'Excellent. Just see that they don't attack my friends.'
She got on it, uttering what sounded like gibberish and stamping both feet. 'That does it. I modified it to make the dragons protective toward people caged in ice. The nest syndrome, again. They'll melt the bars without hurting the prisoners. The enemy Adepts will be too busy containing the dragons to worry about the prisoners, who will surely disappear rapidly into the labyrinth of Proton. Do you want to watch?'
Stile glanced again through the holo at the prisoners. The Rifleman was holding Merle, shielding her from the cold of the ice and the reaching claws and beaks of the griffins. They made a rather fetching couple. Perhaps this incident would give the two respect for each other and lead to a passing romance.
'No, let's get on with our business,' Stile said, more gruffly than necessary. The problem of Sheen and his relationship to her weighed upon him more heavily as she became more and more human. He felt guilty for not loving her sufficiently. 'You conjure yourself to the Oracle's palace and see about reanimating Trool the Troll. Fetch the Brown Adept there too; it will have to be a joint effort. While you're at it, find out whether the curtain's expansion has intersected the Oracle yet. Once it crosses, I'll have to see about integrating it with the Proton computers, so its enormous expertise can aid our effort from the Proton side. Once you're through there, meet me at the Platinum Demesnes; I'll be organizing the shipment of Phazite. If we act swiftly and well, we can accomplish it before the resistance gets properly organized, especially since it may be thought that I am dead.'
'But that's all kinds of magic you want me to do alone!' she protested. 'I'm only a machine; I can't handle that sort of thing!'
A machine with an insecurity complex. 'You've done pretty well so far.'
'I had to! I knew your life was at stake.'
'It still is,' he said coldly. 'All the Citizens and Adepts will be gunning for me harder than before, once they realize I have survived again. This is their last chance to stop the transfer of Phazite and preserve the frames as they know them. Do whatever you did before to handle magic so well.'
'I just looked in the index for the spells I needed. The book is marvelously cross-referenced; it is easy to see that a computer organized it. Protection, construction, summoning, conversion - anything, instantly. I just followed instructions; I don't understand magic at all. It is complete nonsense. Who ever imagined a scientific robot doing enchantments?'
'Who, indeed!' he agreed. 'This is a wrinkle I never anticipated. Yet it seems that you are well qualified to use the book of magic. Perhaps that is by design of the originators; the great equalizer for the self-willed machines. They can be the leading magicians of the age, entirely bypassing the established hierarchy.'
'No. We don't want to do that. We want only our fair share of the system.'
Stile smiled. 'You, too, are incorruptible. You shall have your fair share. But at the moment it is the occasion for heroic efforts. Very well; I'll put it on a more practical basis. You read through that entire book and assimilate all that is in it-'
'Wait, Stile! I can't! I can read at machine rate-but this book is a hundred times as big as it seems. When you address any section, the entire book becomes that section; there are more spells in any single subdivision than I can assimilate in a year. It's like a computer with unlimited access, keying in to the networks of other planets on demand.'
'A magic computer. That figures. Very well - run a survey course. Discover what types of spells it has, in broad categories - you've already done that, I think - then narrow those down until you have exactly what you need. Commit particular spells to memory, so that you can draw on them at need. Remember, you can use each spell only once, so you'll need backups. I want to know the parameters of this thing; maybe there are entire aspects of magic we never thought of. You run that survey as quickly as you can, then restore Trool and report to me. That will allow me to get moving on the Phazite without delay, while also mastering the potential of the book - through you.'
'Yes, sir,' she said uncertainly.
Stile brought out his harmonica and played a bar of music. Again there was something strange, but this time he continued playing, determined not to be balked by any mystery.
The spirit of his other self came out, expanding as if stretching, then closed on Stile, coalescing.
'Oh, no!' he cried. 'Juxtaposition! I forgot!'
'You freed your other self's soul to merge,' Sheen said. 'I saw it.'
Now Stile was two people, yet one. All the memories and experience and feelings of the Blue Adept of Phaze were now part of his own awareness, superimposed on his own lifelong Proton experience. All that he had learned of his other self, which the Lady Blue had told him, was now part of his direct memory. He had become, in truth, the Blue Adept. He felt confused, uplifted, and gloriously whole. 'I am - both,' he said, awed.
'Is it - will you be all right?' she inquired anxiously. 'Things are changing so rapidly! Does it hurt?'
He looked at her with the awareness of his other self. She was absolutely lovely in her concern. She had, with typical feminine vanity and concession to the culture of Phaze, conjured herself a simple but fetching dress, and her hair was just a trifle wild. Her eyes were strongly green, as if enhanced by the verdure of the overlapping frames. 'I know what thou art,' he said. 'I could love thee, Lady Golem-Machine, for thou art lovely in more than form.'
Sheen stepped back. 'That must be Blue! Stile, are you in control? If you have become prisoner in your body-'
'I am in control,' Stile said. 'I merely have double awareness. I have two full lives to integrate. My other self has no direct experience with your kind; he's quite intrigued.'
'I would like to hear more from Blue,' she said, then blushed.
'Sorry. He has to come with me; we're one now.' Stile resumed his melody on the harmonica, then sang: 'Let me be found at the Platinum Mound.'
And he was there. Pyreforge the Dark Elf looked up. 'We expected thee, Blue Adept. But I perceive thou art changed.'
'I am both my selves,' Stile said. 'I am whole. My souls are one.'
'Ah, the juxtaposition,' Pyreforge agreed. 'We be in the throes. But thy merger can be maintained only within the curtain, for you are now two.'
'I mean to make another body for him,' Stile said, an inspiration falling into place. 'My friend Sheen has the book of magic; we can accomplish it now, after we restore my friend the troll to life. But first - the Phazite.'
'We have it for thee,' the elf agreed. 'But how canst thou move it? It weighs many tons, and its magic ambience prevents conjuration.'
'I think that is why the Oracle bade me organize the creatures of Phaze,' Stile said. 'First they rescued me from enchantment; now they will enable me to move the Phazite. I want to shape it into a great, perfect ball and roll it across the curtain by brute, physical force.'
'Aye, Adept, that may be best. But others will bar thy progress if they can.'
'This may be like a big earthball game,' Stile said, remembering the final key word of his Tourney poem. Earth. 'I will try to balk the magic of the enemy Adepts, with the help of Sheen and the book of magic, while my friends help push the ball across the near side of the curtain, through the breadth of the zone of juxtaposition, and across the other side into Proton. That is how it works, isn't it?'
'Aye. Cross from one frame on one side, to the other on the other. That can be done from both sides, but always the full juxtaposition must be traversed, for it be but the interior of the divided curtain.'
'So where the curtain divides, the people reunite!' Stile exclaimed, feeling his wholeness again.
'For the moment it be so. But when the deed be done, all will be separate forever.'
'I know,' Stile said sadly. 'I will be forever confined to mine own frame, this lovely world of magic but a memory. And mine other self, the true Blue Adept, will know no more of modern science.' He felt the surge of interest and regret in his other self. To Blue, the things of science were as novel as the things of magic were to Stile.
'We do what we must do,' Pyreforge said. 'We sometimes like them not.'
'Can the elves get the Phazite to the surface here?' Stile asked. 'I can conjure in whole troops of creatures to push it across the juxtaposition.'
'Nay, the other Adepts have closed the conjuration avenue, perceiving thy likely intent if thou dost survive. Thine allies must march here.'
'But I came by conjurationl'
'Thou must have come from some place hidden from Adept perception, then.'
'I did,' Stile agreed. 'I should have notified my allies before I came here. Perhaps I can make a sign for them
