Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

Tsetse followed her obediently. They went out to the waiting airplane.

“You can keep your clothing. Brown, but she’s a serf,” Purple reminded her as he climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Remove thy apparel,” Brown told Tsetse. “Thou canst have it back when we return.”

The woman struggled out of her gown, in the confines of the plane. Brown helped her. She still seemed completely real, and even her struggle to get out of the robe was authentic. Her breasts shook and her hair got disordered. But when Brown’s hand touched her body, she found that it was a good deal more solid than it looked.

Illusion! That was the secret! The other person was larger, but looked the same. There should be no problem as long as no one actually touched her.

Purple was taxiing around, getting aligned for the takeoff. By the time Tsetse was bare, the plane had gotten up speed. Purple, concentrating on his piloting, had paid no attention to Tsetse. That was just as well, since he would have caught on instantly had he touched her. He had after all had an affair with her. This remained chancy business!

Soon they reached the Hardom dome, and landed. A Citizen transport was waiting for them. They entered the chamber, and it moved into the hidden transport network of the city.

Purple touched a console. “Replay my engagement to play a game with the Hectare,” he snapped.

A wall became a screen. It was as if they were looking through a picture window to a larger room. There was Citizen Purple, exactly as now, speaking from the screen of a phone. “I crave the honor of engaging my Hectare supervisor in a game,” the figure said politely. “I feel this would benefit our mutual understanding. Of course there is no obligation, if you have other business, and I apologize for intruding on your time.”

That was it. The inset screen clock showed that this call had been made just about the time Purple was arriving at the Brown Demesnes. It was an obvious frame—to those who knew what he had actually been doing.

Brown, true to her agreement, said what she could. “Someone somehow emulated thee, Purple. But that was when thou wast talking with me, as I will attest. If thou dost explain to the Hectare, maybe—“

“Too late for that. Once the Hectare accepted the challenge, that was that. I’m hoist. But once I catch the perpetrator...”

“Methinks only Mach could do it.”

“The tech for the call, yes, Mach/Bane,” he agreed, pronouncing the names as if they were one name, appropriately. “But the emulation, that would be Flach/Nepe. I’ve tangled with that brat before, and she’s more dangerous than any of the rest. I told the Hectare, nail her first, but they didn’t understand. Now she’s getting me back.” He glanced at Brown. “I know you’re on the other side, but this need be no secret. I’ve got a healthy respect for that one, and if I don’t kill her, she’ll kill me. But you have made a deal, and you will not allow her to attack me through you.”

“I made the deal with thee,” Brown agreed. “But that extends not to betraying those who support Phaze.”

“Don’t quibble, woman. If you know where the brat is hiding, you won’t tell me. But if you know the brat is about to do me harm, you will protect me from it. She shall not use you to harm me.”

Brown realized that Nepe had set up the bogus challenge to the Hectare before approaching Brown. In fact, she had probably recorded it, and then her father had sent it at the critical moment. Nepe was using Brown to fight the invaders in some devious way, not to harm Purple directly. But if Purple lost the game, he would be harmed, and Brown would have some share of blame for that, because she was cooperating with Nepe. It was a devious situation, ethically, but as she saw it, she had to make sure that Purple won the game. “Aye.”

“I am sure you have had contact with her,” Purple continued. “Your castle is being watched, but of course she can get around that. It will be thoroughly searched during your absence. But as long as you honor the deal, no harm will come to you. Your chances of inadvertently betraying her are as good as they are of helping her. I figure that balances it out.”

“Aye.” She was developing a grudging respect for Purple. He was an unscrupulous and personally loathsome person, but he had made it possible for her to retain her loyalty and lifestyle while helping him. It was a more generous deal than she might have expected. She knew that Nepe understood that no direct attack on Purple could be tolerated now, however tempting it might be; if such a thing occurred. Brown would be obliged to betray Nepe to the enemy. Perhaps Purple, whose mind was as devious as any, was hoping for that.

The transporter stopped, and the door opened. They were at the Game Annex, about fifteen minutes early.

“Where is the game studio?” Purple demanded of the nearest serf.

“I will lead you there, sir,” the serf replied. “You are expected.”

“My second and her maid are also to be admitted.”

“The Hectare has arranged it, sir,” the man said as he led the way.

Indeed, the Hectare was ready, It stood within the studio, huge and grotesque, its myriad eye facets glinting. Brown did her best to mask the revulsion she felt at its proximity.

“Sir, this is my second, the Brown Adept, and her maid Tsetse,” Purple said.

A man stepped forward. It was Citizen Tan, wearing his tentacle-cap. “I am the Hectare’s second,” he said. “What the hell are you doing, Purple?”

“A frame,” Purple said darkly. “We need better security on the phone system.”

Tan nodded. “The brat—and maybe serf Lysander, who has computer circuitry skills. I want that one myself.” Then he turned to the Hectare. “Sir, Purple is ready when you are.”

The Hectare walked to the console, in its fashion: dozens of fat little tentacles or feet or caterpillar treads buzzed it along quite adequately. There was a chirrup, and the translator spoke. “We shall indulge the Game Computer.”

“Of course, sir,” Purple said, moving to take his place on the other side of the console. He did not look easy, for it was known that the computer could be pixyish in its selections, and if it had a grudge against Purple, he would be finished. Brown hoped it had no grudge.

The Hectare extended a tentacle and touched its side of the console. Then Purple nodded to Brown. “As my second, how would you recommend I play?”

“Thou canst consult openly?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, the Hectare permits this. It can overhear, of course. What shall I select?”

“But the Game Computer won’t give you what you select!” she said, shifting into her Proton self, because that one was better conversant with the rules of technology.

“It might. So I had better choose well.”

She saw that he had the numbers: Physical, Mental, Chance, and Art. “Avoid Chance,” she said. “And I think avoid Physical, because it might steer it into a contest where tentacles are a decisive advantage. As for Mental—that too is chancy. So it should be Art, where the human interpretations probably still prevail.”

Words flowed across the screen. SO FATSO WANTS TO WAX ARTISTIC, AND THE BEM WANTS TO PLAY WITH MACHINES. VERY WELL, THIS TIME I SHALL HUMOR BOTH. YOU SHALL BECOME ARTISTS OF THE STAGE, WITH HU-MANOID ROBOTS AS ACTORS. SINCE YOU BOTH ARE ARTISTIC CRETINS, I WILL MAKE THE SETTING CRETAN. BEHOLD: THE PALACE OF KNOSSOS, 1550 B.C., WHOSE LABYRINTHINE PASSAGES AND CHAMBERS ARE AN EXCELLENT SETTING FOR A MYSTERY.

The chamber darkened and expanded, assuming the likeness of a great stone castle or palace whose hard walls were brightly painted and whose massive columns were both cylindrical and block-shaped. The pillars were slightly larger at the top than the bottom, enhancing the seeming scale of the building. The thing was a monument to the grandeur of a bygone age that stunned Brown. She knew that much of this representation had to be holographic, for there was no room within the Game Annex for it, but still it was awesome.