Robot Adept

She decided she had gone far enough, and acceded.  Her sexual urge was not at all the same as his; she just liked to demonstrate that she could make him react against his will. She had done that now, and was satisfied.

He relaxed. But he knew the time would come soon enough when, to preserve his secret, they would have to make it real. That might be just part of the game, to her, because animals had no proprietary concerns about sex, but it was no game to him. He felt guilty already for what would surely occur—and more guilty because he discovered that a part of him desired it. The act he could account for, when circumstance made it necessary; the desire he could not.

Bane had never been within the Translucent Demesnes before, and he found it fascinating. The underwater isle, the ancient creatures, the seeming ability to fly—what a realm the Adept had, here! He tried not to gawk as the unicorn carried him through the strange landscape to their refuge.

At last they passed through the dome-shaped curtain and walked on the “normal” land of the isle. All around this region the creatures of the archaic ocean could be seen.

“Must needs we tour the isle, to be sure naught be changed,” Fleta said brightly, shifting to girlform.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his language in character.  This was her way of acquainting him with the details of this setting, so that he would not make any giveaway errors.

In this fashion she introduced him to the creatures she and Mach had come to know. “And here be Naughty, the same as ever!” she exclaimed as they encountered a creature like a squid in a shell longer than the length of a man. “Nay, chide me not, Mach; I know thou dost call him ‘Nautiloid’ from the Ordovician period o’ Earth!  But to me he be Naughty, for all the times he blunders through to land and we needs must heave him back.” She reached through the dome-wall and petted the monster on the shell. A tentacle reached up and coiled briefly about her wrist, squeezing and letting go. Obviously the monster did remember her, and liked her.  In due course they completed the circuit of the isle.  “All be in order,” Fleta announced. “Now let me graze and sleep.”

“But—“ Bane started, concerned that he did not yet know enough about this region to avoid a blunder.

“Hast thou not had enough o’ sex on the way here?” she chided him. “Canst not let me sleep in peace, after carrying thee all this distance?”

Oh. She was giving him a pretext to leave her alone, so that the Translucent Adept, who surely watched, had no reason to be suspicious.

He foraged for his supper while she assumed her natural form and grazed on the rich grass growing here.  She was catching up on sleep, too; she could graze while sleeping, which was a useful ability at times.  After he ate, he caught up on natural functions, then piled fragrant ferns and lay down, nominally to sleep.  Actually he whispered the spell of separation. Stile had worked this out so that its evocation was virtually undetectable; it was largely internal magic, not the external magic that used enormous power. When he conjured himself from place to place, the magic made a splash that could readily be detected by those alert for it; when Stile conjured one of Bane’s butterfly forms to another spot, the splash occurred at the site of the conjuration, not of arrival, so there was no alarm. But he had done about all he could with butterflies; now he hoped to do more with his spirit.

He drifted out from his body. He could see, hear, smell and even feel, despite having a center of awareness that was insubstantial. He saw his body, seemingly sleeping; he saw Fleta grazing; he saw Naughty Nautiloid foraging in the nearby ocean.

He moved on through the water, looking for the Translucent Adept. The man was in a palace that appeared to be made out of water: bricks of water kept firm by magic, forming walls and arches, with beams of water supporting the upper levels. There were large windows with panes of water, and furniture shaped from yet more water.

Translucent was relaxing, watching a water-mirror in which an image of the isle was reflected. There was Bane sleeping, and Fleta grazing. So their suspicion was correct: they were under constant observation. Probably Translucent could hear their dialogue, too. The Adept had offered sanctuary for Mach and Fleta, and freedom, but had never guaranteed privacy. He did not interfere with their activities, but he knew of them, in every detail he cared to.

But watching the Adept watch the isle would not accomplish anything. Bane wanted to know the exact plans of the Adverse Adepts, so that his father could counter them specifically. He could not depend on overhearing significant conversations; he had to find records or other indications.

There seemed to be no records. Whatever Translucent knew or planned was in his head. That was a place Bane could not go.