"I feel as if we've been walking for hours," he said to her, pant­ing sincerely. Some of the bounce was gone from his walk, and frustrated fatigue showed in his face. "Come on... where's an­other beastie? Anything's better than this."

Acacia moaned sympathetically. "Poor baby. Just try to re­member that your discomfort, like everything else here, is only make-believe." She patted his cheek. "There, now. Don't you feel better now?"

"Yes, Mommy," he said absently, and quickened his step to catch up with Gwen and Ollie. Sheen of sweat or not, the blond Cleric hadn't released her hero's arm for an instant. Tony clapped Ollie on the shoulder. "Good going with the water snake, Offie."

"Call me Oliver, would you, Tony?" His hand rested easily on the grip of his sword.

Tony tried to laugh, but suddenly there was nothing soft about Ollie, not his eyes nor his carriage, and certainly not the way his palm caressed his sword. Gwen had changed too. She was still at­tached to Ollie. But instead of his leaning on her, she seemed to be drawing strength from him. Tony sensed that he was out of his depth.

Gwen's laugh was of quiet challenge. "Oliver is a noble name, Tony. Oliver was one of Charlemagne's greatest warriors."

"All right... Oliver. I like the way you handled the water snake. It was a class act."

Tension eased. "I almost got killed out there," Oliver growled. "When I went off the side of the boat, I thought I was dead. I was just waiting for the jolt from my neck tab. If Lopez had really wanted me, he had me then. That thing could have crushed me before it took enough hit points to roll over and die." If he believes in the Game Master, how can he believe he's Oliver the Frank? Tony shrugged inside his mind. Schizo. Well, maybe I'll have to be schizo too. "Oliver, what is it exactly that Thieves do? It's easy to see what Warriors and Clerics and Magic Users do."

"Thieves steal, mostly." Gwen skipped a half-pace to keep her step even with Oliver's. "You skulk around, and you're practically invisible to your enemies. You're not much with weapons, except maybe a throwing knife. It's loads of fun. You'll get a chance to try your hand later today, probably. That's about all I can think of. Chester can fill you in on anything else. Don't worry, we won't let you get killed before you learn the rules. It won't get really rough for a bit yet."

"Yeah, well, I guess you haven't had a chance to bless anything yet, either."

"Not true. I blessed dear Oliver before he engaged in mortal combat with that overblown water worm."

"Behind every man, et cetera," said Oliver. His persona cracked for an instant, and he bounced on his toes and was Offie again, smiling bright as sunrise, saying, "I am having so much fun. I really hope you can get into it, Tony."

McWhirter smiled and nodded. He dropped back to Acacia's side.~ "Happy as two fleas in a bottle of blood, they are."

"What do you want out of all this, Tony? What will make you happy?"

"Just a little of something that I can't get anywhere else, I guess."

She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"Well, you, of course. But, you know. Breathless adventure, ex­otic sights, heaps of fabulous gems... all that."

"All that. But you do value my friendship, don't you?"

"Sure I do, Cas. Besides, I can't afford what you charge

strangers." He hugged her with one arm as they moved down the trail, the shrubbery closing behind them like a healing wound. "I'm a city boy, Cas. What am I supposed to want? Six days from now I'm back at work copying blueprints eight hours a day. Hell, I

guess my expectations are a little unreasonable. I can't really expect an amusement park to undo in a week the damage a dull job does in fifty, but I do." He gently turned her face to him and spoke in all seriousness. "Help me, will you, Cas?"

She looked half puzzled, half pleased. "You know, hombre, every once in a while you're such a decent human being that I might as well have left my hip boots at home."

"How ‘bout if I tickle your butt next time you're facing down a giant snake?"

There was a shout up ahead, and several of the Garners had broken ranks, running forward to a clearing 100 meters up the trail. Acacia half-drew her sword; then she saw and relaxed. The first half of the journey was over.

In a few seconds they were out of the jungle and into a culti­vated area, where knee-high and waist-high plants grew in neat rows. She could see men and women working in the fields, weed­ing and irrigating. "Please!" Kasan Maibang's voice rang out. "Stay on the path. The young tubers are very delicate." Acacia immediately wondered how far the cultivated area really went, and where the Dream Park magic took over.

Some of the land had been irrigated into marshiness, and men waded knee-deep in the mud planting and setting up stakes to in­dicate private plots in the community garden.

Acacia recognized sweet potatoes, yams and sugar cane. In the distance banana trees and breadfruit grew, and the air was full of the scent of rich wet earth and growing things. Like Tony, she was a child of the city, but a granduncle in Mexico owned his own ranch, and she and her two brothers had spent glorious summers there helping with the cows and pigs. She knew something of wide spaces, and working in the open air, and remembered the smell of sweating bodies toiling in the afternoon sun.

The villagers were small people, most of them darker than Kasan and showing the physical impact of a primitive life style. Adults seemed to be made of leather and woven gut, faces etched but not scarred by endless labor in the fields, bodies scarred but not broken by the rigors of the hunt. Their attire, g-strings and animal-hide flaps, made her feel she was sweltering, and she toyed

with the idea of adapting that style for the rest of the trip. Poor Tony would have a fit.

The Garners were attracting attention from the field workers now, and many stopped their work to point and stare. Warriors carrying bamboo spears had emerged from the cluster of thatched buildings on the other side of the fields. The Garners had gathered around Chester while he quizzed Maibang.

"You're sure that your chief knows we're coming? And wants us here?"

"I am sure of all that," Maibang answered gravely.

A nasty suspicion lit Chester's face. "The Daribi are cannibals, aren't they?"

Maibang looked wounded. "Upon special occasions, of course. You are not our enemies, you have come to help us. It would be ingracious in the extreme to do such a thing." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Just to be on the safe side, though, you might be careful of the phrasing if anyone invites you to dinner." He leaned close enough to whisper, jerking a thumb at Gina, "A few yams and a sliced banana or two would do wondrous things for your lovely friend there."

"Be careful about telling her that," Chester said absently. "She's been known to kiss on the first date, but..." He turned quiet as the first quartet of stocky spearmen drew near. Two were carrying bulky rifles. None of them left footprints in the dirt. The foremost of them raised his spear in greeting. They wore colorful necklaces of woven vine and leather, and ceremonial headdresses of short, brilliantly colored feathers. Chester kept his expression neutral as he raised a hand and waited. The field workers were gathered about them now. Small dark children, protuberant bellies bouncing with their scampering, hid behind the skirtlets of their bare-breasted mothers.

The lead warrior spoke, his words rapid and melodic. Kasan lis­tened carefully, then turned to Chester. "His name is Kagoiano, and he has come to escort you to the Council of Men, at the request of our council chief Pigibidi, who extends greetings and hopes that you will join his company immediately."