didn't exist on any other world he knew. Now he had an excuse to satisfy both interests - by making them part of his honeymoon.
As the Blue Adept, he was one of the most powerful magicians in Phaze; riding a unicorn - ah, he missed Neysa! - he had some of the best transportation and protection available; and in the company of the lovely Lady Blue - oh, what an occasion this would be!
'I want to make a map,' he said, remembering. 'A map of Phaze, as I know it now and as I will discover it, and of the curtain in all its curvatures.'
'The curtain is straight,' the Lady said.
'Straight? It meanders all over the frame!' 'Nay, Lord, it is the frame that meanders,' she assured him. 'When we follow the curtain, we bear due west.'
Stile decided not to argue. After all, she was his new bride and she was heart-throbbingly delightful, and an argument at this time would be awkward. Nevertheless, he would map Phaze as he perceived it.
He played his harmonica, bringing the magic to him. Then he set the instrument aside and sang: 'Place on tap a contour map.'
True to his visualization, the map appeared - a neatly folded pseudo-parchment. He opened it out and contemplated its lines and colors. There were the White Mountains to the north, the Purple Mountains to the south, the sites of the Blue, Black, Yellow, White, Brown, and - former-Red Demesnes, and the curtain winding around and between them. Contour lines indicated the approximate elevations.
But there were sizable blank areas. This map covered only the territory Stile knew. He had traveled around a lot of Phaze recently, but there was more to explore. He expected to enjoy filling in the rest of this map. The plotting of the curtain should take care of much of it, since it meandered - went straight? - past most of the significant establishments of this frame.
'No one uses a map in Phaze,' the Lady protested, intrigued.
'I am not from Phaze,' he retorted. He showed her the map. 'Now as I make it, the curtain should bear west a day's leisurely travel, then veer north here to pass the palace of the Oracle and on by the Yellow Demesnes near the White Mountains . That will be a couple days' ride. Then it must curve southwest to intersect the Black Demesnes here-'
'The curtain is straight,' she repeated. 'Humor me, beloved. Then on until we reach the West Pole, somewhere over here. The whole trip should take a week, which will leave us-'
'Thou art a fool,' she said pleasantly. 'Little thou knowest of Phaze.'
'That's why I'm exploring it,' he agreed. 'Thou art wife of a fool, fool.'
She leaned toward him, and her mount obligingly closed the gap. They kissed, riding side by side, while Clip played another suggestive tune. Stile gave the unicorn a sharp little kick in the flank with his left heel. Clip emitted a blast of musical laughter with an undertone of Bronx cheer and flicked his tail across Stile's back in the familiar fly- swatting gesture.
'Now let's move,' Stile said as the kiss ended.
The two steeds broke into a canter, following the curtain down the hill, through a valley, and up a wooded slope. Stile loved riding; it was the thing he did best. The Lady paralleled him, balancing smoothly, her hair flying out in a golden splay. She, too, was a fine rider and she had a fine steed, though no horse could match a unicorn in full exertion. Stile probably could have borrowed another unicorn from the herd, but there had been no point. This was no dangerous mission, but a gentle romance. Hinblue was a very good mare, the offspring of the Blue Stallion and the Hinny - the best equine heritage in Phaze. Stile remained sorry his friend Neysa was not here to share the trip with him - but realized that Neysa might be jealous of the Lady Blue, with some reason. Maybe Neysa's breeding had been mostly a pretext to separate herself from this excursion. Well, Clip was good, if spirited, company.
Time passed. The curtain veered to the south, forcing them to cross over the height of the Purple range, rather than at any natural pass. Their steeds slowed to a walk, and the air became chill. There was no snow here, but the vegetation turned bluish as if from cold, and then full purple. That was what gave the range its color, of course; he should have known. Finally Stile cast a spell to make them warm - himself and the Lady and the two animals - so that no one would have to overexert to maintain body heat.
Then, on the steep downslope, he cast another spell to enable them all to float through the air, resting. A harpy popped out of a hole in a cliff, saw the two equines with their riders, all drifting blithely in midair, and popped hastily back into her hole. 'Just as well,' the Lady Blue remarked. 'That creature's scratch is poisonous, and they oft resent intrusion into their demesnes.'
Clip snorted. Unicorns were invulnerable to most magic and had no fear of harpies. Stile, remembering how the werebitch Serrilryan had died, knew that if the harpy had attacked, he would have reacted with ferocity perhaps unbecoming to this occasion.
Then they passed the cliffside nest of a griffin. Three cubs poked their beaks up to peer at the weird procession. In the distance there was the birdlike scream of an adult, probably the mother, aware that her babies were being disturbed. A griffin was a fighting animal, almost as fierce as a dragon; unicorns did not normally seek combat with this species. Stile, of course, could handle it - but he elected to hasten their descent, getting well away from the nest before the mother griffin appeared. Why seek trouble?
At the southern foot of the range an extensive plain commenced. Evening was approaching, and in the slanting sunlight they saw shapes in the sky like grotesque birds. 'Dragons,' the Lady Blue murmured. 'This is dragon country.'
'If any come for us, well simply step across the curtain,' Stile said. Again it was easier to avoid than to fight; he had no desire to waste magic or to prove his power. A unicorn, a werewolf, or a vampire could change forms as often as it wished, because that was inherent in such creatures' nature, while Stile could use a particular spell only once. When he had to, he could accomplish more by magic than any other creature and could change one creature to another - but eventually he would run out of new spells. Magic was best saved for true emergencies.
'What of Hinblue?' the Lady asked.
'Um, yes. Maybe she can cross the curtain too.'
'She could not survive in Proton-frame. There is no good air there, no grazing. And what of thine own mount?'
'Have no fear for me, Lady,' Clip said, changing to man-form. 'As a hawk, I can escape. But I cannot cross the curtain. In Proton I would be reduced to but a horse, and unable to cross back.'
'Then I will use magic if the need arises,' Stile decided.
'My lord, there is no time like the present,' the Lady said. For a shape was winging toward them.
Stile had made up and memorized a number of spells, including some dragon restraints. In this case he would simply cause the dragon to forget it had seen anything interesting here.
But as the creature flew closer, Stile squinted at it. This was a peculiar dragon. The wings were wrong, the tail, the head-
'Why, that's no dragon,' the Lady said.
Clip snapped his fingers. 'That's a thunderbird! I didn't know there were any left in these parts.'
'I don't have a specific spell for thunderbirds,' Stile said dubiously. 'I'll have to go to a general one.'
'No need,' the Lady said. 'The bird is full of sound and fury-'
The creature swooped close, its wings spreading hugely, then sweeping together in a deafening clap of thunder.
'Signifying rain,' Clip finished, as the drenchpour commenced.
Hastily Stile spelled into existence a large tent, already set up and guyed. The rain beat down on its canvas so heavily that he had to spell additional supports. Water seeped under the edges, and fog drifted through, coating them with condensation. A little frog appeared and croaked contentedly.
The other three were with him, but soon Clip returned to unicorn-form and moved outside to graze; the rain did not bother his equine form very much. Hinblue followed him out; grazing was always worthwhile, and the dragons would avoid this storm.
That left the Lady Blue. Stile turned to her. 'I had thought of sunshine and sweet music for this occasion. Still-'
'Desist thy stalling,' she said, and opened her arms.
Thereafter, the storm disappeared from his consciousness. It was a long, ecstatic night. In the morning he
