"What did you think of last night's opposition?" Bowan asked between bites of egg.

"The natives?"

"Typical orcs," was Chester's answer. "It's really a shame no­body has figured a more realistic way to conduct personal combat. Dream Park is too worried about injuries and lawsuits. So no rough stuff-"

"Orcs?" Griffin asked.

Henderson was brusk. "Generic term. The old role-playing games were overrun with these little beasties out of Lord of the Rings. They were ridiculously easy to kill. Now it's a nickname for swordfodder in general. Okay?" Griffin nodded mutely. "Now, Lady Janet is going to lead us as far as she can. She was blind­folded much of the time, but believes she was kept on the water somewhere. Is that right?"

"Certainly." Lady Janet's head was pillowed contentedly on Leigh's shoulder, but her voice was brisk. She was into her part. "I'll tell you everything I know. I have an excellent sense of direc­tion."

"Fm sure you do. We have another clue." Chester pulled a black-bladed dagger out of his belt. "Considering that it was the focus of last night's ceremony, we can count on its being impor­tant. Does anyone recognise the material?"

"Obsidian," S.J. piped up. "Volcanic glass with a composition similar to rhyolite."

"Right," Chester said, smiling approval for once. "And the significance?"

"No opinion. What good is a glass dagger?"

"It tells us that the people we're looking for probably live near a volcano. So what we're looking for is a body of water not too far from a volcanic region. Kasan can help us there. We should have our two replacements pretty quick, and then we'll be back up to full strength. I have an almost perfect group now, and when the fun really begins we should be working together well. Yes, Tegner?"

"Who will the replacements be, and when exactly will they join us?" Griffin asked.

Henderson's gaze was inquisitive. ‘Have you ever been a cop? Or maybe a reporter?" Alex shook his head negative, cursing silently. "Well, they're the Braddons, Owen and Margie. I don't know exactly when they'll show up, but it will probably be within the first hour or so of play. Yes, McWhirter?"

"Do you know what our points are like? I mean, how are we doing?"

Chester didn't look totally happy with the question. "We've lost three people and taken some wounds. We've made a lot of kills, recovered a load of cargo, and rescued Lady Janet. There are other factors involved, but for right now we're ahead. I don't want to discuss how much ahead we are-things can change too fast in a

Game like this one, so I don't want you to feel either cocky or dis­couraged. Any more questions?"

There were none. Henderson gestured expansively. "Then go and prepare, children. The fun begins in... thirty-five minutes."

Tall, slender palms outlined a patch of lower growth. The cres­cent-moon-shaped border trailed off from the campground like the tail on a Q. Inside was more tropical jungle, making the "good luck sign" anything but obtrusive. Alex bad bad to get S.J. to point it out.

As Alex pushed through the palms, the vegetation within the border became ghostly, revealing a tiny rectangular structure. No Garners were waiting their turns, praise the Lord, and he'd be in­visible to anyone outside the border of trees.

It was very basic inside. Toilet, washstand, towel dispenser.

"Marty?"

"Yeah, Grill. I can barely hear you."

"I'm in the restroom, and there's no window. I'd rather not be overheard, so I'm keeping my voice down. Let's make this fast."

"Okay. What's new?"

"Some new Garners corning in. Husband and wife, named Braddon."

"I'll check them out. Gruff, the Altern tes spend all their time watching the Game and looking for detaIL; and taking notes and discussing strategy. That waiting area is pretty crowded. I don't think anyone could count on a chance to get into Gaming A with­out being noticed."

"Good. Have you talked to Lopez?"

"Yeah. He doesn't pressure worth a damn. I managed to get him to look at our map. He pointed out two paths around the mountain to the exit, G. A. 18. Lopez says both paths would take the thief past a piece of a big airplane."

"Which piece? Wing, cabin, tail? How big?"

"Piece of a big airplane.' When I tried to get more he told me to get drowned."

Hell. "All right, so if we get to a big airplane I'll watch every­body's faces. Thanks. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"The Griffin, signing out."

Griffin was paired with S.J. as the group waited for the Game to begin. All bedrolls were stowed, all backpacks shouldered and

balanced. The sun shone faintly through the dome that covered Gaming Area A, but the morning was already warm, and the rich aroma of moist jungle greenery was heavy in the air.

At precisely eight o'clock a new sun peeked over the mountain range to the east, sending bands of soft red tone through the scat­tered clouds dancing above the crest. The old sun faded out. The air filled with the sounds of birds and rustling life. To Griffin's eye even the trees seemed to stand a little straighter.

"All right, people, let's move out!" Chester called, and in pairs the column headed toward the sun.

S.J. kept stride with Griffin by picking up his step until he was almost skipping. The pathway was broad enough for the youngster to shadowfight in zigzag patterns, slicing at the air with his knife. He pulled a slender branch from a tree and skinned it down to a wand. He flicked it like a whip at branches and insects.

Laughing aloud, Griffin tapped him on the shoulder. "That's not exactly stealth you're practicing there."

Breathing a little heavily, S.J. spoke without turning around. "Nope. Don't need it."

"Why not?"

"Lopez won't hit us with anything too nasty until our two re­placement Garners have joined up."

Griffin scratched his chin, his fingernails scraping on stubble. "How do you figure that?"

"Easy." S.J. took a couple of lunging thrusts with his wand. "Lopez wants to catch Chester with his pants down. He's not going to take any chances to give Henderson a legitimate beef to take to the I.F.G.S. Getting some of us killed out now might do that. If he wants to get us when we're short he can afford to wait til tomorrow, when we get no more replacements. That way Chester can't squawk. See?" He finished his lecture with a vicious swipe at a butterfly. It evaded easily.

"You know a lot about Gaming, don't you?"

S.J. nodded vigorously. "I'm the best. Even if nobody knows it yet."

"Do you spend a lot of your time Gaming?"

"Not like this. I mean, there's never been anything quite like this before. Even the ordinary Games only come along every cou­ple of months. The first run-throughs, anyway, and they're the most fun. I do a lot of home Gaming. I'm linked up to about five Games: three American, one from Japan and one in the United

African Republic. That last one is weird. Uses Hausa mythology. I tie into them a couple of times a week, see how far the other Garners have pushed the expedition, enter my own moves, and see what happens. Sometimes we arrange for all players to be on line at the same time, so the Game can go on for hours and hours. One of the American Games is a solo: you're playing against the com­puter, so you can play forever if you like. In general I like the group Games."

"Why?"

"Gets me ready for Dream Park. I'll be a Lore Master one day. I want to know how units interact."

Units. Did he mean Garners? "You've put a lot of thought into all of this, haven't you?"

"Sure have." S.J. popped a fly out of the air with the tip of his stick. The mutilated insect flopped to the dust and buzzed around in circles. S.J. made an unhappy face and set his heel on it. "I never expect to hit the darn things." He brightened and added, "Must be gettin' better, huh?"