“It be a matter of honor. My father has honor, and I be his son.”
She nodded. “It’s a good way to be.”
“It be the only way to be. A man without honor be not a man.”
“And what of those who are not men to begin with?”
Now he looked at her. “Elves have honor too, and unicorns and werewolves.”
“Women—or creatures from other worlds?”
He laughed. “If thou dost have it not, tell me now, ere I trust thee to guard me in my sleep!”
“I may define it somewhat differently in detail, but I think the essence is the same.”
They moved on through the forest, warily. “This be not Phaze, so I have no magic here,” Bane said. “That makes me feel naked.”
“You could fashion some clothing.”
He laughed again. “Mayhap thou dost resemble Fleta some! E’er doth she tease. Her dam be always serious, and doth stay mostly in equine form, but Fleta—“ He shrugged.
‘Then perhaps a weapon. ‘Naked* in the Game parlance means that you are provided with no tool, but you can make what you want from the surroundings. We don’t know what kind of a robot will be attacking us, but it may not be wise to meet it barehanded.”
‘True.” Bane looked about. “I would cut a staff, but have no knife.”
“I can form a sharp edge,” she offered.
“Sharp enough to cut wood?” he asked dubiously.
“I form substance hard enough to serve the function of bone and teeth; I can form harder if I try.”
“That be right! In minutes thou dost go from jelly to full human form. Canst make a metal knife?”
“In facsimile,” she said. She lifted her right hand, and it melted into a glob, then extended into something like a dagger. The edge firmed until it gleamed, looking wickedly sharp.
“Like magic,” Bane breathed admiringly.
“What do you want cut?”
He checked around, and found a suitable sapling. “This.”
She put her blade-extremity to its base and sliced. The edge cut in. She withdrew it and set it again, and in a moment a wedge of wood fell out. She made other cuts, and soon the sapling had been felled.
‘Thou dost have thy uses,” Bane said. “With powers like that, what use dost thou have for this Proton society?”
“My kind has individual abilities, but not technological ones,” she said. “We need to learn, so that we do not remain a backplanet species.”
“Methinks I prefer this backplanet,” he remarked.
“I was speaking for my species, not necessarily myself.”
Under his direction, she cut off branches and topped it, forming a long pole. Bane hefted it with satisfaction. “A sword would be better, but this be enough for now.”
There was a stir from the side. Bane whirled about. “Mayhap none too soon!” he muttered.
It was no false alarm. A stocky goblin was approaching. The goblin had a small sword, and he waved it menacingly. “I’ll destroy you, miscreant!” it cried.
“Goblins use not swords,” Bane muttered. “Unless disciplined into an army, and they be more likely to hurt each other than the enemy. And they talk not of destruction; they just attack.”
“It’s the Citizen—using a remote-controlled robot,” Agape said. “Don’t let it get too close.”
“Scant danger of that!” Bane agreed. “Do thou get behind me, so it can attack thee not.” He faced the goblin, his staff ready. He had not used a staff in some time, but his father had required him to train in a number of hand weapons, and he knew how to use it effectively. Normally goblins came in hordes, making them formidable; a single one was not much of a threat.
The goblin simply charged in, swinging his sword. Bane sidestepped it and clubbed the creature’s arm, jarring free the weapon. It fell to the ground.
“Nicely done,” the goblin said in the voice of the Citizen. “Perhaps this will be a pleasant challenge after all.” It stooped to recover the sword.
Bane rammed the goblin in the head with the end of his staff. He intended only to knock it down, knowing that a goblin’s big head was the least vulnerable part of its body and could hardly be hurt by any blow. But the staff stove in the side of the head. Sparks crackled, and the goblin collapsed.
“Ooo, you killed it!” Agape exclaimed. “That is, you put it out of commission.”
“So that was the first challenge,” Bane said, surprised. “A real goblin would die not so readily.” He picked up the goblin’s sword. It was small, but of sturdy steeclass="underline" a good weapon. “And this be a spoil of war, methinks.”
“But there will be other threats,” Agape reminded him.
“Aye. And if I understand rightly, of different types; we be through with goblins.”
“Let’s get somewhere else,” Agape said nervously.
He found a vine and cut it to length and formed it into a crude belt. From this he hung the sword, so that he didn’t need to carry it in his hand.
They moved on, climbing the slope of the mountain. Its general contour seemed familiar, but he realized that it could be the same mountain in Proton as the one he had known in Phaze, covered by one of the scientific domes and provided with fresh air and planted, so as to duplicate the original more closely. The Citizen had good taste in landscape!
But soon there was another sound, this time from the air. They peered up between the trees and saw a gross bird-shape. “A harpy!” Bane exclaimed.
“Is that worse than a goblin?”
“Depends. True harpies have poisoned talons and can move them very quickly in close quarters. But a robot harpy may be clumsy.”
“I hope so.”
“Clever blow, last time,” the Citizen’s voice came from the harpy. “But you’ll not catch me again that way.”
Bane backed under the canopy of a tree. “Get beyond the trunk,” he told Agape. “If it flies at you, just circle around the tree, staying clear.”
“But what about you?”
“I want not to flee it, but to kill it.”
“But—“
“Move, woman!”
She moved. The harpy oriented and swung low; then it folded its wings and dived down at him.
Bane stepped aside, as he had before, and the harpy swerved. But this time he had stepped to the other side, and the Citizen had been geared for the first side. Thus the harpy missed completely—but Bane’s staff didn’t. It caught the harpy on the back, knocking it down and out of control. It plowed into the ground. Bane rammed it in the side of the head, as he had the goblin, with the same result: sparks and cessation.
“Methinks I like this game,” he said, smiling.
“Bane, I don’t like it,” Agape said. “I fear the Citizen is only toying with you. There is something—“
“Something? What?”
“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t quite match. It scares me. Let’s get far from here.”
Bane thought her concern was exaggerated, but it made sense to keep the Citizen guessing about their location. It was possible that these were indeed simple ploys, intended only to feel out Bane’s defenses. Once the Citizen knew his opponent better, he might send in something more formidable.
They cut to the south (assuming the orientation of this mountain was as it was in Phaze), traveling at right angles to their former route. The forest was thick here, and they were careful not to scuff the ground. It would not be easy to spot them; probably the Citizen would have to do some searching. Bane intended to see just how good a searcher the man was, in a robot body.
There was a noise to the side, but not a threat. It was a brown deer bounding away, its white tail flashing. It paused, glancing back, then ran on out of sight.
“Stocked with real wilderness animals!” Agape exclaimed, delighted.
“Mayhap I can kill one and have it for food,” Bane said.
“Kill a deer?” she asked, horrified. “How could you!”
Suddenly there was a roar right ahead. A demon leaped at them. Agape screamed and fled; Bane whipped his staff up and caught the creature in the belly, shoving it back.