Unicorn Point by Piers Anthony Page B

dominant wealth of the planet by his other self, his tenure would have been brief. Wealth governed Proton, literally, and this was a power he had exercised ruthlessly against the other Citizens, maintaining his position. Only the sophisticated financial instruments devised by the Oracle from the input of the Book of Magic could wrest that power from him—and now he had a pretext to cut off that source of in formation from his enemy.
    He walked slowly to the bath region of the Game Annex, giving Sheen time to get there. Yes, wealth was the key—and the Oracle and Book of Magic were the ultimate keys to wealth, and he and Stile controlled both. They had monitored the progress of the enemy, and acted when necessary: just before the balance of wealth shifted. Nepe had kept him informed, and he had trained her, with the invaluable expertise of Agnes. Now her absence froze things as they were. If she remained hidden, Blue and Stile would retain power; if she were found, they would lose it. It was that simple.   He reached the bath region. Sheen was there, having found swift transport. She took his arm, and they went to the reserved vat. They could have found their way simply by zeroing in on the clamor, for as they entered the chamber they spied the audience: about a hundred naked men, women, children, androids, humanoid robots and humanoid cyborgs.   They had been clamoring with excitement, for the privilege of watching a living Citizen in an event like this was rare indeed. There was a sudden hush as they saw Blue and Sheen.   In the center of the chamber was the vat, its sides dropping sharply away from the floor. It was round, about four meters in diameter, and was filled with whipped pseudo-gelatin, lime flavored. This differed from the real thing mainly in being harmless to living flesh even when it got in the eyes, and in being two point three times as slimy.
    Sheen released his arm, stepping ahead of him to gaze in to the quivering green mess. “Permission to speak frankly, sir,” she said with-evident distaste.
    “Denied,” he said, setting his cupped hand on her buttock and boosting her forward. She screamed and flailed wildly as she fell into the vat. The male members of the audience applauded. A Citizen, of course, could do no wrong. Some of the females looked as if they might have another opinion, but were not bold enough to express it.
    Blue beckoned to the nearest serf. The young man scram bled up and came to him. “Sir?”
    “Remove my garment and hold it clean until I emerge.” The serf did not answer, as no answer was required. He set his hands carefully at Blue’s shoulders and lifted the voluminous blue cloak. In a moment it was off, and Blue stood naked. He stepped out of his blue sandals while the serf folded the cloak and held it reverently. That serf would be famous for a day: he had Held Citizen Blue’s Cloak!   The other serfs tried not to stare, but were obviously fascinated by the sight of a naked Citizen in public. Many of them would have seen naked Citizens before, but only in the privacy of personal services. The average serf was so far beneath the notice of the average Citizen that clothing counted merely as a matter of status. A Citizen could of course do anything he wanted, including parade naked in public, but it was rare for this to happen.
    Blue knew himself to be quite fit for his age, and had no shame of his body. He stood for a moment, letting them admire it. There had been a time when a grown man who stood, in the Phaze system of measurement, an inch under five feet tall would have been an object of humor, sometimes of ridicule. That time was past. Today that stature was a badge of honor.
    Sheen remained in the gelatin, treading slime, waiting for him. Thick froth matted her hair and clung to portions of her torso. She had been attractive in her normal nudity; she was doubly so when partially shrouded by the foam. Well she knew it, too; now a surprisingly firm breast showed,