Piers Anthony - Unicorn Point

“But watch out that thou dost not get a boner!” Forel warned. Nepe wasn’t sure what he meant, but a moment’s reflection clarified the reference. It would be very awkward, perhaps even a fatal complication (one that would give her away), if her penis were to change its shape while the clay was on, and break out of its confinement. She understood that this could happen involuntarily; she hoped that this would not occur in the next few hours.

By the time the job was done, and the fish-clay had solidified, they were well into night. They were tired, but could not afford to rest. The escape had to be accomplished by dawn, because sunlight would dissipate the pollution spell. They made hasty plans, then set out.

Forel went east, Terel went south, and Nepe and Sirelba went west. Since the Pack camp was north, they were fleeing it. They knew this would bring suspicion on them, but since they also knew that the Adepts were sure Flach was here, this made no difference.

They followed the major trails. There really wasn’t much choice, when they were in a hurry, because traveling by night was dangerous anywhere else. The trails were cleared, so that they could readily sniff and hear lurking predators, and they could travel much more swiftly on them. Their human bodies were ill adapted to hurry through uncharted brush, but competent enough for the trails.

They knew that all the wolves would be heading in to the Pack for the assembly required, by the Adepts. But the presence of the pollution fog would be signal enough of their attempt to escape. All the trails leading out from the origin of the cloud would be watched, probably by the Adept party, not trusting any other creatures to do the job. Three members, three escaping trails: one to each. The Robot Adept, whose travel magic would remain despite the fog, would take the others to two of the trails, and would guard the third himself.

It was in fact like a Proton Game, Nepe thought. She had to guess which trail was safest, and Flach’s father Mach had to guess which one Nepe would choose. The odds favored her: she had two chances in three to be on the trail that the robot did not check. Because Mach would know her; he was too clever to be deceived by her ruse. If he intercepted her, she was lost. But if one of the others intercepted her, she could escape. Flach had been a werewolf for four years, and had the werewolf look and smell; Fleta would hardly know him now, and Tania would know him only by description. In a pressure situation, one of those two was liable to make a mistake. The odds might be two to one in favor of such an error.

Nepe understood the dynamics of chance, because it was integral to the Proton Game. Two chances in three of getting a foolable interceptor; two chances in three of fooling that person. That figured to four or five ninths of a chance to get free, depending on the system. About even. The odds overall were not ideal, but they were a lot better than what otherwise offered. That was the best she could do for Flach. Now, as she hurried with Sirelba along the path, she contacted her other self. Flach! Are you ready to exchange back? Aye! Anytime! This frame mystifies me!

Stay alert. Once I win free, you must return, because you can change forms as I can not.

As dawn approached, the fog was thinning; she knew she had to complete her ploy before day took over, because it depended on the presence of the fog that fuzzed out the magic of the others. The sooner the better, for this confrontation!

Then, abruptly, it came: a cloaked figure stood athwart the path. Which one was it?

“You know what to do,” she said to Sirelba.

“Aye.”

They slowed as they approached the figure. It was Tania!

Nepe felt the thrill of incipient victory. Then Sirelba broke from the path, scrambling through the rough brush, heedless of the scratches. Tania turned to face her. Nepe felt the surge of magic as the Evil Eye manifested. Sirelba stumbled and fell.

“Nay!” Nepe cried, running toward Tania. “Spare him, Adept! I love him! We be promised first mates!” Tania walked toward the fallen figure.

Nepe pursued. “Take me instead. Adept! Whatever he has done, I will redeem! I beg thee!”

Tania turned and peered at Nepe. The woman’s eyes in the dusk of the night seemed to glow. Suddenly Nepe understood the power of those eyes; they were seeing right through her! Then the woman resumed her focus on Sirelba. She squatted beside the body and poked at the clothing. “Aye, this be the male, and dark,” she murmured. “This be he, at last.”

“Nay!” Nepe cried, and such was her animation in the tension of this role that she really was crying; tears were flowing. “He be nothing to thee! Oh, let him go, Adept!”

Sirelba stirred. “Get away from here, girl,” she rasped. “You will only antagonize her.”

“Good advice, bitch,” Tania said.

Nepe backed away. “Ne’er will I forget thee, my Promised!”

Then, feigning reluctance, she turned and walked on along the path. The final ploy had worked. She had gotten past! When she was safely out of sight, she thought to her other self again. Flach! Now exchange—and get far gone from here! They made their joint effort, and again Nepe felt the disorientation. Then she was back in her robotic body in Proton. She had done it! She had exchanged, and used her one spell, and her ability to act like what she was, a girl, and had sprung Flach from the trap! Meanwhile Flach had been secure here, unsuspected.

Suddenly she was very tired. She slept. Some time later Flach called: Nepe, our fathers be communicating now; we can talk.

Where are you? she asked joyfully.

With Phoebe Harpy. She be independent now, though her Flock aligns with the Adepts, and will betray me not. I be in harpy form. They will ne’er look for me here!

I’m so glad, Flach! But what of Sirelba? She decoyed for us—

I could check not directly, but Phoebe says Mach came and knew on the instant her nature, yet oddly showed no ire. They let her go unharmed. I be glad, for she—

A thrill of alarm ran through her. No ire? Flach, I fear—

Then he caught on. A trap for thee! 0, Nepe, if this be so—

Cease contact! she thought.

He cut off immediately. Now Nepe had to make a decision: should she sit tight, hoping the Adepts and Citizens had not used her contact with Flach to trace her, or should she make a break for it? She had several alternative hideouts; she could disappear as Troubot and assume a new and quite different form. But if they were closing in on her, she would not have time, and anyway, she did not want the real Troubot to take the brunt of their wrath. They might even be waiting for just such a break, to confirm her identity.

She and Flach had gone into hiding because they wanted to help Citizen Blue and the Adept Stile, rather than the Con trary Citizens and the Adverse Adepts. They had learned how to communicate with each other, but could not explain to their grandfathers how they did it. Their communication was more versatile than that of their fathers, because they did not have to overlap geographically in their frames. That ability would be invaluable to either side, but more so to Blue and Stile, because those two did not communicate at all. Blue believed that if the Oracle could analyze how Nepe did it, it could give the key to others—but if Grandpa Blue had taken Nepe to the Oracle, the Citizens would have snooped and learned everything. So they hadn’t risked it. But now that her ability was known, she had nothing to lose by going to the Oracle—except that the Citizens would never allow it, because it would help mainly Citizen Blue. What a complicated mess!

If only she had been able to remain hidden longer, until the grandfathers found some way to get her together with the Oracle secretly! Maybe, if she got through this without being discovered, that would happen.