Piers Anthony - Phaze Doubt

The Hectare stepped into the EARTH box, hefted its marker on a tentacle, and flipped it into Block One. It lifted its left foot-tentacle-tread, and hopped lumberingly into the box. It extended the tentacle to pick up the marker. Then it hopped back to EARTH, not turning; to it, any direction was forward.

Nepe quickly saw that the creature had unerring aim, but was relatively clumsy on the hopping. She, in contrast, might miss her throw but never her hop. It seemed to be an even game, so far.

The Hectare proceeded smoothly through Block Five, then lost coordination as it tried to put down both treads on the way to Block Six. It had gotten balanced for one, and the attempt to put down two, then return to one was too much; it recovered balance, but one tread nudged over a line.

The Hectare left the marker, stepped out of the diagram, and waited for Nepe to resume her turn. She had not challenged the error; it had acted on its own. She had to respect the creature for being a fair player. Lysander had said that honor was a BEM specialty; evidently it was.

She went quickly through the opening squares, and concentrated intently as she reached the Nine. This time her marker landed in the center. She hopped to it, picked it up, and returned to EARTH.

“This is just the first and easiest course,” she said. “Now I must toss my marker into HEAVEN, go there, and use it as the base to play the squares in reverse order.”

She tossed her marker, having less trouble with the larger square. Then she hopped to it. When she was in HEAVEN, she picked up her marker and tossed it into Block Nine. She continued to play in that direction.

She made it through, and started on the next sequence: shoving the marker with her lifted foot as she hopped from EARTH to HEAVEN, and from HEAVEN to EARTH.

“Next I have to balance it on one foot,” she said. “If I make it through this, the next is balancing it on my head.”

But she didn’t make it through. She lost it as she picked it up on Block Six and tried to put both feet down on Four and Five; the shock of the contact with the ground jogged it loose. “I’ll have to pick up at Block Six next time,” she said with regret. “You have to do it right, all the way, before you can go on.”

Now the monster took its turn. Starting on the same Block Six, but with a simpler exercise, it proceeded on through the course. It had learned how to hop better, from practice or from watching her, and was much smoother now.

Indeed, it went on past her, having no trouble shoving the marker while hopping. It also was able to balance it on the lifted fool. The rate at which the creature gained skill was disheartening; Nepe was very much afraid she was going to lose. She would not be able to cry foul, because it was her choice of games and the Hectare was playing fair. She would have to betray her society, and perhaps the last hope of saving her world from destructive exploitation.

The Hectare proceeded to the next course. It set the marker on the top of its head. But this was awkward, because its head was composed entirely of eye facets. It evidently did not like having something sitting directly on an eye, understandably, but the facet was glassy, and the marker did not seem to hurt it. However, that same glassiness posed a problem. When the Hectare hopped, the marker slid, and only with a special effort did the creature retain it. And hopped into a line. Its turn had ended.

Now Nepe’s hope revived. She played on from the Six, and with inspired balancing got through. Then she started on the head. Her eyes were not on top, so that did not disturb her; indeed, her wild hair helped hold the marker in place.

To a degree. The Six Block caught her again, because she had to put both feet down on Four and Five, and it changed her orientation. The marker slid off.

The Hectare resumed at Block One, with its marker on its eye facet. It hopped—but again the marker slid off. It was evident that when the monster’s sight was obstructed, in however minor a manner, its equilibrium suffered, ruining its concentration.

Nepe stepped up to take her turn. Now she had a real chance, for the monster had not passed her by in its turn!

The Hectare stepped forward, barring her play.

“But it’s my turn!” Nepe protested.

The Hectare picked up its marker and dropped it at her feet. Then it walked away from the diagram—and the West Pole.

“It’s conceding!” Alien cried. “Thou didst win, Nepe!”

Nepe, amazed, realized that it was so. The Hectare had realized that she had a decisive advantage at this stage. Only it knew how difficult this course was for it. Rather than continue to flub turns, it had yielded the victory.

“It’s true?” Nepe asked the Hectare, who had taken a stance a short distance apart from them. “You will let us go to the Pole, and you won’t interfere or report us?”

The tentacle extended and turned up. The BEM was one good loser!

“Then I want you to know that you played a good game, and I thought I was going to lose,” she said. “I didn’t know you would have that trouble with the marker on your head. I would have served you if I had lost, and I am glad to see that you are honoring our deal too.”

The tentacle tilted up. That was all. The Hectare watched, but made no other motion.

Nepe was coming to respect the BEMs. They did have honor, as well as intelligence and skill.

“Come on, then!” she exclaimed to her companions. “We’re in time after all.”

They approached the spot. It was marked by an X on the ground. That was all.

“This be where the curtains crossed, in the old days,” Alien said. “My sire spoke o’ it.”

“But there are no curtains now,” Nepe said. “Everything’s merged, so there’s no line of separation. But it has to be important some way.”

She squatted, tracing her fingers through the dirt. The X was actually a ridge, not a mere marking. She took hold of the ridge and pulled.

It came up. The others jumped in to help, and in a moment the lid covering a hole was all the way over and back. Below was darkness.

“But methinks the BEM could have done this,” Sirel said. “Why did it but guard?”

“Because time changes inside,” Nepe said. “It may be slower in there, which makes it dangerous for anyone who doesn’t belong.” She stared down into the mysterious region. “And maybe for us too. But either we have to go in—or just drop the seed in.”

“Alien and I would have been asked to come with thee not,” Sirel said, “an there be not reason. Needs must we go in, come what may.”

That seemed to be the case. “Then we shall do it,” Nepe said. She put her foot to the hole—and found a barrier. It would not go down.

“But I think not in this form,” she said after a moment. “Maybe it is barred to human beings and aliens.”

Sirel assumed her bitch form. She extended a paw, and it passed the barrier without impediment.

Alien became the bat, and flew down into the hole. He neither slowed nor fell; indeed, he bounced back out so suddenly Nepe was surprised. He resumed human form. “It be fast in there!” he exclaimed. “When I went down, it were the two of you who froze, responding to me not.”

“Fast!” Nepe exclaimed. “That may explain much!”

“It be not deep,” Alien continued. “I fathomed it with mine ears, and it turns below and makes a slanting tunnel a wolf could walk.”

She changed her structure, forcing the Hectare seed out. She held it in her hand, protecting it. Then she turned the body over to Flach. He would have to take it from here, for only magic could relate properly to this.

12 - Weva

Flach held the seed. “Methinks I be best off in a bat form, with Alien,” he said. “Canst carry the seed, Sirel?”