"I guess so. Tell me. What do you do when you're not Gaming? I mean, is this your only social outlet?"

"Why do you ask?"

Griffin shrugged noncommittally. "You seem to put a lot of yourself into Gaming, that's all. I don't know much about all this, and I just wondered how high a price you pay for... well, excel­lence. Is that reasonable?"

Now it was S.J.'s turn to hunch his shoulders. "I guess so. I've heard all the stuff about people who are into fantasy being reality shuckers. Or maybe it's reality that shucks us. I dunno. Anybody can see that a group of Garners has more than the average propor­tion of Bizarros. But I don't think Gaming made them that way. Now me... I'm still in school, so I've got the academic trip to worry about. I've got a part time job, so that uses up time too. I guess a lot of the energy that's left over goes into Gaining."

"What does that do to your social life?"

"What's a social life? I mean, do you think I'd be Big Man on Campus if I didn't trot down to Dream Park, or spend my eve­nings in front of my console? Heck. Most girls think I'm in free fall. Where else but around Garners could I possibly find someone I have anything in common with?"

Griffin chuckled. "Any success there?"

"Some times more than others. This trip, zip." His face lit up. "But I have hope! The Game is yet young."

"Does it make you unhappy to see other people pairing off if you're alone? I felt a little left out last night, for instance. I would think that a war game could be a lonely place sometimes."

"Yeah. Especially at night. When I find a girl who Games, though, I'm going to start getting her into these things. Until then, I'll sneak my thrills when I can get them."

"Meaning?"

S.J. contrived to combine mystery and childish glee in the same smirk. "The night has a thousand eyes, Mr. Tegner."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing, unless you're vulnerable to blackmail."

"Being deliberately vague?"

"You betcha. I'm allergic to pain."

The mountains were noticeably closer now. The troop was tramping through regions less like green hell and more like densely shrubbed foothills. The ground was no longer mushy, but hard-packed dirt giving way to rocky ground. Soon they were winding their way past huge moss-encrusted boulders and under the lip of a sheer cliff. Looking back, Griffin noticed that perspec­tive had changed; the jungle behind them seemed to be lower than the path along the cliff face. As they wended their way into the "mountains" Griffin lost sight of the jungle several times, and each time it came back into view it was smaller and lower.

They continued to climb. By contrast with the stark rock walls around them, the trees and thick brush had been downright cheery. After a long stretch with nothing to look at but granite, they broke through the first set of foothills into another stretch of greenery.

The trail led down into a meadow marked with huge twisted trees, green and greener still from the vines that swarmed up into their branches. Flowers exploded from the vines, red and violet fantasies that looked ripe enough to pluck and eat. The meadow was ringed with tumbled rock, but at the far end it was fenced by the rise of a mountain. From halfway up the mountain face tum­bled a cascade that sparkled like blue diamonds in the sunlight, and where waterfall met ground it formed a small lake.

Two people waited on the shore.

More cautiously now, the column wound downward. Griffin

saw the white aura glow around someone near the front, and tongues of green flashed out in all directions, then vanished.

No danger on the trail. Chester let the line hurry a little. Alex began to smell the moisture in the air, to feel the coolness of the lake, to sense what it would be like to plunge into its depths. Previously ignored, the grittiness of dust-encrusted underclothes and the strong soupy smell of an unwashed body became jarring irritants.

He found himself breaking into a run. Around him Garners were abandoning backpacks and outer clothing. The two strangers on the bank beckoned them on with lazy smiles. Griffin had almost reached the water when Chester yelled, "Hold it, dam-nut. We're going to have to test that water first."

The group grumbled, but waited for the go-ahead.

Chester strode over to the newcomers and greeted them hap­pily. "Margie. Good to see you." The lady was in her early sixties, judging by her hands and neck, but as well-preserved as a woman could be. When she stood it was with a grace that would turn any man's head, and her figure was still trim and firm. Her hair was gloriously gray, rippling softly down to her shoulders and not much further. "And you, Owen. Sorry to make you wait."

"It's okay, Chester," the man drawled. He looked to be Mar­gie's age, and carried himself well. He stood with a trace of stiffness, and he stretched like a big gray cat. "Margie and I can always use a little time to sit and watch the water gurgle."

The Lore Master smiled. "The water's safe, then?" They both nodded. "Don't mind if I test it myself, do you?"

"Not a bit, dear. Don't drain too much of your power, thoughi"

Chester gave her a tolerant wink and spread his arms. "Hear me, oh Gods..." His aura flicked into place. "Reveal danger!" The lake lit up in clear green.

"We're safe, children. What the hell-I declare a break. Let's have some fun!"

Mary-em whooped and stripped her chunky body down to the buff, dove into the water without even testing the temperature. Leigh and Lady Janet were next to strip and dive. Eames, still in his underpants, wiggled a toe in the water, grinned with hollow bravery, and took the plunge.

Soon the entire group was splashing and playing. Griffin stood on the bank alone, chewing his lip. Acacia swam over to him.

"Hey there, big fella. Come on in and play." She splashed at him with deadly accurate aim.

Griffin caught himself peering through the water for a better view of her. "Aren't the cameras still on?" Bobbick and Millie must be having a wonderful time.

Acacia gave him a raspberry. "Don't be silly. We're on break now. The Game is suspended for half an hour. Are you coming in, or am I coming out to get you?"

"Not that that's a bad idea, but..." Griffin balanced one-legged to pull off his shoes. He sat down to pull his pants off.

Acacia's appreciative whistle echoed across the lake. "My my. Just look at those legs." She swallowed water and coughed it out, laughing.

"Inherited ‘em from my mother," he growled. From now on he'd spend more time on his sun deck. He seemed to be wearing flesh-colored briefs. "All right. Here I come." He jumped in with a resounding splash.

The water was cold and sweet, and varied from two to four me­ters deep. Griffin forgot his embarrassment and let his whole body wriggle with pleasure. He dove down to the lake's sculpted stone bed, running his hands along it, watching air bubbles leak from his mouth and wobble up to the surface.

How long had it been since he last dipped in a pool? The only possible answer was: too long. He spent fifteen hours a week ex­ercising, but it was all work-related. At this moment Dream Park and Alex Griffin's work seemed worlds away.

He arced back up to the surface, barely avoiding Owen Brad-don, who was backstroking across the pond. Not swimming as fast as (for instance) Bowan the Black, nor looking as pretty-he was easily thirty years older than Bowan, and the small pot belly ruined his streamlining-Braddon clove the water with a clumsy enthusiasm that made him a joy to watch.

Griffin sank beneath the water as a weight landed on his shoul­ders from behind. He came up sputtering.

"Guess who?" Acacia yelled, and pulled him back under. This time he grabbed one of her legs and wrestled her down. Her gig­gles sent a stream of bubbles frothing from her mouth as she kicked out and caught him firmly in the chest, breaking his grip.