Free Robot Adept by Piers Anthony Page B

one way to travel!
    As they moved across the plain, Agape wondered how it was that she had been able to change form from a woman to a hummingbird, instantly. There was a question of mass: the woman had hundreds of times the mass of the bird. Where had it gone? When Agape changed form, in her own body, she never changed mass. Had she sacrificed any significant portion of her mass, she would have lost her identity.   She realized that magic was the only explanation.   Magic took no note of the laws of science; it had its own laws. Apparently mass was not a factor. But it was still a strange business!
    “Uh-oh,” Phoebe screeched under her breath.   Agape twisted her neck, which was marvelously supple, and saw lumbering shapes closing in. More harpies!   “List well, alien,” Phoebe said urgently. “My filthy sisters think I’ve got prey I mean to hide away, so they mean to raid it from me. I can escape them not; must needs I hide thee till they leave off.” She swooped low.   “Come to none ere I call to thee, for they will snatch thee and chew thy bones in an instant! Now hide, hide!” And she let go.
    Agape fell into the grass. It was less than a meter, and she was so small and light that no damage was done.   She half napped, half scrambled on down through the tangle, getting out of sight.
    But another harpy had seen her. “Haa!” she screeched, and dived, claws outstretched.   Agape scooted to the side, and the harpy missed. But the ugly bird had not given up; she looped just above the grass and came back, more agile than she looked.   “Come here, thou luscious morsel!” she screeched.   Agape tried to scoot away, out of reach, but the harpy loomed over her, about to pounce.
    “Mine!” Phoebe screeched, zooming in and colliding with the other, knocking her out of the way. Just in time!
    Agape found a mousehole and scrambled down it.   She did not like going into darkness under the ground, but it definitely was not safe above!
    Then she heard the sound of scratching, or of excavation. A harpy was trying to dig her out!   Fortunately the mouse tunnel had been constructed with exactly such tactics in mind. It branched and curved and extended forever onward. She scooted along it, hoping she didn’t encounter the proprietor, leaving the harpy behind. Then she settled down to wait.   When silence returned, she crept back the way she had come. She was not constructed for crawling, but was so small that she could pretty well run two-legged along the tunnel. That was one advantage to tiny size!   “Agape! Agape!” a harpy screeched. “They be gone now. Come to me!”
    It was Phoebe! No other harpy would know her true name. Agape made her way out of the tunnel, and gave a peep.
    Phoebe spied her. “Ah, ‘tis a relief!” she screeched.   “I thought sure I’d lost thee! Come, we must to the weres ‘fore else amiss occurs!” She took Agape in her claw again, and lunged into the air.
    They reached the Were Demesnes without further event. Three husky wolves veered toward Phoebe the moment they spied her, evidently meaning business.   The harpy was tired from her long flight, and could not achieve sufficient elevation to avoid them. Their teeth gleamed.
    But her voice was enough. “Halt, weres!” she screeched. “Slay me not, for I bring a friend of thine for help!” She lifted her foot, showing Agape.   One of the wolves became a buxom young woman in a furry halter. “That be Fleta in birdform!” she cried.   “What dost filth like thee do with her?”
    Phoebe flopped tiredly to the ground. “Bitch, I be friend to Fleta; she cured my tail-itch, and her friend Mach gave me this spectacular hairdo. But this be not the ‘corn; she be her other self from Proton-frame, who knows not how to change form. So I brought her to thee, ‘cause thou knowest the art o’ shape-changing and mayhap can help her.”
    The young woman reached down to pick Agape up.
    “Be this true? Thou be not