"Eleven. As usual, a minimum of one novice must be included in the expedition." Myers coughed politely and rubbed his eyes again. "Ms. Metesky?"

Metesky stood, shaking her head so that her gray mane bil­lowed around her. "The following additions and qualifications have been approved by Dream Park. If they are suitable to Mr. Henderson, there are no further barriers to the opening of Gaming Area A tomorrow morning. Mr. Lopez?"

Richard Lopez stood, thanking Ms. Metesky as she handed him the leather briefcase. He opened it. "In this case," he said, his Puerto Rican accent almost unnoticeable, "I have the complete outline for the Game that begins tomorrow. There are only a few points that remain to be discussed." He raised a sheet of paper close to his face and read.

"One. The Lore Master is to receive 25% of all nonbonus or penalty points awarded during the Game.

"Two. The Game involves firearms. These will become availa­ble during the course of the Game." The murmurs of surprise from the audience included a few groans. Firearms were unusual. Warriors tended to prefer hand-to-hand weapons.

"Three. All Garners will wear neck tabs." Lopez held up a short, flesh-colored plastic band bearing a silver-dollar-sized disk. "The disk is standard make; it bears a microphone and receiver and a 100 volt/.3 amperage microwave receptor. As usual, a shock will indicate wounding or death.

"Four. All categories of players will be admitted, except where such conflict with the rules as already stated." Lopez sat down.

Henderson looked at him suspiciously. "Is that all?"

Lopez nodded quietly. Chester said, "I'm not sure I under­stand."

"Mr. Henderson, after the last Game we were involved in, you claimed that the rules had been stacked against you, and that that was the determining factor in your defeat. I want you claiming no such handicap this time."

Lopez's smile was as innocent as a piranha's. Chester nodded; he understood. A loss in a Game with rules as soft as this would devastate his reputation. He asked, "Why are you making the Sur­vivors' Bonus a lump sum instead of the standard allocation?"

"Merely to make things more interesting. Of course, if you think that it would make it impossible for you to engender a spirit of cooperation in your expedition..."

"Don't let it worry you, Lopez. My team will pull together just fine, thank you."

"Excellent. Do you have any further questions?"

"Just one. Am I correct in assuming that tropical gear will be needed?"

Richard lowered his gaze to his fingernails and considered. "I don't believe that it would be giving too much away to say that. Any needed modifications of costuming will be provided by Dream Park." He pursed his mouth meditatively. "Is there any­thing else you will need?"

"I do hope not." Chester stood. "Let's call it a Game and let me get down to the business of choosing my team."

Chester looked at the dossier in front of him, then up into the eager face of a strawhaired youngster of seventeen. "Says here that you play as an Engineer. We can use one, and I think you can fit the bill." He glanced again at the papers and seemed pleased. "What do you think, S.J.?"

S.J. Waters exploded in laughter. "What do I think? Wow, I think that's terrific! You won't regret this, I promise!" He bounced off happily, and Chester watched in amusement.

Gina stopped trying to massage his neck. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. "First team? You're going to start him? Are you sure you want to do that, honey?"

"Quite sure," he said, trying to be irritated with her. He didn't say that a little cannon fodder never hurt. Stick a few of them in the opening lineup, and use them to spring traps. By the time you get into the "no substitutions" period, you have the territory pretty well figured out, with a minimum of valuable characters lost. "Next!"

The selection process had been going on for two hours now. Nine of the slots were pre-registered, including Gina, Ollie, Gwen, Acacia and her guest Tony. Three more slots were filled now, so he needed three more primaries and some alternates. So far he was pleased with the quality of applicant. A rough calculation gave him almost a century of fantasy gaming experience among the players he'd already selected.

"Next," he called again, and there was laughter in the line of applicants. A small strong fist banged on the table in front of him, and he jumped. The top of a head was showing above the edge. It rose until a pair of watery brown eyes was staring at him.

Chester cackled in delight. "Mary-Martha!" He jumped out of the chair and ran around the table and hugged the dwarfish woman. She was an inch above four feet high, and almost as wide as she was tall. Little of her bulk seemed to be fat, and when she hugged him back the creak of ribs was audible.

"Chester! Lord knows I couldn't let you run off and get your­self into a mess without old Mary-em to pull your worthless car­cass out of it."

"No explanations needed. How's your hip?" He had read of her injury in the I.F.G.S. Monthly Bulletin.

She slapped her hip with the flat of a callused hand. "Fine, jus' fine. An' I'm going back to Yosemite this year too. It's gonna take more than little Mount Excelsior to keep me down."

"I'm betting on you, Mary-Martha. Are you up for this jaunt?" Her eyes narrowed to slits, and for a bare moment she wasn't a chunky, harmless woman at all, but a raging force of nature caught in the wrong era and the wrong body. "You can believe it, Chester."

"Good to have you aboard. I'd like you as a Primary." She nodded vigorous agreement, and waddled off. Absurdly, Chester sensed that that walk could only be balanced by a battleaxe carelessly toted on the right shoulder.

The next two wanted to compete as a team, which was unfortu­nate. Nobody had been able to prove anything, but the rumor mill had it that Felicia Maddox was a cheat. Very shrewd about it (she would have to be) but somehow she came out of Games with more than her fair share of points. However she did it, she would be found out eventually. Chester just didn't want to deal with that in one of his Games.

Problem. Her companion was the highest-ranking sorcerer who had yet applied. Could he perhaps manage to kill the woman off in the first couple of days... ?

Bowan the Black glared at him from behind massive brows. He had dense, curly blond hair and crystal blue eyes and the mus­cles of a distance runner. Chester tried to remember his real name, and couldn't. Garners were required to give their real names to Dream Park Security, but were under no obligation to give it to him.

"Thief and Sorcerer. Both high level. And you work together well as a team."

Bowan's words were heavy with exotic mystery. "We are no mere team. We are one. Together we represent a force greater than any challenge imaginable." He folded his arms and lowered his eyelids like a drowsy hawk.

Felicia slid a step forward and leaned over the table with only the barest flicker of acknowledgement for Gina's presence. "I've got what you need for this Game, Chester. I've got an eighty-two percent agility rating on level six."

"Wessler-Grahm?" Chester glanced down at her folder. It was there. Damn, but she could come in useful. He studied her face: short brown hair and fleshy lips, blunt nose, ears that stuck out from her head like flowers on a barrel cactus. Could he keep an eye on her?

Chester closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensation of Gina's fingers in his neck. An, well, as long as he could kill Felicia off if the occasion demanded. "Okay. You're both in the Game, start­ing. See you tomorrow morning.

"Three more Alternate positions are available," he called. A groan went up from the twenty-five people left in the room. These were low-ranked players, locals who hoped to squeeze into the Game more by luck than experience. A Lore Master was obliged to take one totally new player, but aside from that he picked only the strongest. Half the remaining supplicants left the room, and many of those still in line were grumbling, but one tall black woman was smiling. She had read up on Chester Henderson. He had a habit of losing dippy players in the first day or two of a Game.