Stile and the Lady proceeded north along the curtain. But they were tired; they had not slept the past night. When a suitable camping spot manifested, they camped. There was a streamlet, a fine old apple tree, and a metal object lying on its side. It was about six feet in diameter, roughly cup-shaped, with a number of depressions on the outer surface, as if someone had dented it with small boulders. It seemed to be made entirely of silver; anywhere except Phaze, it would have been phenomenally valuable. Here, of course, such artifacts could be conjured magically.
A storm was rising. "Would this be a good chamber in which to spend the day and night?" Stile inquired. "It seems watertight."
Clip glanced up from his grazing, blowing a single negative note.
Stile shrugged. "The unicorn says no; who am I to argue with such authority?" And he conjured a suitable tent beside the metal structure.
They slept in the shade of the tent while the equines grazed and slept on their feet and stood guard simultaneously.
In the late afternoon, Stile woke to an awful shuddering of the ground. He leaped out of the tent.
Clip stood there in man-form. "If thou pleasest, Adept, make a flare above us in the sky that anyone can see."
Stile obeyed. "Make a flare up there," he sang, pointing upward. It was like a rocket exploding in brilliant colors.
The shuddering increased. A monstrous shape appeared, towering above the trees. "WHERE?" it bellowed.
It was a female human-form giant, so big Stile could not even estimate her height.
"Tell her there," Clip said, indicating the metal structure.
Stile magicked a bright arrow in the sky, pointing toward the silver artifact. The giant saw this, followed the direction with her gaze, and leaned down to grasp the thing. Her near approach was harrowing; it seemed as if a building were falling on them, but the small party stood its ground.
"My silver thimble!" the giantess exclaimed, lifting the tiny object into the sky. "My lost thimble! Who found it for me?"
Stile made sky writing: BLUE ADEPT, with an arrow pointing to himself.
She squinted down from above the clouds. "I thank thee, Blue Adept," she boomed. "What favor may I return thee?"
ONLY THY GOOD WILL, Stile skywrote, daunted. One small misstep and the giantess could crush this entire region flat.
"Granted," she said, and departed with her prize.
"Thou knewest!" Stile accused Clip. "A giantess' silver thimble, six feet across!"
"Giants are good people," Clip agreed smugly. "They have long memories too. Best to be on the right side of a giant."
"I should think so," Stile agreed. "And best not to sleep in a giant thimble."
He conjured a modest repast for himself and the Lady, and some grain to supplement the diet of the equines, since they had used so much of their strength the prior night. Then he and the Lady returned to the tent for the night As he drifted off to sleep the second time, it occurred to Stile that Clip had been giving excellent service. Stile's favorite was Neysa, his oath-friend, but Clip was certainly a worthy substitute. He would have to ponder some favor to do for the unicorn after this was over, as a suitable reward for such things as helping to save Stile's life and dignity. It was hard to do favors for unicorns, because all of them were subject to their Herd Stallions. But perhaps Stile could clear something with the unicorn hierarchy.
In the morning, refreshed, they resumed the journey. The assorted interruptions had put them behind Stile's schedule; now they had to move along to reach the West Pole before he had to return to Proton.
The curtain curved west through the land of the giants. To Stile's relief they encountered no more of the gigantic people. At noon they came to the ocean.
"But the curtain goes right into the water," Stile protested.
"Of course. The West Pole is on an island," the Lady said. "Conjure a boat."
"But I want to follow the curtain where it touches land." Stile had no special reason for this; he had merely envisioned walking along the curtain, not sailing.
"Then conjure away the ocean," she said gaily.
Instead, Stile enchanted them so that the water became like air to them. They walked down into the ocean as if passing through mist the steeds stepping over the green-coated rocks of the bottom. Fish swam by, seemingly in midair. Seaweed waved in breezelike currents, always surprising Stile since they seemed to lack sufficient support.
Deep down, the light faded, so Stile sang a spell of night vision, making things seem bright. Interesting, how he could use his underwater speaking ability, which was the result of one spell, to make a new spell; magic could be cumulative. Thus it was possible to get around certain limitations in stages. It helped explain how one Adept could kill another, indirectly, by modifying a message so that it caused animalheads to attack an Adept and drive him into the Demesnes of a hostile Adept. Perhaps there were no real limits, only techniques of procedure.
At the deepest level of the sea there was a stirring, and a merman appeared. "Lost thy way?" he inquired of Stile. "We see not many fork-limbed creatures here." He was evidently possessed of the type of enchantment Stile had employed to penetrate the water. It seemed there were natural principles of magic that came into play, whether by spell or by endowment. Stile's understanding of Phaze was constantly expanding.
"I am the Blue Adept," Stile said. "This is my Lady, and these our steeds. We merely pass through, following the curtain, seeking no quarrel."
"Then permit us to guide thee, for there are traps for the unwary." The merman pointed ahead. "Not far from here a hungry sea serpent straddles the curtain. It cares not for the peaceful intent of travelers."
"I thank thee for thy concern. But we are on our honeymoon, and promised ourselves to travel the length of the curtain where possible, seeking the West Pole. We are late on our schedule and prefer not to detour."
"That serpent is fearsome," the merman warned. "None of us dare go near it. Yet if that is thy will, we will not hinder thee." He swam off.
"See thou hast an apt spell ready," the Lady advised, smiling, making the water brighten in her vicinity.
Stile reviewed the spells in his mind, and they rode on. He enjoyed the scenery here, so different from the normal land vistas. Clams of all sizes were waving their feeding nets in the water, and coral-like growths were spreading everywhere. A small yellow octopus eyed them, then noted the menacing unicorn horn and scurried hastily away on all tentacles, leaving a purple ink cloud behind. Stile smiled; this was exactly the kind of honeymoon he liked!
Then they arrived at the lair of the serpent. It was not impressive — merely a tunnel under piled stones. In a moment the ugly snout of the serpent poked out. This creature was not large, as such monsters went; probably one man would represent a sufficient meal for it. But there was no sense taking chances. "Please freeze," Stile sang, and the serpent went still. The freezing was not literal, for Stile had willed only a temporary cessation of motions; his mind controlled the interpretation.
They moved on past. A large, heavy net rose up about them and twined itself together overhead. Stile reacted immediately, whipping out his sword and slashing at the strands — but the blade could not penetrate this net.
Clip ran his horn through it, but again the material held. "This net is magic," the Lady said. "The fibers are enchanted to be strong."
So it seemed. The net itself was magically weighted, so that they could not lift it free of the sea floor, and it was impossible to cut or break.
Stile worked out a spelclass="underline" "Pesky net, begone yet!" he sang. But though color shimmered across the net's surface, the net remained intact.
"This is the handiwork of another Adept," the Lady said darkly. "Thy power cancels out. In this Adept's Demesnes, thou canst not prevail."