Juxtaposition Read Online Free PDF Page A

roiled along with the physical. But the theme of the Flute strengthened the wolves and weakened the devils. In a moment the angel-wolves wrested the bitch soul from the minions of Hell and loped up into the turbulent sky.   Yet before they departed entirely, the soul of Serrilryan paused. She looked back toward Clef, and he knew she was thanking him for a gift as unexpected as it was gratifying. Her sinful human component had been juxtaposed with her pure wolf component in death, nearer perfection than they had been in life, and the forces of Heaven had prevailed. She sent to earth one glance of purest appreciation that made the air about Clef sparkle. Then she turned again and loped on toward Heaven with her divine companions.
    The Purple Mountains continued to shake and settle.   Dragons flew up from the southern marches; creatures stirred all over Phaze. But Clef would not stop playing until the bitch was safely ensconced in Heaven. He would permit no loophole, no reversal.
    Stile woke in alarm. The building was shaking! “There seems to be an earthquake in progress,” Sheen said. “The Purple Mountain range is settling.”
    “That’s no natural phenomenon! That’s the Foreo dained!” Stile cried. “Now I realize that Clef is indeed the ultimate magician, with power to level mountains and delicacy to send souls to Heaven.”
    “The Foreordained,” Sheen repeated. “Clef is the one destined to save Phaze?”
    “He played the Platinum Flute, and the mountain trembled and tumbled. That’s the signal. I saw it in my dream —and now I know it’s true. My vision has caught up to the present and affirmed it.”
    Sheen checked the newsscreen. “There has certainly been a shake-up in Proton. Power has been disrupted all along the southern range. Mine shafts have collapsed. If that’s the result of one melody on one flute, it means magic is spilling over into the science frame.”
    “So it seems. I’m sure my encounter with Clef was not coincidental. It was—foreordained. And my dream of his progress—there has to be some reason for that. I suspect he and I are destined to meet again.”
    “You could never stay out of mischief,” she agreed.
    “Now it’s time to get ready for your Tourney match.”
    “Did anyone ever tell you you are inhumanly practical?   The end of the split infinity may be in the offing, and you pack me off to a Game.”
    “Your match is foreordained too,” she said complacently.

CHAPTER 2 - Backgammon
    It was Round Thirteen of the annual Tourney. Only three players remained, two with one loss each. These two had to play each other; the loser would be eliminated from the Tourney, and the winner would meet the single undefeated player.
    The two who played were as different as seemed possible. One was a huge, fat, middle-aged man in voluminous and princely robes inset with glittering gems. The other was a tiny naked man, muscular and £t, in his thirties.   “Ah, Stile,” the clothed man said affably. “I was hoping to encounter you.”
    “You know of me, sir?”
    “I always research my prospective opponents, serf. You have been extremely busy recently. You have been chasing around the landscape, crashing vehicles, and disappearing between Rounds.”
    Stile was noncommittal. “My time between Rounds is my own, sir.”
    “Except for what that girl robot demands. Is it fun making time with a sexy machine?”
    Stile knew the Citizen was trying to rattle him, to get him tangled up emotionally so that he could not concentrate properly on the Game. It was a familiar technique.   Stile could not return the favor because all Citizens were virtually anonymous to serfs, and in any event a serf could not treat a Citizen with disrespect. So Stile would have to take it—and play his best regardless. He was experienced at this sort of thing; the Citizen would probably rattle himself before he got to Stile.
    It was time for the grid. Each man stood on one side of the unit, looking at the