Robot Adept

They played again. At first Mach, distracted by the nature of his adversary, had made easy misses. But pride soon caught up with him, and now he played with better precision—and still lost points. That trunk was so limber and controlled that the paddle seemed like a living part of it. The spins it imparted seemed magical, though they were not. When Mach tried to analyze them, he missed worse than ever. Eli’s serves were especially bad; Mach could handle them only by playing extremely conservatively and defensively, which only set him up for further trouble.

Little by little, he discovered the key: Eli’s paddle motions were complex, shifting direction and angle with blurring facility. Sometimes the paddle literally spun in his grasp, so that it was difficult to tell which side struck the ball. Since the two sides had different surfaces that imparted different qualities to the flight of the ball, this could be devastating.

“I must learn to do that,” Mach said.

“Aye,” Eli agreed. Rather, he snorted musically through his trunk, making the affirmative; human speech was difficult for him.

They played constantly during the following days and weeks. Eli had the patience of a pachyderm, and the endurance, and was pleased to have such a willing student. He demonstrated all his best shots, and showed Mach how to counter them. Mach, realizing that he would be up against a high-tech Proton paddle in at least one game, was happy to work on his defense. A good defense could not win the game for him, at this level, for it left the initiative to the opponent; but that defense had to be tight before he could score with his offense. The best defensive players took the offensive the moment a suitable opportunity offered; their opponents knew that it was folly to ease up, and so were under pressure that could cause errors.

By the time the month was done, he was giving Eli some excellent games. He was vastly improved, and ready to tackle his other self in any of the three games. He had not used the magic paddle, as that was pointless; it was already incapable of making a bad shot. In fact, he felt slightly guilty, knowing that this was one instrument Bane could not match. Only by winning both the other games could Bane prevail.

Meanwhile, Fleta had special news for him. “Dost remember my heat?” she inquired diffidently.

“Oh, no—is it coming again?”

“Nay, hast not noticed it came not again?”

Mach paused. “You mean—?”

“Aye. I be with foal.”

Mach had no idea how to react, so he simply reached for her and embraced her, so cautiously that she laughed. She was a mare; her condition did not make her delicate. She was as happy as he had ever seen her.

But she was not willing to let it rest at that. “This be my compensation, an I be separated from thee. But how much better will it be if we separate not.”

“If something can be worked out,” he agreed. “To save the frames, and still be together.”

“Aye. And raise our foal ourselves.”

“To be perhaps the best of unicorns—”

“Or the best of men.”

“Perhaps like both: able to change form freely, yet able also to practice magic.”

“Flach, the Unicorn Adept!” she exclaimed.

Why not? “Why not unite our species with a truly superior composite?”

“And needs must we set up a house, for I fear the Herd will welcome him not.”

“Why not a castle? I am Adept now; I can make what I choose. Our son should have the best.”

“The Rovot Demesnes,” she said, smiling.

She wasn’t serious enough, so he kissed her again. Whatever the outcome of this round, they would have that success together.

It was the day of the first game. Now at last Mach discovered how they were going to make it possible to play across the frames. As before, the two selves would overlap, standing together at one end of the table. Each would play his side. But the ball, instead of passing through the no-longer-existent curtain, would fly across the net to a simulacrum of the other player at the far end.

To Mach, it looked as if Bane were standing there, paddle in hand, in Mach’s robot body, but it was probably a golem provided by the Brown Adept. The golem would not literally play; it would merely emulate Bane’s motions.

But the ball could not physically cross between the frames. What would the golem be striking?