Dating and wargaming together had followed, with the spectre of romance hovering close behind. Maybe it was the fact that he never took himself seriously that made her love him. Heck, some­body had to take him seriously, and she wasn't doing anything better than falling in love. But sometimes she worried about what he could see in her, worried that some day he'd decide the whole thing was a mistake, and she would be alone again, haunting the conventions and tourneys and libraries alone, just another little fat blond girl marking off bland days in a bland life.

The older woman's words broke her reverie.

"Oh, I was playing Zork when I was seven," Margie Braddon was saying. "My father had a computer and a Modem. You know Zork?" Acacia shook her head. "You played a role-playing game against a program in the computer at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Zork was a treasure hunt with death traps, just like some of the Games we play now, but with no sensory effects at all. The computer led you around like a blind person. There were a lot of ways to get killed," Margie laughed. "Monsters, and mazes to get lost in, and logic puzzles.

"And you Gamed with Hap the Barbarian?"

Her thick white hair bobbed when she nodded. "His real name was Willie Hertz. He was superb. He was a Lore Master for eight­een years. Owen and I had an open marriage, and he wasn't inter­ested in Games-"

"Wrong-oh!" said Owen Braddon. He was white-haired too, and bald on top, with a tanned and freckled scalp. His long body was all stringy muscle, but for a small, discrete pot belly. "The Games sounded too damned interesting," he said. "I could see how it got to Margie. It would've wrecked my career if I'd let myself get that hooked. So I'd go skiing with someone, and Margie would become Shariett the Sorceress and go off with Hap the Barbarian."

"Then Willie died," said Margie, "and Owen retired, and now he is hooked. Aren't you, dear?"

The older man grinned. "I'm getting good, too. The Startrader Game last year was the first time I haven't been killed out."

"He tries to research the Games," Margie said. "This time he was right."

"The lizard was a Merseian. Never trust a Merseian. I think I'm right about the South Seas Treasure, too."

Acacia waited, but Owen didn't go on. Margie said, "He won't even tell me."

Ollie ran up to Gwen, breathing heavily. "I trounced the infidel, my lady!" Gwen squeezed his hand.

The white-haired couple took their leave, headed toward the Gravity Whip, by God. Tony McWhirter, moving to join Acadia, stopped and looked past her shoulder. A trio of weary-looking, dusty tourists had come stumbling into the Hot Spot carrying backpacks.

Tony said, "I wonder what did that to them?"

"Let's ask." Acacia smiled brightly and called, "Hey, we've got some empty seats!" The trio, two young men and a woman who looked to be in her late twenties, waved gratefully and ambled over, weaving to avoid other customers. They propped backpacks against the low wall, then staggered to the service window to order. Presently they were back with sandwiches and Swiss Treats.

"Whew. Thanks, people. This place is a madhouse," said a tall, lanky fellow with long yellow hair plaited in braids. He reached over to shake hands. "I'm Emory, and these are Della and Chris."

Talk paused while Emory and his group made a ritual of tasting civilized food.

Chris looked well rested except for his eyes, which were bright and glassy. Della had a bad complexion and ears that stuck out a little too far, but her voice was sheer magic, a husky growl that was pure female animal. "Hi," she said. "You guys just coming in?"

McWhirter tore his eyes away from her mouth with a visible tug. "How did you know?"

"You look too rested. In a few days you too will join the ranks of the walking dead."

Della looked at Gwen for a second and asked, "Didn't we do a Game together about two years ago?"

Gwen looked uncertain. Tony said, "You're a Gamer, Della?"

"How else would I get so tired? We just went through a two-day Game in ‘B'."

Tony's eyes widened. Two days? But they looked like they'd fought the Vietnam War!

Ollie perked up. "How was it? I mean, was it good? How many points did you win? Who ran it?"

The drawn look left Chris's face. "It was Evans's Game. Heard of her? Mean broad. It was hotter than Hell, and never a second to relax. Between the three of us we got three hundred twenty-­seven points."

Tony looked sheepish. "Is that a lot?"

Everyone laughed, and he took it without flinching. Acacia said,

"The average player earns about thirty points a day on an ex­tended Game." She turned to the three Gamers. "You people re­ally did a job." And they all beamed proudly.

"What kind of Game was it?" Tony asked.

Della said, "Salvage. We were following the trail of a lost ar­cheological expedition somewhere in Persia. We ended up in a subterranean lake, fighting off a tribe of cannibal troglodites for the right to lug back a golden idol that came to life on us any­way."

"Lose many of your party?"

"About half. Chris got killed. But we figured out how to make the idol-"

"Ssss!"

"Sorry. Emory's right, you might want to play it yourself one day."

McWhirter looked at Chris, who was looking wrung out again. "What's it like to die?"

"Cold"

"Cold?"

"Persian hell is cold," said Chris.

Ollie piped up. "That would be Zoroastrian. Early Persian."

Chris nodded. "It wasn't cold enough to be really uncom­fortable. Sort of a maze filled with spirits of the dead. Took me about an hour to find my way out, then I cashed in my stuff, got my points registered and went back to the Shogunate Fortress- that's my hotel-to watch the rest of the Game."

Tony asked, "Didn't it bother you, getting killed?"

He shrugged. "Part of the Game." It bothered him.

Gwen asked, "You're taking off today?"

"We've still got to check out of the hotel. We shuttle out to New Frisco in about an hour. Are you guys in South Seas Treasure?"

All four nodded. Tony said, "Any idea how many of us there'll be?"

Acacia nudged him. "Won't know till this evening. You and I are reserved, and I guess Gwen and Ollie are, and there must have been six more people on the tram with us... I'd guess better than twenty of us, about half of them invited. Della, how many were there in your group?"

Della did some quick figuring. "Fourteen? Fifteen. I waited a year to get in, too. You?"

"Eighteen months."

Tony was really interested now. "What if Dream Park doesn't like the Game enough to buy rights to it? No movie money, no book... what happens then?"

Everyone shrugged, but Ollie spoke, willing to take a guess. "The Game Master'd be in trouble if he was running on a big deficit. Unless Dream Park took up the slack. But a good Game Master has got maybe two-three movies behind him, and maybe half a dozen books, and if he's really good he's got a Game run­ning here four months out of the year, and there are royalties on that."

Gwen turned to look at him. "Ollie... ?"

"Well?" He shrugged again. "Heck, I've thought about trying to get a Game together. Heck, why not?"

Gwen opened her mouth to answer him, but Acacia cut her off. "Announcing that it is five minutes after five. We've just got time to finish our sandwiches before Chester's preliminary briefing."

Acacia and Tony were the last to join the conclave. There must have been thirty people jammed into the small mezzanine confer­ence room. The Dream Park Sheraton was decorated in Twenty-First Century Mundane; it had no fantasy motif at all. Acadia was tickled to find Chester staying here. Still, it fit. Starting a few hours from now, the Lore Master was going to get all the fantasy he could handle.