Unicorn Point (50 page)

She laughed. “Your father named me that! It is because of Agape.”

“Agape?” he repeated, startled.

“Some time back, I exchanged places with Fleta the unicorn in Phaze,” Agape answered. “In Phaze I was helped by an ugly old troll and a beautiful young vampire. I talked to each, and learned that each was afraid to broach a certain matter to the other: he because he believed that no woman could care for a troll, she because she regarded herself as an animal, having originated as a bat. Because I owed each a debt I could not myself repay, I urged the lady bat to approach the troll.”

“But what has that to do with my mother?” ‘Corn demanded.

“They did get together, and soon married,” Agape ex plained. “They had a son whom they chose to name after my Proton identity, calling him Alien. Because things tend to be parallel between the frames, something similar happened in Proton, and the happy couple named their son Unicorn, after the person whose body I used in Phaze.”

‘Corn was stunned. “A troll—a vampire bat—and a unicorn?”

His mother hugged him. “I’m sure your opposite number is no happier about being named after an amoebic alien creature. But we identify strongly with our Phaze counterparts; Phaze is the magic in our lives, even though we can not visit it.”

‘Corn was silent. Why hadn’t he realized this before? Nepe had spoken of her contact with Flach, and his friend Al. Al the alien, ‘Corn the unicorn! How obvious, suddenly!
 
They arrived at the residence. It was a cottage right out in the open, surrounded by flowering trees. But ‘Corn was be coming acclimatized to such marvels; they had serious business to transact.

Citizen Troal met them at the door. ‘Corn had never thought of his father as a troll before, but now he could see how tall and ugly he was. Of course appearance didn’t matter for a Citizen; the most beautiful woman would marry one in an instant, for the sake of the power and comfort of the life he offered. ‘Corn had assumed this was the case with his mother; now he knew that there was more to it than that.
 
“We are tracking the musician,” Troal announced. “He should be on the screen momentarily.”

Indeed, Clef appeared soon after they entered. He was life size on the wall screen, but the distance between planets caused his image to flicker slightly. He was a man of Troal’s age, with a severely receding hairline and the same archaic spectacles the key had shown. “I have not been in touch with Planet Proton for more than a quarter century,” he said. “To what do I owe the honor of this contact?”

“Do you remember Citizen Blue?” Troal asked. “Perhaps you know him as the Adept Stile.”

“Stile! Yes, of course; how could I forget! He fetched the magic Platinum Flute!”

“We believe he has need for your assistance again.”

“There on Proton? But I can not return there; my tenure as a serf concluded, and I am not allowed back. In any event, I have a pressing schedule in this section of the galaxy; we are organizing an interspecies orchestra.”

“Your return to Proton may be barred by Proton custom,” Troal said. “But events may override that. Citizen Blue is in serious trouble, and there is a suggestion that you are the key to the resolution of his problem.”

“I’m not sure you understand. Citizen Troal. My prior service was to enter the frame of Phaze and play the magic Flute at a critical time. Thereafter the frames were permanently separated; it is no longer possible to cross over. Since the magic Flute remains on the other side of the curtain, and only it is capable of re-establishing the connection, there is noth ing I can do for you.”

“Nevertheless, Citizen Blue evidently believes—”

“I am sorry. I suspect further dialogue is pointless. I am in any event too old to travel such a distance on mere speculation that I might be of some use.”

Troal looked baffled. Clef was making sense.

“Sir, if I may talk to him,” Tania murmured.

The Citizen shrugged. “Of course. But make it brief.” Tania stepped forward, adjusting her decolletage. “Clef, I be Tania, daughter of one thou mayest have encountered in the Phaze variation as the Tan Adept. Methinks that thou’rt the finest musician o’ our time. We believe that thou dost be the only one who can help us save Proton and Phaze from a terrible fate. We know not how thou mayest do this, but we be prepared to do anything required to make it possible. Any thing! Please, I beg of thee, come immediately to this planet, that we may explore possibilities.”

Clef stared at her. “Of course.”

The others watched, astonished, as Tania made a little bow to the screen. Then the connection dissolved.
 
“What did you do?” ‘Corn demanded. “How come he changed his mind?”

She turned to him, a partial smile on her face. Her dress was open at the front, showing most of one breast and part of the other. Her hair was slightly wild. Her eyes seemed enormous—and as her gaze met his, they seemed to grow larger yet, sending an oddly pleasant shiver through him.
 
“You vamped him!” Agape exclaimed.

Tania drew her dress up so that little more than her neck showed, and smoothed out her hair. Her eyes diminished.
 
“It’s a talent I have found effective on men other than yours.
 
I prayed for some of what my other self can do with her Eye, and perhaps I got it. It was a desperation ploy.”

“But that man is old enough to be your father!” Agape protested.

“And what is wrong with that?” the Bat Girl inquired.
 
Agape glanced from her to Citizen Troal.

“Nothing, of course,” she said, embarrassed.

“And you used Phaze idiom, reminding him of what offers there,” Citizen Troal remarked. “That was clever of you. I wish I could have seen you as he saw you.”

“Not likely!” the Bat Girl snapped. “. . . sir.” They all laughed. ‘Corn knew that his mother, perhaps the most beautiful woman of Proton, had nothing to fear from others. Still, the way Tania had looked in that moment—if it had had such impact on himself, a child, what would have been the effect on a grown man? Now Clefs change of heart was no mystery!

Galactic travel was swift, when facilitated by a Citizen of Proton. Within a day Clef arrived.

“I don’t want to see him,” Tania said, embarrassed. “If I had thought about it at all, I wouldn’t have—”

“Clef is a gentleman,” Troal said. “Be assured he will treat you as a lady.”

“Which I don’t deserve!”

But she did meet him, completely demure in a cloaklike dress, and Clef was indeed polite. He had brought his flute made of platinum but not, he explained, magic, unfortunately. “I would give everything I have dreamed of else where, to be in Phaze again, to possess the magic Flute again,” he said. “When you, Tania, perhaps subconsciously, used the Phaze idiom, it reminded me of my longing for it.
 
So my presence here is selfish, I regret to confess. If there is even the remotest chance—“ He shrugged.
 

“We hope there is,” Tania said, visibly relieved.
 

“Citizen Blue must believe there is,” ‘Corn said, showing his key, which still glowed with Clefs picture. They explained all that they knew of the situation to Clef.
 

Clef nodded. “So the parallelism has strengthened in recent decades,” he said. “That suggests quite strong connections between the frames despite their seeming separation.
 
Perhaps this is because with no way to cross over physically, the force of equalization is channeled to other mechanisms.”

“That is our conclusion,” Citizen Troal agreed.
 

“That may mean in turn that something roughly similar to our present meeting is occurring in the frame of Phaze,” Clef continued. “Perhaps someone is fetching the magic Flute.”

“But how can you play it, when it is there and you are here?” ‘Corn asked.

“That is the salient question,” Clef said. “But if my friend Stile—or his other self—believes that it is possible, then it behooves us to explore the matter. Perhaps the answer will offer.”

“But there is danger for all of us on Planet Proton,” Troal reminded him. “Citizen Purple is trying to eliminate all op position.”

“I realize that. But I am in my waning years, and perhaps have relatively little to lose. We must try to consult with Cit izen Blue; he is the only one who truly knows how I may help.”

“We may be able to sneak a small party in,” Citizen Troal said. “My wife and I are watched, so cannot approach the planet, but if others move in by a devious route, it may work.
 
However, the moment you enter Citizen Blue’s premises, dis covery is inevitable; you will have very little time to act.”

“Understood,” Clef agreed.

The return was more complicated than the departure, but just as urgent; they knew they had to act swiftly, or it would be too late. If Citizen Purple got well enough established to believe he could afford to kill his captives, what would be left except vengeance and ruin? It was ironic, ‘Corn thought, that the Contrary Citizens had already won their contest; had they just honored the agreements, their hold over the planet would have been secure. But victory had been the signal for the falling out of thieves, and now they were hurting each other as much as their opponents.

Indeed, it might have been that internecine quarreling which enabled the foursome to sneak back onto the planet.
 
Citizen was watching Citizen, each nervously guarding his own holdings while trying to grab those of his neighbors.
 
Anarchy was developing. So no notice was taken when a noted musician from a far planet arrived with several sealed boxes of equipment about which he was very finicky. There was also a reaction to local custom. He made a fair scene when leaving the ship: “Naked? You expect me to strip stark naked?”

‘Corn smiled. He had been revived the moment the ship landed, as had the others, so that they could act quickly. They remained in their boxes, properly naked, ready to push open the unlatched lids and leap out at need. But as long as the ruse remained effective, they remained hidden, listening.
 
‘Corn was sure that Agape and Tania found this scene as amusing as he did. Clef had been a serf, and well understood the rule for serfs; but he was returning as a different man, one who had never before been to this planet. Evidently there had been some details this other person had overlooked.
 
The spaceport personnel patiently explained about Citizens and serfs. They had been through exactly this sort of scene many times before. They were sorry, but no matter how au gust the musician was on his home planet, he was reckoned as a serf here, and had to adopt serf ways. He must address any clothed person as “sir” and honor any directive that person gave implicitly; he must seek the sponsorship of a Citizen if he wished to remain on the planet more than a few days; and he must go naked.

“This is an outrage!” Clef fulminated. But in the end, with exceeding reluctance, he bared his old and portly body, for he had an important engagement for which he would not be paid unless he delivered. “But,” he assured them grimly, “you have not heard the last of this!”

The personnel did not respond. They had heard it before.
 
Planet Proton was a very special experience, for those who arrived unwarned. Most of the functionaries had had to make similar adjustments when they first came. Clef was allowed to set foot within the dome proper, and his boxes were unloaded.

Shortly later, in the temporary apartment chamber he had rented. Clef opened his luggage. He had used a special monitor to make sure that he was not being spied on. ‘Corn and the two women got out. They had passed the first hurdle; now for the second, and critical, one. They had to get to Citizen Blue, and then see how they could help him.
 
‘Corn went ahead, scouting the situation. His hair had been cut and its color changed, and cosmetic tape had been used to change his facial features enough to make him unrecog nizable as the boy he had been. His body was thicker; he looked pudgy now, but this was because of a spybeam sensor fitted around his abdomen. Every time he passed a hall mon itor, he got a pulse against the skin of his belly, verifying the presence of the invisible beam.

All was quiet in the region of Citizen Blue’s complex. ‘Corn walked by it without pausing—but the equipment he carried verified the nature of the lock and the people inside. The lock was unchanged, which meant that Agape could enter, bring ing her companions with her. Citizen Blue, Sheen and Mach remained there, apparently unhurt, held by a lethargy gen erator that was tuned to both living people and robots. Citi zen Tan was there too, horizontal; that meant he was sleeping at the moment. Excellent!

‘Corn completed his circuit, returning to Clefs chamber.
 
“It’s clear!” he reported. “Only Citizen Tan is guarding them, and he’s sleeping!”

 
“I don’t trust this,” Tania said. “My brother is devious, as I am. It could be a trap.”

“What choice do we have?” Clef asked. “If we don’t go there, we can not rescue Citizen Blue. We shall just have to hope that either they are not expecting us, or that if they are, we can act with greater dispatch than they expect.”

Tania nodded. “Sometimes the best way to handle a trap is to spring it,” she agreed. “I am expendable; I will try to nullify my brother while you see to Citizen Blue.”

“Expendable?” Clef asked, appalled. “I should hope not!”