the residence. It was a cottage right out in the open, surrounded by flowering trees. But ‘Corn was be coming acclimatized to such marvels; they had serious business to transact.

Citizen Troal met them at the door. ‘Corn had never thought of his father as a troll before, but now he could see how tall and ugly he was. Of course appearance didn’t matter for a Citizen; the most beautiful woman would marry one in an instant, for the sake of the power and comfort of the life he offered. ‘Corn had assumed this was the case with his mother; now he knew that there was more to it than that. “We are tracking the musician,” Troal announced. “He should be on the screen momentarily.”

Indeed, Clef appeared soon after they entered. He was life size on the wall screen, but the distance between planets caused his image to flicker slightly. He was a man of Troal’s age, with a severely receding hairline and the same archaic spectacles the key had shown. “I have not been in touch with Planet Proton for more than a quarter century,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor of this contact?”

“Do you remember Citizen Blue?” Troal asked. “Perhaps you know him as the Adept Stile.”

“Stile! Yes, of course; how could I forget! He fetched the magic Platinum Flute!”

“We believe he has need for your assistance again.”

“There on Proton? But I can not return there; my tenure as a serf concluded, and I am not allowed back. In any event, I have a pressing schedule in this section of the galaxy; we are organizing an interspecies orchestra.”

“Your return to Proton may be barred by Proton custom,” Troal said. “But events may override that. Citizen Blue is in serious trouble, and there is a suggestion that you are the key to the resolution of his problem.”

“I’m not sure you understand. Citizen Troal. My prior service was to enter the frame of Phaze and play the magic Flute at a critical time. Thereafter the frames were permanently separated; it is no longer possible to cross over. Since the magic Flute remains on the other side of the curtain, and only it is capable of re-establishing the connection, there is noth ing I can do for you.”

“Nevertheless, Citizen Blue evidently believes—”

“I am sorry. I suspect further dialogue is pointless. I am in any event too old to travel such a distance on mere speculation that I might be of some use.”

Troal looked baffled. Clef was making sense.

“Sir, if I may talk to him,” Tania murmured.

The Citizen shrugged. “Of course. But make it brief.” Tania stepped forward, adjusting her decolletage. “Clef, I be Tania, daughter of one thou mayest have encountered in the Phaze variation as the Tan Adept. Methinks that thou’rt the finest musician o’ our time. We believe that thou dost be the only one who can help us save Proton and Phaze from a terrible fate. We know not how thou mayest do this, but we be prepared to do anything required to make it possible. Any thing! Please, I beg of thee, come immediately to this planet, that we may explore possibilities.”

Clef stared at her. “Of course.”

The others watched, astonished, as Tania made a little bow to the screen. Then the connection dissolved. “What did you do?” ‘Corn demanded. “How come he changed his mind?”

She turned to him, a partial smile on her face. Her dress was open at the front, showing most of one breast and part of the other. Her hair was slightly wild. Her eyes seemed enormous—and as her gaze met his, they seemed to grow larger yet, sending an oddly pleasant shiver through him. “You vamped him!” Agape exclaimed.

Tania drew her dress up so that little more than her neck showed, and smoothed out her hair. Her eyes diminished. “It’s a talent I have found effective on men other than yours. I prayed for some of what my other self can do with her Eye, and perhaps I got it. It was a desperation ploy.”

“But that man is old enough to be your father!” Agape protested.

“And what is wrong with that?” the Bat Girl inquired. Agape glanced from her to Citizen Troal.

“Nothing, of course,” she said, embarrassed.

“And you used Phaze idiom, reminding him of what offers there,” Citizen Troal remarked. “That was clever of you. I wish I could have seen you as he saw you.”

“Not likely!” the Bat Girl snapped. “. . . sir.” They all laughed. ‘Corn knew that his mother, perhaps the most beautiful woman of Proton, had nothing to fear from others. Still, the way Tania had looked in that moment—if it had had such impact on himself, a child, what would have been the effect on a grown man? Now Clefs change of heart was no mystery!

Galactic travel was swift, when facilitated by a Citizen of Proton. Within a day Clef arrived.

“I don’t want to see him,” Tania said, embarrassed. “If I had thought about it at all, I wouldn’t have—”

“Clef is a gentleman,” Troal said. “Be assured he will treat you as a lady.”

“Which I don’t deserve!”

But she did meet him, completely demure in a cloaklike dress, and Clef was indeed polite. He had brought his flute made of platinum but not, he explained, magic, unfortunately. “I would give everything I have dreamed of else where, to be in Phaze again, to possess the magic Flute again,” he said. “When you, Tania, perhaps subconsciously, used the Phaze idiom, it reminded me of my longing for it. So my presence here is selfish, I regret to confess. If there is even the remotest chance—“ He shrugged.

“We hope there is,” Tania said, visibly relieved.

“Citizen Blue must believe there is,” ‘Corn said, showing his key, which still glowed with Clefs picture. They explained all that they knew of the situation to Clef.

Clef nodded. “So the parallelism has strengthened in recent decades,” he said. “That suggests quite strong connections between the frames despite their seeming separation. Perhaps this is because with no way to cross over physically, the force of equalization is channeled to other mechanisms.”

“That is our conclusion,” Citizen Troal agreed.

“That may mean in turn that something roughly similar to our present meeting is occurring in the frame of Phaze,” Clef continued. “Perhaps someone is fetching the magic Flute.”

“But how can you play it, when it is there and you are here?” ‘Corn asked.

“That is the salient question,” Clef said. “But if my friend Stile—or his other self—believes that it is possible, then it behooves us to explore the matter. Perhaps the answer will offer.”

“But there is danger for all of us on Planet Proton,” Troal reminded him. “Citizen Purple is trying to eliminate all opposition.”

“I realize that. But I am in my waning years, and perhaps have relatively little to lose. We must try to consult with Citizen Blue; he is the only one who truly knows how I may help.”

“We may be able to sneak a small party in,” Citizen Troal said. “My wife and I are watched, so cannot approach the planet, but if others move in by a devious route, it may work. However, the moment you enter Citizen Blue’s premises, discovery is inevitable; you will have very little time to act.”

“Understood,” Clef agreed.

The return was more complicated than the departure, but just as urgent; they knew they had to act swiftly, or it would be too late. If Citizen Purple got well enough established to believe he could afford to kill his captives, what would be left except vengeance and ruin? It was ironic, ‘Corn thought, that the Contrary Citizens had already won their contest; had they just honored the agreements, their hold over the planet would have been secure. But victory had been the signal for the falling out of thieves, and now they were hurting each other as much as their opponents.

Indeed, it might have been that internecine quarreling which enabled the foursome to sneak back onto the planet. Citizen was watching Citizen, each nervously guarding his own holdings while trying to grab those of his neighbors. Anarchy was developing. So no notice was taken when a noted musician from a far planet arrived with several sealed boxes of equipment about which he was very finicky. There was also a reaction to local custom. He made a fair scene when leaving the ship: “Naked? You expect me to strip stark naked?”

‘Corn smiled. He had been revived the moment the ship landed, as had the others, so that they could act quickly. They remained in their boxes, properly naked, ready to push open the unlatched lids and leap out at need. But as long as the ruse remained effective, they remained hidden, listening. ‘Corn was sure that Agape and Tania found this scene as amusing as he did. Clef had been a serf, and well understood the rule for serfs; but he was returning as a different man, one who had never before been to this planet. Evidently there had been some details this other person had overlooked. The spaceport personnel patiently explained about Citizens and serfs. They had been through exactly this sort of scene many times before. They were sorry, but no matter how au gust the musician was on his home planet, he was reckoned as a serf here, and had to adopt serf ways. He must address any clothed person as “sir” and honor any directive that person gave implicitly; he must seek the sponsorship of a Citizen if he wished to remain on the planet more than a few days; and he must go naked.

“This is an outrage!” Clef fulminated. But in the end, with exceeding reluctance, he bared his old and portly body, for he had an important engagement for which he would not be paid unless he delivered. “But,” he assured them grimly, “you have not heard the last of this!”

The personnel did not respond. They had heard it before. Planet Proton was a very special experience, for those who arrived unwarned. Most of the functionaries had had to make similar adjustments when they first came. Clef was allowed to set foot within the dome proper, and his boxes were unloaded.

Shortly later, in the temporary apartment chamber he had rented. Clef opened his luggage. He had used a special monitor to make sure that he was not being spied on. ‘Corn and the two women got out. They had passed the first hurdle; now for the second, and critical, one. They had to get to Citizen Blue, and then see how they could help him. ‘Corn went ahead, scouting the situation. His hair had been cut and its color changed, and cosmetic tape had been used to change his facial features enough to make him unrecog nizable as the boy he had been. His body was thicker; he looked pudgy now, but this was because of a spybeam sensor fitted around his abdomen. Every time he passed a hall mon itor, he got a pulse against the skin of his belly, verifying the presence of the invisible beam.

All was quiet in the region of Citizen Blue’s complex. ‘Corn walked by it without pausing—but the equipment he carried verified the nature of the lock and the people inside. The lock was unchanged, which meant that Agape could enter, bringing her companions with her. Citizen Blue, Sheen and Mach remained there, apparently unhurt, held by a lethargy gen erator that was tuned to both living people and robots. Citi zen Tan was there too, horizontal; that meant he was sleeping at the moment. Excellent!

‘Corn completed his circuit, returning to Clefs chamber. “It’s clear!” he reported. “Only Citizen Tan is guarding them, and he’s sleeping!”

“I don’t trust this,” Tania said. “My brother is devious, as I am. It could be a trap.”

“What choice do we have?” Clef asked. “If we don’t go there, we can not rescue Citizen Blue. We shall just have to hope that either they are not expecting us, or that if they are, we can act with greater dispatch than they expect.”

Tania nodded. “Sometimes the best way to handle a trap is to spring it,” she agreed. “I am expendable; I will try to nullify my brother while you see to Citizen Blue.”

“Expendable?” Clef asked, appalled. “I should hope not!”

Tania smiled at him, and he smiled back. Evidently she had after all invoked more than just the memory of Phaze in his mind. ‘Corn observed them covertly, hoping to learn something that might be useful in his relationship with Nepe. He knew that Tania wasn’t really interested in Clef; she just wanted to be sure he helped rescue Citizen Blue. And, in the process, the one she did love: Mach. Thus she was an excellent reference for the application of sex appeal without emo tion.

“In any event,” Agape said, “that lethargy box surely has settings for Tania and me and perhaps ‘Corn too. We are wearing nullifiers, but our first priority will be to destroy that box.”

“I’ll do it!” ‘Corn cried. “I’ll throw it against the wall!”

“Too bad we couldn’t get a box tuned to Purple and Tan,” Tania said.

They proceeded to Blue’s suite. Other serfs were hurrying to and fro; to them the strife between Citizens was either unimportant or unknown. They merely followed orders, who ever was in power. No one paid attention to the little party. At the panel. Agape didn’t hesitate. She put her hand against it, and it slid open, recognizing her. She remained at the panel while the other three quickly and quietly stepped in; then she stepped through and let it close behind. Th’ey filed silently along the short hallway leading to the main room. Tania took the lead, alert for her brother. Clef was next, holding his flute; none of them knew exactly how this instrument could help, but all believed that it related in some significant way.

‘Corn saw Citizen Blue, seated on a chair. He was conscious; his eyes moved. But he was unable to move rapidly.

“So the wanderers return!”

That was Citizen Tan’s voice! He was awake—and it was indeed a trap!

Then, before ‘Corn could react, the heavy hand of lethargy fell on him. He saw Agape and Clef sag; they felt it too. Tan had the box—and it was overriding their nullifiers! Their arrival had not only been anticipated, it had been prepared for. What fools they had been to think it would be otherwise; no wonder their arrival had been without event! Tan had wanted them to come here, where they could be captured without commotion.

But Tania was not affected. She whirled and threw herself on the Citizen, grabbing for the box. The rest of them, unable to take similar action, stood in place. ‘Corn was facing forward, and could not turn his head fast enough to view the action. Why wasn’t there a setting for Tania? Then he understood: she was Tan’s twin sister. Her setting would be almost identical to his. If he tried to use the box on her, he would suffer its effects himself. Perhaps he had thought she would not dare return, so hadn’t worried about it. Or he had thought she wouldn’t dare directly oppose him.

He had been mistaken. ‘Corn heard the sounds of their nearby struggle. Tania was female, and smaller than her brother, but she was healthy while he had evidently grown soft in Citizenship. It seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds; then the box dropped to the floor. She had beaten him!

No, she had only jarred the box from his grasp. It had not broken; the lethargy remained on them. Tan shoved her away as ‘Corn’s head slowly turned so that he could see them. She stumbled into Clef.

Tan lunged at her. Tania dodged around Clef. Then, on inspiration, she took the flute from his flaccid hand and held it like a weapon. When Tan reached for her again, she brought it down on his head.

The flute was made of platinum: a beautiful and extremely valuable instrument. Platinum was one of the heaviest of metals. The flute made a most effective club. Tan dropped to the floor, for the moment unable to continue the fight. Tania stepped toward the lethargy box, ready to smash it similarly, so as to free them all.

Clef managed a protest. “Not with the flute!” The pain in his voice would have been funny if the situation had not been so serious.

Tania nodded. Her hair was wild and she was bruised and shaking, but she had not lost her wits. She tucked the flute under her arm and picked up the box. She found its master switch and turned it off.

Suddenly all of them were free—Blue and Sheen and Mach included.

But before they could do more than look at each other, there was a new voice. “Attempt nothing foolish,” Purple said. “I have another box—and more persuasive instruments.”

It was of course no bluff. Citizen Tan might have misjudged his sister, but Citizen Purple was more cunning and ruthless. Tania straightened slowly, and the others did not move. Except for ‘Corn. He was at the rear of their column, closest to Purple. He whirled and leaped—

And was felled by a spot lethargy jolt. He collapsed at Purple’s feet. Indeed, the man had not been bluffing! Purple brushed by him, orienting on Tania. “Give me that flute,” he said gruffly, “and I may make you my mistress instead of having you executed.” He held out his hand. ‘Corn, on the floor, was able to move his head just enough to see the tableau. Tania was slowly lifting the flute. Clef was just behind her, chagrined.

Why did Purple want the flute? He had to know it wasn’t the magic one! It was valuable, but Purple hardly needed more wealth. The instrument was irrelevant to Purple’s interests.

But Purple was no fool. If he wanted the flute, there had to be reason. But what could the flute do, that Purple might fear?

Suddenly ‘Corn got a notion. “Play it!” he gasped. Tania, surprised, looked at the flute she held. She was no musician. There was no way she could do more than tootle on it. But she seemed to understand what ‘Corn had realized. She lifted the flute to her mouth and blew. There was nothing except a rush of air. She wasn’t address ing the mouthpiece correctly. Purple laughed. Then Clef reached around her and adjusted the flute. He set his hands over hers, each finger guiding one of hers. “Across, not into,” he murmured.

“Enough of this foolishness,” Purple said, reaching again. Tania blew again. This time, with Clefs close guidance, she blew a note. Her fingers under Clefs depressed the keys, and the note changed.

The first note was imperfect, yet had a strange quality. The second was better, and stranger. She was catching on, following Clefs cues, making eerie music.

“No!” Purple cried. But she continued to play, with in creasing facility, and he did not advance on her. There seemed to be a light developing around the flute—not a glow, but an ambience. Its color heightened, enhancing its outline. Tania’s face seemed to have a double outline, as if she were a holo picture a trifle out of focus. In fact there seemed to be two Tanias, playing two flutes, overlapping. Then the split images merged. Abruptly the music became intimately compelling. The radiance spread outward, seem ing to ripple through the air and the people—and where it passed, they changed, becoming double and then single, then double again, as if swinging in and out of themselves. The air seemed to sparkle and become fresh with the fragrance of a healthy outdoors. Yet the walls of the suite also seemed to be dissolving, and a verdant outdoor landscape was show ing through them.

“Now,” Clef said. He moved his hands, taking hold of the flute directly. Tania let go, giving it to him. She seemed stunned by what had happened.

The ripple of light jumped inward, as if a bubble were collapsing. The superimposed images faded. But then Clef began to play.

He was a master. All doubt about this was abolished by his first note. His fingers on the flute seemed to glow with sheer competence. Tania stared at him as if mesmerized. The radiance strengthened, as if a spotlight had focused on the flute. It spread again, slowly; but this time its effects were intensified. It lighted Clefs hands, and they became cleaner, stronger, the fingers more nimble; the discolorations of age faded, leaving the firm flesh of youth. It traveled across his arms, and they filled out, becoming muscular. It touched his neck, which smoothed out, both tendons and wrinkles dis appearing. It expanded across his face, shaping it, heightening its animation, strengthening its character. His sparse hair darkened and advanced, thickening. His spectacles now seemed incongruous on so handsome a face. Tania watched him, rapt. The man was being transformed! His whole body was turning youthful and dynamic as the light bathed it. Agape was staring too, and ‘Corn, from the floor; he knew the same thought was in all their minds. How could such a thing be happening, without magic? Yet how could magic be operating, here in Proton?

The globe of light seemed to split. A small intense part of it clothed Clef, while a larger but fainter secondary part of it expanded to enclose them all in its ambience. ‘Corn felt it infusing him, changing both his body and his mind in ex traordinary manner, both uplifting and alarming him. He saw the others—and each was double, twin images overlapping, but not perfectly. Each was split, yet not harmed, and each looked as confused as he felt. When Tania had played, the outlines of each person had seemed blurred. Now they were distinct, yet dual.

The walls of the suite dissolved again. This time the out door landscape assumed full force.

Then they were moving—or the landscape was. As a group they passed through the wall of the suite, and through the walls of the neighboring chambers. There were people in those other chambers, looking started, but the group swept through them and past them without impediment. ‘Corn found himself moving toward a walking serf; then he went through the middle of the man and on, feeling only a momentary drag, as if the air had thickened. What was happening? The pace accelerated, as the music continued. They burst out of Hardom and moved north, like nine figures locked in an invisible ship. Fields and trees passed at a blurring rate, and even hills. They were going somewhere at the speed of a spaceship, without the ship.

- A castle loomed on the horizon, a blue pennant flying from a high turret. They shot in toward it, and through its walls. Abruptly the motion stopped. They were in the castle, and ‘Corn’s face was near a tuft of grass sprouting from the crev ice between two paving stones. But he could not be concerned about that; the travel had stopped, but not the music.

Clef was still playing, his whole body concentrating on the effort, as if what had occurred so far were only the preliminary to something greater.

The globe of light touched Tania. The two images of her slid together. Her dishevelment and her bruises were wiped away, enhancing her posture. Her eyes seemed larger, and literally glowing. She had always been a striking woman; now she seemed charismatic. The music was lifting her, making her sway; she was not merely listening, she was of it. Citizen Purple made a noise. His doubled images were also merging. Tania’s face turned, her mouth forming a frown. Her eyes seemed to strike out at him—and Purple fell back, reeling as if struck.

That was the Evil Eye! ‘Corn had learned of it through Nepe. The Tania of Phaze had it, the ability to hypnotize or hurt people merely by looking at them. But this was Proton! The light was coming here, bathing him, and bringing with it its strange effects. ‘Corn had been amazed by the ghostly traveling; now he experienced a ghostly unity. The thought that had prompted him to urge Tania to play the flute re turned, assuming new clarity. This was—

“Aye,” he murmured, sitting up.

Aye? That was Phaze talk!

“Aye,” his mouth said again. “The flute be doing it.”

“What’s happening?” ‘Corn cried, even as he realized the explanation. He was merging with his other self.

“Aye,” his mouth said a third time. “I be Alien. Thou hast come here to Phaze.”

“But this is Proton!” ‘Corn protested.

“Nay, methinks it be both. See, the frames be merging, and the folk o’ the frames.”

‘Corn saw it was so. The Proton folks who had occupied the suite of Citizen Blue were superimposed on what must be the Blue Demesnes of Phaze. Somehow the music of the flute had carried them here, where they were joining with their parallel selves.

Yes, as he thought it through, he found confirmation from his other self. Alien—Al—had witnessed the treachery of Tan and Purple, and had gone to find Fleta and Tania, and the three of them had fetched the magic Platinum Flute and come here—and now with Clef playing that Flute, the frames were being brought together. It was overwhelming, yet also sensible.

He looked around him, discovering that the lethargy was gone from his body. Clef was still playing, Tania was still gazing raptly on him, and the others were reacting much as ‘Corn himself was. Agape’s features were changing, coming to resemble those of Fleta, Al’s thought continued. Her human form was petite and pretty. While, in contrast, the Purple Adept was a mottled and ugly hulk. The man’s fat face was twisted in a distorted snarl as he waged some internal war with Citizen Purple, ‘Corn continued. Evidently the two did not like each other much more than they liked anyone else. Probably they were engaged in a no-quarter-given struggle to determine which of them was to control their single body. Meanwhile, Citizen Blue was coming to life. It seemed that the Adept Stile had been under a spell that the music was abating. But Stile and Blue were not united, and neither were Mach and Bane. What was wrong?

Blue caught ‘Corn’s eye. “Be not concerned, Al; my body in Phaze be but a golem, and with the mergence I am returned to Stile’s.” He gestured to the golem, which sat immobile.

Then the man’s eyes went glassy, and the golem animated. “On the other hand, ‘Corn, I can also assume his body,” Stile said. Or maybe Blue; it was difficult to tell which was which. “Because we are one, now, we can not occupy both simultaneously. This was one of the complications that made this a last-resort ploy. Mach has the same problem.”

“Aye, and Bane,” the living man said, while the robot was still. “But methinks we can live with it.” Agape/Fleta turned to face Bane/Mach. “This could be come complicated at certain times,” she said. “Canst not take turns?” he asked.

“An we were an other two, nay,” she replied. “But we knew each other well; we have traded bodies before. Now we have the capacities o’ both.” She demonstrated by melting one hand into a molten lump, then re-forming it. Then she became a unicorn, and a hummingbird, and a woman again.

The Lady Blue stirred. “Welcome, Lady Sheen. Long has it been since we met. Surely we too can share.” The woman went slack and the robot animated. “Surely we can. Lady Blue!”

“But if all of you can cooperate and share so readily,” ‘Corn asked, “why not Purple?”

Stile/Blue laughed. “For us it be fraught with difficulties, which may belong in the working out. For him it be nigh impossible. This be because we be amicable persons, accustomed to accommodation and sacrifice, while the Adverse and Contrary folk be perverse and greedy, accustomed to yielding naught but under force or threat. We can get along with our other selves; they can not. It be that simple.” ‘Corn looked at Purple again. The man’s face was mottled and approaching the color of his name as a series of foul emotions crossed it. Purple was evidently unable to wreak mischief on anyone else until he settled his own case. “But they have the Oracle and the Book of Magic,” Agape/ Fleta said. “And my child!”

“With the frames unified by the stronger magic of the Flute, neither the Oracle nor the Book of Magic is as important as before,” Stile/Blue said. “And as for my grandchild—I will bring him now.”

He singsonged a spell, drawing on the immense ongoing magic of the continuing Flute, and disappeared. In a moment he was back with Nepe and a young wolf. “Just as well I did,” he said. “They were near the limit of the good air. The Proton pollution has been pushed off the main continent, for now.”

Nepe looked around, seeming less surprised than the oth ers. “This is fun!” she exclaimed.

Agape swooped down to gather her up. But Nepe was already changing. “Ugh!” Flach exclaimed as Agape kissed him.

“But then who is the wolf?” ‘Corn asked, astonished. The wolf became a rather pretty young girl. “Sirelmoba,” she said.

Flach disengaged from Agape and embraced his bitch friend. But she changed, and in a moment he was holding Troubot. “Ugh!” the robot exclaimed.

Somebody started laughing. Then all of them were, except Adept/Citizen Purple, who was lost in his own private quarrel. There were certainly things to adjust to! But what a great new situation was opening out: the realms of science and magic merged, both being operative together at last!

“Unicorn Point,” Stile/Blue said, looking around. “I see now that the two frames were never meant to be separated, and they shall not be so again. The cities and the creatures of the wild shall learn to coexist. There will be problems, of course; significant ones, such as the matter of pollution. We can’t have Phaze atmosphere go the way of Proton’s! But what would life be, without challenge?”

“Aye,” Neysa said. Then she became Nessie. Now ‘Corn understood why Citizen Blue had hired this older alien from Planet Moeba; he had been facilitating the parallelism, so as to be ready for this mergence, if it came. Flach’s granddam, Nepe’s grandmother: had one been offplanet at this time, there could have been a bad disruption.

‘Corn/Al remembered something. “What of Tania?” he asked. “She did more than anyone to make this possible, and she loves Mach/Bane, and we owe her—“

Fleta/Agape looked up. “It be true. We owe her,” she said sadly. “Mayhap she loved power as much as the man, wishing to unite with an Adept or Citizen and so gain back her own, but an we have the debt, needs must we—“

The music of the Flute finally stopped; the mergence was complete. Clefs job was done. Rejuvenated, exhilarated, he lowered the instrument and stood there, smiling and handsome. Slowly he turned to Tania, with a questioning glance. In two steps she was in his arms, kissing him with a passion verging on ferocity. A light flickered about them. Now ‘Corn appreciated the phenomenal impact the playing of the Flute must have had upon the woman. She had started it, guided by Clefs expertise; then she had experienced the unparalleled magic of his playing. Power? Clef was the leading Adept of the age, because of the Flute. Tania had known that her love for Mach or Bane was futile; now she had discovered all that she longed for—power, Phaze and a matchless man—in Clef. It was true for both Tanias; they had unified cleanly, and evidently had no internal conflicts. The suddenness of her change of love was no more amazing than the magic of the mergence of the frames.

"Come, we have much to do," Stile/Blue said. "Let's hope that folk like Merle are satisfied with their new powers in lieu of other payment, and that our other allies are well off, while the Adverse allies are similarly badly off." He glanced at 'Corn. "Thy folks may remain ensorceled, Al. Needs must we check on the Red Demesnes. Mayhap with 'Corn's folks offworld, there will be a complication we must abate."

"Me too!" Nepe cried. "Come on, 'Corn-let's meet Al's folks! She ran across and took his arm.

Corn, dizzy, realized that the prospects were still opening up. Maybe, as with Flach and Sirelmoba, Nepe looked forward to a different partner when grown than when young! He had to admit, things were looking better.