Unicorn Point (18 page)

“The what?”

She realized that young werewolves would not be exposed to the technical terms of Proton technology. “What we feel is at the edge, and is weak; what is at the center is strong, and that is the pollution—the smoke and fog—that obscures magic. I learned this spell from the Oracle, who put it out on general information at the behest of Citizen Blue. That way I could learn it without giving away my hiding place. It seemed a pointless exercise at the time, and few people even noticed; Blue does crazy things every so often, like making public love in vats of green gelatin. I knew he hoped I would find use for it, and now I have. No magic net can spy on us now—not until the fog clears.”

Forel nodded, smiling. “What makes us cough, gives the Adepts a real illness!”

“Close enough. Now under this cover we must act. They will be checking each creature who seeks to leave this region.
 
I must be of a form they will not suspect.”

“But canst thou change forms as Bareisi could? He knew man, wolf, bat and ‘corn, and in secret worked on others he dared not assume lest he be discovered. Likewise he dared not do magic, though he be talented in it.”

“He worked on ogre, dragon and harpy forms,” she agreed. “And cloud magic. He thought to infiltrate the enemy ranks, where they would not suspect. But he knew that the net would catch him in the change, so he didn’t dare. But no, I can not change forms; my mother Agape was here once, and it took her a long time and much mischief to change forms. I know better than to try. The Adepts will check all creatures anyway, and know who is not natural. That was why Bareisi knew he was trapped.”

Sirelba had roused herself and become somewhat acclimatized to the choking environment. “Harpy form? But he be male!”

“Perhaps you natural form changers are confined to the same sex. We are not sure that holds for Adept form changers. Bareisi wanted to try the harpy form and see whether it was possible. Now that we have exchanged minds, I believe it is possible, for I am a female mind in his body. Only the natural body is fixed; the others can be adapted for size and appearance, and I think sex would be one of the options. But that is not the point: had he so changed, the net would have caught the flare of magic, and the Adepts would have known.”

“Mayhap,” Sirelba agreed, awed.

“Now, with the pollution spell, such form changes can not be accomplished. The enemy would have caught the flare of my spell, but its very nature quickly made that useless. The three of you must not try to resume your wolf forms; the spell would interfere, and you might get into serious trouble.
 
So we must change our forms another way.”

“Another way?” Terel asked, the last to rouse herself. Her eyes were streaming; the pollution was affecting her worse.
 

“Makeup. We need clay, or something similar. Something that can be molded, and will dry in place and keep its shape.”

“There be fish-nest lining in the nearby stream,” Forel said. “It be much like clay, and holds its shape, but ne’er dries out completely. It be flesh-colored. Would that do?”

“Excellent! We must go there immediately.”

They led her to the stream, uncertain what she had in mind.
 
The water was clear, and the pollution was less intense near it; Terel lay down beside it and found some relief.
 
“Now we must convert this body to female, and one of you girls to male,” Nepe said, undressing.
 
“Bitches,” Sirelba said.

“What?”

“We be bitches. Female wolves.”

“Oh. Yes. Do you see the nature of this ruse?”

“They will catch and hold the males, not the bitches!”

Sirelba exclaimed. “They will let these pass!”

“Yes. Unable to verify us magically, they will do it physically; Two males, two females—by the time they realize their error, I should be past their net.” She frowned. “But there may be danger. When they learn that they have been deceived—”

“A wolf lives by danger,” Forel said bravely, and the two bitches agreed. “We shall decoy them, and deceive them, and take the consequence. They can not be too cruel, for our Pack would react.”

“The hair!” Sirelba exclaimed. “Thy hair be dark, like mine; thou canst not pass for Terel.”

Nepe nodded. “Good point. You and I must exchange appearances.”

They went to it. They packed fish-nest lining about their crotches, masking their genitals. Nepe’s masculine appendage had to be folded down and covered, while Sirelba required an artificial appendage. Forel had great fun shaping it for her, to her embarrassment. Wolves were open about natural functions, but this reversal of roles was a new experience for the bitch.

“But watch out how thou pissest!” he said.
 

That made Nepe pause. “Can we make it possible? We may be many hours in these disguises. Something like that could ruin everything!”

They discussed it, and concluded that it was best to do it artfully. They poked a thin stick through the clay, and drew it out as the substance set. This left a channel, so that Sirelba would be able to urinate through it, carefully, if she had to.
 
They made a similar channel in Nepe’s clay, slanting from the tip of her penis to the appropriate site on the surface.
 

“But watch out that thou dost not get a boner!” Forel warned.
 
Nepe wasn’t sure what he meant, but a moment’s reflection clarified the reference. It would be very awkward, perhaps even a fatal complication (one that would give her away), if her penis were to change its shape while the clay was on, and break out of its confinement. She understood that this could happen involuntarily; she hoped that this would not occur in the next few hours.

By the time the job was done, and the fish-clay had solidified, they were well into night. They were tired, but could not afford to rest. The escape had to be accomplished by dawn, because sunlight would dissipate the pollution spell.
 
They made hasty plans, then set out.

Forel went east, Terel went south, and Nepe and Sirelba went west. Since the Pack camp was north, they were fleeing it. They knew this would bring suspicion on them, but since they also knew that the Adepts were sure Flach was here, this made no difference.

They followed the major trails. There really wasn’t much choice, when they were in a hurry, because traveling by night was dangerous anywhere else. The trails were cleared, so that they could readily sniff and hear lurking predators, and they could travel much more swiftly on them. Their human bodies were ill adapted to hurry through uncharted brush, but competent enough for the trails.

They knew that all the wolves would be heading in to the Pack for the assembly required, by the Adepts. But the presence of the pollution fog would be signal enough of their attempt to escape. All the trails leading out from the origin of the cloud would be watched, probably by the Adept party, not trusting any other creatures to do the job. Three members, three escaping trails: one to each. The Robot Adept, whose travel magic would remain despite the fog, would take the others to two of the trails, and would guard the third himself.

It was in fact like a Proton Game, Nepe thought. She had to guess which trail was safest, and Flach’s father Mach had to guess which one Nepe would choose. The odds favored her: she had two chances in three to be on the trail that the robot did not check. Because Mach would know her; he was too clever to be deceived by her ruse. If he intercepted her, she was lost. But if one of the others intercepted her, she could escape. Flach had been a werewolf for four years, and had the werewolf look and smell; Fleta would hardly know him now, and Tania would know him only by description. In a pressure situation, one of those two was liable to make a mistake. The odds might be two to one in favor of such an error.

Nepe understood the dynamics of chance, because it was integral to the Proton Game. Two chances in three of getting a foolable interceptor; two chances in three of fooling that person. That figured to four or five ninths of a chance to get free, depending on the system. About even. The odds overall were not ideal, but they were a lot better than what otherwise offered. That was the best she could do for Flach.
 
Now, as she hurried with Sirelba along the path, she contacted her other self. Flach! Are you ready to exchange back?
 
Aye! Anytime! This frame mystifies me!

Stay alert. Once I win free, you must return, because you can change forms as I can not.

As dawn approached, the fog was thinning; she knew she had to complete her ploy before day took over, because it depended on the presence of the fog that fuzzed out the magic of the others. The sooner the better, for this confrontation!

Then, abruptly, it came: a cloaked figure stood athwart the path. Which one was it?

“You know what to do,” she said to Sirelba.

“Aye.”

They slowed as they approached the figure. It was Tania!

Nepe felt the thrill of incipient victory.
 
Then Sirelba broke from the path, scrambling through the rough brush, heedless of the scratches. Tania turned to face her. Nepe felt the surge of magic as the Evil Eye manifested.
 
Sirelba stumbled and fell.

“Nay!” Nepe cried, running toward Tania. “Spare him, Adept! I love him! We be promised first mates!” Tania walked toward the fallen figure.

Nepe pursued. “Take me instead. Adept! Whatever he has done, I will redeem! I beg thee!”

Tania turned and peered at Nepe. The woman’s eyes in the dusk of the night seemed to glow. Suddenly Nepe understood the power of those eyes; they were seeing right through her!
 
Then the woman resumed her focus on Sirelba. She squatted beside the body and poked at the clothing. “Aye, this be the male, and dark,” she murmured. “This be he, at last.”

“Nay!” Nepe cried, and such was her animation in the tension of this role that she really was crying; tears were flowing. “He be nothing to thee! Oh, let him go, Adept!”

Sirelba stirred. “Get away from here, girl,” she rasped. “You will only antagonize her.”

“Good advice, bitch,” Tania said.

Nepe backed away. “Ne’er will I forget thee, my Promised!”

Then, feigning reluctance, she turned and walked on along the path. The final ploy had worked. She had gotten past!
 
When she was safely out of sight, she thought to her other self again. Flach! Now exchange—and get far gone from here!
 
They made their joint effort, and again Nepe felt the disorientation. Then she was back in her robotic body in Proton.
 
She had done it! She had exchanged, and used her one spell, and her ability to act like what she was, a girl, and had sprung Flach from the trap! Meanwhile Flach had been secure here, unsuspected.

Suddenly she was very tired. She slept.
 
Some time later Flach called: Nepe, our fathers be communicating now; we can talk.

Where are you? she asked joyfully.

With Phoebe Harpy. She be independent now, though her Flock aligns with the Adepts, and will betray me not. I be in harpy form. They will ne’er look for me here!
 

I’m so glad, Flach! But what of Sirelba? She decoyed for us—

I could check not directly, but Phoebe says Mach came and knew on the instant her nature, yet oddly showed no ire. They let her go unharmed. I be glad, for she—

A thrill of alarm ran through her. No ire? Flach, I fear—

Then he caught on. A trap for thee! 0, Nepe, if this be so—

Cease contact! she thought.

He cut off immediately. Now Nepe had to make a decision: should she sit tight, hoping the Adepts and Citizens had not used her contact with Flach to trace her, or should she make a break for it? She had several alternative hideouts; she could disappear as Troubot and assume a new and quite different form. But if they were closing in on her, she would not have time, and anyway, she did not want the real Troubot to take the brunt of their wrath. They might even be waiting for just such a break, to confirm her identity.

She and Flach had gone into hiding because they wanted to help Citizen Blue and the Adept Stile, rather than the Con trary Citizens and the Adverse Adepts. They had learned how to communicate with each other, but could not explain to their grandfathers how they did it. Their communication was more versatile than that of their fathers, because they did not have to overlap geographically in their frames. That ability would be invaluable to either side, but more so to Blue and Stile, because those two did not communicate at all.
 
Blue believed that if the Oracle could analyze how Nepe did it, it could give the key to others—but if Grandpa Blue had taken Nepe to the Oracle, the Citizens would have snooped and learned everything. So they hadn’t risked it. But now that her ability was known, she had nothing to lose by going to the Oracle—except that the Citizens would never allow it, because it would help mainly Citizen Blue. What a complicated mess!

If only she had been able to remain hidden longer, until the grandfathers found some way to get her together with the Oracle secretly! Maybe, if she got through this without being discovered, that would happen.

She decided to sit tight. But her mind was whirling. Suppose Tania had recognized her, and deliberately let her go?
 
Then told Mach, who could have used his magic to trace Flach’s route—and let him seem to escape so that he would give away any other accomplices he had, and in the end contact her in Proton while Mach was listening? While he was only pretending to be communicating with Bane, actually attuned to Flach’s communication with her, Nepe? Of course he would not be angry about Sirelba; all was going according to his plan! Had they caught Nepe at the edge of the fog, she would have refused to contact or exchange with Flach, and he would have remained safely hidden.