and come to thee, and woe betide who chastises thee.” Then he sang an invocation of his own, and there was a faint glimmer in the air; that was all.
“Thank you,” Agape said, feeling guilty for her intransigence. Yet if this were all an exceedingly artful device, she would be foolish to let it move her. Bane walked away. Then, at a brief distance, he vanished. He had evidently invoked some other spell, and conjured himself to other parts. Or so it was meant for her to believe.
She was alone with the basket of oats. She was sorry to waste them, but they were in their hulls; it would be a difficult chore to consume them.
Difficult? Perhaps impossible! She seemed to be unable to melt or change her form. She tried it again, with no success.
Wasn’t that an indication that she was in a different realm, and a different body? No, not necessarily so; the Citizens could have given her medication to fix her in her present format, as part of the illusion. Exactly what was her present form? Bane had called her Fleta the Unicorn, but she seemed to be thoroughly human. A mirror would have helped, but even without it she could tell that this was not her normal human semblance. Indeed, it seemed to have fixed flesh, with bones and digestion differing from her own. She wore a black cloak and orange slippers, and had a bony knob set in her forehead. That last detail suggested the unicorn form; it certainly seemed genuine. But surgery could have implanted it.
And, in one pocket, she found a somewhat grimy feather. Why would the unicorn have saved this? The unicorn? Already she was accepting the appearance as valid! But if this was a Citizen setup, why would they have given her a dirty feather?
Well, she could throw it away. But if she did so, and this really was Phaze, she would be discarding some thing of evident value to Fleta. That did not appeal. So she repocketed the feather and reconsidered her situation.
She stood not far from the great Purple Mountain range. It really was purple, rising in the southwest. In Proton they were barren peaks; here they were clothed in verdure. She had had some experience in the Purple Adept’s mock-up of a section of these mountains, so they seemed familiar. If this were a larger mock-up, perhaps she could discover it by exploring that region of the range.
She started walking. She soon felt hot; the air was warm, and the sun was shining, and the grass was so thick she had to forge through it, so that she was ex pending energy and heating herself internally. She was tempted to take off the voluminous black cloak so as to let the brief breezes cool her body. Actually, she would feel better without it, because all of her time on Planet Proton had been spent without clothing; she was, here, a serf.
But on Phaze serfs wore clothing. Bane had been clothed. She had been so distracted she had hardly noticed! So nakedness might be an error here. If this really were Phaze.
She didn’t know, so after brief consideration, she removed her cloak. She had nothing on beneath it, other than the orange socks; her body was lithe and well formed, and seemed designed to be free of constraint. She walked on, feeling better. But after a time she felt the heat on her shoulders, and realized that the sunlight was damaging them. Nakedness was a privilege available only to those in protected environments, such as the domes! With regret, she unfolded the cloak and donned it again; it was better to sweat than to burn.
Sweat? She didn’t sweat! Moebites dissipated heat by extending thin sheets of flesh to radiate excess calories, and by reducing activity. Only true human beings exuded moisture from their skins for the purpose of cooling. And horses. And androids.
Was she a true human being now? If so, she had to be in Phaze. No—she could be an android in Proton, so that was not definitive.
Yet how could her mind have been transferred to another living body? She was not a robot or cyborg; her mind was a
“Thank you,” Agape said, feeling guilty for her intransigence. Yet if this were all an exceedingly artful device, she would be foolish to let it move her. Bane walked away. Then, at a brief distance, he vanished. He had evidently invoked some other spell, and conjured himself to other parts. Or so it was meant for her to believe.
She was alone with the basket of oats. She was sorry to waste them, but they were in their hulls; it would be a difficult chore to consume them.
Difficult? Perhaps impossible! She seemed to be unable to melt or change her form. She tried it again, with no success.
Wasn’t that an indication that she was in a different realm, and a different body? No, not necessarily so; the Citizens could have given her medication to fix her in her present format, as part of the illusion. Exactly what was her present form? Bane had called her Fleta the Unicorn, but she seemed to be thoroughly human. A mirror would have helped, but even without it she could tell that this was not her normal human semblance. Indeed, it seemed to have fixed flesh, with bones and digestion differing from her own. She wore a black cloak and orange slippers, and had a bony knob set in her forehead. That last detail suggested the unicorn form; it certainly seemed genuine. But surgery could have implanted it.
And, in one pocket, she found a somewhat grimy feather. Why would the unicorn have saved this? The unicorn? Already she was accepting the appearance as valid! But if this was a Citizen setup, why would they have given her a dirty feather?
Well, she could throw it away. But if she did so, and this really was Phaze, she would be discarding some thing of evident value to Fleta. That did not appeal. So she repocketed the feather and reconsidered her situation.
She stood not far from the great Purple Mountain range. It really was purple, rising in the southwest. In Proton they were barren peaks; here they were clothed in verdure. She had had some experience in the Purple Adept’s mock-up of a section of these mountains, so they seemed familiar. If this were a larger mock-up, perhaps she could discover it by exploring that region of the range.
She started walking. She soon felt hot; the air was warm, and the sun was shining, and the grass was so thick she had to forge through it, so that she was ex pending energy and heating herself internally. She was tempted to take off the voluminous black cloak so as to let the brief breezes cool her body. Actually, she would feel better without it, because all of her time on Planet Proton had been spent without clothing; she was, here, a serf.
But on Phaze serfs wore clothing. Bane had been clothed. She had been so distracted she had hardly noticed! So nakedness might be an error here. If this really were Phaze.
She didn’t know, so after brief consideration, she removed her cloak. She had nothing on beneath it, other than the orange socks; her body was lithe and well formed, and seemed designed to be free of constraint. She walked on, feeling better. But after a time she felt the heat on her shoulders, and realized that the sunlight was damaging them. Nakedness was a privilege available only to those in protected environments, such as the domes! With regret, she unfolded the cloak and donned it again; it was better to sweat than to burn.
Sweat? She didn’t sweat! Moebites dissipated heat by extending thin sheets of flesh to radiate excess calories, and by reducing activity. Only true human beings exuded moisture from their skins for the purpose of cooling. And horses. And androids.
Was she a true human being now? If so, she had to be in Phaze. No—she could be an android in Proton, so that was not definitive.
Yet how could her mind have been transferred to another living body? She was not a robot or cyborg; her mind was a
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