The Gamers were all shapes and sizes and ages, in all forms of dress from western modern to PseudNude to medieval and neo­lithic. Some were barely adolescent and some had detectable face lifts, and they were all paying respectful attention to the musings-aloud of a tall, almost birdlike young man.

He was sprawled across a couch, taking three men's elbow room. A quite lovely redhead leaned into the curve of one arm. As he spoke he gestured lazily with his free hand. "I wish I knew more about the Game Lopez has set up. I do know that he said I won't need a parka, and a little bird tells me that the gaming area was used by the military to simulate an assault on Brazil. And of course we've got the title: South Seas Treasure. If I'm right…well, I did some research."

Gwen Ryder raised her hand as if in a classroom. "What do you think it means, Chester?"

"Magic of a kind we're not used to. We'll have to watch that.

Light clothing... good boots... bug spray. With anyone else the bugs would be holograms, but Lopez-"

Tony whispered, "That's your Lore Master? With the gorgeous redhead?"

"A little respect, please," Acacia murmured, jabbing him with an elbow. "Chester Henderson is king at this Game. You listen, or you'll get killed early."

The blond girl had the jitters, Tony thought. It didn't seem Gwen was going to Dream Park for the fun of it.

Tony himself was feeling decidedly twitchy. The rules, the players, Dream Park itself, it was all more complex than anything he had anticipated. The players were all too serious. Even Acacia was behaving as if death in a Game were real. Tony wondered if he had made a mistake, letting himself be talked into this.

"The thing to remember," the potentate was saying, "is that Lopez will do about the maximum damage to a party that he can without someone yelling foul. He's got to think about the next Game. If it gets out that he hit us with an eighty-percenter bliz­zard or a flock of plague bats, he won't be able to sell it. So it'll be nasty, but fair."

Tony asked, "What exactly is fair?"

Henderson turned to face him. "Fair is anything that could be found naturally in the given environment, plus anything the inter­nal logic could imply. Like... in my second Game. Medieval world. First person we met was a Round Table knight, obscure, but I knew the name. Well, I started watching for anything that might imply. Black plague, dragons, Inquisition... and I didn't try for the Grail at all, because I'd never be judged pure enough. You follow?"

"Vaguely."

"Look for the internal logic, always. And who are you? Are you with Acacia?"

"Tony McWhirter." He put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close enough that her dark hair pillowed against his. "We're together, yes."

"Wonderful. You'll have a great time. Hey, Acacia, remember the ‘Frost Holocaust'?"

It sparked an elfin grin of remembrance. "Who could forget those dog packs? And you should see my pictures of the mutants. Some of them didn't come out too well on film, though."

"I hear the holos are hellaciously sharper this year. Shouldn't be a problem." He thought for a moment, then continued, "We can expect a forest or tropic region. I doubt Lopez would use any common or well-known myth-pattern, so we'll have to be on our toes. We may or may not be allowed modern weapons. I'll get all of that information tomorrow. Magic Users are probably Go, maybe some Swordspersons, an Engineer or two, a couple of Thieves..."

The doorman was appropriately cadaverous. He wore a tattered black hat, and a motheaten cloak that dragged loose threads on the ground. He opened the door for Gwen and Ollie, stepping out of their way with creaking torpidity. "This way, young masters," he rumbled.

"Will you look at this?" Ollie whispered to Gwen, goggle-eyed. The tram had unloaded them at the Haunted House, the theme hotel east of the main amusement area. They were still under­ground, in a depot decorated in Early Caligari. Cobwebs fes­tooned the corners of the station, and crawling things with glowing red eyes stalked their strands. The path before them led into a hallway with a glass ceiling.

Gwen looked up. "Wow." It was their own reflection; but as they proceeded, the flesh began to melt off their bones. When they reached the end of the corridor their reflections were a pair of skeletons shambling back to the mausoleum after a hard night's haunt.

"I don't know if I really want to open the door," she said. Ollie edged it open with his fingertips. It creaked hideously.

The lobby was dim, and decorated in blacks and dark reds. Even the couches and chairs were somewhat foreboding. The red seat cushion on one dark chair gave it the unmistakable appear­ance of an open mouth. The ceiling was low. Flickering candela­bra supplied the light.

A lovely hostess in a flowing, wraith-white gown greeted them. Her red lipstick was just bright enough to bring out the paleness of her cheeks. She brought one delicate hand up to her mouth and coughed politely, then favored them with a dazzling smile.

"Good morning, my name is Lenore and I'd like to welcome you to the Haunted House, one of the nine Dream Park hotels. This is a theme hotel, so be ready. Anything can happen."

The check-in terminal bore the guise of a great orchid plant; and the lovely flowers bowed toward them in entirely too friendly

a fashion. Ollie fished out his preregistration card and allowed a flower to take it. A quick display of words and numbers ran up the orchid-festooned screen; then the words "Adolph Norliss and S. 0. room 7024."

Ollie looked at Lenore curiously. "S. 0.? What's that?"

She laughed sweetly. "Significant Other. I assume that you and the lady aren't married?"

"Oh, yeah. We're engaged..."

"Then if she's not your wife or your sister, she's a Significant Other."

Gwen sniffed. "You could have just listed my name."

Ollie looked uncomfortable. "That's my fault, I guess. I wasn't absolutely sure we would be coming together." He retrieved his card.

Lenore led them off to a brace of elevators. Gwen walked with her head turned to look up into Ollie's face.

"And if I hadn't come, who would you have invited?"

He walked on, ignoring her question for a few steps, and she tugged at his sleeve. "Ollie? Who would you have invited?"

He was trying, without terrific success, to hide a smile. "Oh, I don't know. Anyone who could pay half the bill, I guess."

"You guess?"

They had reached the elevator. Lenore motioned them in. "Room seven-oh-two-four, on the seventh floor. And I hope you have a pleasant stay here at Dream Park." She gave the slightest of curtsies, and slowly turned transparent. Only her ringing laugh­ter was still with them as the doors slid shut.

Ollie's jaw hung slack. He said, "Heyyy..."

Gwen shook her head. "That was really good. I'm impressed." Her face sobered, and she squared her chunky body up to him. "Ollie, would you really have come with somebody else if we hadn't made up?"

Ollie looked stonily ahead, trying to pretend he was still think­ing about Lenore.

"Ollie? I wouldn't have come without you. Really."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Gwen started to speak, but the opening hiss of the door silenced her. Ollie stepped out, then stopped and turned. "I thought you said you were com­ing with Furburger or whatever his name is."

"Feinburger."

"Feinburger. Well?"

"Oh, you nut, I wasn't really gonna go with Gordon. All he ever wants... all he wanted was to get into my pants anyway. I just didn't want you to think you had to feel sorry for me." She brushed a strand of her short yellow hair into place. "Honest."

"Well..." Ollie hesitated, then turned and started down the ball. She had almost to run to catch up, to hear him say softly, "I made the reservation for two ‘cause I hoped you'd come with me, and I didn't put a name down because I was scared you wouldn't."