Robot Adept Page 7

  When silence returned, she crept back the way she had come. She was not constructed for crawling, but was so small that she could pretty well run two-legged along the tunnel. That was one advantage to tiny size!

  “Agape! Agape!” a harpy screeched. “They be gone now. Come to me!”

  It was Phoebe! No other harpy would know her true name. Agape made her way out of the tunnel, and gave a peep.

  Phoebe spied her. “Ah, ‘tis a relief!” she screeched.

  “I thought sure I’d lost thee! Come, we must to the weres ‘fore else amiss occurs!” She took Agape in her claw again, and lunged into the air.

  They reached the Were Demesnes without further event. Three husky wolves veered toward Phoebe the moment they spied her, evidently meaning business. The harpy was tired from her long flight, and could not achieve sufficient elevation to avoid them. Their teeth gleamed.

  But her voice was enough. “Halt, weres!” she screeched. “Slay me not, for I bring a friend of thine for help!” She lifted her foot, showing Agape.

  One of the wolves became a buxom young woman in a furry halter. “That be Fleta in birdform!” she cried. “What dost filth like thee do with her?”

  Phoebe flopped tiredly to the ground. “Bitch, I be friend to Fleta; she cured my tail-itch, and her friend Mach gave me this spectacular hairdo. But this be not the ‘corn; she be her other self from Proton-frame, who knows not how to change form. So I brought her to thee, ‘cause thou knowest the art o’ shape-changing and mayhap can help her.”

  The young woman reached down to pick Agape up. “Be this true? Thou be not Fleta?”

  Agape nodded her beak affirmatively.

  “Then mayhap we owe thee, harpy,” the woman said. “Choose a tree and roost, and we shall let thee be in peace.”

  “I thank thee, bitch,” Phoebe said. “Do thou help her if thou canst; Fleta will need her body, an she return. This be Agape, an alien creature, but not inimical.” Agape realized that the harpy was not being insulting to the werewolf girl; the female of the species was called a bitch.

  The girl held Agape up at face level. “I be Furramenin. I talked with thee at the Translucent Demesnes not long ago.”

  Agape shook her little head no.

  Furramenin laughed. “Ah, yes, that be right! It was Fleta I talked to, not thee! Thou art Agape! Come, let me instruct thee in form-changing. Let me shift to bitchform, and then do thou take my paw and shift to girlform with me. Understand?”

  Agape nodded yes. The girl set her down.

  The wolf reappeared. Agape hopped across to touch a front paw. Then the girl manifested—but Agape remained a bird.

  They tried it again, and again, but with no success. “Must needs it be with a flying creature,” the woman concluded regretfully.

  “Aye, bitch,” Phoebe called from the branch she had chosen. “I got her to birdform, but could get her not back.”

  “Then will I take thee to Fleta’s friend Suchevane,” Furramenin decided. “In the morning.”

  Suchevane! Agape knew that name! That was the one the Citizens had not known, whom Bane had recommended.

  Then she felt faint, and fell the tiny distance to the ground.

  “What be the matter?” Furramenin exclaimed. “Be thou sick?”

  “I know, I think,” Phoebe screeched from her branch. “She be locked in hummingbird form, and the bird has high metabolism. She has eaten not in hours. She be starving!”

  “Of course!” the werebitch agreed. “We must feed her! But what do such birds eat?”

  “Nectar, methinks,” the harpy replied.

  They ranged out and gathered fresh flowers and brought them back. Furramenin held the flowers up for Agape, but she did not know how to eat. Her long bill poked through the delicate petals, getting little nectar.

  “This be trouble,” Furramenin muttered. “An we could get her to girlform, we could feed her, but she may starve before we succeed!”

  They consulted with the Pack leader, who it seemed was a wolf named Kurrelgyre, who told them to take her to the vampires and the Red Adept. “Start now, tonight,” he said.

  So it was that Agape found herself tied to the back of a running wolf, moving rapidly through the night. She was too weak to react, but was conscious, except when she slept. The motion continued interminably, across what she took to be plains, and through what seemed to be forest, and past some dark river. Furramenin seemed indefatigable in her bitchform, but Agape could tell by the lather that leaked from the corner of her mouth that she was straining.

  She faded out, and in, and it was morning. Then out, and in again, and it was deep into day, and they were arriving at the caves of the vampires.

  There must have been dialogue and explanations, but Agape was too far gone to assimilate them. She was in the process of dying; she knew it. Her foolish attempt to go out on her own had led her inevitably to harm. It was hard to disbelieve that she was in Phaze, now, but it was too late; her belief no longer mattered.

  She woke briefly to find herself in the air again, carried by a larger creature. Phoebe? No, the smell was not the same. Then she faded out again.

  Chapter 4

  Fleta

  The world shimmered, and she felt an ineffable change. Then things steadied, and she found herself still in Mach’s embrace.

  But it was different. She looked up at him—and his face had changed. It was similar to its normal configuration, but somehow less flexible. His arms, also, were somehow less yielding.

  She glanced to the side, and discovered that they were in a chamber. What had happened to the field?

  “The exchange has been accomplished,” he said. “We had better disengage.”

  He still sounded like Mach! But this was definitely not the same body. Now she noticed that their clothes were gone, too, “Where be we?” she asked.

  “In an office maintained by a Citizen, he informed me. Citizen Tan, I think.” Then he drew away from her, surprised. “But you already know that, Agape.”

  She was startled. “I be Fleta!”

  His startlement mirrored her own. Then he laughed. “Don’t tease me like that, Agape! I love her.”

  “Tease thee? I tease thee not! What magic hast thou wrought, Bane, to conjure us so swiftly here?”

  He gazed at her, evidently sorting things out. Then he spoke slowly and carefully. “This is the frame of Proton. I am Mach, a self-willed humanoid robot. Are you telling me you are not Agape, but Fleta of Phaze?”

  “Aye, I be Fleta of Phaze,” she repeated. “If this truly be Proton-frame, and thou truly be Mach, then must I ha’ traveled here with thee. Be that possible?”

  Again he considered. Then he touched his bare chest, and a door opened in it, showing odd wires and objects. “I am the robot, as you can see; this is my own body, not Bane’s.” He closed the door, and his chest looked normal again. “Let me question you briefly. Who was the last person we met, on the way to the exchange?”

  “Phoebe,” she said promptly. “The harpy whose hair thou didst ruin, and she takes it as elegance. But she be decent, especially for her kind. I have her feather in my pocket—” But her hand found no pocket, for she had lost her cloak.

  “And then we made love,” he said.

  “Nay, we followed the delf till the glow was brightest, and only kissed, and then—”

  “Then, as I sang the spell of exchange—”

  “I spake thee the triple Thee, as thou didst do when—”

  He stepped into her and crushed her in his embrace. “You are my love!” he said. “I tested you, but no other person could have known—”

  “This really be thy rovot form?” she asked uncertainly.

  “It really is. But let me prove myself to you, so that you know you can trust me. I came for you in a canoe I fashioned to float in air, with Suchevane, the most dazzling of vampires, and saved you from your suicide. Then the Translucent Adept appeared, and offered us sanctuary, and the splash of truth supported him, so I agr
eed—”

  She put a finger against his lips. “It be enough, Mach; I know thee now. Methinks in my desire to stay with thee, I worked a bit of magic of mine own, and came with thee to thy frame.”

  “A double exchange!” he said, awed. “You are in Agape’s body.”

  She looked down at herself. “Aye, this nor looks nor feels like mine! Let me see whe’er I can revert to natural state.” She tried to shift to her unicorn form, but nothing happened. “It happens not.”

  “You cannot change that way, here,” Mach said. “Magic doesn’t work in Proton. The laws of science are enforced; mass must remain constant. When Agape changes, she does so slowly, melting from one shape to another.”

  “Melting?” Fleta asked, repelled.

  He smiled. “I suspect Agape finds your method of changing form awkward, too!” Then he made a soundless whistle. “And she must be there, with Bane! Experiencing magic for the first time!”

  “In my body?” Fleta asked, disturbed.

  “I’m sure she’ll try to treat it as well as you treat hers,” he said with a smile.

  She relaxed. “Mayhap ‘tis fair. But this body—I want to be locked not in human form fore’er! How does it work?”

  “I can’t tell you directly, because I have had no experience in it, or in any living body other than Bane’s. She just melted and reformed. Here, maybe we can do it small-scale first, so you can discover the technique.” He took her left hand. “Concentrate on this, and try to turn it into a hoof.”

  She tried. Her instant change did not exist, but gradually the outlines of her fingers softened. Then they sagged into each other, and melted together. Then they assumed the form of a hoof, and the nails expanded and fused to make it hard.

  She looked at the rest of her. “I be girlform—w’ one hoof!” she said, amazed.

  “So you can do it,” he said warmly. “But for now, I think it is best to maintain your human form. I gather from what Bane thought to me that we are two serfs serving in this office, and the Citizen does not know our identities. We had best keep it that way, for if Citizen Tan is the same as the Tan Adept, we could be in serious trouble!”

  “The Tan Adept,” she repeated, chagrined. “He o’ the Evil Eye.”

  “The evil eye? That’s his magic?”

  “Aye.”

  “Exactly how does that work?”

  “We know not, save that it makes others do his will.”

  “I think we are lucky that magic is inoperative here; the Tan Adept cannot affect us that way. Still, we should take no avoidable risks. I had better drill you in office procedures—which I fear will make little sense to you, at first.”

  “They make no sense to me already,” she admitted.

  “The first thing to do is conceal your Phaze mode of speech. That would give you away in the first few seconds. Can you speak as I do, if you try?”

  She giggled. “I can try. But thou dost—you do speak so funny, mayhap—I may burst out laughing.”

  “It isn’t funny for Proton. Look, Fleta, this may be a matter of life and death.” He paused, reconsidering. “I had better call you Agape, too, so I don’t give you away.”

  “At times you are idiotic,” she said carefully.

  “What?”

  “Are we not in hiding? Call me Agape, and Tan will know instantly I be his prey.”

  He knocked his head with the heel of his hand. “There must be a gear loose in my circuitry! You’re right! We surely have artificial names!”

  “Yes,” she said, in her measured way, resisting the urge to say “Aye.”

  “Can we find out those names?”

  “Have to.” He went out to the desk in an adjacent chamber. “There have to be records.” He activated the desk screen and spoke to it: “List authorized office personnel.”

  Words came on:

  PROPRIETOR: CITIZEN TAN EMPLOYEES: TANIA—SUPERVISOR—HUMAN AGEE—DESK GIRL—ANDROID MAC—MENIAL—HUMANOID ROBOT

  “There it is,” he said. “You are Agee, and I am Mac. Evidently they set us up with names as close to our own as feasible, so we would identify more readily.” He smiled. “Your name means ‘One who flees’; that seems appropriate in the circumstance.”

  But she was staring at the screen. “I am glad Bane taught me to read your language,” she said, with the same measured care. “This magic slate is fascinating. But—”

  “It’s called a screen,” he said. “You simply tell it what you want, and read its answers. It is simple enough for an idiot to operate, because most androids are idiots. When you encounter something you don’t understand, you should just smile and look blank, and it will be dismissed as android incompetence.”

  “That, too,” she agreed. “But—Mac—what of Tania?”

  “If she comes to the office, you just do whatever she tells you to do. Androids must always obey humans, outside of the experimental community. Evidently she doesn’t bother to come in much; this office must still be on standby status. We’re just caretakers.”

  “Tania,” she said carefully, “is the Tan Adept’s daughter. Stile was minded to marry Bane to her, but feared she would dominate him with her evil eye.”

  Mach stared at her. “And this is parallel!” he exclaimed. “Of course she has access to this office! If she comes in, we’re in trouble!”

  “That were my thought,” she said.

  He addressed the screen again. “Status of Tania.”

  The screen answered: TANIA—SISTER OF CURRENT CITIZEN TAN, DAUGHTER OF FORMER CITIZEN TAN, RETIRED. EMPLOYED BY HER BROTHER AS RANKING SERF. DESIGNATED AS HEIR TO TAN CITIZENSHIP.

  “That’s her, all right,” he said. “Her brother inherited the Citizenship, so she is the next in line, should he retire or die. That was evidently fixed by their father. She will be very like a Citizen, in all but legality.” He glanced up. “Bane was going to marry her?”

  “They want an heir to the Blue Demesnes,” she said. “Tan wanted a suitable match, too. She is about four years older, but is pretty if you like that type.”

  Mach glanced at the picture of Tania the screen showed. The average man would like that type.

  “And if they married, the Blue Demesnes would have its heir, and the Adverse Adepts would have a permanent hold on Stile,” Mach said. “I can see why Bane balked!”

  She smiled. “He never saw her. He refused to get close to her, because of the evil eye.”

  “Smart person, my other self. Let’s just hope she doesn’t show up here.”

  Mach drilled her on office etiquette. He evidently hoped that there would be no calls to this office soon, but at least she was minimally prepared.

  She saw him looking at her. His body and features were different, as were her own, but she knew that look. “Dost thou wish to make love, thy way?” she asked quietly.

  He sighed. “I do. But it occurs to me that though it may be known that Bane and I have exchanged back, it may not be known that you and Agape exchanged also. Therefore it would seem that I am with the wrong female, and if I wish to be consistent, I will not make love to her.”

  “But who will know?” she asked.

  “That’s the irony: perhaps no one. But just as you must adopt the speech of this frame to conceal your identity, I think I must adopt a loyalty to an inapplicable principle, to further conceal your identity. We shall have enough trouble hiding from the Contrary Citizens, without adding to it this way.”

  “But be they not the analogues o’ the Adverse Adepts, whom we have joined?” she asked.

  “Yes. But we are now standing in for Bane and Agape, who have not joined them. The truce is a compromise that leaves us in the Adepts’ hands, and Bane and Agape in Citizen Blue’s hands. I’m trusting Bane not to interfere with that situation in Phaze, and I shall not interfere with it in Proton. I think that is the equitable course.”

  “It all be too complicated for me,” she said. Then, reverting to the local dialect: “I need some rest.”

  “Rest,”
he agreed. “I don’t need it, in this body.”

  “For my mind, not my body,” she clarified. “I deal not—I don’t deal in alien frames every morning.”

  “I will see what else I can learn of our situation.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I will activate a circuit within myself to ensure that no electronic device can spy on me without alerting me, and another to give me access to a secret connection via the phone.”

  “This must I—” She broke off and tried again. “I must see this.”

  Soon he had it. “This is Mach,” he said to the screen, and gave a code sequence that identified him. “What is my status?”

  “Citizens are canvassing the city,” a self-willed machine replied. “They seek the alien woman, not you. They have narrowed it down to this sector, and will close in on you within three days.”

  “What is the contingency plan?”

  “We have a chute with meshed valves, for liquid wastes; the alien must melt and flow down that, and we shall convey her to the Tourney, which commences in six days.”

  “The Tourney? She is not qualified for that!”

  “She must enter and lose. She will then be required to depart the planet, without interference.”

  “Now I understand,” he said. “The Contrary Citizens cannot hire a Tourney loser, and cannot prevent that loser from departing the planet unless there is a question of a crime to settle. Any such charge against Agape would put her under the authority of the courts, which also would protect her from them. This is a practically foolproof way to get her safely offplanet and back to Planet Moeba, where the Citizens have no power. All that is necessary is to keep you hidden until the Tourney begins, and qualify you for it; thereafter you will be safe. Obviously Citizen Blue, my father, has taken a hand and acted effectively to save Agape and his own position.”

  “What is the Tourney?” Fleta asked, confused.

  “An annual tournament whose first prize is Citizenship. It is run by the Game Computer, by the rules of the Game. It is very popular with serfs, though all losers are deported.”