“Sure. He made golems in any likeness, in exchange for other magic he needed. Like a larderful of food, or a get-well amulet—“ Stile pounced on that. “Who traded him an amulet?”
“Why the Red Adept, of course. She makes all the amulets.”
Something was wrong. “I met the Red Adept at the Unolympics. Red was a tall, handsome man.”
“Oh—she was in costume, then. They do that. Just as I tried to do with a golem when thou earnest. Sometimes strangers are bad to children, so Brown warned me not to reveal myself to intruders. I didn’t know thou wert apprised I was a girl.”
It burst upon Stile with dismaying force. The costume! Not merely different clothing or appearance, but different sex too! Child’s play to produce the image of the opposite sex. In fact, Red could have done it without magic. Remove the mustache, lengthen the hair, put on a dress, and the Red he had seen was a woman. Remove the dress so that she was naked, and cover the hair with a skullcap, and it was the woman who had killed Hulk in the mine. How could he have overlooked that?
“Brown, I apologize,” Stile said. “A golem invaded my Demesnes, and I thought thee guilty. I see I was mistaken. I proffer amends.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, smiling girlishly. “I haven’t had company in a long time. But thou mightest put back my giants.”
Stile made a quick spell to restore the golems he had swept away. “Is there aught else I can do for thee before I go?” he inquired.
“Nothing much. I like thy unicorn, but I know they don’t mess with other Adepts or anybody. Only other thing I’m trying to do is grow a nice flower-garden, but they all come up brown and dry. I don’t want thy magic for that; I want to do it myself.”
Neysa blew a note. Stile dismounted, and she shimmered into girl-form. “Unicorn manure grows magic plants,” Neysa said.
“Gee—pretty ones?” Brown asked, her eyes lighting. “Like a Jack-in-the-pulpit who preaches a real sermon, and tiger-lilies who purr?”
Neysa had already changed back to her natural shape.
She blew an affirmative note.
“Send one of thy golems with a cart and fork,” Stile said. “A giant, who can haul a lot. Thou knowest where the herds roam?”
Brown nodded. “I go there all the time, to look at the pretty ‘corns,” she said wistfully. “But I dare not get close to them.”
All girls liked equines. Stile remembered. He looked at Neysa, who nodded. “If thou likest, Neysa will carry thee there this time, and tell her friends to give manure to thy golem.”
“A ride on a unicorn?” Brown clapped her hands with delight. “Oh, yes, yes!”
“Ride, then,” Stile said, glad to make this small amend for his unkind intrusion here. “I will meet thee there.” The child mounted the unicorn somewhat diffidently, and they started off at the smoothest of gaits. Stile knew Neysa would not let Brown fall, and that her unicorn herd would acquiesce to the golem’s acquisition of several loads of excellent manure, for such things were not denied to oath-friends. Neysa had helped bail him out of mischief, again, by making Brown glad for his visit. This had turned out to be the wrong Adept, but the excursion had been worthwhile. Now at last he knew the identity of his enemy. He would not have time to brace the Red Adept after rejoining Neysa at the herd; he had to get back across the curtain for the next Round of the Tourney. But on his return to Phaze. . . .
CHAPTER 9 - Music
It was Round Six of the Tourney. Barely one fifth of the original entrants remained. The concentration of the skilled and the lucky increased. The audience for individual Games was larger, and would grow larger yet, as the numbers of contestants dwindled further and each Round be-came more important.
His opponent was another Citizen. This was not unusual at this stage; the Citizens tended to be the best players, and suffered elimination reluctantly. This one was old, obviously not in prime physical vigor—but any Citizen was dangerous, in and out of the Tourney.
Stile resolved to put it into the PHYSICAL column if he had the chance, not risking this man’s accumulated knowledge and experience.
He had the chance. They were in 2B, Tool-Assisted PHYSICAL GAMES. Stile’s area of strength. Yet the Citizen did not seem alarmed. Did he have a secret? They played the subgrids and came up with the Ice Climb. This was a frozen waterfall about fifteen meters high that had to be mounted by use of spikes and pitons from the base. Safety ropes suspended from above pre-vented it from being dangerous, but the climb itself was arduous. Stile did not see how this old man could handle it.
