But when the light died down, they were surrounded by Dolphins. Alex tried to touch one of them. His hand slid along its body, and it darted away. There were six of them. With gentle nudges, they herded the three Adventurers down to the glowing dome.
31
The dolphins seemed as friendly as Flipper. They coaxed the swimmers through the water with gentle bumps and nudges. Despite their incredible delicacy, one could feel the power of a dolphin moving past: a wall of muscle, capable of smashing bone with a flick of a tail.
Their inner sanctum was tropically warm, a lagoon within a lagoon. Wisps of steam rose from slow, swirling, oily whirlpools.
Imitation rock slabs rose from the surface of the water, forming broad rough steps. Lounging on the steps were-something was wrong with the light-a man and a woman? But their arms and legs were well, flattened, a little like the flukes of a whale; and their faces were unforgettably ugly; and their skin was not white or brown or any human shade, but a dark blue reminiscent of the dolphins themselves. They whispered to each other in high- pitched, gobbling, squeaking sounds.
One of the dolphins arched backward out of the water and danced on its tail as it skipped across the surface. It balanced upright at the edge of the stone steps, shimmered, melted into an amorphous cloud of blue light, then became another of… those. The Nommo. Her face, like theirs, seemed immobile, the eyes lidless and staring, the mouth turned up in a rigid meaningless grin. Without a shred of self-consciousness, she lounged back on one of the steps and grinned at them, challenging.
She gave a dolphin-like burbling chuckle, and then addressed them in a very human voice. 'Betcha like this tons better.'
'May I?' Bishop indicated the steps out.
Twan said, 'Go for it.'
Bishop settled himself on the steps. Griffin continued treading water, working off restless energy. So did Twan, for whatever reasons.
'We are from the outside,' Bishop explained.
The blue woman found that funny. 'Oh? Outside. And we are from Queeepzz-from outer space, from the worlds circling Sirius Little.'
Back on the surface, eight remaining Adventurers were as relaxed as might be, considering the circumstances. There was little to do until the two Loremasters resurfaced. Only a nominal guard was placed on Alphonse Nakagawa, Clavell, and Poule. They were, after all, disarmed and helpless.
All this water: it seemed likely that they'd all be under it sooner or later. Al wasn't the only Gamer who had changed into his swimband. Slender and muscular, he looked almost as good as Bishop. He'd spent a few minutes making eye contact with Tammi and Acacia and Top Nun. The ladies weren't responding; they were ignoring him, in fact.
So no one seemed to be watching Alphonse as he stood watching the water, or knelt and stirred it with one hand, near the piles of discarded clothing and costumes.
Bishop had left all of his gear behind. Al the Barb's fingertips wandered through side pockets in the Loremaster's pack. A spare shoestring… a dirty sock… good. They went into his waistband. And what's this a long- toothed comb? Humming a silent, joyous little song, Alphonse teased it out with two fingers, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the water's surface.
Still nobody watching? He peered down. Caught in the black plastic tines were six black, curly hairs.
He plucked them out. For an instant he held them in his open palm in full view, not of any passerby, but of some omnicient deity, some hypothetical ceiling camera. The Game Masters could play it back if need be. Nakagawa's Law
#4: If the GM didn't see it, it didn't happen.
Then he rubbed the hairs into a tiny ball the size of a pinhead and tucked the ball under his right thumbnail. His folded hand returned to Bishop's pack and emerged empty. A lost comb would be noticed.
According to voodoo lore, a single hair was enough for a charm.
Mess with me, Bishop? My daddy put a rattlesnake in a man's pocket once, then asked him for a match. And he's the family wimp.
Al the Barbarian edged back from the pool. Nobody watched him too closely, and why should they? He wasn't close to any weapons, or anything valuable at all.
'Sirius Little?' Bishop asked, momentarily confused..
'The Dogon,' Twan said with deep satisfaction. 'Appelion was right.'
'Oh, yeah,' the blue woman said. 'We thought we'd zip on down here. Earth looked like a party planet. We'd catch some rays…'
The blue male behind her rose, stretching until joints popped. She slapped him smartly on the buns as he passed. He jumped up, flipped, and took a header into the water. In mid-arc he transformed into a dolphin. The dolphin nosed up against Bishop, who stroked it affectionately.
'Our folks-damn near ancestors, now.' The Nommo woman grimaced. 'Some of them have even died. Well, they were only supposed to stay for a few months, but they took a bad splash when we landed. Couldn't repair the lander.'
'Why not?' Twan asked.
'Dig it. It's not like they were some high-dome expedition. They were a buncha kids, out for a good time. Weren't supposed to be here at all. There was a mother ship, stashed up in orbit. When the lander crashed, they must have gotten scared, zipped back to the motherland.' She chuckled. 'I'd like to hear the story they told the folks back home. Most of the tech they brought was biomech-you've seen some of that? And the Ethereals. You folks call'em demons and angels and so on, but they're like roaches and rats where we came from. Useful, but they breed too damned fast. And we have some little tricks, mental matter-energy conversion stuff, too minor to do a really big repair, but your folk-your ancestors seemed to like'em.'
'I'll just bet they did,' Bishop murmured.
'Now, the lander crashed in the Atlantic, off what you called the Ivory Coast. Good people. Like the food. We just played around with them, taught 'em a little stuff, and, well…'
The male's dolphin-head popped up. 'Our ancestors thought your ancestors were being polite,' he buzzed. 'Excessively polite, but you know, local mores…'
'They worshiped us. This was a long time ago, back around what you call the Ice Age, and I guess we were kind of unusual. We didn't catch on fast enough.'
'Our ancestors taught them our technology,' the male explained, and spit a mouthful of water. 'What you'd call magic. The mind tricks-sound and visualisation and so on-what you'd call spells. Summoning the Ethereals, who were rutting out of control by then, but don't have much to do with humans unless someone calls 'em.'
'Years passed,' the female continued, 'hundreds of years. Our folks couldn't go home even if they could get the ship repaired-'
'Why not?'
'Too big. Adults of our kind get as big as islands. As for us, we were having fun. Lots of sun, and water, and good company. Ever been treated like a god?'
'Not recently,' Twan said.
'From time to time,' Bishop admitted.
'Addictive, isn't it? We got lazy. Some of us a lot of us started making babies, going out further into the ocean where there was room for them, goin' native, I guess you'd say. They forgot even the simple magic, or didn't teach it to their kids. Not many of us even remember what we really are.'
'How could that happen?' Griffin asked.
'Easier than you think. Hey the ocean was warm, the fish were slow, and nothing had teeth big enough to
