When they did catch him, he suspected, they would ask him about the signal he had been sending: what was its nature, and to whom was it directed? He would tell them that it was a phony signal, meaning nothing, merely random noise, that could not penetrate the Citizen's signal-barrier. And they would not believe him, because why would he have gone to such an extraordinary effort to put out that signal if it could not accomplish anything? So the quest would continue, and that distraction would give Agape more leeway for her escape. And once she escaped, it would be only a matter of time before Citizen Blue had news of Mach's location. Then the real fun would begin!
He was only a machine. But he was a machine in love, just as his mother Sheen was; he understood her better than he had before. As far as he was concerned, the Experimental Project was a success; as part of it, he had become as human as any of his kind had ever aspired to be. And he found that he enjoyed making a fool of Citizen Purple. He hoped Bane was doing the same to the Purple Adept.
Now it was time to dream of life, and of Fleta, and what he wished might have been. Time for machine dreams.
Mach tuned out, waiting.
12. Apprentice
Bane, conscious of his agreement with Mach, gave no sign as he found himself in the passage lighted by magic– glow rather than scientific effects. He had been walking naked; now he was fully clothed, and that seemed strange after more than a week in the other state. He did not want anyone to know, yet, that the bumbling visitor had been replaced by the skilled native. "He is near," he said. "I know I can do it. But show me Fleta first, in good health."
"Do it now, or she shall lose her horn now," Purple said sternly.
Rage flared in Bane. They were going to dehorn Fleta? That would deprive the unicorn of all her magic power and most of her will to live! The Adverse Adepts had done that to her uncle Clip, before Bane was born, and only Stile's total magic had been able to mend that horn. Any chance that Bane might have worked voluntarily with these Adepts dissipated with this news. Fleta was hardly his love, but she was an old friend, and such a threat against her alienated him instantly.
He did not need to conceal his emotion, for Mach felt as strongly about the mare as Bane himself did, if in a different manner. The propriety of Mach's relationship with the unicorn was questionable, but since Mach was now back in his own frame, that didn't matter. It would be ironic if Fleta were mutilated to punish a person who might never see her again anyway.
"Thou hast made that threat before," Bane said grimly. "How can I know that thou hast not already done it?"
"So now thou dost affect native speech?" the Purple Adept remarked contemptuously. "Forget it, alien; thou canst not fool anyone."
Oops – it seemed that Mach had maintained his own dialect. Well, Bane had been in Proton long enough to pick it up. "I thought it was close enough," he muttered, as if disgruntled. "Anyway, show me she's all right, or I'll know she isn't." Indeed, he had no respect for the word of this man, and realized he would be foolish to deliver the message from Proton without ensuring that the terms were met.
The Adept scowled, but yielded. "One time, then – but try not my patience further."
They went to the cell where Fleta was confined. She was in her natural form, and an amulet had been tied to her horn, nullifying it. She was also in a halter, with her head tied in place so that she could not move it to scrape off the amulet, and trolls kept watch.
Appalled, Bane approached the cell – and felt the presence of an invisible magic barrier. He knew its nature immediately; it was a standard Adept spell that was used to confine animals or ordinary folk. This was a strong one, that could restrain a unicorn despite the antimagical powers of the species. Even with her horn free, Fleta could not penetrate this barrier; she would merely be able to change her form in her cell.
But he knew what to do, now. He had to provide her with a spell for spot nullification without alarm. "What holds me?" he demanded, as if he didn't know.
"Never mind," Purple said, and the barrier dissolved. Bane approached the tied animal. He put his mouth to her ear, as if whispering an endearment. "This spell, new role," he sang quietly. "Make horn-sized hole." And the powerful magic of his will reached out to change the amulet on her horn.
Her near eye widened, showing white momentarily. He knew she felt his spell, and knew that Mach could not have performed magic of this level. She realized that the amulet no longer locked her into her present form; it had been turned to his purpose. She would know what to do, and when.
He turned away. Without a word he walked out of the cell, feeling the magic barrier snap back into place behind him, and proceeded back down the tunnel toward the point of rendezvous.
At the proper place he paused, overlapping Mach and verifying that the robot had done his part. Then he changed his expression. He touched his clothing. "Then I be back!" he exclaimed.
"Contact!" the Purple Adept said.
Bane turned to him. "I bear a message from thine other self: Contact be established, and the next move be thine."
"But that's the message I sent him!"
Bane shrugged. "He be thine other self."
Purple's visage clouded suspiciously. "How do I know thou hast really made the change? Thou couldst be the same one I captured!"
"Perhaps thou willst believe it by this," Bane said. Then he sang: "Make a funnel to a tunnel."
The floor of the passage opened up in a circular depression, deepening in the center. It did indeed soon come to resemble a funnel. Below it there was evidently a new tunneclass="underline" one leading out from this fastness.
Without delay, Bane jumped into the funnel and slid down into the tunnel. He landed on his feet and started running along it.
But in a moment shapes loomed up ahead of him. Trolls! The Purple Adept had summoned more of his minions, and they were blocking him off.
Bane halted, knowing that he could not pass these nefarious creatures of the underworld. They could tunnel naturally as fast as he could by magic, and they could move more rapidly here than he could. He backed to the funnel, and hiked himself up, scrambling up its slope until he stood again before the Adept.
"Then perhaps this," he said. He sang: "Let me fare, through the air."
The ceiling opened, revealing open sky above. Bane spread his arms and sailed up, quickly leaving the structure of the Purple Demesnes. But from the horizon came a monstrous flock of harpies, that quickly converged on him.
Bane looked at the ugly half-birds, and reversed course. He plunged down again, and in a moment stood again before the Purple Adept.
"Or this," he said. Then he sang: "Make me most like a ghost."
Nothing changed in appearance – but now Bane walked directly into and through the wall, and on through the rock, as if he had no more substance than a ghost. No troll or harpy could touch him now.
Then something manifested that could touch him. A genuine ghost! It was in the form of a worn old man, but it paced him through the rock, and closed on him, and when the withered old hand closed on his arm, it had the grip and force of the supernatural. Bane was a pseudoghost; he could not stand up against the real thing.
Thus he found himself a third time back before the Purple Adept. His attempts to escape by using his magic had been foiled. He was only an apprentice Adept; he was unable to match the power of a mature Adept. He could not get away this way.
Purple nodded. "Aye, I believe thou dost make thy point. Thou art the apprentice."