"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

(delete this)

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 entire 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.