"I doubt she knew of it," Sheen said. "She said nothing about it to me. I just happened to be carrying it."
"She surely has some inkling now, though. She has access to the curtain, to Phaze; she can use those spells to become an instant Adept. We've got to get the book back before she does that!"
"For the sake of Phaze as well as for the troll," Sheen agreed.
"I'll surely find her at the Citizens' business meeting." Stile frowned, worried. "I don't have much time for that, either; I've got to move." His hope of studying the spells
of the book before the Proton crisis came had been dashed; whatever preparations he might have made were moot.
"I'll go with thee," Sheen said.
"But first thou must marshal thy troops," Clef said. "The time is nigh."
"Oh, yes, the troops. I did alert the various creatures of Phaze, and all but the dragons, harpies, and goblins are with us. Has the Oracle finally condescended to inform us exactly how such troops are to be employed?"
"Only that thou must dispose them as for battle."
"Dispose them where? Against whom?"
Clef shrugged, embarrassed. "I know not"
"That is not a phenomenal help."
"Thou knowest that prophecies work out regardless of comprehension.'"
"Look, if I miss that Citizens' business meeting, I'm finished in Proton. I have scarcely an hour as it is. Can't the Phaze side wait at least until I've recovered the book of magic?"
"The Oracle says the troops must be disposed first."
"Damn!" Stile swore. "Send my coldest regards to that inscrutable machine. I'll do what I can."
"I shall keep thy friend the troll statue safe for thy return with the book."
"Thanks," Stile said gruffly. He played a bar of music on the harmonica, took Sheen by the hand, and spelled them to the Brown Demesnes.
They popped in at the main receiving hall. The child Adept was waiting. "Oh, I'm so glad thou art back, Blue!" she exclaimed. "And thou too, Lady Machine. Dost thou like being a golem?"
"It's wonderful, Lady Adept," Sheen agreed.
The child's mouth went round with astonishment. Then she giggled. "I guess thou meanest me. Nobody ever called me Lady before, 'cause I'm just a girl."
"That's more than I'll ever be," Sheen said.
Stile had to interrupt. He had very little time. "Brown, a troll rescued me from confinement, but he got turned to stone by the sun. Can you animate stone?"
"Oh, sure, some. But you know, it doesn't change the substance. He'd be awful heavy if thou didst not spell him back to flesh, and he'd crack when struck hard. I work with wood because it is strong and light, and the Lady Machine was pre-formed, so she was okay. But a stone troll-"
"I see the problem. I think I could turn him to wood, but I'm not sure about flesh."
"Perhaps with the aid of the book of magic," Sheen reminded him.
"Of course. That should do it."
"Thou couldst just about create a troll from scratch," Sheen pointed out. "Make a figure, enchant it to flesh, have the Brown Adept animate it, and Clef could pipe a soul into it."
"If we had a soul," Stile agreed. "That's the one thing magic can't generate."
"I know," she said sadly.
"My golems and the wolves have spread the word among all the creatures of Phaze," Brown said. "All but the goblins and monsters have joined. But they know not what to do now."
"I wish I could tell them," Stile said. "I am the victim of a prophecy. I don't know where to tell them to go."
"Well, maybe thou canst improvise," Brown suggested. "The troops will dissipate if not encouraged."
"So the Oracle seems to think, though I hardly have time to-"
"Which means we must hurry," Sheen said, enjoying this.
"And I thought Citizenship was uncomplicated!" Stile worked out several travel-spells, and they were off.
First stop was the werewolves. Kurrelgyre was there, but the Pack had been depleted by the wolves and bitches assigned to accompany the wooden golems. Kurrelgyre shifted immediately to man-form to shake Stile's hand. "But this bitch — I know her not," he said, looking at Sheen. "Unless — could it be?"
"This is the robot-golem Sheen, my Proton fiancée," Stile said. "Thy suggestion was good; the Brown Adept animated her."
"At least conjure her fitting apparel," the werewolf said. "She is too luscious a morsel to go naked hereabouts."
Clothing! Stile had forgotten all about that for Sheen. Quickly he conjured her a pretty dress and slippers, as befitted a Lady of Phaze.
"But I can not wear clothing!" she protested. "I'm a serf!"
"Not here," Stile assured her. "In this frame all people wear clothes." He eyed her appraisingly. "They do befit thee."
"We are ready for action," Kurrelgyre said eagerly. "But where is it? Whom do we fight?"
"I know not," Stile admitted. "The prophecy decrees it that is all."
The werewolf sighed. "Prophecies are oft subject to misinterpretation. I had hoped this would be not that type."
Stile agreed. "The animalheads are prophesied to lose half their number. I fear this will be typical. I presume much of the damage will be done by enchantments hurled by the enemy Adepts, and by the ravages of their minions. But the other creatures of Phaze will be on thy side — the unicorns, elves, ogres, and such. Do thou gather thy wolves and be ready for action at any time. I know no more. I am but a chip afloat on a stormy sea, doing what I must do without much personal volition."
Sheen smiled knowingly. This was a concept a robot was in a position to understand.
"Surely the enemy will seek to destroy thee," the wolf said.
"The enemy Adepts have been trying! I hope to jump around swiftly in a random pattern, avoiding them until I return to Proton."
"I fear for thee, friend. I have a few wolves left who can guard thee-"
"Nay, I'd best travel light. Just be ready with thy Pack when I need thee!"
"Aye, I shall, and the other wolf packs too." They shook hands.
Stile spelled himself and Sheen to the next stop: the ogres. These ones certainly were ready for action. Each huge creature was armed with a monstrous club and seemed capable of smashing boulders with single blows.
This was a truly impressive army. There were perhaps four hundred fighting creatures in view.
As quickly as possible, Stile explained to the ogre leader that the moment for action was just about at band. "But we don't know exactly where trouble will begin," he said. "Only that it will be terrible, horrible, violent, and bloody."
Slow smiles cracked the ogres' brute faces. They were eager for this sort of fun. Stile knew he had struck the right note.
"Just remember," he cautioned them. "All the organized creatures of Phaze will be on thy side, except the Goblins. So don't attack elves or giants or werewolves-"
"Awww," the leader grumbled. But he had it straight. No unauthorized bloodshed.
Stile spelled on to the vampires, where he consulted with his friend Vodlevile, who was no chief but whom Stile trusted. The flock promised to be alert.
So it went, touching bases with the animalheads, snow-demons, giants, trolls, and Little Folk. He did not go to the Platinum Elves, fearing an Adept trap there; instead he met with the gnomes of the Purple Mountains. These Little Folk were akin to the goblins of the White Mountains, but had elected to join the compatible elves. It was as if the more pleasant climate made them nicer creatures.
The gnome males were ugly, but the females, the gnomides, were quite pretty little misses, each holding a fine bright diamond. These were, indeed, the workers of precious stones, and their wares were even more valuable than those of the Platinum Mound Folk. They quickly agreed to pass the word among the elven tribes. "There will be thousands of little warriors awaiting thy call to action, Adept. Only save Phaze, and all is even!"
Stile hoped he could! "Dost thou know of any Adept presence in the Elven Demesnes?" Stile asked as he got ready to leave. "I fear an ambush and marvel that none has occurred."