Unicorn Point

He was a master. All doubt about this was abolished by his first note. His fingers on the flute seemed to glow with sheer competence. Tania stared at him as if mesmerized.  The radiance strengthened, as if a spotlight had focused on the flute. It spread again, slowly; but this time its effects were intensified. It lighted Clefs hands, and they became cleaner, stronger, the fingers more nimble; the discolorations of age faded, leaving the firm flesh of youth. It traveled across his arms, and they filled out, becoming muscular. It touched his neck, which smoothed out, both tendons and wrinkles dis appearing. It expanded across his face, shaping it, heightening its animation, strengthening its character. His sparse hair darkened and advanced, thickening. His spectacles now seemed incongruous on so handsome a face.  Tania watched him, rapt. The man was being transformed!  His whole body was turning youthful and dynamic as the light bathed it. Agape was staring too, and ‘Corn, from the floor; he knew the same thought was in all their minds. How could such a thing be happening, without magic? Yet how could magic be operating, here in Proton?

The globe of light seemed to split. A small intense part of it clothed Clef, while a larger but fainter secondary part of it expanded to enclose them all in its ambience. ‘Corn felt it infusing him, changing both his body and his mind in ex traordinary manner, both uplifting and alarming him. He saw the others—and each was double, twin images overlapping, but not perfectly. Each was split, yet not harmed, and each looked as confused as he felt. When Tania had played, the outlines of each person had seemed blurred. Now they were distinct, yet dual.

The walls of the suite dissolved again. This time the out door landscape assumed full force.

Then they were moving—or the landscape was. As a group they passed through the wall of the suite, and through the walls of the neighboring chambers. There were people in those other chambers, looking started, but the group swept through them and past them without impediment. ‘Corn found himself moving toward a walking serf; then he went through the middle of the man and on, feeling only a momentary drag, as if the air had thickened. What was happening?  The pace accelerated, as the music continued. They burst out of Hardom and moved north, like nine figures locked in an invisible ship. Fields and trees passed at a blurring rate, and even hills. They were going somewhere at the speed of a spaceship, without the ship.

- A castle loomed on the horizon, a blue pennant flying from a high turret. They shot in toward it, and through its walls.  Abruptly the motion stopped. They were in the castle, and ‘Corn’s face was near a tuft of grass sprouting from the crev ice between two paving stones. But he could not be concerned about that; the travel had stopped, but not the music.

Clef was still playing, his whole body concentrating on the effort, as if what had occurred so far were only the preliminary to something greater.

The globe of light touched Tania. The two images of her slid together. Her dishevelment and her bruises were wiped away, enhancing her posture. Her eyes seemed larger, and literally glowing. She had always been a striking woman; now she seemed charismatic. The music was lifting her, making her sway; she was not merely listening, she was of it.  Citizen Purple made a noise. His doubled images were also merging. Tania’s face turned, her mouth forming a frown.  Her eyes seemed to strike out at him—and Purple fell back, reeling as if struck.

That was the Evil Eye! ‘Corn had learned of it through Nepe. The Tania of Phaze had it, the ability to hypnotize or hurt people merely by looking at them. But this was Proton!  The light was coming here, bathing him, and bringing with it its strange effects. ‘Corn had been amazed by the ghostly traveling; now he experienced a ghostly unity. The thought that had prompted him to urge Tania to play the flute re turned, assuming new clarity. This was—

“Aye,” he murmured, sitting up.

Aye? That was Phaze talk!

“Aye,” his mouth said again. “The flute be doing it.”

“What’s happening?” ‘Corn cried, even as he realized the explanation. He was merging with his other self.

“Aye,” his mouth said a third time. “I be Alien. Thou hast come here to Phaze.”

“But this is Proton!” ‘Corn protested.

“Nay, methinks it be both. See, the frames be merging, and the folk o’ the frames.”

‘Corn saw it was so. The Proton folks who had occupied the suite of Citizen Blue were superimposed on what must be the Blue Demesnes of Phaze. Somehow the music of the flute had carried them here, where they were joining with their parallel selves.