“We come from Clef,” Flach said. “Can anyone hear?”
“Mayhap,” Brown said. “I have, as thou dost know, two prisoners. They be under geis nor to harm me neither to escape, but their magic be not entirely stifled.”
“Mayhap I can make a privacy spell,” Flach said. “But first should I make sure where they be.”
“It be near their feeding time,” Brown said. “Come see them while I do it.”
They followed her to the kitchen, where a golem chef had prepared a platter. “Thou dost feed them well,” Flach remarked, smelling the aroma. “Pumpkinseed pie!”
“My garden be fertilized with unicorn manure,” Brown replied. “From it comes the very best pumpkinseeds, so many I can do naught but bake. It were unkind to share not.”
“Then share with me!” Flach said eagerly.
“Aye, lad, and gladly,” she agreed. “Canst stay the night?”
“I fear not,” he said. “But we can eat while we talk. E’en my grandam likes pumpkinseed pie!” He glanced at Neysa, who did not protest. It was a taste they shared.
A golem carried the platter. They followed it to the cellar, where the prisoners were housed. There were no bars, but that didn’t matter; there were stout golem guards who could not be corrupted, and who never slept.
The chambers were surprisingly pleasant. It was a well-organized suite, with curtains and cushions and pictures on the wall. One of them was a magic window which showed scenes of Phaze as desired: the unicorn range, ogre dens, ocean shore, or mountains. Flach had never understood why the Brown Adept had volunteered to house the prisoners; perhaps she had been the only one able to handle this chore. Flach’s grandfather had not wished to kill them, though they deserved death; but they could not be allowed to run loose. So they were confined, and a geis suppressed their magic, and they were here for the duration.
The prisoners were ready in the main chamber. They were the Purple Adept and the Tan Adept, also being Citizen Purple and Citizen Tan, Tania’s brother. Actually their titles had been stripped; Tania had assumed her brother’s status, and the Purple Demesnes were vacant. But their magic remained; were it not for the geis, they would be extremely dangerous men.
Both stood as the party entered. “Good evening, Adept,” Purple said. He wore a modest purple robe, and was clean and neat. He was by no means a handsome man, but might be called portly. Tan, on the other hand, was in the vigor of life, so like his twin sister in appearance and talent that it was eerie. Flach had hated both Tan and Tania, until Tania changed sides and rendered the vital help that enabled Stile/Blue to win.
“Good evening, Purple,” Brown said briefly. “Good evening, Tan. Are you in satisfactory form?”
“Excellent form, Adept,” Tan said. “We thank thee for thy excellent care.”
The golem set down the platter. “Then I will leave you to it,” Brown said. “I have company.”
“So we note,” Purple said, glancing at Flach. “Mayst thou prosper, Adept.”
Flach didn’t really like being called Adept, but it was true: he had magic enough to qualify. “Thank thee, Purple.”
Tan turned his hypnotic eyes on Neysa. “And still spry, mare,” he remarked. Neysa did not bother to answer.
They departed the prison section. “Now I have them placed,” Flach said, “I can set my privacy spell. They be demoted, but they be Adepts yet, in magic, else such care were not needed.”
“Nay,” Neysa said. “Needs must we go on immediately.”
Flach turned to her in surprise. “But Grandam, the pie!”
“It be excellent pie, an I do say so myself,” Brown said. “There be no need to rush on. I welcome the company.”
“Remembered I aught,” Neysa said.
Flach was perplexed and dismayed. He knew better than to naysay his grandam, though he was Adept and she was not. He would have to give up the pie.
“Have I given offense?” Brown asked, a hysterical edge sounding in her voice. “Neysa, please, I apologize—“
Neysa stopped and took Brown by the hands. “I have known thee long,” she said. “I will return alone. Needs must I now see my grandfoal to Trool. There be no offense.” It was a singularly long speech, for her.
“Thou willst return,” Brown said. It sounded like a prayer.
“Aye.” Neysa took Flach’s hand. “On, Flach,” she said, squeezing his fingers in a way he recognized. She was serious, and would brook no delay.
He conjured them to the Red Demesnes, a similar chamber in Trool’s castle. He broached her on it immediately. “Grandam—“
“Aught be amiss,” Neysa said. “Needs must I fathom it, ere secrets be told. Conjure me back to Brown, and excuse me to Red. Say naught o’ this.”
“But Trool be—“
“To other than him,” she amended. “Send me.”
Baffled, he conjured her back. Then he knocked on the closed chamber door, to let Trool know of his arrival.
In a moment, lovely Suchevane was there. “Ah, Flach,” she said, hugging him. He always liked that, for she was not only the prettiest woman of her age, she was one of the nicest. “Come join us at sup; we have pumpkinseed pie.”
“We lucked out!” Nepe exclaimed, taking over.
Suchevane conducted Nepe downstairs to the dining hall. There was Trool the Troll, now the Red Adept, and his son Alien. Trool lifted a finger, and abruptly Nepe was clothed in a fluffy dress. “Oh—thanks,” she said. “I forgot!”
For normally it was Nepe who visited this household, because Alien was sweet on her and she liked the attention. Originally it had been Alien’s Proton alternate, ‘Corn, who had the feeling, but it had spread to both.
The pie was served, but between mouthfuls Nepe made their mission known. It did not matter that Suchevane and Alien were present; this whole family was to be trusted.
“So thou dost need a mistress to corrupt an enemy agent,” Trool said. “Methinks that be not much in our line.”
Alien chuckled. “But an I grow up, I’ll need me a mistress,” he said, leering at Nepe.
Nepe stuck out her tongue at him. “This is all adult stuff I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m just carrying the word.”
Suchevane choked over her tomato juice, which she drank because of the color. “All thy experience emulating Troubot in Proton-frame, and thou dost ken naught?”
Nepe glanced at her with obviously faked innocence. “Won’t wash?” For Troubot, in that period, had carried the most intimate messages between Citizens, including those setting up sexual liaisons between Citizen Purple and Tania’s sexy secretary Tsetse. Troubot could hardly have been innocent of the ways of sex, since the robot also monitored the ongoing activities.
But the memory gave her a notion. “Tsetse! She’s anybody’s mistress!”
“She be old}” Alien protested. “Thirty, at least!”
“Twenty-nine plus a few months,” Suchevane said. “Just younger than Tania—and me.”
Alien shut up, knowing when to quit.
“However,” Suchevane continued, “I fear she would be ill for this purpose, for other reasons. She be a singleton—no Phaze opposite, no merging. She worked in Proton not long enough before the mergence. Best we choose one firmly rooted in both cultures.”
Trool nodded agreement. His alternate had been Citizen Troal, and Suchevane’s had been the Bat Girl. They preferred the Phaze mode, but both knew Proton well and maintained their places in it.
“Also, Tsetse’s bisexual,” Nepe said. “She can make it with any man, but she prefers women. So scratch that.”