Piers Anthony: Phaze Doubt

Sheen smiled. Lysander, taking his cue from her, smiled also.

“Yes, sir,” Alyc said, abashed. “I thought maybe—“

“This sounds like a job for my granddaughter,” Blue said.

“Yes, sir.”

“You can spare him for an hour?”

“Yes, sir!” Alyc said, happy.

“But you know he will never be the same, once Nepe finishes with him.”

“Don’t tease her, dear,” Sheen reproved Blue. He smiled. It was obvious that Alyc was quite satisfied to be teased by this man.

The Citizen nodded to Agnes, who left the room. Then they settled down to their beverage, which turned out to be pseudo-wine. This had the flavor and texture of something vintage, but no alcoholic content. Lysander was interested to see that Sheen drank it too. She was the perfect woman, machine though she was.

Lysander saw a problem on the horizon. These were likeable people, and he liked them. That was apt to be awkward, when he had to act.

2 - Magic

The Citizen’s granddaughter Nepe showed up before they finished their wine. She was a little girl, nine years old, naked in the serf manner, with flouncing brown hair covering her ears. She dashed up to Citizen Blue for a hug, her hair flying out with the vigor of her motion, then spied the visitor and abruptly turned formal. “You summoned me, sir?”

“I have hired Lysander,” Blue said, indicating him. “He does not believe in magic.”

Slowly the girl’s head turned toward Lysander. She smiled impishly. “We shall have to do something about that,” she said, with an odd certainty.

“Go with Nepe,” the Citizen said to Lysander.

Without a word, Lysander got up and approached the child. She extended her hand, and he reached out to take it—and paused, startled.

Her arm terminated in a mass of squirming tentacles.

Oh—she was a shape changer. There were several galactic species that could change their forms, and some of them were surely represented here. If this was the nature of the “magic,” he need have little concern.

He took the “hand” without flinching, knowing that it was someone’s notion of a joke or an initiation.

Suddenly they were standing in a field. Pleasant gray clouds drifted overhead, and sunlight brightened the waving grass. There was no evidence that the rays of the sun were bent at right angles; they seemed to descend from almost overhead, this being midday. But this amounted to an optical illusion. Just as a person saw the reflection in a mirror as an extension of the local scene beyond the mirror, he saw the sun where it seemed to belong. It was actually at right angles, to the south.

“You hungry, Lysander?” the child inquired in a different voice.

He glanced sharply down. He was now holding the hand of a boy! A tousle-headed lad clothed in black jacket and trousers, with blue socks and sneakers.

Oh: the girl had shape-changed again, forming her body surface into the appearance of clothing and quite possibly the semblance of masculinity beneath it. Still no magic. However, the abrupt change of scene still mystified him. How had that effect been arranged?

But he had to play the game. He affected unconcern. “Yes, actually. Is there suitable food here?”

“There’s a melon tree not far off, but it’s guarded by a dragon.”

“I’d like to see this dragon,” Lysander said. Indeed, he was curious about what the child would come up with next. He had to concede that this was an excellent demonstration.

“I’ll give you a ride. But you’d better put on some clothing. Outside the domes it’s Phaze now.”

Suddenly Lysander was clothed. Shirt, trousers, shoes—everything. It had happened like magic.

Uh-oh. The child was still trying to trick him.

There was a musical honk. He looked—and saw a horse standing beside him. No, not a horse—a unicorn, with a long spiraled horn set in its forehead. Where was Nepe?

The animal honked again, gesturing with its horn toward its own back. Actually it was male, and the honk came from the horn itself, sounding like a woodwind instrument. If this was a simulation, as seemed to be the case, it was a clever one!

Well, he would continue to play along. He stepped toward the animal. “I’m not much at riding,” he said. He had ridden horses, as it was an aspect of his gameplaying practice, but those had been tame and trained. He feared this creature was neither. He was also used to a saddle; bareback was more of a challenge. But if that was the way it was, so be it.

He grabbed a handful of mane and jumped, swinging a leg up and over. He half expected to get dumped as the animal bolted, but it remained still. Only when he was securely mounted did it move, and then carefully, so that he had no trouble keeping his seat.

The unicorn picked up speed, going into a trot. Then it played music through its horn: an actual melody. Lysander hung on and listened, amazed. He was unable to ascertain how such special effects were being accomplished.

They approached a grove of trees. Sure enough, one of them bore huge fruit that looked like melons—and there was a monstrous winged serpent snoozing around its base. The creature woke and hissed at them, sending up a cloud of smoke.

Lysander realized that such a creature could readily be mocked up with plastic and pseudoflesh, but the heat of its breath would still be dangerous. “Maybe I’ll pass on the melon,” he said.

The unicorn shrugged. Then it spouted huge wings, pumped them, leaped, and became airborne. Lysander clung to its back, alarmed. The ground was now receding at an astonishing rate. Magic? It was getting difficult to doubt!

They approached a purple mountain. The thing was literally purple, even at close range; the foliage of the trees had a purplish cast. He had seen a map of Proton on which was marked PURPLE MOUNTAINS, but he had assumed that was figurative.

A gross bird launched from a tall tree. It flew up to intercept the flying unicorn. Lysander tried to judge what kind it was. He knew most of the Earth types that would have been brought here with the human colonists, but this ungainly thing with the huge head and dangling tresses—

It was a harpy! A mythical creature, part vulture and part human woman. No such creature existed, and even if it did, it would hardly be able to fly, any more than the unicorn could. The dynamics were all wrong.

Magic? It was a good show!

“Sheer off! Sheer off, imbecile!” the harpy screeched. “Think I want a ‘corn in my tree?”

The unicorn sounded a brief melody. The harpy listened. “Oh. Sorry, Flach,” she screeched. “I should have recognized thee. I were looking at the handsome man. Well, land at the foot and we’ll talk.”

The unicorn descended, and in a moment came to a four-point landing at the base of the tree. Lysander dismounted, and the boy reappeared. Then the harpy came down and landed somewhat clumsily on the ground beside them. Her face and breasts were young, but her wings and talons destroyed any attractiveness she might have had for a human man.

Then she changed form, and became a young woman, tall and slender. Her face was the same, and probably her bosom, which was now covered by a feathery gown. “Well, what brings you here, Flach?” she inquired.

“This be Lysander,” the boy said. “He believes not in magic.”

The woman eyed him speculatively. “New to this planet?” she inquired.

Lysander nodded. “I arrived about an hour ago. I admit to being confused.”

“Hi. I’m Echo. My better half is Oche.” She extended her hand.

He took it. “I don’t wish to be impolite, but it has been my understanding that there is no such thing as magic.”

She nodded. “So Flach is showing you. That figures.”