Piers Anthony - Unicorn Point

“Thou idiot!” she flared. “Thou didst bespeak her ‘Thee’! Twice more, and it be—“

“The likeness of Bane swearing love for her,” he concluded, finally getting it. “Yes, I suppose that would be a shock. I apologize, Tania, for inadvertently teasing you.” Had there been any doubt of his complete indifference to her, this ended it. But he was not Bane.

Tania finally was able to speak. “It be not that; it were a shock I knew false e’en as spoken. It be that an our search end, we three or four need travel together no more.”

“And thou canst be with him no more,” Fleta said.

“She has no call to be with him!” Mach said. “He loves Agape!”

“In Proton-frame,” Fleta said.

“That suffices. Would you have me loving the Proton Tania?”

That gave Fleta pause. “An she be like this one, now—”

“Nay!” Tania cried. “We all know this be but a trap reversed! I sought to snare Bane, and was myself snared. My fate be justice. I bring it up only to show I can comment not on whether to bring in thy son, Fleta, ‘cause I want the search to end ne’er, fool that I be to ‘fess it.”

Mach looked squarely at her, abruptly quite interested. ‘Tania, are you saying that if we bypassed this village, you would not object?”

“Nay! That be treachery to my cause!” But she was speaking only part of the truth. “Yet, an Bane asked me . . .”

“Yes, I see you speak truly. But I agreed to serve your side, and I shall not betray that agreement, though my heart lies elsewhere. I shall recover my son, and he shall work on your side. We shall deliver the final power to the Adverse Adepts. Then, perhaps my onus will be abated.”

“0’ course,” Tania agreed sadly.

“Aye,” Fleta said, as sadly.

“It is a matter of honor,” Mach said. “Translucent trusts me, and trusts Bane, because of it. This is the way it is.”

“Aye,” the two said together, and turned away. “In the morning we shall do it.” Then he conjured an entire house, stocked with everything a house required, including a separate bedroom for Tania.

But before she slept, Fleta knocked. “Aye, I would share him, with thine other self in Proton-frame,” she said. “But it be, as he put it, moot.”

“Thou dost be a nice person.”

“What willst thou, anon?”

“Thou didst show the way, once.” For Fleta, believing her love doomed, had once tried to throw herself off a cliff to her death.

Fleta was shocked. “But he would come rescue thee not!”

“Aye. Then it be soon o’er.”

“I beg thee, rush not into such!”

Tania shrugged. “Doubtless I lack the courage, anyway.” That was all; there was no more to be said. Both of them were crying, silently.

6 - Nepe

Citizen Purple put through a query: “Troubot, what is the latest pattern on werewolves?”

“Sir, it is unchanged since your last query,” the trouble shooter robot responded. The machine was not at Purple’s site; it was on a special network that connected only selected personnel. It was one of the few self-willed machines still used by the Contrary Citizens, because it was uncannily good at its job, and related well to each client. There was a difference between machines, and compatible ones were valued.

The Citizen said a bad word. “Query the boy.” This was part of it: Troubot knew what and whom he meant when he wasn’t specific.

“Query initiated. Will you wait, sir?”

“No. Buzz me back when you have the new pattern.” Purple was a surly brute, but he never refused a call from this machine.

Troubot did not answer. It proceeded about its business. It was paging the residence of Bane, the man from Phaze, who had just transferred in to Proton. When there was no response after a reasonable interval, it paged him at the residence of Agape, his wife.

“Damn thee, Troubot, canst thou not wait?” Bane responded irritably. “I be romancing my love at the moment.” There were no secrets from this machine; it did not tell.

“Your love must be delayed a moment,” the machine responded. “Citizen Purple requires the latest pattern. You forgot to post your survey report, as usual.”

“Thou impertinent golem! It be a full month I have suffered the temptations o’ the evil female Tania, longing always for mine own female. I be near to bursting!”

“I have no sympathy. Make your report.”

“Nay! This be more urgent!”

But Agape interceded, managing to control her mirth. “Make your report, my love. We don’t want to set Purple off.”

“The merry hell with Purple! He be no better than his other self in Phaze, and that be too low to fathorn with a magic measuring rod! I have a better subject to fathorn.”

Agape cocked her head at him. “And just what were these temptations Tania worked on you, that got you so much more lusty than you ever are with me?”

“Needs must I do that report for Purple,” he said quickly.

“Because her other self here in Proton is just like her, and she seems much smitten with Mach, and so also perhaps with you. If you really believe she can offer you more—”

“I be on my way!” he cried, leaping up despite his evident state of readiness for their liaison. Agape smiled; she knew how to manage him.

So, grudgingly, Bane listed the information gleaned during the last week of his stay in Phaze. This consisted of routine statistics about Packs checked and wolf pups shifted between Packs. Such reports had been made throughout the four-year search, as the party of Bane/Mach, Fleta and Tania methodically canvassed human villages, unicorn Herds, vampire Flocks and other groups, narrowing down the remaining hid ing places for the child Flach.

“Thank you. Bane,” Troubot said as he concluded. “Now you may return to your prior endeavor. I note however that your state of readiness has diminished; do you need any assistance?”

Bane had to laugh. “None thou couldst provide, rovot! Go about thy business, and bother me not again this hour.” Troubot did not reply; it had been given a direct command, so obeyed it. However, within its frame of service it had fair latitude for discretion, and would indeed bother Bane again if it came across news it knew he desired immediately. It addressed each client in the manner specified by that client; with some it was always serious, and with others, such as Bane, it bantered. Living folk soon became bored with pure business, so Troubot embellished its business just enough to provide some variety.

This was of course well within the capabilities of a self willed machine. Indeed, it could be difficult at times to tell whether one was dealing with a machine or a living person. Those on Troubot’s net had come to depend on it increasingly for small services, and some even, in a manner, liked the machine for its personality.

No one, however, suspected it of being anything other than a robot. This was its victory—because it was not precisely a machine. It had come into existence in its present role four years before, just before the child Nepe had disappeared. The records showed that it had been manufactured, educated and tested, but had proved to be out of tolerance for the purpose for which it had been crafted, so that it had been rejected.

Because it was a self-willed machine, it begged indulgence: to be retrained rather than recycled, so that it would not lose its present consciousness. This appeal had been rejected; it was not a humanoid machine, so lacked serf status, and had no right to its present existence.

Troubot had fled this judgment. It had shown up at the residence of Citizen White and begged sanctuary. “Sanctuary—for a machineT’ the Citizen had asked derisively.

“I will give good service!” Troubot said. “Train me in whatever you will, and I will serve loyally. Only keep me from being scrapped and recycled!”