Sligh was getting even more diabolical in his old age. But there had obviously also been a rider spell for those with a male orientation, as witness his own physical transformation. Clearly that spell provided for those qualities New Eden valued as “male”—largeness, strength, bravery, dominance—things like that. But if the object was to keep women from thinking very much, then men had to have all their knowledge, skills, and experience, and many, if not most, wouldn’t think kindly of New Eden’s presumptions. Great power, fixed protective spells, and over seven centuries of experience had obviously shielded him from the more subtle mental orientation, but that left him ignorant of what they did.
“Come on,” he told her. taking her by the hand. “Let’s find the others.”
They walked back up the hill and over to the left, where he thought Jeff and Spirit had been, and he called out their names. Spirit might not be able to respond to her name but she’d recognize voices.
A man stepped out in front of him, as naked and as big and well-built as he now was. There had been a little fine tuning, but it was recognizably Jeff. “Who the hell are you?” Jeff asked. It sounded like his voice had dropped an octave.
“It’s Mervyn, Jeff.”
Jeff frowned. “Mervyn? But he was old.”
“He still is, and getting older by the minute. I’m afraid.”
“Who’s she?”
“It’s what they did to Sondra.”
He grinned wolfishly. “Well, now, that’s a big improvement. She’ll make the trip a lot easier to take.”
It was Mervyn’s turn to frown, and he tensed. “Trip? What trip?”
“It’s our duty to locate and report to any New Eden authority. You know that. We should leave as soon as we can.”
So that was it: a compelling command to check in. Perhaps other minor adjustments as well—a heightened aggressiveness, certainly, and perhaps a suppression of conscience? The way Jeff was looking at Sondra and getting very obviously turned on indicated the latter.
“Jeff—where’s your mother? What happened to her’.'”
For a moment that threw him. and he looked suddenly confused. Suddenly he brightened, then replied. “Oh, her. Nothing changed on her. Nothing ever changes with her. She’s over there someplace.” He gestured in the direction from which he’d just come.
Mervyn left Sondra and walked into the woods, looking around. He spotted her in a few moments, lying there against a tree, and rushed to her. She looked unsteady and confused, and he saw as he knelt down that she had a nasty-looking gash on her forehead. She started, frightened, when she saw him. but the Soul Rider reassured her.
Do not fear. It is Mervyn. The process changed him physically but not mentally. Trust him.
She relaxed, and he sensed it. understanding somehow that she had recognized him in spite of his physical change. Using what sign language he could come up with, he tried to find out what happened, and gradually pieced together the story. She had rushed to Jeff, and he had come to. and he’d been like an animal. He had angrily resisted her attempts at communication and finally had shoved her hard against the tree, which she’d hit, knocking her out for a while.
Mervyn felt sudden rage, not only for New Eden but for Jeff. It took a lot of willpower for him to calm himself down, and it was only then that he realized that his own hormones were heightened as well. Signing for her to wait, he walked back to where he’d left Jeff and Sondra. and came upon the appalling sight of the two of them together in the grass. Jeff was raping Sondra—no, that wasn’t the right word, exactly, for she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. New Eden, in fact, was raping Sondra and all like her.
“Jeff! That’s your aunt!” he managed to say. trying to keep himself under control.
“So we’ll keep it in the family.” Jeff shot back, then continued with what he’d been doing.
Mervyn returned to Spirit, unable to resist the urge to kill her son and his adept if he’d remained one more minute. He had to decide, and quickly, what to do next. Short of killing him, there was no way to control Jeff, who was firmly in the grip of the spell. Because he intellectually couldn’t blame Jeff any more than he could blame Cassie or Suzl he knew that killing was not the tack to take, and he also knew it would be unavoidable if they remained together. Or Jeff, discovering that Mervyn was not in New Eden’s grip, would kill him. There was Sondra to think of. of course, but at this point he couldn’t see any way of getting her away from Jeff—and if he did, Jeff would simply follow them and kill him and take both women back.
His first duty was to regain his power. Without that, no operation against New Eden, which was now a point of honor and necessity, was possible. To do that, he had to make it to Flux, praying that Flux was still where he’d left it when he’d moved the staff and contents of Pericles.
He helped Spirit to her feet and they made their way cautiously down and around, the sounds from nearby clearly indicating what was happening between the two others. The two horses were still there, although there was no sign of the two spares who might be around and might have panicked and be kilometers away by now. He thought he could still tell direction from this point, although it would get difficult later, and he’d never had to ride a horse bareback, let alone bare and with this amount of genital equipment. Spirit tended to be afraid of animals, but the urgency of the situation overcame the fear for at least the moment. The Soul Rider could not affect her spell-created aversion, but could dampen the fear areas and heighten confidence. With Mervyn’s help she actually was persuaded to mount one of the horses, and with considerable difficulty he mounted the other. He started off slowly, then checked and saw that she was holding onto the mane for dear life but maintaining her balance, and her horse was following the leader. Due to the forest and the terrain he couldn’t go fast, anyway, but he prayed he could go faster than a man on foot if need be.
Several minutes later it started to rain; a cold, uncomfortable rain that beat among the treetops and then filtered down onto them, thoroughly soaking them both. At least twice, partly due to the rain, both he and Spirit slipped off the horses, but managed to break their falls and recover. It did, however, become increasingly difficult to remount, and he was just about to give it up and wait for a clearing when they came out of the forest and onto the shore of a large freshwater lake. The trees thinned noticeably along the shoreline to the right, and became tall grass and bushes. He headed for it, and they stopped and dismounted just barely concealed by the trees. They would have to rest here, and while it was as wet and chilly as everyplace else it offered concealment and a wide view of the opposing shoreline, which might give him some edge should Jeff be following.
He knew, though, that their main problem wouldn’t be exposure or capture but hunger. Even if they surmounted all the other obstacles that seemed impossible, there was no getting around the fact that only the horses were provided for in this new land. There was nothing to do now. though, but pick out a spot of wet grass and try and get a little rest.
Mervyn hadn’t believed it possible to sleep under those conditions, but he did. When he awoke, he saw with a start that Spirit was nowhere to be seen. He jumped up and checked the shoreline, but saw nothing threatening, and the two horses were grazing nearby. The rain had stopped, and a slight wind had come up which dried him off a bit but did nothing to help the chill. They needed food and warmth, in that order, and there was no way to find either.
He was afraid that Spirit had returned for Jeff, but shortly he saw her return, with a small armload of berries and some greenish-looking fruit. He couldn’t ask her where it had come from, but seeing that she’d obviously already eaten he wasted no time. The fruit was bitter and the berries not quite ripe, but the idea that they were poisonous he simply dismissed from his mind. If they were, then that was that. He had little choice.
They were filling, and the only result seemed to be a case of acid indigestion that passed after a while. For the first time he felt some confidence, even optimism, in the affair. There was food in this place for people, even if not just right. He prayed that there was sufficient food near the major population centers. Otherwise, cannibalism would quickly rear its ugly and repulsive head, and he knew who the victims would be. He only hoped that New Eden realized it, too, and was rushing first to those areas.
Still, he now realized that Spirit’s spell included one for survival under almost any conditions. It there was food, she would find it along the trail.
She did not wish to ride again, but at the speed he could go on horseback in this condition it was just as well. The other horse, although not tied to them, seemed anxious not to be lost and followed calmly along, which was a relief.
There were many breaks in the clouds now, and the sky was filled with the wonder of what the old Church called the Holy Mother in all Her glory. Except for the wilderness aspect and the extra chill in the air it might have been any Anchor. Spirit, on foot, took the lead and often ranged far ahead of him. Although he had a general sense of direction from the way the Holy Mother came in on the east and went out in the west, she seemed to know where she was going and what she was doing and he decided to let her take the lead. At this speed, he knew, it would take a month to get out.
They huddled together at night to share what body heat they could, and he was quite surprised to find her coming on to him rather strongly and suggestively. He fought it for a while, but it was difficult to contain his own urges and impossible to conceal them. He had suppressed such urges with a flick of his mind for centuries, but now he was no longer a wizard, no longer was his humanity protected by the cloak of an ancient body and wizard’s powers, and he ultimately gave in to her.
To Spirit, it was a simple act of warmth and companionship. As Mervyn himself had explained, it was the one way she could truly interact with other human beings as an equal, and. because it was the only way, she was better at it than almost anyone else.
It became evident to him after not too many days in the new wilderness that his entire situation had been reversed. Matson was right—a wizard simply forgot how to do the most basic things because he never had to. He could just wish for them. Now he had been shorn of his power, and he was dependent on Spirit for food, for direction, and even, possibly, for protection. The spell and the Soul Rider gave her maximum survival potential—not a guarantee, of course, but as good as one could get—and he was merely hitching a ride. He had never felt dependent before, not even with his shattered leg back in Mantzee. Helpless then, yes, but not dependent on another. Ivan had finally rescued him, but not out of altruism or the goodness of his heart.
For decades he’d been trying to understand what went on behind those big, brown eyes and he’d gotten nowhere to speak of. Still, like everyone, he’d tended to think of her as a child, a permanent innocent, not as a human being with a handicap. Now, it seemed, she was truly in her element. Because she could use no artifacts, she neither looked for them or depended upon them. She found food where he saw nothing, or would be afraid to try, and she found shelter where he’d never think to look.
Sign language was only one form of communication. Touching, stroking, and intimacy were also forms of communication, very different and more basic things but still very important. Perhaps, he began to think. I have denied my humanity too long. To have power alone, to deny the basic relationships and feelings of all humans, was not enough, he decided. One could not aspire to a higher state and level of humanity by denying the basics of that humanity.
That was where New Eden was really wrong, too. Like the spell that had consumed Jeff and Sondra. New Eden was a least-common-denominater society. Its values for both sexes were incomplete. Love was equated with sex, intimacy with coupling. Even their predetermined social roles were biology-linked, as if humanity were merely any other animal, easily quantifiable, with any elements common to both sexes clinically filtered out. Women bore and nurtured children; therefore, they were to stay home and keep house and have a lot of sex when the man wanted it and, because this was rather boring and limiting, they should also be limited in their intelligence. Men were on the whole bigger, stronger, and one man could sexually service quite a large group of women. That made them the workers, the managers, the providers, the warriors— and also, of course, expendable.
But love wasn’t sex; sex could, however, be an act of love. It was sharing, trust, friendship, commitment—all those things. He had always downgraded sex because it seemed a simple animalistic urge, available to anyone who really wanted it and wasn’t picky about who it was done with. Now he was the weaker and the dependent, and he was learning quite a lot about himself and about the human condition generally. He was very much falling in love with Spirit, almost to the point of it coloring everything else.
For Spirit, it was just as personal but not magnanimous. She was well aware of the fact that fate had cast her, after so many years the outsider and alien, in a leading position, and she was particularly grateful that Mervyn not only understood this but accepted it. She reciprocated in the only two ways she could—by doing the job and by giving of herself to him, although she had no idea the profound effect that was having on the old wizard. She could lead because the Soul Rider was always in at least passive communication with its unknown master which it knew or took to be in Anchor. The Anchors were connected overland and through the Hellgate, which always gave the Soul Rider specific position within a cluster. The overland link weakened the further it was from Anchor, although it was a very slight difference, and from the strength of the broadcast signal it could compute how far away that signal’s source was. That more than anything was how it knew that its unknown master was in the center of Anchor Logh.
As for the food supply, the master program had been instructed to construct a mature and balanced ecosystem, not a virgin land ready for planting. The higher animals were not included, nor were they intended to be, but wild fruits, vegetables, nuts, berries, and more were there it you knew where to look, and it knew where to look simply because it had read the program as it was enacted and had a perfect map of the new land in its memory.
Despite the Fluxlands, most of the void had been void, unformed Flux, and thus it was not unusual that many days out they had still not met another living soul. That changed on what Mervyn guessed was the tenth day—he had not thought to count at the start. Spirit had spotted them across a rise and then ran back with her tireless stride to stop him and sign a warning. He approached on foot, and cautiously looked down on a lush river valley lined with a large variety of fruit trees. There was a sizeable population down there, and it had not been idle. Someone had found a way to cut and shape branches, and there was apparently some sort of large-leafed palm in the neighborhood which had served as walls against the branch frames, creating crude but efficient conical huts. Either through a natural lightning-caused fire from the first day or by friction, they had also gotten fires going and obviously had them constantly tended to keep them from going out. Cows, horses, chickens and pigs, all obviously survivors like themselves, roamed the place. That, at least, eased Mervyn’s mind somewhat—he should have remembered that almost all Fluxlands had had fairly large animal herds and the like. It was hard to tell from a distance, but the bulk of the population appeared to be Fluxgirls.
He would have loved to have gone down there and seen what sort of primitive New Eden these people had created, but not only would Spirit stick out with her spell restrictions and her hundred and eighty centimeter height, nearly thirty above the Fluxgirl average, but he would have a very hard time getting out of there again—and the last thing he wanted was to be there when the army found them.
They skirted the settlement and the valley, although it added a half a day to their journey. Further on they encountered a few others, always with time for Spirit to warn him and for them to conceal themselves or avoid contact. Many were small groups on the move who hadn’t yet encountered a part of civilization, such as back in the valley where common sense said to remain where you were until discovered.
Finally, they encountered the army. The troops were obviously having to go very slowly in their marches, since they continually picked up numbers of people and had to detail some of their own to take them off to what had to be pre-established processing stations. Although it was a very large army for a very small civilization, they had a vast area to cover and had to map and mark it as they went.
Finally, Mervyn had to reluctantly free the horses and proceed on foot, although he could never keep up with Spirit and only held her back. It was becoming downright populated and more and more difficult to remain inconspicuous. They took to going by night, and without food or water for long periods when necessary. There were quite a number of close calls and many times when they simply had to freeze and wait, but since the soldiers weren’t prepared for an enemy or stealth, fully expecting anyone to simply turn themselves in, it wasn’t as hard as he feared it would be.
They passed near large camps where great numbers of Fluxgirls milled and waited, lit by electric floodlights from lines that stretched off into the distance on temporary poles. They had devices there that were basically the tattoo devices used by the old Church before the Empire to tattoo those chosen in the Paring Rite, branding each new Fluxgirl with a name and number and then having that information put into New Eden’s files. The men, of course, would be classified, entered, given a uniform and impressed into the search for more victims.
He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Jeff and Sondra; whether they were still out there somewhere, or had not survived: if Jeff now wore the lightning and black and Sondra was another dull-eyed beauty in one of these camps. How many of those minds, some of them excellent ones, had already cracked and crumbled inside those beautiful bodies? With a little extra conditioning they all would, in time, just as he would under similar conditions.
“It hurts to think. . . .”
What a terribly dehumanizing, damning statement that was!
Spirit, too, was able to figure out basically what was going on and she, too, felt depressed. She had not seen Sondra, but she had not liked leaving Jeff, knowing that it was a spell and not he who had struck her, but she’d seen little she could do for him there and she had decided that if Mervyn felt helpless, she certainly was. The first step in undoing this terrible wrong was to get the wizard back into Flux.
That proved difficult even when the familiar reddish fog curtain was in front of them, for the area was strung with barbed wire and patrolled on foot and horseback. It was a two days’ walk skulking about in the dark and without food before there was any kind of a gap, and it wasn’t much of one. This was a point, though, where there was only a token fence and for half of the time a lone sentry patrolled. Spirit, too, understood the chance and knew they couldn’t walk much more in this area before either collapsing from hunger or being discovered, and she tried hard to get an idea across to him. It took him a very long time, but he finally got it.
There were two sentries, but they came from opposite directions. It was supposed that they were to meet each other at this point, then pivot and meet another at the other, but the fact was that those chosen for this dull duty were neither the best nor the brightest of the troops, and first one would make the point, turn, and march back, then the other would come. At a point most of the way to the turn, Mervyn clutched Spirit’s hand, then got up and walked boldly up to the sentry. He was filthy, still stark naked, and smelled. The sentry spotted him. stopped, but so did he. Finally the soldier broke from his line and came over to him.
“I am commanded to report in, sir.” he croaked, standing as straight as possible.
“How the hell did you get all this way without . . . ?” the sentry started, but then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly, rifle coming down. It was not quick enough. Spirit leaped and kicked him as hard as her powerful leg could right in the balls. He went down with a scream of horrible pain, and they wasted no time in running for the void. Spirit actually grabbing his hand and pulling him to run faster than he believed he could. There were shouts and curses behind them, a random couple of shots were fired, but suddenly they were enveloped in the wonderful silence and monotony of the void.
Instantly, it was like having been struck blind, deaf, and dumb and having your sight, hearing, and speech come back in a rush. He was in his element once more, and he had power again. Behind him, a small company of soldiers on horseback came into Flux, obviously in pursuit. The five men were suddenly struck by a blinding beam and toppled from their horses, but the unconscious forms hitting the ground were all those of naked Fluxgirls.
Spirit laughed, and hugged and kissed him. She could not be transformed, but he would not be stopped. Instantly he was a centaur with full saddle and even safety rails, and he lowered his hindquarters so she could mount and ride. She didn’t like the idea, but as she had at the start, she forced herself to do it.
Inside the basket-like saddle appeared a great variety of wonderful and familiar fresh fruit, which she tried simply to settle herself. She was feeling a little dizzy and sick from the ride, though, and would wait before the feast. Mervyn no longer required such things; he drew what he required from Flux, as always, and continued onward with a speed that was even more inhuman than his form. He had a string in moments and from its color and shape and texture read exactly where he was. He was forty kilometers northeast of Anchor Logh, and less than twenty from his temporary hideaway. Spirit’s navigation had been on the mark indeed.
Still, he scouted and checked when he reached the Fluxland shield to make certain that it was as he’d left it and designed it. Only certain people could make it in. and he knew that he’d have to take two of them off the list as soon as possible.
Satisfied that at least he could fight any potential enemy within, he entered. It was small and crude by Pericles’ standards, but it was all he had right now—a few small stone buildings, some grass and fruit trees and a little water. It was enough—for the present—although most of his records and artwork would have to be unpacked and probably recataloged.
He let Spirit down, then changed back, not to his old man form but to the form of the younger, virile man he’d become, now neat, clean, well-groomed, and wearing the purple and gold of a master sorcerer. Spirit smiled and nodded approvingly, then looked past him, gasped, and ran behind him. Mervyn turned and saw a familiar figure now being smothered with kisses and hugs. Finally the man was able to free himself and look over at Mervyn.
“You look pretty good for an old man.” said Matson. “What took you so long?”
“And so,” Matson concluded. “I suddenly figured I’d be a fool to go in there looking for what used to be Pericles, without maps, landmarks, or anything except a gate compass, particularly when I couldn’t be sure what anybody even looked or thought like anymore. There I was in Anchor Logh. and to the north was still Flux, so I figured I’d just find a stringer lineman, send off my report as best I could, then come and wait for you here.”
“I’m very sorry about Jeff and Sondra. but, damn it, I wouldn’t have made it without Spirit, and there was simply nothing else I could do at the time.”
“Not your fault. I can’t do much about Jeff. I’m afraid, but I think I can pull Sondra out of there given enough time. The old man likes me a lot, I think, and from now on he’ll need every outsider he knows to stay friendly, if you know what I mean.”
Mervyn nodded. “I’ve already sent out messengers. I expect we’re going to have the first true summit meeting of Flux and Anchor since the Concordat was signed years ago, and with nothing predetermined. Those fools! I warned them about New Eden, but they wouldn’t listen. Now our worst fears are realized.”
“Worse than you thought, I bet—and worse than you think.”
“How’s that’.'”
“I think Dr. Sligh’s discovered wireless transmission. He’s got enough potential power there just from water to give a broadcast station the capacity to blanket the whole damned planet, and enough Anchor area now to get a real firm signal that’ll punch through Flux like a knife through butter. I don’t know if the Seven know it yet, but there’s no way of keeping it from ’em and Sligh’ll build that thing simply to give instant transmission throughout his whole cluster. I’ll try to talk Tilghman out of it. but the fact is he’s so blinded by his visions he can’t see the enemy at his throat. I think we better load up and get set, Mervyn. I think there’s no way now to prevent those Gates from being triggered—by wireless remote control. Maybe not this year, or next, but you and me and a lot of other folks are gonna find out who’s right about what’s on the other side.”
“Then it is even more imperative that New Eden, all of it, must fall.”
“If it’s possible. This isn’t any big Fluxlord, remember— it’s all Anchor now, and these boys are the world’s greatest experts at Anchor fighting and they have the weapons that took three other Anchors and secured a cluster. If you don’t think Tilghman and Champion aren’t ready for it, you’re still underestimating them.”
“And you’re still going back?”