Now the witch’s second symbol animated. A swarm of stinging flies puffed into existence. They flung themselves onto Neysa—who stiffened the moment they stung, thin flame jetting from her nostrils. Then, with an extended note of despair, she fell to the floor. There was no question about the ability of an Adept to handle a unicorn! White’s magic was more cumbersome to implement than Stile’s was, but it was devastating when it got there.
“Dump the animal into the lake—under the ice,” White ordered the two remaining ice monsters. “Dump the peasant-clown there too; he’s too much trouble.”
But Stile could speak now. “Monsters of ice,” he sang breathlessly, “turn into mice!”
He had not gathered his power by playing music, so the potency of his spell was not great. That was the cumbersome quality of his own invocations. When fully prepared, he could do excellent magic—but of course White, when set up with a number of drawn symbols, could surely perform similarly. His spell operated incompletely. The two ice monsters shimmered into rather fat white rats.
“Magic!” White hissed. “Now I know thee! How durst thou intrude on these my Demesnes, Blue?” Stile brought out his harmonica as he walked toward Neysa. He had decided he didn’t need the Flute on this occasion. The deadly stingflies rose up in their humming cloud, orienting on him.
“I intrude to ascertain whether thou art mine enemy,” he said to the witch.
“I was not thine enemy before—but I am now!” she cried. “Sting him, flies!”
Stile played his instrument. The flies felt the coalescing force of his magic and hesitated. Stile willed heat—and as the flies came near, they dried up and dropped to the floor. A few hardier ones persisted until their wings burst into flame.
Stile stopped, looking at the prostrate unicorn. He thought of Hulk and Bluette, knocked out by gas. Which parallels were valid and which were products of his guilt? But this situation he could handle. “Neysa defy the bite of the fly,” he sang.
The unicorn woke and struggled to her feet. Stile could heal others, but not himself.
White was forming a new symbol. Stile faced her and sang: “White take the road, as a frog or a—tortoise.” The witch did a doubletake as the spell passed her by. Stile had not filled in the obvious rhyme. Then she reached for the symbol again.
“Let thy flesh become cold,” Stile sang, and the magic gathered as though to pounce. “And thy body grow . . . oily.”
Again she reacted, fearing the worst; no one feared age like a middle-aged woman! Again she was left unscathed as the spell fizzled. Stile’s intent could only be consummated with a terminal rhyme. Once more she went for her spell. “White form a pyre, and burn like—fir,” Stile sang. This time her white hair seemed to take on a tinge of orange flame.
“Enough!” she cried. “Thou’rt victor. Blue! Thy magic cannot truly transform me, but it could make me very uncomfortable. What dost thou want?”
“Only to see thy magic operate,” Stile said. “And to depart in peace.”
“No one sees the secret of my magic mode and departs in peace!” she protested. “The mode is always an Adept secret. Sooner would I dance naked before a crowd.”
“Thou hast seen my magic mode,” Stile pointed out. “I lived my whole life naked in a crowd, ere I came to Phaze.”
“Well, no one else shows either magic or body!”
“Yet thou knowest the identity of the amulet-maker.”
She considered. “Ah, now it comes clear! Thy vengeance!”
“Indeed,” Stile agreed. “Thou dost not seem to be the one I seek, but it would help if I learned who mine enemy really is.”
“Aye, I know her. There are secrets witches share. But I will not tell thee. It is not thy business.”
“The amulet-maker murdered me!” Stile cried. “And seeks to kill me again. That is not my business?”
“Well, mayhap thou wouldst see it that way. But it is not my business to betray her to thee.”
“Witch, thou runnest fair risk of suffering my wrath,” Stile said, feeling the righteous heat rise. The force of his oath urged him onward. “Yet can I turn thee into—“
“Nay, the power of one Adept is ineffective against another Adept on guard. Yet neither is it my business to betray thee to her. Depart now, and I shall not tell her thou hast narrowed thy choices to two.” To two. Two remaining female Adepts. White had given him some information, by way of placation. That helped considerably. The only problem was that he knew of only one other female Adept.
Well, he would check that one. He mounted Neysa. He played a bar of music, then sang: “Man and steed, to Brown proceed.”
