Flach sounded a single short note. Immediately the others came in close. The unicorn stopped, and Lysander slid to the ground. It was a relief; the bareback ride was chafing and fatiguing.
Flach reappeared. “Decoys,” he said.
Weva turned girl again, with her flute, and played her eerie, lovely melody. The other bat and the wolf became human and stood there, holding hands. The magic gathered.
Flach gestured, and the two were gone. “Where—?” the harpy screeched.
“To the Brown Demesnes,” Flach replied. “But this be not enough; the ships will watch here also. Thou must come with me, Oche; Lysander goes with Weva.”
Lysander realized that Weva had not stopped playing her flute when the conjuration was complete, this time. The magic was still being summoned, and fairly crackled in the air around them. He walked over to stand beside the bat girl. They must be getting close to their destination.
Suddenly the scene changed. Lysander discovered himself standing on the plain he had seen before, with the red-haired girl standing beside him.
“He conjured us here?” he asked, though the answer was obvious. “Why? Where are we going?”
“To the South Pole,” she said. “Get a move on thee, man; it be far.” She started walking south.
“Far? It must be thousands of miles! We can’t walk there!”
“Mayhap we can ride a dragon, then,” she said. “Yon creature winds us now.”
Lysander looked. She was right: a dragon was sniffing in their direction. This hot region was the dragon’s natural breeding ground, it seemed. There wasn’t usually much prey here, but it was comfortable for the creatures as a resting area, and they could readily fly over the mountains for their hunting. However, they surely would snap up any creatures foolish enough to enter dragon country.
Suddenly it occurred to him that his usefulness to the planetary resistance effort might be over, and that he had been sent out here to die. The bat girl was hardly in danger; she could change form and fly away after verifying his death. Yet why should Flach have gone to such trouble to bring him this far, if that was the case? It would have been easier to dump him elsewhere.
“There be one!” Weva said. “Hurry!”
“What?” But she was already hurrying to the side.
He ran after her. She stopped at a small knob in the sand. “Pull it up. Quick!”
Lysander took hold of the knob and hauled on it. It was heavy, but it did come up, and with it a section of the ground. It was another trapdoor entrance to a tunnel or a cave!
“But it may be changed time!” he protested.
“Wouldst face the dragon instead?” she demanded as she scrambled down.
The dragon seemed quite ready to try the case; it was half running, half flying toward them, jets of smoke issuing from its snoot.
Lysander jumped down into the hole. His feet landed on a sloping surface, and he sat down. The surface leveled out quickly, and he was able to reach out and haul the lid closed before the dragon arrived.
There was light farther down. He crawled through to it, and found Weva there, in a chamber similar to the one he had shared with Echo, opening a chest. “We be in luck,” she said. “They left food.”
“Who left food? I thought there was nothing but dragons here!”
“Goblins, belike, or mayhap trolls. When they travel, they like rest stops, so they space them through. Methinks they will mind not our borrowing it.”
He could hear the dragon snuffling above, looking for the vanished prey. It was apt to be a while before it was safe to emerge. They might as well eat.
She handed him a chunk of dark bread, and bit into a similar chunk herself. “I would know thee better, Lysan,” she said.
She abbreviated his name the same way Flach/Nepe did. Suddenly he had a suspicion. Nepe could assume any form; was she up to something? Had he been deceived about whom he traveled with? Yet what would be the point? It seemed best to play it straight.
“I am curious about you, too, Weva,” he said. “I shall be happy to trade information while we wait and eat.”
“Aye, fair,” she agreed. “I be more than I may seem to thee. But before I reveal that, I would play with thee.”
“Play with me? A game? I know a number, as I am a games-man.”
She laughed. “Nay, ‘Sander! I mean as Echo does.” She shrugged out of her simple robe, showing a figure that was slender but aesthetically appealing. She was young, but woman rather than child. “Only go slowly, and explain, for I have done this not before.”
She had caught him entirely by surprise. “Then I have to say that such play is not so direct,” he said. “I have a commitment to Echo, and I love her, and have neither desire nor intent to have any similar relationship with any other woman. I’m sure that in due course you will be able to find a suitable vampire bat boy, after this crisis is over, if the planet survives.”
“I be not exactly a bat girl,” she said. Suddenly there was a wolf bitch in her place.
Not Nepe—but Flach, magically changing to his other forms! But to what point? “I don’t understand.”
“I be a creature o’ the West Pole,” Weva said, reappearing. “All my life, nigh thirteen years, I be ‘mongst the animal heads. They be good folk, but none can assume full man form. So I would try it with a full man.”
“I’m not a man!” Lysander protested. “I’m an android, with an alien brain.” If this was a variant of Flach/Nepe, this was no news; if it really was a girl of the Pole, the news would not hurt at this stage.
“Aye,” Flach said. “But thou dost be more human than I.”
“I think not. My brain is Hectare.”
“Then see this.” Suddenly there was a Hectare in her place.
Lysander gaped. The thing was genuine! He knew the details of the species and this was true in every particular.
“Illusion!” he exclaimed. “You are fooling me with illusion!”
The Hectare extended a tentacle. Lysander touched it, expecting to feel a human finger instead. But it was real, unless the illusion extended also to touch.
This was a challenge. He remembered how he had tried to verify Jod’e, in the early game. How could he verify this?
By the codes. The patterns were inherent; Hectare used them to communicate in the planted stage, before they developed sonics. A tentacle could tap the ground, communicating with other rooted individuals, exchanging information.
He tapped the floor with a knuckle and a heel, in the GREETING, STRANGER pattern.
Two tentacles tapped in response: ACKNOWLEDGMENT, STRANGER.
It was a valid response!
The tentacle tapped again. YES, I AM GENUINE. I AM THE SEED YOU BROUGHT FROM THE CITY.
Suddenly it fell into place. They had grown a Hectare hybrid! They had merged it with bat, wolf, and human stock, all of which had been brought to the Pole.
“I believe you,” he said, awed. “But what is the point?”
Weva the girl reappeared. “I have told thee much about me. Dost not feel thou shouldst respond in the manner I asked?”
“I will tell you all you wish to know about me. But as I said, my love is elsewhere.”
“That can I change.” She brought out her flute, played it briefly, and gestured. “Now that love be gone.”
“Of course it isn’t!” he exclaimed. “You can’t just—“
But he had to stop, for he realized it was true. He no longer cared particularly for Echo.
“You have a potion?” he asked. “A null-love potion?”
“Nay, merely mine Adept magic skill- Wouldst prefer I make thee love me?” She lifted her flute.
“No! Please!” He realized that he was in the presence of a creature who could twist him any way it chose, and it frightened him. “I see you have power, but I ask you not to use it on me further. Just tell me what you want of me.”