Unicorn Point

“Thou dost be more than that,” Neysa said. “The frames be already one, an we but perceive it. Since the separation, the parallelism be more, mayhap lacking other way to abate the imbalances caused by the acts o’ people. Once there were two Lady Blues, one in each frame, but when the one in Proton died, the other could cross and fill her place. Now with no crossing, the void be filled by another, and that be the Lady Sheen. All the Adepts and most o’ the others be parallel, or growing so. The events too: what occurs in one frame, occurs in the other, if not exact, then close. Each contest was won by the same side; it could be not otherwise.  Now what thou dost here, thine other self be doing there. If thou canst prevail here, so will it be there, and the way will open. What thou achievest be known in Proton, though there be no seeming contact between thee and the alien. All that thou canst accomplish be double weight. That be the remain der o’ the Point.”

Fleta knew it was true. She was awed by the realization; the evidences of the parallelism had been there all along, but she had never appreciated them this way. She had to succeed!  “But an somehow the frames be merged—what o’ the folk?” Fleta asked. “Willst become just one set o’ folk for both?”

“Aye.”

“But I—“

“Will merge with Agape, methinks. And all others, as their pairs exist. It be a monstrous notion.”

“A monstrous notion!” Fleta echoed, intrigued and appalled. She liked Agape, but how could she be merged with her? What then of Mach and Bane—and Tania? Of their triangle?

That was all Neysa would say. Neysa had never been much for words, and once she had made her point—her Unicorn Point—she was done. She was old, and they did not want her to risk the rigors of their mission (or to be slowed down by her: that was unsaid), so they left her at the Herd, pondering her insight. The Unicorn Point—what mixed promise and mischief lay there!

Another day’s travel brought them to the spot at which the flute-amulet pointed—and there was nothing there. It was on the slope of the Purple Mountains, in the Elven Demesnes, with nothing but silvery flowers growing. They paused, baf fled. First the mystery of the Unicorn Point, then this!  It was Alien who figured it out. “The Flute be under ground! The little folk keep it not up in plain sight, and their warrens go ne’er direct. We must find the entrance!”

They quested about, and in due course discovered an elven^ entrance. Fleta assumed woman form, removed her amulet, and handed it to Tania. “Mayhap this will protect thee aught.  I must broach them now. Al and I will do it, while thou dost hide, in case.”

“In case what?” the bat boy asked.

“Elves be not always friendly.”

He nodded, sobering. Then Fleta knocked at the portal, alerting the elves. ‘

A man appeared. He was about the height of Alien, but considerably stouter. His clothing was the color of platinum, and his skin light blue. “Well, two prisoners!” he exclaimed, drawing his sword. “A fair damsel and a servant boy.”

“Nay!” Fleta cried. “We be ‘corn and bat, on a mission o’ surpassing import!”

“Not any more,” the elf said grimly.

Fleta didn’t want to have to fight him, but she could not let herself be considered a prisoner. She would have to change to unicorn form, which would be competent to deal with the sword.

Then the elf man turned, startled. His eyes glazed. “Oh, aye,” he said. “These be emissaries.”

Tania had stepped in. Out of contact with her, Fleta could neither see nor hear her other than dimly; the dwindling power of the amulet was more effective with only one person to cover. Evidently she had touched the elf, and used her Eye to fascinate him. Now, in effect, he was their prisoner.  The elf led them into the passage in the hill. Wan light struggled down so that it was not completely dark, but it remained uncomfortably close. She would not be able to as sume unicorn form here; she would be jammed into the walls.  At least Al would be able to move; as a bat he could readily handle this region.

They came to a chamber wherein sat an extremely wizened elf, obviously a leader. He wasted no time in amenities. “Thy magic be that o’ the Adverse Adepts. Know, 0 intruders, that we be overtly neutral, but privately we favor Stile and will help thy side not.”

Fleta smiled, relieved. “Canst thou be Pyreforge, friend to my foal’s grandsire? I be Fleta, and this be Alien, son o’—“

“And thou be helping the wrong side!” he snapped. “Be glad I grant thee the courtesy o’ truce, else—“

“Nay, we changed sides,” she cried. “Now Mach and I be with Stile, only my foal be captive, and there be enchant ment on Blue and Red and Bane, and we alone be free to seek-“

“How can I know that? That Evil Eye—“

“Tania changed too! She be aiding Stile now!”