Robot Adept

While he rode, he pondered the plan that he and Stile had devised. Stile, in those last three days, had taught him an exotic technique that even most Adepts did not know: that of spiritual separation. This magic could send a person’s awareness out apart from his body, so that he could perceive things that his body could not. It required a different spell each time, of course, but Stile had worked out several that had worked for him, and should now work for Bane. The effect was limited in time and distance, so it was necessary to get physically within range before invoking the separation. This restricted its application—but if Bane could find a way to get close without suspicion, it could be invaluable.

That was why he had sought Mach’s cooperation.

Mach could not spy in this manner, lacking the magic, and would not if he could. But Mach could get close to the Adverse Adepts. This switch of seeming identities should enable Bane to get close enough so that he could learn what they needed to know. The dominance of the frame might depend on his success in this mission.

And Fleta, bless her, was cooperating! Mach had a good match in her; she might be an animal, but some animals were more substantial folk than some human beings, and she was an example. Her friend the werebitch Furramenin was another, and of course Suchevane—ah, the vampire was special indeed!

As evening approached, and the sun reddened behind a cloudbank before them, Fleta stopped, and Bane dismounted. She set about grazing, which was her most comfortable way to eat, while he foraged for nuts and fruits. He could have conjured food, but did not for two reasons: first, because Mach would not be good at such magic, and second, because magic was too valuable to waste on routine chores. If he was in danger of starving, then a conjuration would be in order; meanwhile, foraging would do.

As complete darkness settled in, Fleta assumed girlform and came to him. The air was turning chill—but again, what point magic, when they could share body warmth? They removed their clothing, and spread her black cloak and his blue shirt and trousers over the two of them as blankets, and embraced. It made sense because of the warmth, and because they were supposed to be lovers. For all an observer could have told, they were being lovers now, and that was the impression they wanted to give. Bane intended merely to sleep.

But Fleta was as full of mischief as ever. “Canst guess how often I longed to get thee like this, an my heat approached?” she whispered.

Heat! Bane went rigid. When a mare came to that part of her cycle, she had to breed, or suffer terribly, and no mere man could satisfy her. “Thou’rt not—?”

“Nay, not this week,” she said. “But when I learned the human way of it, for pleasure rather than naughtiness, I came to like it any time.” She moved against him, breast against his chest, thigh over his thigh. She might be an animal, and a childhood friend, but she felt exactly like a woman at the moment.

“I made love to her, in thy body,” he said, hoping to divert her. “We thought thou wouldst not mind.”

“Nor do I,” she agreed. “Oft did I do the same with him in thy body.” She considered a moment. “How was my body?”

“Ne’er better,” he confessed. “Now stop thy teasing, and let me sleep.”

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.