Phaze Doubt

The instrument turned out to be a shining silver flute. No, not silver—platinum. This was the Platinum Flute the unicorn Belle had mentioned, that Clef had played to merge the frames. That had seemed like mythology, but now it seemed literal. But what could a flute really do?

“Sit down,” Tania said, indicating chairs and taking one herself. “It’s always such a pleasure to hear him play.”

“Aye,” Flach agreed. “Ne’er heard I the like!”

Lysander did not anticipate pleasure. If the Flute really could somehow fathom his mind, it would be the end of him. Yet maybe it was illusion or bluff.

Clef played. It was immediately evident that he was an expert flautist; the music was sure and sweet. But how could mere music verify whether a man was an assassin? Of course that was not the case with Lysander; he was merely a counterinsurgency agent, who would kill only at need. He liked Citizen Blue and his family, and would do his best to avoid doing them harm, so long as his mission was fairly accomplished. Still, the premature exposure of his mission would be fatal to it and probably himself.

The music intensified. Lysander felt it orienting on him, entering him, drawing him out of himself. It was as if he were floating up and looking down at his body and the bodies of the others. But he wasn’t dying, he was relaxing; it was pleasant. He would be satisfied to float forever on this magical music!

But if they had intended to make him talk about his true mission, they had failed. He felt no compulsion at all to talk about anything, merely to float and reflect. So he could relax, until the Hectare came. Then—he would see.

The music ended. Lysander thought it had been only a minute or two, but the sun seemed to have jumped forward in the sky beyond the picture window. It had been at least an hour. That music was potent!

The others were silent as Clef put away his flute. They seemed to be recovering from the effect of it, just as he was.

“Did I pass inspection?” he inquired, trying to be light.

Clef turned to him. “I suspect you are the one we want. It is fortunate that Citizen Blue hired you.”

“For work on circuit feedback?”

“There is a prophecy that a great trial will come to our culture, that can be ameliorated only by a particular person, a newcomer to the planet. We have been watching for promising arrivals. The music suggests that you qualify. I hope it is correct.”

“A prophecy?” Lysander asked, surprised again. “A magical prediction?”

“You might call it that. Actually, prophecies are more difficult to assimilate, as they are often vague about details, and considerable interpretation is needed. But they are always correct in the end. If you are the one, you will be invaluable to us.”

Lysander spread his hands. “Somehow that seems like more than I should be credited with. I ‘m really not a planet-saving type.”

“Perhaps.” Clef shrugged as if unconcerned. “It was pleasant to play again, at any rate.”

“It was fun to listen!” Flach said. Then Nepe appeared. “But I guess we better go on back to Grandpa Blue.” She extended her hand to Lysander.

He took it, relieved that he had gotten through their test. Evidently the magic had oriented on his special mission, but not clarified its nature. Save the culture? Not by their definition! He was on the other side.

He blinked. They were back in Citizen Blue’s apartment, all naked except for the Citizen, and Alyc was there, gazing at him expectantly. “Yes, I now believe in magic,” he said, forestalling her. “This little lady showed me quite a world!”

3 - Decision

After polite dialogue of the adult kind, Citizen Blue packed Lysander off with Alyc for the familiarization tour of Proton. But he held Nepe with the tiniest indication of a finger. She faded back, but did not depart. She had known it would be thus.

When things were clear, the Citizen held a brief meeting with Sheen, Agnes the maid, and Nepe. “Verdict?” he asked Nepe.

“Clef piped out his soul, and says he may be the one.”

Blue nodded. “I thought that might be the case. His arrival was too pat. How much is Clef sure of?”

Nepe shrugged. “He didn’t say, because ‘Sander was there. Just that there’s a prophecy, and he might qualify as the special person we want to help us get through the bad time.”

Agnes snorted. “Special person! The man’s an enemy agent!”

“If he is the one,” the Citizen said. “And if he is the one, we desperately need him. I don’t think Clef would have mentioned the prophecy if he wasn’t fairly sure.”

“He may be sure the man is an enemy,” Sheen said, “but not that he is the one we need.”

Blue nodded. “It would be premature to take action at this time. But at least we can use this as a focus for our investigation. I shall arrange to keep him occupied with the Game Computer.”

Sheen pursed her lips in exactly the fashion of a living woman. “But if he is versed in computer circuitry—“