The robots sprayed more gas, evidently a neutralizer, removed the breathing masks, filed them in their chest compartments, and set a chamber oxygen generator in operation. Then they walked through the force-field and disappeared from the range of the holo-pickup. Hulk was the one this report was on, not stray robots. The impersonal touch of the machine, literally; machines did not care about irrelevancies such as the welfare of serfs or the commission of criminal acts.
Hulk was of rugged constitution, and first to regain consciousness, His eye cracked open in time to see the robots departing. He made a huge visible effort and hauled him-self to his feet. He staggered across to Bluette. “Lady—art thou well?” he asked, lifting her with infinite gentleness. Bluette was at the moment weak physically, but not mentally. She shook off the lingering effects of the gas.
“Again you use the archaic form. What is this?”
“I will answer you gladly, Lady. But first we should ascertain our situation. We seem to have been taken prisoner.”
“Why should anyone wish to do that? My Employer is a peaceful man, a scholar of the arcane, who hardly ever comes to his castle retreat. I merely maintain it so that it is never ill-kept should he appear. For months at a time, it is as if it belongs to me—but I am only a serf, destined never to be more.”
“You are more. Lady. Much more. I fear my arrival precipitated this action.” Hulk was already inspecting the perimeter. He took a breath, held it, and stepped through the force-field at one end of their confine. There was only one more tunnel, proceeding interminably. This was an access passage, carved by laser drills long ago, leaving smooth, partially polished walls. It reminded Stile of the bore of the Worm of Phaze. Perhaps that was not coincidence, but another parallel between frames. Operating mines were pressurized throughout, for convenience; since many of the rock formations were porous or semiporous, the passage had to have melt-sealed walls. This was a dead mine, since there was no pressure beyond the Proton-external norm. Hulk passed back through the force-field and moved to the other end. It was the same story. “These passages can extend for kilometers,” Hulk told the Lady. “Without masks, we can not expect to reach a dome on foot.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “Yet if it were our captor’s purpose to kill us, he could have done this at the outset.”
“I see there is a holo-unit. No doubt our captor will communicate with us at his convenience.”
“Surely he will,” she agreed. “But I still don’t understand why we are here.”
Hulk inspected the holo-communicator. “I could put this out of commission, but that seems pointless. We shall simply have to wait. I deeply regret bringing this upon you; I had no idea this would happen. Yet perhaps it is for the best.”
She frowned, exactly as the Lady whom Stile knew would have, then flung her golden hair back in a kind of acquiescent defiance. She was absolutely lovely. “I was not unduly interested, before, in what you had to say. My interest has grown. Tell me your estimate of this situation.” Hulk settled down against the curving wall opposite her.
“Gladly, Lady. I believe this is a trap set for another person, a friend of mine. It was assumed that he would come for you, and the robots were not astute enough to perceive the substitution. When the Citizen who has organized this checks in, he will discover the mistake. He will not be pleased.”
“When my Employer checks his retreat-estate, he will not be pleased,” Bluette said. “Yet I fear that will not be soon.” She looked directly at him. “Give me the rest of it.”
“Lady, I am a master in the Game. Since my tenure expires this year I had hoped to enter the Tourney. I was balked in that effort by a better player. But he showed me an alternate world—Lady, you may find this extremely difficult to believe, so I shall simplify it—“
“Do not expurgate it,” she said.
“You do not appreciate just how remarkable the story is. I do not wish to have you question my sanity.”
“Risk my incredulity. Tell the truth and take your medicine,” she said, smiling.
“I cannot deny you,” he said, warmed as anyone would be. The smile of the Lady was a precious thing. “I should warn you that I came to court you. I do not mean to give offense, and I would have preferred a more esthetic approach—“
“I have not been courted in years,” she said. “You are a handsome man.”
“Reserve your judgment; I may have brought great mischief upon you.”
“I reserve it,” she said. But she studied him with only slightly muted interest, for Hulk was about as impressive a figure of a man as existed, and the compliment of his attention was considerable. Women were less impressed by physical attributes than men were, but they were not immune to them.
