Chapter Twelve

OVERVIEW

Myers was adamant. His little black eyes focused down to points. "All right, the snake was justified. I still say that the bird attack was uncalled for, beyond anticipation, and possibly a non-organic part of the Game structure you are building."

Richard Lopez regretfully pulled his attention away from the Game, secure in the knowledge that Mitsuko could cover any problems.

"Listen, Myers, I run my (lames by the book. Melanesian magic is naturalistic. What I mean by that is that its structure is designed to explain natural phenomena: crop shortages, disease, weather peculiarities, luck in hunting, and so forth. They explain all of this with a series of myths concerning gods and spirits. Some of them were once men or animals, but in dying they became op­erative on a higher plane. Human beings gain power through wealth, knowledge, age, social position, or the help of spirits.

"Now: Pigibidi was the most respected elder in the village, and therefore a powerful magician. Clearly the village is under assault by unnamed enemies. Clearly the enemy is skilled in sorcery. Pigi­bidi, an old man, went into a dancing frenzy intended to impress the visiting wizards and warriors. He pushed himself too far and weakened himself physically, and that weakened his psychic powers as well. He himself formed one of the most formidable barriers against outside attack. When he passed out, the Daribi be­came vulnerable. The rest of it follows from that."

Myers was unimpressed. "And you think that Henderson should have followed that line of reasoning?"

"Not at all," Lopez said in a voice he usually reserved for chil­dren. "How many people were killed in that attack?"

Myers frowned. "None of the Gaming party, but..." "No buts. How many were seriously wounded?"

"None, but I don't see. - ."

"You're supposed to see, dammit! Myers, don't you find it unu­sual that there wasn't even a serious wound among the whole lot? It was a warm-up. Henderson needed an opportunity to blood his group, and I need to teach him some of the rules of my universe. Don't worry. When the real fireworks start, any nasties I come up with will have clear precedent in prior Game encounters. There will be no valid protests from Mr. Henderson, I think." Lopez turned back to his console.

As he did, Mitsuko visibly relaxed at her controls. They each had their own keyboard, and individual sets of foot controls for the viewfields. Within easy reach were additional controls that reg­ulated conditions in the control room itself. At the moment, a sin­gle hologram floated above and slightly in front of the central con­trol board.

It was the Daribi village. All of the Garners were present, and packed to go. The council of elders was present, along with the blanket-swaddled Pigibidi. Richard cocked his head, and Mitsuko nudged a sliding indicator, and the sound rose to audible levels.

"-leaving now," Henderson was saying to Gun-Person. He seemed chipper and alert. Maibang was at his elbow, wearing khaki shorts and shirt and carrying a backpack.

Pigibidi, a sickly figure nursed by two young attendants, spoke a string of unintelligible words filled with long vowels. Maibang translated. "He says that he is dying. He must tell you something that he feared to say before."

Chester pursed his lips speculatively. "Can't his enemies get to him in the hereafter?"

Lopez immediately bent forward and whispered into the goose-necked microphone projecting from the top of his keyboard. "Tell him that Pigibidi's ancestors are strong enough to protect his spirit, if not his body."

Maibang scratched his ear. "Although the powers of our de­parted ancestors are limited upon this plane, they assure the soul of Pigibidi a welcome resting place among the heroes. In life, he fears only for the village. In death, he needs fear nothing."

"I see."

Mitsuko diddled a dial and Pigibidi's face broke out in a sheen of sweat. He was in obvious torment. Saliva drooled from the corner of the wrinkled mouth, and when he coughed there was a deep-seated moistness to it that was decidedly unpleasant. He tried to sit up, and the two young men helped him. His mouth framed words in English.

"You find... find them. They... Fore."

There was a gasp from the assembled villagers, and Pigibidi's body shook as if a string of firecrackers was exploding in his stom­ach. Chester Henderson called to the other Garners. "Do not say that word! Don't mumble it, don't whisper it. We can't use that word during Game time!"

His attendants tried to steady Pigibidi, but they could do noth­ing. Their leader howled in torment. His eyes rolled back into his head until they were glistening white orbs shot with red and yel­low. He bit through his lower lip; blood trickled down his chin.

Someone whose back was to the camera pointed an unsteady hand at the dying Pigibidi's abdomen. It was collapsing from within. As it did, the trickle of blood became a torrent. His mus­cles locked in a final spasm, and he was dead.

A mournful wailing fflled the air. The villagers began falling to their knees to clutch at the dirt in sorrow. Kasan Maibang re­mained standing, his dark face darker still with pain and rage. "This will be avenged. The spirit forces of our enemy have eaten Gun-Person's liver, but we shall slay them to the man." He raised his arms in invocation, voice quavering with holy wrath. "Hear me, men of the Daribi! These brave and powerful strangers come to fight our fight for us. They will need bearers, guides, and friends. Who among you will come with us to help?"

Mitsuko leaned to her mike. "Let's not get too dramatic, Har­vey. Just say the lines."

Maibang scratched his ear, doing a good job of hiding a grin. Mrs. Lopez covered the microphone and giggled.

Myers asked, "Harvey?"

"Harvey Wayland. Isn't he good? I found him in a student pro­duction of Illuminatus at USC eleven years ago. We use him as often as we can."

In the projection field, three strong young men had joined the ranks of the Gamers. They were dressed in native garb of woven fiber. Chester was questioning Maibang, but as if he already sus­pected the answers. "Why the birds last night? Why did Pigibidi die like that?"

"We are in a continuous battle against the forces of our foes," Maibang explained. "The elders of our people are our first line of defense. Gun-Person was our greatest power. When age and ex­haustion sapped his strength, the barrier was breached."

Chester nodded. "And the liver? What could do that? Some kind of worm?"

"No. Very bad thing. Izibidi. Ghost people."

"Ghosts. ‘Bidi' suffix means person or people..." Chester was talking to himself. His voice rose to more audible levels. "Our en­emies can control the spirits of their dead?"

Maibang shook his head. "Not control. They are allies. They cooperate."

"Do the spirits of your dead cooperate with you?"

"They may, if the call is strong enough. I have the knowledge, but not the power."

"Then we'll get along fine. We have the power, and Fm get­ting the knowledge a little piece at a time..." Henderson's voice was drifting away again, and Gina's hand on his shoulder pulled him out of it. "Right, hon. All right, let's clear out of here before something uncuddly pops up. Mary-em, I want you up front with me. Offie and Bowan in the rear. The rest of you, eyes open, I think the gloves are off."

The troop shouldered their packs, and with a last backward glance at Pigibidi's hideously twisted body, moved off in an or­derly line. As soon as they were out of sight, Mitsuko's private viewscreen flashed to a patch of jungle, where the Garners were coming into view. Richard's screen stayed with the village. At a flick of his finger, Pigibidi's body, the two retainers, and the silent