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  Acacia shaded her eyes and cautiously stood, testing her bal­ance. "There's something there..." Tony started to ask, then saw it himself.

  Just ahead of Eames's boat, the water was rippling unpleas­antly. S.J. got to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. Acacia skew­ered him on a raised eyebrow, and he sat down. "Water snake," he muttered, watching the approaching ripples.

  Chester, two rafts back, had seen it too. "Snake!" His voice was surprisingly clear and loud. "Big one! Leigh, take first assault."

  In the front raft, Leigh stood up. When the snake rose from the swirling water the magician was ready.

  The snake was easily thirty feet long, its trunk thick and banded with muscle. Its head was broader than a horse's, long black tongue slipping in and out of its mouth with hypnotic rhythm. Its torso showed yellow and dull red against the blue-green of the lake, and as it hoisted fully eight feet of its length out of the water and glared at them, an uneasy cheer went up from the other Garners.

  Leigh spread his arms in supplication. "Gods above!" he screamed at the top of his voice, "hear my plea!" Almost immedi­ately a green glow surrounded him, and he nodded acknowl­edgement. The snake glided closer. "Let's see now-"

  "God's sake get on with it!" Mary-em snapped.

  He glared at her. "No respect for artists. All right, then." He refocused his gaze on the snake, now only meters away. "Snake, you are a thing of water. I give you-fire!" He gestured magically, and nothing happened. He repeated, "Fire!" and the glow around his right hand melted from green to red. He made a hurling mo­tion at the snake.

  A fist-sized ball of fire sailed from his hand, bright even in artificial daylight, expanding as it pierced the air and impacted the snake's nose. The effect was remarkable. The viper recoiled with an echoing hiss and dove back into the water and disappeared.

  Tony cheered. "Great! Heroes one, monster zero!"

  Acacia gripped his arm. "Not so fast, Tony..." She was watching Chester.

  The Lore Master lifted his arms. "Hear me, oh gods," he said, his voice deep and resonant. The green glow appeared around him. He looked down into the murky green water. "I invoke Clear Vi­sion. Reveal to me my foe."

  With a ripple of glitter, the surface of the lake became like a warped sheet of green glass, and beneath it writhed the outline of an enormous serpent. "Warriors! Be ready! It's coming back up."

  Acacia said, "Oh shit," and dived for her gear. She hurriedly unrolled an oblong oilskin package and lovingly touched the twenty-four-inch blade of her shortsword before buckling the scabbard round her waist. She slipped the blade out again and ex­

  perimentally slashed at the air, then checked the "ready" light in the hilt. She waited, crouched.

  The lake surged and the snake was on them, hissing with the liquid sound of a wind whipping through a stand of rainswept trees. Its head coiled back, then snapped forward with blinding speed. Acacia cut furiously across the beast's mouth. It swerved around and tried to bite from the side, but the swordswoman pivoted neatly and met it again. This time the snake jerked back clear of the blade. It hovered just out of range, glaring at her with blood drooling from its upper 11p. Slowly, eyes fixed on her stead­ily, it sank beneath the water.

  "Good play, Panthesilea," Tony McWhirter said, his face just a shade pale.

  S.J. piped up immediately. "Best damn holograms in the world. Most expensive, too. The sword sensor knows whether it intersects part of the projection, and signals the computer. The snake's a computer-animated projection, so-" He looked down at Acacia's sword tip waving an inch from his nose.

  She said, "Listen, S.J., maybe you get your kicks from analyz­ing dreams, but I want to play, and I want Tony to have the chance to play with me, okay?"

  S.J. grinned and said, "Snake's behind you." She whirled, sword ready, and he laughed.

  The watersnake was menacing the raft that held Gwen and Offie. They paddled madly. Their passenger, a Cleric named Gar­ret, spread his arms and intoned loudly, "Hear me, oh gods!" His red false beard flapped mightily in the breeze. The familiar green halo surrounded him, and he yelled, "A ring of protection, Fa­ther!"

  A band of soft white light circled the raft. The snake drew up short and nosed around them in bewildered frustration. In the time that it spent deciding how to attack, Bowan the Black had maneuvered his boat up behind it. "Fireball!" he cried. An arc of flame leapt from his palm to strike the monster just behind the head. It hissed in pain and spun around, diving for Bowan. Offie's voice rang out across the water.

  "Cut the ring!" he yelled, and the circle of light disappeared. Ollie stood stripped to the waist, gut sucked in heroically. His eyes burned fiercely. He clutched a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He yodeled his war-cry and struck.

  The snake jerked away from the kiss of steel, and Ollie's second

  slash cut thin air. Ollie tried to make up the extra distance with a lunge. The raft shifted in the opposite direction, and Ollie went over the edge.

  He came up sputtering and thrashing with his left hand for bal­ance. The dagger was a hindrance; he stuffed it in his sheath and struck out towards the snake. Its body rose from the water and en­circled him. Ollie screamed defiantly and laid about with the sword. The snake was covered in wounds now, and Bowan the Black was hurling tongues of fire with both hands.

  The snake's upper body was awrithe with flame, and it uncoiled from Ollie and tried to dive. As it did, Ollie torqued his body all the way round in the water, and caught it dead center between the eyes. Mortally wounded, it rolled its eightball eyes piteously and expired, sinking beneath the water with only a slick of blood to mark its passing.

  Without knowing how he got there, Tony found himself on his feet and cheering like an idiot. With great clumsy strokes Ollie swam back to the raft. Gwen helped him aboard, kissing him soundly. Acacia nudged Tony. "Think they'll celebrate tonight, or what?"

  He was still open-mouthed, watching the slowly dissipating bloodstain. "Just wow, Cas. I don't believe it."

  "You'd better believe it when it happens to you, or you'll be out of the Game while you're still trying to shut your mouth." She brushed the back of her hand along his jawline, closing it, and said, "Come on, lover. Let's get to shore before Lopez hits us with something new."

  "Oh, he wouldn't..." He paused, chewing his words. "Right. Let's get off the lake."

  Chapter Seven

  THE ROAD OF THE CARGO

  The DC-3 was disappearing beneath the waters as the last raft pulled ashore. Tony shouldered his knapsack and adjusted the nylon straps. "Rest in peace, Captain Stimac," he said. "Is that one for Lopez?"

  Acacia shook her head. "The pilot was a freebie. He wasn't a member of our party. He was outside Chester's influence. Help me get my bedroll adjusted, will you? Then let's go talk to Chester."

  The Lore Master was helping Gina get herself together. Besides a bedroll and backpack, the lovely redhead sported a wicked looking dagger and the wizard's staff, her major magical tool. Henderson himself carried only a bedroll and backpack, plus a small black box fastened to his belt on the left side.

  He turned to Maibang. "You have a lot of those snakes around here?"

  Maibang raised his palms in supplication. "Who knows what

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  evil has been wrought here since my departure?" The guide wiped a drop of water from his broad nose and stared into the distance. "I believe that we head... yes, that way, north, toward the mountains."

  "Are you sure?" Chester sounded a touch irritated.

  "Almost absolutely. I understand that your people have mysti­cal ways to reach out and seek such information for yourselves. Perhaps you would care to try?"

  "Too much energy expenditure, too soon. The snake drained a lot of energy from two of my players..." Chester gazed toward the mountain peaks shimmering in the distance, and the dense for­est growth between. The guide could plead ignorance, but he couldn't lie.

  Chester raised his voice to be audible to the enti
re group. "We're heading north. Eames, you and Leigh up front with me. Mary-em and Acacia, take the rear guard. Don't spread too thin, people."

  The fifteen Garners and Maibang formed into a line, Eames leading as they chopped their way into the brush. The big man's arm rose and fell tirelessly as his sword served machete duty, filling the air with shredded green chaff. "We must follow these mountains," Maibang assured them. "There should be a trail up ahead just a little way, and then the going will be much easier."

  Chester grunted a reply and kept watching the terrain carefully.

  Tony hung back with Acacia in the rear of the column. She cut brush for the first few minutes, but as initial progress was slow she soon tired and slipped her sword back into its sheath. They found a trail and the going became easier. Maibang kept them heading toward the "mountains"... which, Acacia suspected, were slowly shifting position to keep them traveling in an expanding spiral.

  She couldn't come close to naming all the varieties of plant and animal life. Birds of all kinds, their plumes ablaze with color; parrots with purple and bright orange feathers, birds of par­adise with impossible combinations of gold and red and electric white swirling on their wings and tails. Acacia recognized coco­nuts and what looked like rubber trees, but beyond that the under­brush was a tangle of greens and dark purples and the yellow of dying shrubs; of vines and trees, leaves flat and shiny, invisible against the forest growth or exploding with flowers. Small snakes

  slept on branches or wriggled from underfoot. Creatures leapt through the branches just out of sight.

  One parrot, gorgeous in its purple plumage, kept pace with her for what seemed a kilometer, always just out of reach. She watched it, watched it land for an instant on a branch to nuzzle beneath its wings for a fat mite, watched it cock its head at her curiously, and found herself wondering if it was real. It looked real; it sounded real, its untutored voice croaking tunelessly except for sharp whis­tles; and she wondered.

  The air was hot and sticky and smelled oppressively green. They had tried holding hands, but contact with another human body only made the heat worse, and they gave it up. Sweat rolled from Tony's face in grimy drops, and under his cotton shirt dark damp spots were forming under his armpits and on his chest.

  He pointed off to the side and asked, "Is that...

  A small clearing surrounded by one species of bush, outlining a crescent moon. "That's it. Shall I stop the others?"

  "I'll only be a second." Tony stepped off the trail and into the clearing and faded out. Acacia kept moving. Presently he was behind her again, pushing his pace until he caught up.

  "I feel as if we've been walking for hours," he said to her, pant­ing sincerely. Some of the bounce was gone from his walk, and frustrated fatigue showed in his face. "Come on... where's an­other beastie? Anything's better than this."

  Acacia moaned sympathetically. "Poor baby. Just try to re­member that your discomfort, like everything else here, is only make-believe." She patted his cheek. "There, now. Don't you feel better now?"

  "Yes, Mommy," he said absently, and quickened his step to catch up with Gwen and Ollie. Sheen of sweat or not, the blond Cleric hadn't released her hero's arm for an instant. Tony clapped Ollie on the shoulder. "Good going with the water snake, Offie."

  "Call me Oliver, would you, Tony?" His hand rested easily on the grip of his sword.

  Tony tried to laugh, but suddenly there was nothing soft about Ollie, not his eyes nor his carriage, and certainly not the way his palm caressed his sword. Gwen had changed too. She was still at­tached to Ollie. But instead of his leaning on her, she seemed to be drawing strength from him. Tony sensed that he was out of his depth.

  Gwen's laugh was of quiet challenge. "Oliver is a noble name, Tony. Oliver was one of Charlemagne's greatest warriors."

  "All right... Oliver. I like the way you handled the water snake. It was a class act."

  Tension eased. "I almost got killed out there," Oliver growled. "When I went off the side of the boat, I thought I was dead. I was just waiting for the jolt from my neck tab. If Lopez had really wanted me, he had me then. That thing could have crushed me before it took enough hit points to roll over and die." If he believes in the Game Master, how can he believe he's Oliver the Frank? Tony shrugged inside his mind. Schizo. Well, maybe I'll have to be schizo too. "Oliver, what is it exactly that Thieves do? It's easy to see what Warriors and Clerics and Magic Users do."

  "Thieves steal, mostly." Gwen skipped a half-pace to keep her step even with Oliver's. "You skulk around, and you're practically invisible to your enemies. You're not much with weapons, except maybe a throwing knife. It's loads of fun. You'll get a chance to try your hand later today, probably. That's about all I can think of. Chester can fill you in on anything else. Don't worry, we won't let you get killed before you learn the rules. It won't get really rough for a bit yet."

  "Yeah, well, I guess you haven't had a chance to bless anything yet, either."

  "Not true. I blessed dear Oliver before he engaged in mortal combat with that overblown water worm."

  "Behind every man, et cetera," said Oliver. His persona cracked for an instant, and he bounced on his toes and was Offie again, smiling bright as sunrise, saying, "I am having so much fun. I really hope you can get into it, Tony."

  McWhirter smiled and nodded. He dropped back to Acacia's side.~ "Happy as two fleas in a bottle of blood, they are."

  "What do you want out of all this, Tony? What will make you happy?"

  "Just a little of something that I can't get anywhere else, I guess."

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  "Well, you, of course. But, you know. Breathless adventure, ex­otic sights, heaps of fabulous gems... all that."

  "All that. But you do value my friendship, don't you?"

  "Sure I do, Cas. Besides, I can't afford what you charge

  strangers." He hugged her with one arm as they moved down the trail, the shrubbery closing behind them like a healing wound. "I'm a city boy, Cas. What am I supposed to want? Six days from now I'm back at work copying blueprints eight hours a day. Hell, I

  guess my expectations are a little unreasonable. I can't really expect an amusement park to undo in a week the damage a dull job does in fifty, but I do." He gently turned her face to him and spoke in all seriousness. "Help me, will you, Cas?"

  She looked half puzzled, half pleased. "You know, hombre, every once in a while you're such a decent human being that I might as well have left my hip boots at home."

  "How ‘bout if I tickle your butt next time you're facing down a giant snake?"

  There was a shout up ahead, and several of the Garners had broken ranks, running forward to a clearing 100 meters up the trail. Acacia half-drew her sword; then she saw and relaxed. The first half of the journey was over.

  In a few seconds they were out of the jungle and into a culti­vated area, where knee-high and waist-high plants grew in neat rows. She could see men and women working in the fields, weed­ing and irrigating. "Please!" Kasan Maibang's voice rang out. "Stay on the path. The young tubers are very delicate." Acacia immediately wondered how far the cultivated area really went, and where the Dream Park magic took over.

  Some of the land had been irrigated into marshiness, and men waded knee-deep in the mud planting and setting up stakes to in­dicate private plots in the community garden.

  Acacia recognized sweet potatoes, yams and sugar cane. In the distance banana trees and breadfruit grew, and the air was full of the scent of rich wet earth and growing things. Like Tony, she was a child of the city, but a granduncle in Mexico owned his own ranch, and she and her two brothers had spent glorious summers there helping with the cows and pigs. She knew something of wide spaces, and working in the open air, and remembered the smell of sweating bodies toiling in the afternoon sun.

  The villagers were small people, most of them darker than Kasan and showing the physical impact of a primitive life style. Adults seemed to be made of leather and woven gut
, faces etched but not scarred by endless labor in the fields, bodies scarred but not broken by the rigors of the hunt. Their attire, g-strings and animal-hide flaps, made her feel she was sweltering, and she toyed

  with the idea of adapting that style for the rest of the trip. Poor Tony would have a fit.

  The Garners were attracting attention from the field workers now, and many stopped their work to point and stare. Warriors carrying bamboo spears had emerged from the cluster of thatched buildings on the other side of the fields. The Garners had gathered around Chester while he quizzed Maibang.

  "You're sure that your chief knows we're coming? And wants us here?"

  "I am sure of all that," Maibang answered gravely.

  A nasty suspicion lit Chester's face. "The Daribi are cannibals, aren't they?"

  Maibang looked wounded. "Upon special occasions, of course. You are not our enemies, you have come to help us. It would be ingracious in the extreme to do such a thing." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Just to be on the safe side, though, you might be careful of the phrasing if anyone invites you to dinner." He leaned close enough to whisper, jerking a thumb at Gina, "A few yams and a sliced banana or two would do wondrous things for your lovely friend there."

  "Be careful about telling her that," Chester said absently. "She's been known to kiss on the first date, but..." He turned quiet as the first quartet of stocky spearmen drew near. Two were carrying bulky rifles. None of them left footprints in the dirt. The foremost of them raised his spear in greeting. They wore colorful necklaces of woven vine and leather, and ceremonial headdresses of short, brilliantly colored feathers. Chester kept his expression neutral as he raised a hand and waited. The field workers were gathered about them now. Small dark children, protuberant bellies bouncing with their scampering, hid behind the skirtlets of their bare-breasted mothers.