"Scout's honor."

"I could be wrong anyway."

There was a cry from a group of Gamers a few feet away. Gina Perkins was dragging something that looked like an old-fashioned set of sleepers. It rustled like snakeskin.

Gwen tugged Oliver to his feet and they ran over to inspect the thing. Tony followed a second later. "Oliver and Gwen," Griffin said to Acacia, "those two are pretty well inseparable, aren't they?"

"Absolutely. Why do you ask?" She licked the last bit of gravy from her stew can.

Griffin stood up and stretched lazily. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I think she's kind of cute." He extended a hand to her and pulled her up.

"She's adorable," the dark girl granted. "But is she really your type?"

"And who might be more my type, hmm?" If Griffin had been standing four inches closer, they would have been kissing.

Acacia turned and pointed to the woman who had found the curious artifact. "Oh, I don't know. How about Gina?" She smiled at him over her shoulder. "She's with Chester, but she's been known to forget that. I hear." She started toward the group of Garners, and Griffin followed close behind.

Business first, Alex. He shut his grin down to a bare smirk.

At first he couldn't believe his eyes. Unmistakably, Henderson was holding up a complete human skin: hollow, dry, dark brown, flapping in the air like long underwear hung up to dry.

"What the hell is that?" Griffin asked.

"Either random magic, or..." Henderson was thoughtful. "I seem to remember something about a legend of men who shed their skins. .

S.J. looked at it closely. "Oh-oh." His head snapped from side to side. "Where are our bearers?"

Kagoiano stepped forward promptly. So did Kibugonai, a short stout man with flat features.

Chester bellowed, "Nigorai! Nigoraiiii!"

Maibang shook his head with regret. "I'm afraid that you are holding Nigorai in your hands."

Henderson started, then examined the skin more closely. When be came to a tiny white scar over the left eyehole, he nodded. "I suppose the revolvers he was carrying are gone too."

A quick search confirmed it. "Then he was a spy, a... a member of the enemy impersonating a Daribi." He wiped a thin hand across his forehead, and Alex could see that the Lore Master's hand was trembling.

"Faked out again," Acacia whispered at his shoulder.

"We've lost points, and now the enemy knows we're coming. He was a spy." He started to throw the skin to the side, then stopped. "No. I'm not going to be stupid again. When lunch break is over I'm going to scan both of our bearers. I'm also keeping this skin. It may come in useful." He folded it carefully and put it in his pack.

As the crowd drifted back to their lunches, Griffin found him­self wondering about the only man in the group larger than him­self. Eames had sandy red hair and freckles; he looked boyish, and his massive musculature provided an interesting contrast. He

seemed to be alone. A single man in the group could have slipped away last night.

Griffin stood with his back to Eames, trying to pick up bits of his conversation with the slender man with the receding hairline and brown braided hair. Leigh, that was his name, Griffin remem­bered it from the dossier he had studied before joining the Game.

Alan Leigh trailed his hand appreciatively over Eames' shoul­ders. "You look a little tight there. Muscles need massaging, maybe?" There was a minimum of leer on Alan's face; perhaps his chipmunk cheeks were a bit more in evidence than usual. Out of the corner of his eye, Griffin saw Earnes was flinching.

"Look, Alan. I told you last night. It's not that I don't like you as a person, I just don't get into it like that. Really."

Leigh sighed. "What a waste. I could be a big help to you in the Game-"

Wrong thing to say. Eames became palpably hostile. "Under what circumstances?"

He was about to say more, but Alan picked up on the feeling and wagged his head. "No, I don't mean that. Really." He smiled sheepishly. "Anyway, we still have three nights left, and you know where to find me."

That was as much as Griffin felt like eavesdropping on, and he turned away. Most of the Garners had finished eating and were preparing to leave. Griffin had tagged eight Garners as couples:

Chester and Gina, Dark Star and that "Bowan the Black" charac­ter, Oliver and Gwen, Acacia and Tony. Acacia seemed to be looking around. All of the other players were singles, and were therefore to be considered first.

Except that the conmient about Feicia "Dark Star" Maddox was very interesting. Something to keep an eye out for, while most of the wackos kept their eyes open for dragons and such. .

Chapter Fourteen

THE WATER PEOPLE

The ground was mushy. Water lapped over the laces on Griffin's boots. Twice he had to stop to shake the water out. The realism was hard to fault. He half-expected to find leeches on his ankles. "Goddam Gamers," he muttered. "Why couldn't this have been a desert game? Or a nice mountain?"

"What was that, Grifly?" a gravelly voice sang in his ear, He shuddered. "You can call me Griffin, or GrilL"

"If it makes you happy, but I like Griffy better."

This was insane. He was being nursemaided by a fifty-year-old battleax of a midget who carried a nasty halberd on her back, and continuously sang snatches of dirty songs. If a man had called him "Griffy", teeth would have flown like popcorn. In Mary-em's case, he wasn't sure whether it was amusement or caution that kept his dander down. The woman was as solid as the warrior she pre­tended to be.

Henderson called the column to a halt. They had reached the edge of a waterway that stretched in three directions as far as he could see. It was choked with plants and floating debris, and sub­tle disturbances of the surface suggested living things within. Griffin shuddered. Realism. Henderson conferred with Maibang out of his hearing, and Alex went back to Mary-em.

"I take it you're a long-time Gamer."

"Oh, yeah."

"How many of the Garners do you know?" he asked noncha­lantly.

"Y'mean before this Game started?" She scratched her head thoughtfully. "Well, Chester an' me are old buddies. Hell, I wet-nursed him through his first stretch as a Lore Master."

"How long ago?"

"Seven years. A jaunt into the Hyborean Age to steal the Ser­pent Ring of Set from the finger of Thoth-Amon." She gave a harsh bark of amusement. "Now there was a pretty bit of thievery for you."

"Difficult, was it?"

"You wouldn't believe it. Chester lost three-fourths of our party, but the Game Master was penalized by the I.F.G.S. for run­ning an excessively nasty game."

"I wouldn't have thought you would complain about anything, Mary."

"Mary-em, Griffy."

"That's Griffin, Mary-em."

There was something moving on the marshy water. Boats? Boats. Several rude canoes were floating toward shore. They shim­mered and wavered like things of myth, their pace as slow as the setting of the sun. By now the entire party was standing at the edge of the water, and Griffin peered out, hands shadowing his eyes from the reflected glare of the Dream Park sun.

There were six of the canoes, all large enough for more than the two apiece who were paddling them.

"What's this?"

"Looks suspiciously like transport, Griffin."

"Where are we going?"

She gave him her kindest shut-up-and-see smile and then ig­nored his question.

Henderson waved greeting to the approaching boatmen. There was no response, and even from a distance Griffin could feel