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only one public stable in this town, and only one animal within our means. This was a shaggy, swaybacked thing who, we were told, answered to the name Phoenix. Even at three gold pieces, we were getting gypped.
    There were ten other horses—nice respectable-looking horses—and I gazed at them longingly.
    "Excuse me," Mom said. "Excuse me. Stablemaster person?"
    The owner of the stable was this big, hairy guy who looked like he ate people's moms for breakfast. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.
    "You see," Mom explained chipperly, "we're on an expedition to rescue the king's daughter. So, really, it'd be nice if you could give us some sort of discount for humanitarian reasons." She gave him her brightest smile. "Don't you think?"
    Her enthusiasm had already begun to wilt under his scowl when finally—finally—he said, very slowly, very distinctly: "Tough. Luck. Lady. If it's the king's business you're on, then you'll be expecting a reward. If there's a reward involved, you can afford to pay me fifteen gold pieces."
    While Marian and Cornelius tried to convince him that we didn't have fifteen gold pieces, I noticed that Mom was trying to get my attention. Not another brainstorm, I prayed. I pretended I didn't notice.
    "Psst," Mom called in a loud whisper, "Harek."
    Feordin poked me in the ribs with the handle of his mace. No way I could pretend I hadn't noticed that. Reluctantly, I faced her.
    She was giving me these meaningful glances, looking from me to the doorway. Meaningful, I could tell. Meaning
what,
I couldn't.
    "What is it, Felice?" Thea asked, pulling her over closer so that we formed a tight huddle, me, Mom, Thea, and Feordin.
    "Any reason," Mom whispered, "we can't steal that horse? Any reason we can't steal all eleven horses?"

4. HORSES

    Crouched behind the stable, after the stableowner had thrown us out, we discussed Mom's plan.
    "Well," Mom said, "what immediately comes to my mind is a diversion." She looked to Robin, the other thief. "Is that too common?"
    "Not at all," Robin said. "Cornelius? Abbot Simon? Is it too early for a magic spell?"
    "No," they said simultaneously—no clue there as to who was real and who was computer generated. The computer would have given us nonplayer characters to complement the rankings we had declared at the outset, and Shelton would have given himself at least a dozen spells to use. This was perhaps the main reason why he'd worked so hard to crack Rasmussem's program: his dissatisfaction over the rule that says first-time participants are to be admitted at beginner level, working upward from session to session, regardless of previous experience with other versions of the game. Shelton had been playing for five years to achieve his standing and he wasn't willing to work his way through the ranks a second time.
    The rest of us aren't as devoted to the game as Shelton is, but all the same, considering what Rasmussem charges per session, it
is
exasperating to have to start without experience points. Warriors, thieves, magic-users: we all have to gradually build up our skills, and the game is kind of boring when you're just starting out. That's why we made Mom a full-fledged thief instead of an apprentice, even though she'd never played the game in any form before.
    "I think," Cornelius said, "some sort of illusion would do nicely."
    I started to rack my brains, determined to prove my worth in something.
    "The king himself, come to requisition the horses?" Feordin suggested.
    Cornelius considered, then shook his head. "Too risky. These people are likely to refuse him."
    "Duplicate horses?" Robin said. "We could switch them for the real thing."
    "Too time-consuming."
    Suddenly it came to me. Proud of myself I said, "Pay them in fake gold."
    "Too dull."
    Well, thank you very much.
    "Some natural disaster?" Mom suggested. "Like a storm, or flood, or earthquake?"
    Cornelius stroked his long white beard.
    Suddenly there was a sparkle in Mom's eye. "Or a