Unicorn Point

He had been mistaken. ‘Corn heard the sounds of their nearby struggle. Tania was female, and smaller than her brother, but she was healthy while he had evidently grown soft in Citizenship. It seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds; then the box dropped to the floor. She had beaten him!

No, she had only jarred the box from his grasp. It had not broken; the lethargy remained on them. Tan shoved her away as ‘Corn’s head slowly turned so that he could see them. She stumbled into Clef.

Tan lunged at her. Tania dodged around Clef. Then, on inspiration, she took the flute from his flaccid hand and held it like a weapon. When Tan reached for her again, she brought it down on his head.

The flute was made of platinum: a beautiful and extremely valuable instrument. Platinum was one of the heaviest of metals. The flute made a most effective club. Tan dropped to the floor, for the moment unable to continue the fight.  Tania stepped toward the lethargy box, ready to smash it similarly, so as to free them all.

Clef managed a protest. “Not with the flute!” The pain in his voice would have been funny if the situation had not been so serious.

Tania nodded. Her hair was wild and she was bruised and shaking, but she had not lost her wits. She tucked the flute under her arm and picked up the box. She found its master switch and turned it off.

Suddenly all of them were free—Blue and Sheen and Mach included.

But before they could do more than look at each other, there was a new voice. “Attempt nothing foolish,” Purple said. “I have another box—and more persuasive instruments.”

It was of course no bluff. Citizen Tan might have misjudged his sister, but Citizen Purple was more cunning and ruthless.  Tania straightened slowly, and the others did not move.  Except for ‘Corn. He was at the rear of their column, closest to Purple. He whirled and leaped—

And was felled by a spot lethargy jolt. He collapsed at Purple’s feet. Indeed, the man had not been bluffing!  Purple brushed by him, orienting on Tania. “Give me that flute,” he said gruffly, “and I may make you my mistress instead of having you executed.” He held out his hand.  ‘Corn, on the floor, was able to move his head just enough to see the tableau. Tania was slowly lifting the flute. Clef was just behind her, chagrined.

Why did Purple want the flute? He had to know it wasn’t the magic one! It was valuable, but Purple hardly needed more wealth. The instrument was irrelevant to Purple’s interests.

But Purple was no fool. If he wanted the flute, there had to be reason. But what could the flute do, that Purple might fear?

Suddenly ‘Corn got a notion. “Play it!” he gasped.  Tania, surprised, looked at the flute she held. She was no musician. There was no way she could do more than tootle on it. But she seemed to understand what ‘Corn had realized.  She lifted the flute to her mouth and blew.  There was nothing except a rush of air. She wasn’t address ing the mouthpiece correctly. Purple laughed.  Then Clef reached around her and adjusted the flute. He set his hands over hers, each finger guiding one of hers.  “Across, not into,” he murmured.

“Enough of this foolishness,” Purple said, reaching again.  Tania blew again. This time, with Clefs close guidance, she blew a note. Her fingers under Clefs depressed the keys, and the note changed.

The first note was imperfect, yet had a strange quality. The second was better, and stranger. She was catching on, following Clefs cues, making eerie music.

“No!” Purple cried. But she continued to play, with in creasing facility, and he did not advance on her.  There seemed to be a light developing around the flute—not a glow, but an ambience. Its color heightened, enhancing its outline. Tania’s face seemed to have a double outline, as if she were a holo picture a trifle out of focus. In fact there seemed to be two Tanias, playing two flutes, overlapping.  Then the split images merged. Abruptly the music became intimately compelling. The radiance spread outward, seem ing to ripple through the air and the people—and where it passed, they changed, becoming double and then single, then double again, as if swinging in and out of themselves. The air seemed to sparkle and become fresh with the fragrance of a healthy outdoors. Yet the walls of the suite also seemed to be dissolving, and a verdant outdoor landscape was show ing through them.

“Now,” Clef said. He moved his hands, taking hold of the flute directly. Tania let go, giving it to him. She seemed stunned by what had happened.

The ripple of light jumped inward, as if a bubble were collapsing. The superimposed images faded. But then Clef began to play.