Unicorn Point

“Neysa,” Stile said now. “It is time. Fetch Flach, take him on the circuit of allies, and take no note when he leaves you. Bring the golem to me.”

She made a querying note.

“He will ask you,” Stile replied. “Signal yes, then cooperate with anything he asks. His life will be at stake. He will be afraid; support him. This is the crisis.” She blew an affirmative note. Stile said no more. The spell of privacy depended on his intent as much as on his invocation; now it dissipated. The music summoned his magic; the intent interpreted it; the words denned it, approximately. Another person might sing as he did, and speak similiar words, and wish the same effect, but would not be able to achieve the same result because only the Adepts had the necessary underlying talent. Any person could do some magic, but most could perform only poorly unless gifted with the talent and willing to train carefully. Some tried, but the established Adepts were quick to detect such effort and to act against it; they did not desire competition. So successful Adepts were few; usually the only new ones were those protected by existing Adepts. Thus Stile’s son Bane had been training to assume the status of Blue Adept, and the Tan Adept’s twin offspring had trained to become the Tan Adept. Sometimes an Adept died without a successor; then there could be a certain free-for-all, unless some accommodation was achieved with the other Adepts. As a general rule, those who became Adept were not nice people; rather, they were the most talented and unscrupulous. That was why the majority of them opposed Stile; they preferred to operate without ethical hindrance. Only Red, who owed his position to Stile, and Brown, in her time somewhat smitten by him, were on his side.  But now they were coming up to the pass, and the snow demons were waiting. They were about to suffer the hospitality of Icebeard.

Stile had been to these mountains before, a generation ago, but had encountered a different chieftain: Freezetooth, who had had a passion for a lovely fire spirit whose proximity would have melted him. Stile had enchanted the snow demon to make him invulnerable to fire, and a heated romance had followed. Relations with that tribe had been amicable for twenty years, until the communication between Mach and Bane had polarized the Adepts and tribes of Phaze and forced new alignments. It was possible that Icebeard remembered that, and that the chess challenge was his way of maintaining relations despite their status as enemies. There were as many tribes of demon folk as there were human folk, and demons differed as much from each other as did human beings, and were subject to similar constraints.

Neysa had not been along on that trip. Instead Stile had ridden her brother Clip, now a Herd Stallion. Neysa was not partial to any demons, no matter what their heat or color, and was hard put to avoid an impolite snort as the white creatures closed in. This was however no attack, but an honorary escort. Icebeard wanted very much to play chess with Stile, and would do nothing to interfere with that.  They were ushered into the palatial ice caverns that were the demon’s throneroom. Icebeard tried to maintain his chill reserve, but could not. He jumped down and approached Stile with an attitude that in any other creature would have been positive, but with him was merely less threatening. “Now we play!” he exclaimed. “Thou and I alone!”

“Aye,” Stile agreed. Then he glanced at Neysa. “The mare liketh not these Demesnes; if thou willst grant her safe passage out, she will depart and return for me when the issue be settled.”

Icebeard looked at Neysa. “Be this not Fleta’s dam?”

Neysa made an affirmative note.

“And she play not chess? Fleta be a better player than Mach; comes she oft here to challenge my minions.” Stile had not realized this. But of course Fleta had come with Mach when he trained here, so had had opportunity to pick it up if she wanted to. Of course there was no reason a unicorn could not play chess if she wished, but Stile had not heard of it happening before.

“Interesting,” he remarked.

“Methinks the filly be a better gamescreature than Mach overall,” the demon confided. “My affinity to unicorns be not great, but that one dost have charm.” Neysa stood awkwardly. Naturally she was pleased to hear her offspring praised, but she was not speaking to Fleta, as perhaps Icebeard knew. Demons had ways of teasing. Stile did not comment.

“She it was, methinks, made him what he be,” the demon concluded. “A filly worthy o’ any male, like her dam.” Neysa did not react visibly, but the snow around her was beginning to melt. At last the demon had mercy, and directed his minions to escort her out and to keep lookout for her safe return perhaps a week hence.