Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

On the second day, approaching the White Mountains, trouble came. Geysers of hot gas erupted from the snow, appearing randomly. One formed near a guard, and the demon had barely time to scream before he melted.

“O my love, our geyser enemy be striking!” Icy cried, terrified. “We must away, ‘fore it destroy us all!”

But already the gas vents were behind them; there was no sure way out. Flach, after his association with the snow demons, well appreciated the horror of this threat. Heat was their deadliest enemy. The icedogs were whimpering and milling about, seeking comfort close to the sledge. But he didn’t know how to stop the gas. Had he known about this threat in advance, he could have devised a suitable spell to counter it, but now he couldn’t think of anything.

The Black Adept skied up on his black-line skis. “Do thou do it now!” he called to Flach.

Flach realized that he was referring to the transformation Green had spoken of. He sang his spell: “In co’er o’ fog, exchange with dog.”

Vapor appeared, hiding him. Suddenly he was in the form of one of the icedogs—and the dog was in the form of the man Flach had appeared to be. The dog was bound by the form, unable to leave the sledge—but it was a good place to be, next to Icy.

Then the green fireball sailed up and exploded. Light blinded them all. But in a moment, as Flach and the demons and dogs blinked back their sight, the hot gas vents were gone. Green, the Adept of fire, had taken charge and suppressed them.

“Go on through!” the Black Adept called. “Before the jets resume!”

Icy called to the milling dogs, and they re-formed their lines and forged forward. Flach was one of the loose dogs, running beside the sledge. He saw Icy speak to the man-image beside her, then her surprise as she realized that something had changed, for the image barked in response.

Icy, absolutely no dummy, glanced across at Flach. He nodded his head. She nodded hers, catching on. She pursed her lips in a farewell kiss. Then she turned back to the figure on the sledge, treating it as a companion, while Flach ranged outward as if searching for new threats to guard against. He was glad she understood; with two other Adepts along, and an ambush awaiting them, she knew that he had to hide again. Perhaps he had been foolish to let her know about his change of form, but he thought she would help cover for him, and he didn’t want her believing that he was captured with the others. It was his hope that beneath her humor and games she really did care for him a little. That hope would sustain him for a long time.

The group went to the White Mountains—and the ambush was sprung. Icy had just directed the dogs to skirt a bank of fog, because she did not trust fog in this cold. It might be natural ice-fog, or it might be more hot venting. But before they could clear it, it abruptly expanded, and armed men stepped out of it, forming a semicircle around the sledge. This might be the realm of magic, and the demons might be made of ice, but they knew immediately that they were helpless before this enemy. The men were armed with flame-throwers, the most deadly mundane weapon here.

The Purple Adept stepped out of the fog. “We have tracked you three, and now have you. An any resist, we shall torch the snow demons here and take him anyway; we have set a spell to snare any who try to use magic to flee. What shall it be?”

“Thinkst to employ my specialty ‘gainst me?” the Green Adept said scornfully. “I can douse those flames, or turn them against thee.”

“An thou dost, thy family pay,” Purple said evenly. “And thine, Junior Adept,” he added, looking at the figure beside Icy. “We have all in tow.” He looked at the Black Adept. “And we can cut thy line: a Hectare missile be oriented on thy castle. But the Hectare be indifferent, and will harm none not who resist them not.”

“Thou dost come too late,” Black said. “We have planted the Magic Bomb where none can retrieve it.”

“About that we shall see,” Purple said. “Now, submit yourselves to Hectare power, and it be done.”

Green shrugged. “Methinks this be not the end o’ this.” But the two Adepts went with Purple. Now a Hectare saucer-ship came into view within the fog. This trap had been thorough!

When the two of them, and the man-figure beside Icy, stood with Purple, the snow demons were freed. “Go, maid o’ ice, and tell thy folk to associate not again with enemies o’ the power that be,” Purple cried.

The harnessed dogs scrambled away, hauling the sledge, and the loose ones ranged beyond them, resuming their guard duty. Flach knew he had escaped; by the time Purple discovered his error, it would be too late to do anything about it. He was just one dog, coming into the mountains where thousands were, and no snow demon would betray him.

He hoped Icy did well in her quest for a suitable match. He rather thought she would, now.

9 - Play

The Brown Adept knew it was further folly, but she was quite taken with Tsetse. The woman was beautiful and obliging, and made a perfect servant and companion. Perfect except for the fact that she was a creature of Citizen Purple’s, his former mistress and surely still his spy. It would be her job to watch Brown and report on any deviance. So she could not be trusted.

Yet what did it matter? Purple had finally fathomed Brown’s secret, and required her cooperation with the Hectare invaders on pain of the revelation of that shame. His cynical ploy of assigning a woman who had been the mistress of both a man and a woman demonstrated his complete contempt for Brown. He was happy to facilitate her shame, binding her yet more closely to his fell cause. Brown understood this, but was helpless against it.

Tsetse herself was innocent, being genuinely relieved to have a compatible assignment instead of whatever other horror Purple might have visited on her. She wanted very much to stay here at the Brown Demesnes, and eagerly did anything Brown asked. There really wasn’t much that needed doing, other than going into Proton to check the affairs of Citizen Brown, who of course wasn’t a Citizen any more. She much preferred the isolation of the wooden castle. So Tsetse’s availability for that was nice. If she reported to Purple at the same time, what of it? Brown had never been under any illusion on that score.

But Tsetse as a companion was a temptation it was hard to resist. Tsetse knew the ways of love with either sex, but preferred female. She had made it clear that such a thing would be no sacrifice at all. What was Brown to do?

For days she had stewed over this question, appreciating the horrific nicety of the trap Purple had set for her. If she got friendly with Tsetse, then Tsetse would become a hostage in a way that Brown could not. One Adept could not truly hurt another by magic; some inherent magic in the position of Adept seemed to nullify their efforts against each other. Brown had kept Purple and Tan prisoner, but had not tried to hurt them; now Purple had reversed the ploy, and was making no direct move against her. Of course the Hectare could have her killed, but it was already evident that they preferred to use native talent when they could, and that Purple had promised them to obtain her cooperation. So Purple was working on her—and if she made it too plain that he was getting nowhere, then the Hectare might do it their way.

Brown did not want to die, but neither did she want to betray her friends. She did not know which way she would go, if put to a straight choice between those alternatives. She could only hope it would not come to that. But that hope had never been great, and was diminishing as she saw how methodically the Hectare were consolidating their hold on the planet. Already all but five Adepts were captive, and the hunt was on for those. Clef they would not catch, but the others...