He had mentioned Nepe. Could she follow up on this, and verify her conjecture? She assumed woman form. “Then had thou left her in Phaze; she could have been the female harpy, and been comfortable.”
“Nay. She knows not how to change form.”
“Mayhap thou could exchange again, and we could teach her.”
“Mayhap!” he agreed brightly. Then abruptly he sobered, and said no more on the subject.
Now she was sure: it was because he could not exchange without giving away Nepe’s hiding place. She did not pursue the subject. She resumed her natural form, and he became a wolf, and they romped on back to the castle. Later in the day, when the Lady was showing Flach how she made cookies, in timeless grandmotherly fashion, and he was showing her how he could lick the bowl clean, in equally timeless grandchild fashion, Neysa had a chance to talk with Stile.
“So he dare not,” she concluded.
Stile nodded. “I think thou hast figured it, mare! That be a relief to me, for it means the impasse remains.” The rest of the visiting period passed amicably enough. Every day the boy did new things with his grandparents, learning spells and new games, and romped in the meadows with Neysa in one form or another. Flach brightened somewhat, discovering that they were not pushing him to contact Nepe, and it was almost as it had been in the old days. Stile and Flach spent many hours playing chess. It seemed the boy had good aptitude, which was perhaps not surprising, considering that Stile remained the Phaze champion, and Fleta was now a ranking player; it was in Flach’s ancestry. They even played through some of the games Stile had had with Icebeard. Stile had played the snow demon to twenty-three consecutive draws, then won one, ending their private tournament. But the following year they had played again, and after fifteen draws the demon had won one. It had become a regular thing; they were delightfully evenly matched. Flach was evidently able to appreciate the pretty nuances of the moves in a way that Neysa could not.
Then, toward the end of the stay. Bane visited. Neysa was grazing nearby as Stile came out to meet him. Because Bane served the other side, by common consent they met beyond the castle, in nominally neutral territory. “How be the boy?” he inquired.
“Somewhat subdued,” Stile replied.
“To be expected, so soon after being taken from the Pack. His oath-friends there be similarly subdued, I understand.”
“How goes thy life in Proton?”
“Well enough, between bouts with the Book and Oracle.” Neysa kept her ears unperked, so as not to give away her interest. How could they be working with the Book and Oracle?
“And how be little Nepe?” Stile inquired smoothly. “Subdued. Thou knowest that they wished to serve thee, not the others.”
“Aye. But an she be well, as be Flach, thou needst have no concern.”
“She be well, far as we can tell. She be with Blue now, o’ course. But one thing be odd: we understand that she contacts not Flach. Methought thou wouldst be using them as Mach and I be used, to keep the pace.”
“All in good time,” Stile said. “They be young, and have four years to forget.”
Bane nodded. “Surely so.” Yet he seemed surprised. “I came to ask thee to send Flach directly to Translucent’s isle, since I lack Mach’s facility in transport.”
“Readily done, an Neysa be granted entry.”
“She be.” Bane gave him a token, glanced across at Neysa, and waved. She nodded, and continued grazing as if not really interested.
Bane departed. Immediately Neysa approached Stile.
“Oath-friend, let us travel a bit,” Stile said, mounting her.
She was glad to accede.
“Methinks our conjecture was mistaken,” Stile said when they were far enough away from the castle to avoid any risk of being overheard. It was Stile’s belief that it was the castle the Adepts snooped on, rather than himself, now that things were quiet. “I wish not to alarm the Lady, but must know. Canst discover it for me?”
Neysa made an affirmative honk. She would certainly try! She started early, so as to have time to talk to Flach if the occasion seemed propitious. This time she bore due west, toward the West Pole and the Translucent Demesnes. Flach was quiet, seeming not enthusiastic about returning to his dam.
They had thought that Nepe had escaped, so that Flach could not communicate with her without giving away her hiding place. Now they knew this was not the case. Why, then, was he reticent? It almost seemed as if he did not want to help his grandfather, and she knew that wasn’t it. Yet she couldn’t just ask; he would have told Stile if he intended to, and had to have reason for his silence. Also, the Adepts would be watching them now, making sure the boy was delivered; they would overhear anything said.
They came to the Lattice: the great pattern of cracks in the ground. She resented the founder spell the lattice demons had hit her with the last time she was here, but she could not do much about it unless the demons came to the surface. And there was a demon head poking up! With a half-glad snort of challenge she lowered her horn and charged. The demon disappeared, hiding in the crevice, and she passed over without contact. She had expected this; still, it was satisfying.
“Slay them!” Flach cried, taking an interest. More heads appeared. She still had the worst of the Lattice to traverse; were they going to try for her? She knew that her enemies the Adverse Adepts would never allow them to cap ture her, because she was on their business; still, she pre ferred to handle this nuisance herself. She picked up speed. “Let me, Granddam!” Flach begged.
He had done well enough against the dragon, and perhaps this would make him say something. There was nothing like shared adventure to make folk talk. She made a honk of affirmation, coming to a halt on one of the Lattice plateaus. He singsonged something. Another cloud appeared, with a grotesque face; he seemed to be partial to those, or perhaps it was the shape his magic was assuming. The demons gazed up at the cloud, distrusting it, but it seemed harmless, and after a moment they resumed their closure about Neysa. Flach sang again. The cloud developed a nether aperture, from which a blob dropped.
“Get out, Granddam!” he cried.
Neysa bolted. The demons in front of her ducked down, but those at the sides closed in, trying to grab at her as she passed.
There was a sickly-sounding whoosh! Then the sound of coughing and choking from the bowels of the Lattice. Then the demons clambered out, not to attack Neysa, but to flee. What was this?
She slowed, curious about this inexplicable turnabout.
“Don’t stop, Granddam!” Flach exclaimed.
“Why?” she asked in horn talk.
“Because I dropped a stink bomb on them!” Then the spreading vapor caught up with them. Neysa choked; it was the most putrid stench she had ever whiffed—and this was just the edge of it.
She leaped forward, escaping the miasma. No wonder the demons were fleeing; it must be intense down in the crevices! Trust the child to come up with another childish—but effective!—ploy.
Well, she really could not blame him. She had given him leave, and certainly the demons deserved it. In fact, it seemed a fitting retribution for that founder spell! They readily won clear of the Lattice; the demons paid no further attention to them. She came to the regular field and forest, and resumed her normal trot.
“Thou hast become quite a little Adept,” she remarked in horn talk.
“I had time to think of good spells,” he said. “It was great, being with the Pack, but time there was.” His mood had evidently lightened.
“Be it similar with Nepe?”
“Aye. She be one clever girl.”
She hoped he would amplify, but he did not. Once again, she had been unable to discover his secret. They stopped for the night at the foot of rolling hills. Flach assumed unicorn form again, and grazed with her as before. So it went, on the long trip to the coast. Everything seemed normal with the boy, except his connection with Nepe. The secret remained undivulged. It was enough to make her horn go sour.