Somewhere along the way, she realized that she had been had: Bane had used magic to make himself immune to her charms. Probably the Rovot Adept had fashioned a superior spell for his other self. So her case was lost, and had been almost from the outset. Why hadn’t she caught on long before this? Because she hadn’t wanted to. She had become a fool for love.
As it seemed that the search would never end, it did. They were checking the werewolves, and suddenly realized that the boy could have doubled back to join the Pack he had passed on his route with Neysa, having scouted it on the way. They verified the number of pups who had come to that Pack that year, from other Packs. They knew from their preliminary survey how many pups remained there, and after allowing for deaths in transit and since, they found the count skew by one. There was one more wolf in Kurrelgyre’s Pack than there should be. That one, they were sure, would prove to be Flach, now four years older than he had been.
They paused to take stock. Mach happened to be with them at this time, which meant that the verification would be prompt. “I believe this is it,” he said. “Our son will be ours again.”
“Aye,” Fleta agreed, evincing mixed emotions. “But after four years, ‘mongst the wolves, how will he be?”
“A fighting creature,” he said. “And a canny one. Even at four, he and Nepe fooled us completely. We are liable to have a handful.”
“An he wanted to help the Adepts, he would have hidden not,” she said. “Be we right to force him?”
“That notion has bothered me,” Mach admitted. “So long as we could not find him, the matter was moot. Now that we are about to, we have a decision to make. Do we really want to take him in?”
Fleta did not answer. It was obvious that her emotions were warring: she loved her son, and did not love the cause of the Adverse Adepts, yet was bound to serve it. Mach turned to Tania. “Thee?”
Tania tried to keep her face straight, but such a shock went through her that she could not; her eyes overflowed, and she too was unable to speak.
“What game is this?” Mach asked, annoyed.
Now Fleta found her voice. “Tease her not, my love; it be not kind.”
“What arc you talking about?” he demanded. “I asked a simple question.”
“Thou didst bespeak her in our tongue.”
“Why, so I did; it is of no consequence, and easy to do here. What is your point?”
“She loves Bane.”
His brow furrowed. Like most males, he was singulariy dense about certain things. “So?”
“Therefore she loves thy likeness, e’en as I love Bane’s likeness.”
Still he did not get it. “Bane and I have kept in touch. I gave him a spell to make him immune from her blandishments, having been warned by her other selfs behavior in Proton. If she fell into her own trap, she has only herself to blame.”
“Mayhap. But ill it behooves thee to tease her about it.”
“What are you talking about? I have left her strictly alone! This has always been purely business, and remains so. I asked her for her opinion about recovering our son.”
“Thou idiot!” she flared. “Thou didst bespeak her ‘Thee’! Twice more, and it be—“
“The likeness of Bane swearing love for her,” he concluded, finally getting it. “Yes, I suppose that would be a shock. I apologize, Tania, for inadvertently teasing you.” Had there been any doubt of his complete indifference to her, this ended it. But he was not Bane.
Tania finally was able to speak. “It be not that; it were a shock I knew false e’en as spoken. It be that an our search end, we three or four need travel together no more.”
“And thou canst be with him no more,” Fleta said.
“She has no call to be with him!” Mach said. “He loves Agape!”
“In Proton-frame,” Fleta said.
“That suffices. Would you have me loving the Proton Tania?”
That gave Fleta pause. “An she be like this one, now—”
“Nay!” Tania cried. “We all know this be but a trap reversed! I sought to snare Bane, and was myself snared. My fate be justice. I bring it up only to show I can comment not on whether to bring in thy son, Fleta, ‘cause I want the search to end ne’er, fool that I be to ‘fess it.”
Mach looked squarely at her, abruptly quite interested. ‘Tania, are you saying that if we bypassed this village, you would not object?”
“Nay! That be treachery to my cause!” But she was speaking only part of the truth. “Yet, an Bane asked me . . .”
“Yes, I see you speak truly. But I agreed to serve your side, and I shall not betray that agreement, though my heart lies elsewhere. I shall recover my son, and he shall work on your side. We shall deliver the final power to the Adverse Adepts. Then, perhaps my onus will be abated.”
“0’ course,” Tania agreed sadly.
“Aye,” Fleta said, as sadly.
“It is a matter of honor,” Mach said. “Translucent trusts me, and trusts Bane, because of it. This is the way it is.”
“Aye,” the two said together, and turned away. “In the morning we shall do it.” Then he conjured an entire house, stocked with everything a house required, including a separate bedroom for Tania.
But before she slept, Fleta knocked. “Aye, I would share him, with thine other self in Proton-frame,” she said. “But it be, as he put it, moot.”
“Thou dost be a nice person.”
“What willst thou, anon?”
“Thou didst show the way, once.” For Fleta, believing her love doomed, had once tried to throw herself off a cliff to her death.
Fleta was shocked. “But he would come rescue thee not!”
“Aye. Then it be soon o’er.”
“I beg thee, rush not into such!”
Tania shrugged. “Doubtless I lack the courage, anyway.” That was all; there was no more to be said. Both of them were crying, silently.
6 - Nepe
Citizen Purple put through a query: “Troubot, what is the latest pattern on werewolves?”
“Sir, it is unchanged since your last query,” the trouble shooter robot responded. The machine was not at Purple’s site; it was on a special network that connected only selected personnel. It was one of the few self-willed machines still used by the Contrary Citizens, because it was uncannily good at its job, and related well to each client. There was a difference between machines, and compatible ones were valued.
The Citizen said a bad word. “Query the boy.” This was part of it: Troubot knew what and whom he meant when he wasn’t specific.
“Query initiated. Will you wait, sir?”
“No. Buzz me back when you have the new pattern.” Purple was a surly brute, but he never refused a call from this machine.
Troubot did not answer. It proceeded about its business. It was paging the residence of Bane, the man from Phaze, who had just transferred in to Proton. When there was no response after a reasonable interval, it paged him at the residence of Agape, his wife.
“Damn thee, Troubot, canst thou not wait?” Bane responded irritably. “I be romancing my love at the moment.” There were no secrets from this machine; it did not tell.