“Else would we ne’er give it thee,” Pyreforge agreed. “An this instrument fall into enemy hands—”
“I will die before that happen,” Fleta said, and the air around her rippled.
“Aye,” the elf agreed.
Soon they were on their way again, trotting north toward the Blue Demesnes. They passed through the Werewolf De mesnes, but they neither paused there nor made themselves known, for fear the enemy would discover them. Fleta carried the Platinum Flute, in its box, tied to her barrel. She could feel its latent power, warming her side and lending strength. She knew it could revive Stile! In two days they were near the castle of the Blue De mesnes. But how were they to get inside? They knew that there would be formidable magic barring their way, and that their amulet would not protect them from discovery here, even if any real strength remained in it. “Mayhap they be busy elsewhere, not guarding this,” Al said hopefully. “I can fly in and spy it out, and if naught happens to me—”
“Aye, go,” Fleta said. She did not like putting him in danger, but she couldn’t risk bringing the Flute near until she knew it was safe.
Alien changed form and flew low and circuitously toward the castle. In due course he returned. “Tan be there, guard ing—but he be sleeping!”
Without a word, Fleta advanced on the castle in her human form. It would have been faster in her natural form, but she didn’t want the sound of her hooves waking the Adept. Tania followed. They took advantage of whatever cover they could find.
They crossed the moat and entered the castle. It was un naturally silent; the animals that usually came for healing were gone, and the normal activities of cooking and working were still. The geis had been laid on it, and it was in effect deserted.
Fleta stepped into the main chamber. There was Stile, sit ting frozen, only his eyes alive. His magic involved singing; he could not sing, and so was helpless. Fleta repressed her horror, and tiptoed toward Stile.
“Hold, mare.”
She jumped, turning to face the voice. It was Tan, awake! Of course he had feigned sleep, to trick Al and lure them in here; now he had sprung his trap all too neatly.
“Look not at him!” Tania cried.
But it was already too late. The Adept’s gaze was on her, meeting her own. The volition drained from her body as his eyes loomed large.
A bat flew at Tan, going for his eyes. But the Adept merely nicked a glance at Alien, and the bat stiffened and fell to the floor, unable to fly. Fleta had some resistance, being a unicorn, but the vampires did not. The boy had done a brave and foolish thing, and now was stunned. The terrible gaze resumed its reduction of her defense; the Adept wasn’t even straining.
Tania leaped in front other. “I will stop him!” she cried. “Take the Flute to Stile!”
But Fleta, tagged peripherally by the Evil Eye, could barely move. She could feel her volition recovering, but the process was distressingly slow. Only her right hand, holding the Platinum Flute, was fully functional; it had not been affected by the Eye. Indeed, it was the source of her recovery; volition was extending along her arm and toward her shoulder. She had thought the power of the Evil Eye was exaggerated; now she knew that her contempt for it had been because of ignorance. Tania had never used it on her, and her respect for Tania was rising.
Meanwhile, Tania blocked off the Adept Tan, countering his gaze with hers. Neither moved; the Eyes were all. “Dost think to oppose me, turncoat?” Tan inquired with infinite scorn. “Thou canst not, and I will tell thee why. I am the Tan Adept, not thee, and this be not because I be male, but because my power were e’er greater than thine.” Fleta, staring at Tania’s back, saw the woman shiver. He was speaking truly!
“Moreover, thou has lost the edge thou hadst,” he continued inexorably. “Thou fool, thou didst let Bane turn the worm on thee, draining thee o’ thy nerve. Now thou dost be mushy soft, thine Eye weak.”
Tania’s body shook. She was losing the contest, and Fleta still lacked control of her legs. She was a unicorn, resistant to hostile magic, but the Adept had stunned her in a moment. If she tried to walk to Stile, she would fall. “Were thou not my sister, it would go hard with thee. As it is, I will put thee merely to sleep while I deal with these animals. At least thou has done one thing right: thou didst bring to me the Platinum Flute, that else would have been their only remaining threat.”
Fleta jammed the box containing the Flute forward, into Tania’s back. “Take it!” she said. “It will give thee strength!” She slid the instrument across the woman’s back, around her body to her arm, so that she could grasp it. Tania’s body straightened at the contact. The Flute was lending her strength! Despite Tan’s brutal words, Tania’s power was nearly the equal of his, and she was able to fight back. She took the box, her gaze still locked with that of her brother, and slowly opened it. Stage by stage she assembled the Flute, and her posture showed that she was still gaining strength. At last she held it before her. Now it was Tan’s turn to shake. The Flute made the difference, and Tania was beating him back! Her Eye was becoming stronger than his.
Tan tried to back away, but in a moment came up against the wall. Tania followed, holding the Flute, never relinquishing her gaze. She had to fascinate him, or he would fascinate them all and take the Flute.
Alien stirred. Fleta, almost completely recovered, went to him, picking him up. Her contact helped; he lifted his mouse like head, his big eyes blinking.
Now Fleta was free to take the Flute to Stile—but she didn’t have it, and couldn’t take it until Tania had finished with Tan. Tania was winning, but it was obviously a debilitating contest; perhaps never before had Eye been opposed to Eye. At last Tan sank to the ground, his eyes clouding. He had lost; his mind was captive to his sister’s. But Tania was little better off. She wavered, and Fleta hastened to support her before she fell. She seemed dazed. Her tan hair glistened with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes were turning bloodshot. Even with the help of the Flute, she had had to give her all in the effort to prevail.
The castle shook. There was a rumble from below. Then the stone floor clove asunder, and the Purple Adept rose through it, buoyed by a waft of smoke.
There was no time for thought. Both Fleta and Alien knew what to do. They hurled themselves at the Adept, Fleta changing to her natural form as she did so. Purple raised his hand. The floor bucked, throwing Fleta to the side. A jet of purple gas shot out of a fissure and swept Alien out of the air. Both landed at Stile’s feet, half stunned. How true it was: ordinary folk had no chance against any Adept!
Now Purple approached Tania as she stood swaying in her sweat-sodden cloak. “I see thou be better talented than we judged,” he said. “Now give me the Flute, girl.” Fleta made a desperate effort to protest, but all she could manage was a double note on her horn.
Tania blinked. She looked at Purple, then at the Flute in her hand. It was obvious that she had no way to resist him; her power was spent, while his was strong. “Thou’rt a pretty thing,” Purple said. “Give it me, and I will spare thee punishment, and mayhap take thee for my mistress. I want not to destroy thee.” It was obviously no bluff, either way; Purple had all the powers of the deep earth, and he liked women of any type.
Slowly Tania lifted the Platinum Flute. Fleta blew another protest, but could manage no more. There seemed to be no way to keep Purple from his victory.
Alien changed to his boy form. He was too battered to rise, but he could speak. “Play it!” he gasped.
Tania paused. A strange look crossed her face. She was not musically inclined. There was no way she could perform on such an instrument. But she seemed to hear a voice the others could not. She did not pass the Flute to Purple. She lifted it instead to her mouth. She blew. Then things became strange indeed.