Split Infinity

But again a looming presence developed. Again they stopped. “Something funny about this,” Stile said.   “Clip told me not to worry, that unicorns are immune to most magic—but this is eerie. I don’t like mysteries that may affect my health.”

Neysa blew a note of agreement.

“It seems to happen when we’re playing music,” he continued. “Now I’ve never been harmed by music, but I’d better be sure. Maybe something is sneaking up while we’re playing, hoping we won’t notice. I somehow doubt this is connected with the amulets; this is more subtle. Let’s try it again. If we feel the presence, I’ll stop playing and will try to search it out. You go on playing as if nothing is happening. We need to catch it by surprise.”

They resumed play—and immediately the presence returned. Stile left his harmonica at his lips but ceased playing; instead he peered about while Neysa danced on, continuing the melody. But even as he looked, whatever it was faded.

Experimentally Stile resumed play, matching Neysa’s theme, softly, so that an on-listener would not hear him. The presence returned. Neysa stopped playing, while Stile continued—and the presence loomed stronger, as if her music had restrained it. Stile halted abruptly—and the effect receded.

“It’s tied to me!” he exclaimed. “Only when I play-“

Neysa agreed. Whatever it was, was after Stile—and it advanced only when he was playing. It could hear him, regardless of other sounds that masked his own.

Stile felt an eerie chill. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

The unicorn took off. No clever footwork this time; she moved right into a racing gallop. They forged across the plain at a rate no horse could match, wove through copses of brightly green trees, and leaped across small streams. He could see the mountains sliding back on either side. They were really covering the kilometers!

At last Neysa slowed, for her breath was turning Eery. Stile brought out his harmonica and played once more—and instantly the presence closed in.

He stopped immediately. “We can’t outrun it, Neysa; that’s evident. But now that we’re aware of it, maybe we can do something about it. Why does it still come only when I play? It has to know that we are aware of it, and are trying to escape it; no further need to hide.”

Neysa shrugged—an interesting effect, while he was mounted.

“First the amulet, now this. Could they be con-nected? Could the harmonica be—“ He paused, alarmed. “Another amulet?”

After a moment he developed a notion. “Neysa—do you think you could play this instrument? With your mouth, I mean, human-fashion? If this is an enemy-summoning device, there should be the same effect whoever plays it. I think.”

Neysa halted and had him dismount and remove the saddle. Then she phased into human form. He had not seen her do it by day before, and it had not occurred to him that she would. He had thought of her playing the harmonica in her equine form, but of course this way made much more sense.

She took the instrument and played. She was not expert, since this was foreign to her mode, and the result was a jumble. No presence formed. Then Stile took the harmonica and played a similar jumble—and the presence was there.

“Not the instrument—but me,” he said. “Only when I play it.” He pondered. “Is it a symbiosis, or is the harmonica incidental?”

He tried humming a tune—and the presence came, though not as powerfully as before.

“That settles it: it’s me. When I make music, it comes. My music is better with the harmonica, so the effect is stronger, that’s all. The instrument is not haunted.” He smiled. “I’m glad. I like this harmonica.  I’d hate to have to bury it in dirt.” He would hate to abuse any harmonica, because he retained a fond feeling for the keyboard harmonica and all its relatives.  But this present instrument was the finest of its breed he had ever played.

Neysa had changed back to her natural form. Stile put the saddle back on. “I don’t think we can afford to ignore this matter,” he said.

The unicorn flicked one ear in agreement.

“Let’s get down to some good grazing land, and I’ll challenge it. I want to see what will happen. I don’t like running from a threat anyway. I’d rather draw it out and settle the account, one way or another. If it is an enemy, I want to summon it by daylight, with my sword in hand, not have it sneak up on me at night.”

Neysa agreed again, emphatically.

They moved downslope until good grass resumed.  Neysa grazed, but she did not wander far from Stile, and her eye was on him. She was concerned. Bless her;

it had been a long time since someone had worried about him. Except for Sheen—and that was a matter of programming.