Piers Anthony - Unicorn Point

“Aye,” Forel said, awed.

“Then comest thou with me now, and mark the spot o’ this bubble. Naught can pass in or out o’ it other than we two, and none will interfere with thee.” The Adept stepped out as if the wall of the globe had no substance, and Forel followed. They were on the green turf surrounding the palace, and other conveyances or creatures formed a wide circle around it. There were carts and sledges and even a sailing boat anchored in air, and horses and huge birds and a massive wooden golem, and next to the globe was a formidable flying dragon.

Translucent swept toward the palace entrance without regard for the sights, but Forel, following, was dazed. He had never imagined such a setting, and never thought he would ever be a part of such magical dealings. He was nervous, too, despite the Adept’s reassurance; the dragon’s head did not turn, but its eyes were tracking him.

The palace had not seemed large from a distance, but it loomed impressively as they approached the main entrance. Inside, it seemed larger yet: towering ceilings for each huge chamber, and elaborate arches between the halls. There were carpets on the walls that showed murals of great events of the past, exciting an intense curiosity in him. He, as a young wolf from a distant Pack, knew little of such history; until now he had not missed it, but he knew that he could never rest again until he fathomed the events of the murals. They came to a tremendous cathedral-like chamber, and here were the assorted parties assembled. Forel recognized the several Adepts immediately, though he had never before seen them: Blue, who was Barel’s grandsire, in his blue cloak, looking no bigger than a child, and who used singsong rhymes to work his enchantments. Red, who was actually a troll, grotesque, but perhaps the most powerful of all, because he possessed the Book of Magic; he made amulets of singular potency. Brown, a woman with brown hair, of indeterminate age, mistress of the wooden golems. These three had held off the force of the Adverse Adepts for a score years, because of the strength and versatility of their magic. Now they were joined by Barel’s sire, the rovot, who had become the strongest of all because of his studies in the Book of Magic. On the other side of the chamber were gathered the eight Adverse Adepts, in their color-coded robes. White, also called the Snow Queen, with her glyphs. Yellow, the bane of animals. Black the line. Orange, of the plants. Green fire. Sinister young Tan, with the Evil Eye. Purple, who lived in the Purple Mountains and controlled the forces of geology. And Translucent, of course, in his watery robe, controlling the forces of water.

Yet, for all their horrible power, they looked mostly like ordinary human folk, a number of them getting old and fat. How deceptive appearances could be!

Between the two groups of Adepts were the animals: a unicorn, bat and wolf—it was Kurrelgyre, his own Pack leader!—near Stile’s group, and an assortment of monsters closer to the Adverse group. There was a hulking ogre, a dragon, a monstrous roc bird, a goblin, a troll, a harpy, a human form with the head of a snake, and a giant man. The assorted Little Folk were with Stile, while the assorted de mons were with the other side. Perhaps there were others, but he couldn’t look; he was being summoned. “The wolf-boy be our runner to Flach,” the Translucent Adept was saying. “Pup, tell where Flach be.”

“He—he be in thy water globe,” Forel stammered.

“Ill-treated?”

“Nay.”

Kurrelgyre shifted to wolf form. “Change, Forel,” he said in growl-talk.

Forel looked at Translucent. “He tells me to—”

“Aye, change,” the Adept said.

Forel assumed wolf form. “It be true,” he told the Pack Leader. “We be on the isle where the mare was.”

“Come here,” Kurrelgyre growled.

Forel looked at Translucent, but the man made no objection. He walked slowly to the grown wolf. They sniffed noses. Then Kurrelgyre turned away, dismissing him. The old wolf resumed man form. “There be no geis on him,” he said. “He tells truth.”

The Blue Adept nodded. “We accept him as runner.” He glanced at the rovot. “Now if thou willst tell o’ the decision in Proton—”

“Pup!” Translucent cut in. “Go get it from Flach: the decision in Proton-frame.”

Forel hurried out, remaining in wolf form. He understood what was wanted: what he learned from Barel should match what the rovot reported. That way both sides knew there was no deception.

Outside, he broke into a lope, heading straight for the water globe. But now the dragon moved to intercept him. He swerved to avoid it, but it moved to cut him off again. It knew his destination, having watched before; it knew he was the same creature it had eyed.

Forel stopped, uncertain what to do. He had to get to the globe, to talk with Forel, but the dragon intended to eat him instead. He saw no way to pass; those huge teeth would snap him up immediately. His only defense was to stay beyond range; he could avoid the dragon by remaining close to the palace, because the dragon knew it would get in trouble if it were there. But how could he carry out his mission? Then someone emerged from the palace; Forel almost bumped into him. It was the Black Adept! Immediately the dragon lay down, pretending to sleep. Could Forel take advantage of this respite to get through? But how would he get back, if the Adept were no longer there to make the dragon behave?

But while be hesitated, the Adept did not. “Dost not grasp the meaning o’ truce, creature?” he exclaimed. Forel cowered, expecting yet more trouble. But the Adept’s words were directed at the dragon. He raised his arm, his finger pointing, and suddenly a black line shot from it. The line flew to the dragon, and whipped around the reptile’s form. Now the dragon struggled, discarding the pretense of sleep, but it was no use. The line wrapped around and around, until the dragon was confined so closely that it could barely breathe.

The Adept turned and re-entered the palace. Now Forel saw that the line remained attached to him; it trailed wherever he went. Strange man!

But his power was not to be doubted. The dragon lay trussed and whimpering; he was no longer any threat. Evidently it was the Black Adept’s steed; its misbehavior had been an embarrassment, so the Adept had disciplined it most effectively. No creature of any sense ever crossed any Adept! Forel ran to the globe and plunged in, changing to boy form. Barel was there, smiling. “I could come out not,” he said. “The globe be impervious to me. So I told Nepe, and she told Bane, and he told Mach.”

“And the rovot told the Black Adept!” Forel cried, under standing. “Methought it coincidence he came out!”

“Ne’er so, here,” Barel said, satisfied. “Black cared naught for thee, but aught for his pride. E’en those without honor have pride.”

“I came to ask thee the nature o’ the decision in Proton frame, that they may verify what thy sire tells.”

“Aye, I know it already: they be set to have three Games, and who wins two, wins all. An Citizen Blue wins, Nepe be returned and the Contrary Citizens give up. An the Citizens win, they get the Oracle, and my sire and Bane returned to work for them. It be all or nothing, decided by the Games.”

“They play mere games?” Forel asked, amazed.

“They be important Games,” Barel said, smiling. “Tell the Adepts; they will understand.”

Dubiously, Forel changed back to wolf form and left the globe. He was sure that Barel was not teasing him—but was someone else? Would he be laughed out of the palace when he reported that they were playing games in Proton-frame? By the time he re-entered the main chamber, the rovot’s report was done. The Adepts were waiting for him. Abashed, Forel slunk forward, tail held low.