Metesky's voice was sharp. "We can juggle the odds in the computer, Richard, but you can't choose the victim. You just have to see which way it goes."

"I can wish out loud, can't I, Metesky? That S.J. character just rubs me the wrong way."

S.J. had broken a folding shovel out of his pack, and was dig­ging industriously. Eames, never one to miss a chance to flex his muscles, chopped away at the exposed roots.

Chester watched them dig. In the control room, Richard lounged back in his chair and watched Chester think. Neither spoke, until the Lore Master softly said, "Garret. .

The Cleric quickly crossed himself and dropped to his knees in prayer. Mitsuko's fingers flew over her keyboard, and an instant later a soft, golden glow surrounded the young Engineer.

S.J.'s shovel struck metal, and Eames got down into the hole to help. They shifted the remaining soil with their hands. With a gasping wrench they tore it free. Chester stalled them for the few seconds that it took to cast a Reveal Danger spell on the corrod­ing steel chest, and when the glow showed only green, he told them to go ahead. Richard heard a certain reluctance in his voice. He smiled.

Jimmying the rusted padlock was easy for S.J., who seemed to have brought a tool for all occasions. He set the blunt folding edge of the shovel against a screwdriver-like implement and pounded it into the thin line where the halves of the lock met. It

split into three pieces, and the Gamers cheered. Taking a cautious step back, the youngster lifted the lid.

"All right," he breathed. "Guns."

There were four holstered handguns, two rifles and at least a hundred rounds of ammunition. There was also what looked like Army-issue canned food: turkey rolls, Spam, and tinned pound cake. S.J. was ecstatic. "Cargo! Yee-hah!"

Even Chester seemed pleased. "Very good. That's not a lot of points, but it's definitely a start. S.J., we're going to intensify the protective field around you while you test them."

"Gotcha, Chief."

"Gwen, would you please add your prayer to Garret's?" She had scarcely nodded before the green glow appeared around her, and the golden glow around S.J. deepened until it seemed that he was in the center of an amber gem.

He picked up a revolver, worked its action a few times, and thumbed in a cartridge. He sighted carefully on a tree some twenty meters away, and pulled the trigger. There was a deafening report, but no puff of dust from the tree. Frowning, he loaded in two more rounds and pulled the trigger again. The same loud bang, and no sign of a hit.

"Ah, S.J., what is your character's coordination rating, any­way?"

"Lousy. Eleven. That's why I'm an Engineer. I'll try a closer tree."

This time dust puffed from the tree trunk. This was hardly sur.~ prising; he'd fired at point-blank range. "Okay, who wants this one?" Tony's raised arm caught his eye. He handed the revolver over butt first.

Next he extracted the rifle from the box. "M-1 ," he murmured. "Nice." He worked the trigger a couple of times, then loaded in one of the bullets and sighted on a rock ten meters away. He squeezed the trigger.

The gun roared and flamed, and there was the zinging sound of a ricochet. S.J. ducked instinctively. "Jesus-"

The air in front of them shimmered, and a ghostly image of Garret appeared. Chester cursed venomously and Garret groaned, looking at the shimmering red splotch spreading on his shirt.

"Aw, shit!" he said with real feeling. His legs buckled under him and he sprawled in an untidy heap, mouth open, eyes rolled up in his head.

"Nice fall," Richard muttered. He tapped two keys.

Garret's hologram double crooked a spectral finger to him.

"Wait a minute," Chester said. "Gwen, do you think you have enough for a saving spell?"

The blond girl's cheeks plumped with worry. "Right now? I'm not sure. If that was a natural accident, maybe. If there were spirit powers involved... I'll try." Unhappily, Gwen raised her arms and began her invocation. "Hear me, 0 Gods. Harness my strength and give this man back his life. By the powers which are mine to wield, I ask this." She sank to her knees and bowed her head, eyes closed.

Lopez nodded, smiling respectfully. "Well done. I wonder if it will work." He watched Mitsuko feed the request into the com­puter. Electrons danced; a random number was selected and matched against two logged Wessler-Grahm numbers, Garret's as­signed stamina and Guinevere's power level... Lopez shook his head as the rosy aura around Garret faded to a sooty tinge in the air. "No good. Sorry, sweetheart." He tapped a key

Garret jerked at the shock from his neck tab. He rolled over ‘and stood up to confront his tindalo. "Well, I guess that's it, huh? Guess I didn't last too long in this Game." He started to say some­thing else, and it would have been bitter. Gwen squeezed his shoulder with one soft hand, and he turned to follow the somber ghost. The two figures left the projection field.

Richard's face was no happier. Metesky saw a flash of deep re­sentment before it was submerged behind a neutral mask. One dark slender finger played with the end of his mustache, and his eyes were half-lidded. "All right. You've got your killing. Put the watchdog on, and let me do my work."

The Dream Park liaison stood and started to leave. "Metesky!" he yelled at her back. "Tell the watchdog that if he screws with my Game, I'll kill him out of it so fast his nose will bleed, and hang the consequences!" He saw her silent nod, and spun his chair back to the console.

Mitsuko watched Metesky leave, heard the door sigh shut be­hind her. Then she flexed her fingers gently and went back to her work.

PART TWO

Chapter Thirteen

ENTER THE GRIFFIN

"We can't use these guns, Chester." For the first time in the Game, SJ. looked unhappy. "They've got to be jinxed. If what's­her-name... Gwen couldn't save Garret, there has to be magic involved." His blond hair was limp with sweat and greasy with dirt. He looked tired and discouraged.

Chester tapped his foot in impatient rhythm. Unconscious of Gina's hand stroking his arm, he stalked angrily to the chest and glared in. "We paid blood for these things, and we're going to have them. Maibang, front and center." He snapped his fingers angrily.

Maibang, his khakis blotched with sweat after the march, ap­peared at Chester's side. Henderson thought carefully before speaking. "Now listen. We know that Gwen couldn't reverse the accident, but she was temporarily drained by the protective field she cast for S.J. We need to disarm this booby-trap, and I don't

want to try one of our spells until I know the alternatives. I remember reading something about your magic. There is a ritual, something about a table, but I can't remember it. Do you know?"

"I know the table ritual. Which of my people would not? I don't know if it will be enough."

"We'll try it anyway." Chester looked around at the thirteen Garners and the three natives, nodding when there were no objec­tions. "All right. Kasan, what do we do?"

Their guide scratched his head. "We need a table, first, and a clean white cloth, and some gifts. Food is best. And flowers, of course."

"S.J.?" Chester said without looking at the youngster.

"Covered, Chief. I can whip up a three-legger in a few minutes using branches."

"Good. Dreager, help him. As for the gifts, I think that the gods have already provided that..." He picked up one of the cans of tinned meat.

The table was crude, but serviceable. Dark Star had donated a white skirt, which was spread as a tablecloth. Gwen's candles, nor­mally used for exorcisms, burned in the center. Bandanas and knives and spoons from various backpacks made do as place set­tings, napkins and silverware. Arrayed upon the table were all of the cans of food from the buried chest, two of Oliver's tropical chocolate bars, some beef jerky from Dark Star's larder, and flowers gathered by the rest of the crew.