“Then did the filly come to maturity, and learned the identity o’ the herb that suppressed her cycle o’ heat so that she would not be bred too soon, for the Herd Stallion was her uncle and banned from breeding her. She played with the human son o’ her dam’s oath-friend, and he showed her how his kind mated, though it were meaningless in the absence o’ heat. E’en so, she came to like that young human man, and wished she could be truly human, that she might be always with him. But he, o’ course, knew her for an animal, and while he treated her always as a companion and e’en friend, there was no way he saw her as one to breed with or, as the humans put it, marry. So she kept her desire for him hidden, knowing that any union between them was forbidden. He was after all the son o’ an Adept, one year to be Adept himself; he was far beyond the aspiration o’ a normal human woman, let alone a mere animal.”
How neatly she had summarized the whole of her first decade and a half of life! But now she was ready for the real story. “Then she came o’ age to mate and bear a foal for the Herd, so she was sent to another Herd, that its Stallion might breed her without incest. But she dawdled, remaining near the place favored by the Adept’s son, in case he should come there and need a ride or companionship. She knew the hope to be vain, but still she stayed, foolishly. Perhaps it was in her mind that if she arrived at the other Herd not in time for her heat, she would escape breeding, and be free a little longer. It might not make much sense, but she was after all only an animal.
“Then happened something strange. A man passed the region, and he smelled like the Adept’s son, but he acted like him not. He was going naked, as men did not, and stumbling as if he had been ne’er there before. She kept her distance, wanting to approach, but uncertain. Finally he cried for help, and that was all she needed; she sounded a chord on her horn in answer, and galloped to his aid. He seemed surprised to see her, as if his memory was gone, but rode her away from that place. She had to back off a water dragon, but carried him to safety in the crater. It was especially strange that he used not magic o’ his own to protect himself, and seemed almost wary o’ her, despite their long acquaintance. He settled down to sleep in the crater, and she pondered, then yielded to her desire and changed to girlform and joined him there.
“Next morning it seemed he was playing a game, for his speech was strange and he seemed still not to know her. He insisted his name was other than what she knew it was. He claimed to know magic not, and he was loath to wear clothes. She persuaded him to try a spell, and he did, but it worked strangely. She also encouraged him to make some clothing. He said he was a rovot, a thing like a wooden golem, only made o’ metal, and that he needed not to have natural processes. But o’ course he did; he did just prefer to do it alone. And gradually she understood that he was not the same man she had known, but his other self, from Proton-frame, a stranger to Phaze and all that was in it. Yet was he very like the one she knew in appearance, and perhaps in other things too, and she liked him very well. Perhaps she liked him better, for that he needed her help constantly, lest he blunder into trouble. But he knew not she was an animal; he thought the girlform and the birdform and the unicorn different creatures. He liked the girlform, and therefore she spoke not o’ her other forms, but stayed close to him and teased him and smiled at him, reveling in the companionship she had ne’er had recently w’ the Adept’s son.
“Then he, thinking her human, took her in his arms and kissed her, and her heart fled from her and became his captive that moment. She tried to tell o’ her nature, and why love between them was forbidden, but O she could not; she did want the illusion to linger longer. Then demons attacked, and to save them both she had to change to her natural form and carry him to safety. The secret was out. But he was not appalled; he said he was a machine, a thing not alive, a creature without feeling, that could not love. Then did new horror loom for her, that she had lost her heart to one who could care not. But he was wrong; he did care for her. And so their forbidden love was born.”
She paused, and looked at the audience, and saw them rapt as they had been for Jimbo’s story. But such was the joy of her memory, for all its heartache, she hardly cared now whether they cared; she just wanted to finish it.
“Then did the Adverse Adepts make chase, seeking to capture them and use him for their purpose, and they had to flee and hide. Goblins were questing e’erywhere. But they traveled a route the enemy did not suspect, and managed to escape. Later she learned that their love was forbidden not because the Adept his father objected to unicorns, but because only a human woman could bear him an heir. The filly saw that this was valid, for though she could have sex with her lover she could breed with him not. So she decided to free him for his destiny, and to fix herself in human form and jump from a ledge to her death. But he found her, and cried out to her the triple Thee, the ultimate statement o’ his love, and such was the power o’ it that it saved her from the extinction she had sought and made them one again.
“But now that love be still forbidden, if not by humans, then by the situation, for he be a creature o’ Proton, and she a creature o’ Phaze, and they can ne’er cross o’er to each other’s frames without making an imbalance that will harm all. So now they quest for some way to make it right, but know not w’er it e’er can be.”
Then she felt her eyes melting, and knew that her story was done.
AUDIENCE WILL TOUCH <SELECT> WINNER, the big screen printed. Jimbo’s name highlighted, then Fleta’s.
JIMBO SIX VOTES, FLETA FIVE VOTES. ABSTENTIONS FOURTEEN.
“Hey, wait!” a serf cried. “I didn’t abstain! I hadn’t made up my mind yet!” There was a chorus of agreement.
MAJORITY VOTE OF ESTABLISHED AUDIENCE REQUIRED FOR DECISION, the screen continued imperturbably. AUDIENCE WILL BE REQUIRED TO CONTINUE VOTING UNTIL THAT MAJORITY IS REGISTERED. TWO-MINUTE RECESS FOR CONSIDERATION BEFORE NEXT VOTE.
Fleta looked at Jimbo, and found him looking at her. She walked across to him. “I liked thy story,” she said, feeling an affinity for him. “Truly, thou dost know forbidden love as I do.”
“Too bad we didn’t fall in love with each other,” he said. “Are you really a…?”
“A unicorn. Aye. But an the Citizens catch me, that be meaningless.”
“How so?”
“They mean to use me as lever against him whom I love. But the Tourney protects me—an I not depart too soon.”
“Won’t you be safe offplanet?”
“I be not in mine own body, here. An I depart this world before I exchange to mine own frame, methinks can I not exchange at all, and that be worse yet.”
“So you would prefer to remain here a little longer,” he said.
“Aye,” she said sadly. “But that decision be not in my power.”
He smiled. “But it may be in mine.” He stepped to the front of the stage, waving his hands. “May I have your attention!” he cried.
Instantly a sour note sounded from the screen. ERROR! CONTESTANT MAY NOT ATTEMPT TO INFLUENCE AUDIENCE ON HIS BEHALF.
“I haven’t finished my story,” he cried. “There’s something else I have to say.”
ERROR! STATEMENT IS OUT OF ORDER AT THIS TIME.
A man in the audience stood. “Listen, who’s deciding this game, us or the machine?” he demanded. “Aren’t we like a jury, and we can hear more if we want?”
“Yes, and can’t we judge for ourselves whether he’s trying to change our votes unfairly?” a woman responded.
The screen hesitated. PROCEDURAL MATTER. AUDIENCE WILL INDICATE WHETHER TO HEAR MORE FROM CONTESTANTS. SELECT RESPONSE YES NO. The YES was highlighted, then the NO.
CONTESTANTS MAY SPEAK, the screen printed, yielding gracefully.
“Okay,” Jimbo said. “We’ve got two people here, both probably on the way out regardless of this particular game. One can go any time; the Tourney is just a pretext to get him offplanet without being charged with anything. The other is here to protect her from trouble still brewing, and if she can stay
a while longer, maybe things will work out a little better for her. So if I were voting, and I had trouble making up my mind, I think I’d boot the one with nothing to lose, and keep the one with maybe something to win. Now I’m not trying to tell anybody how he should vote, just saying the way I see it, and the damned machine can’t object to that, can it?” He walked to the side, leaving the stage to Fleta.
She realized that she was supposed to say something, but she could think of nothing. She just stood there and started to melt again, which seemed to be this body’s way of crying. She didn’t want to melt in front of all these people, so she hid her face in her hands, overcome.
After a moment, the voting proceeded. Fleta forced her eyes back into shape and looked at the screen.
FLETA TWENTY-THREE VOTES, JIMBO TWO; FLETA PROCEEDS TO ROUND TWO.
Jimbo looked at her and smiled. She ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. The members of the audience applauded.
Suddenly she felt much more at home in the frame of Proton.
She had two days before her next match, because of the time required for the remaining Round One games to clear. Mach came to her, after passing through a thorough screening by the Game Computer to ensure that he was whom he claimed to be, and they had a little additional honeymoon. She cherished this brief experience with his own body; she had come to love him in Bane’s body, but this was his reality. If she managed to return to Phaze, this would be all she ever knew of the true Mach.
Then it was time for her Round Two match. This time her opponent was a young woman, of grim visage, and she knew there would be no courtly generosity. She had to win outright.
She got the numbers again, and chose ARTS again. The girl chose B, so they were in TOOL-ASSISTED ARTS: Painting, Sculpture, Costumed Drama, Decorative Sewing, Patterns with blocks, colored sand, grains of rice or whatever, Card Houses, Kaleidoscope, and Musical Instruments.
Fleta was encouraged; she understood most of these Arts. She played with confidence, and got Music. The other girl was plainly uncertain now. In the end they had to play music, each on her own instrument. The girl chose the piano, and Fleta chose the syrinx: otherwise known as the panpipes, her natural instrument as a unicorn. She had, as a matter of private challenge, learned to play the panpipes in girlform. This was difficult, because her girlfingers lacked the musical coordination of her horn, and her girlmouth could play only one note at a time, or adjacent notes. But fingers weren’t really necessary for this; hooves would have done to hold this instrument firm. She was unable to play two themes simultaneously, but the underlying harmonics came naturally, so she could do a creditable job. Whether she could do it in this alien body she wasn’t sure, but she thought she could. They followed the line to the appropriate chamber.
Again, they were to be judged by an audience. None of the listeners was the same as those of her prior game; the Computer was careful about that sort of thing.
Fleta had to play first. She took the instrument, which consisted of eight tubes of graduated lengths, bound together. She sounded each note by blowing across the top of the proper tube. She played a simple yet evocative melody that had given her pleasure as a filly at the end of a perfect day of grazing, as the sun settled slowly into the trees on the horizon, setting them afire, and the evening wind fanned the high fringe of the grass to be grazed on the morrow. As she played, Phaze seemed to form around her, so lovely, and then it seemed that Mach was there too, delighted by her music as he always was, and for this moment everything was perfect.
Then the tune was done, and it was Proton again. The audience was staring at her. Had she started to melt again? No, they merely liked the music, perhaps not having heard the panpipes as played by a unicorn before.
Her opponent looked at the piano. “I concede,” she said shortly, and walked out.
FLETA PROCEEDS TO ROUND THREE, the screen announced.
Just like that, she had won!
The audience filtered out, though several serfs glanced admiringly at the instrument as they passed.
“Clear the chamber,” the speaker said. “Citizen approaching.”
Fleta looked wildly around. “But I’m supposed to be protected!” she cried. “I’m still in the Tourney!”
“At ease, filly,” the Citizen said, entering the chamber. He stood somewhat shorter than she, but his brightblue robe identified him as far above her. “Not every Citizen be thine enemy.”
“The Blue Adept!” she exclaimed, astonished.
He smiled. “Now Citizen Blue. Thy secret has been kept; the Game Computer allowed news o’ thine identity to leak not beyond its annex. But I was o’ Phaze, and I know the music o’ the unicorn when I hear it. Ah, the memories it brought!”
“Mach’s sire,” she breathed.
“Aye. And thou’rt Neysa’s foal. Glad I am to meet thee at last, however briefly, though thou dost favor her not in this guise.” He squinted at her. “Best abolish the horn, though.”
Fleta touched her forehead. She had grown the button-horn! It must have happened while she was playing the panpipes. No wonder the audience had stared! Quickly she melted it; she was not trying to make a freak of herself, here.
“Mach be looking for Bane, now,” Citizen Blue said. “Must needs I tell thee what we be about. He has made truce with the Adverse Adepts, in Phaze, but Bane remains with us, in Proton. We oppose not thy union with him, or Bane’s with Agape. But the news he brought o’ the imbalance—that have we verified, and so it be true that thou canst not remain here. We shall get the four o’ ye together and make the exchange back—but with a change.” He looked penetratingly at her. “Only thou willst exchange, not the boys. That will give Mach power here, and Bane power there, to seek some better compromise than this truce. Mayhap Bane, being bound to us rather than to the other side, can find a way through. We seek not to void the deal Mach made with Translucent, only to provide us opportunity to explore the situation when the Adepts be off guard. I think thou canst go along with that.”
“Aye,” she said. “But that means—”
“That thou willst find thyself with Bane in Phaze—and must make it seem that he be Mach.”
“Aye. That be thy challenge, and why I speak to thee now. Agape must do likewise, here.”
“I—I will try,” she agreed faintly. What a position Blue was putting her in!
“Now let us play together,” he said. He brought out a harmonica, and put it to his mouth.
Relieved to have the subject change, she lifted the panpipes. Then the two of them played an impromptu melody, and Blue was a master musician, almost as good as a unicorn in the finesse with which he handled his instrument.
When it was done, she was melting again. “Thou didst depart Proton before I was foaled,” Fleta told him. “Yet do I feel I know thee well, now.”
“It were thy dam Neysa mine other self Stile knew,” he said. “So in any event, our acquaintance is based on that of two other folk. Yet be it good to renew.”
“O Adept, may I hug thee?”
“Hug me, ‘corn, and remember me to my homeland.”
She hugged him, finding him much like Bane, only older and smaller. His visit to her buoyed her immeasurably; now she knew that she and Mach were not fighting for their happiness alone. Stile had turned down her union with Mach, and for good reason; Blue was supporting it, and she hoped his reason was as good.
Then he departed, and she returned to her chamber. For the second time, the aftermath of a Tourney game had lifted her outlook. She no longer felt like a complete stranger here; indeed, her homesickness for Phaze was diminishing.
Two days later she had her Round Three match. This was against a humanoid robot who reminded her eerily of Mach, but he was not. She had the numbers again, but hesitated to choose ARTS, because the records of all prior games were available, and she knew that the robot could have looked up her games and discovered her preference, and calculated accordi
ngly. So she touched 2. MENTAL. He chose A. NAKED, as she had thought he might; it could be tricky for a robot to use a tool, as robots really were tools in a manner of thinking, and even trickier for him to use a machine. He would naturally avoid her own strength, ANIMAL. So he depended on his own resources, as Mach tended to do. She felt a little guilty for using her knowledge of Mach to gain an advantage over this robot, but she knew she had to do it.
The secondary grid for MENTAL came up. She had the numbers again: 5. SOCIAL 6. POWER 7. MATH 8. HUMOR. What should she choose?
She looked at the robot’s choices: E. INFORMATION F. MEMORY G. RIDDLE H. MANIPULATION. What would he take? It depended on his type; if he were a sophisticated model, like Mach, he would have an enormous store of information, and a sizable temporary memory, but would be weak on mental tricks such as riddles. If he were a simpler model, his information and memory capacity might be much smaller, but he would still be good at manipulating what he had: numbers, for example. So she had better stay well clear of MATH!
She decided that her safest course was HUMOR. Mach had a sense of humor, though not on a par with hers, but other robots might not understand it at all.
She touched the word. Sure enough, he had chosen MANIPULATION, going for his strength. They were in 2A8H: SPURIOUS LOGIC. It came down to a contest in telling jokes, and topping them.
Again they had an audience. It seemed that most contestants resembled Fleta in this respect. They preferred to be judged by ordinary folk, not by the machine.