Out of Phaze by Piers Anthony

new numbers and words. Across the top was written 5. SEPARATE, 6. INTERACTIVE, 7. COMBAT, 8. COOPERATIVE, and down the left side, more brightly, E. EARTH, F. FIRE, G. GAS, H. H2O. He recognized the four elements, earth, fire, air and water, which were fundamental to the various types of magic. Of course there was another element, more important—
    “Come on, Mach,” the girl urged. “Make your play.”
    So he touched a lighted word at random: GAS.
    A new square illuminated, on the line he had selected, and in the second column. INTERACTIVE/GAS. He wasn’t sure he liked the notion. Then a smaller pattern of nine squares appeared, with a list of words down side: PILLOW-FIGHTING, SEX, TAG, TRAPEZE . .
    “You know what Tilly wants!” the girl said. In the center square appeared the word SEX. “Make your pick, Macho!”
    Uncertainly, he touched the word PILLOW. Immediately it brightened. Then, catching on, he touched corner square, and the word jumped into it. Who said there was no magic in the science frame!
    Tilly put SEX into another corner. So it went, with Bane selecting a variety of terms, she only one. There they touched their lighted sides, and the chosen square] appeared: PILLOW-FIGHTING.
    “Oh, damn!” Tilly swore. “You cheated!”
    “I thought I would surprise thee,” he said, somewhat lamely. He had picked randomly again, but was just as glad it hadn’t finished with the word she so evidently desired. It was not that she was unattractive, but surely such a thing was no game between strangers!
    “You surprised me,” she agreed. She smiled. “You surprised me when you even agreed to play! You never gave me a tumble before, you know.” Then she cocked her head at him. ‘Thee?”
    Bane realized that he had made an error of language. The girl had consistently used “you.” That was evidently the way they spoke, here. In perpetual plural.
    He smiled. “See? Surprised you again.”
    She pursed her lips. “You are different today! Doris must have made you flip out.”
    She had mentioned that he had been “dumped” by a “cyborg.” Was that a description of another person? If so, it must be Doris. So he—or at least Mach—was suffering from a romantic separation. And Tilly was eager to step in to take Doris’ place. Assuming he had interpreted the signals correctly. But how did this game of patterns of words relate?
    “Well, come on, robot,” she said. “You want pillows, I’ll give you pillows! I’ll knock you into the muck!”
    She led the way to another chamber. Bane followed, glad to let her maintain the initiative. He believed he knew what pillow-fighting was; it was a favorite game in Phaze. He had played many physical and mental games, and become quite good at several, including this one.
    He was correct. This chamber was a huge muddy pit, with a heavy pole crossing it from side to side. A walkway around the edge provided access to the far side of the pole. A number of solid pillows were suspended from hooks near the entrance.
    They each took a pillow. Bane made his way to the far side of the pole, then hiked himself onto it. Tilly did the same from her side.
    How serious was this supposed to be? Tilly was about his own size, as he was small for a male, but she massed less because of the difference in proportions. He surely could knock her off the pole if he wanted to. But why dump a lovely young woman into the mud? He would have to take his cue from her, again.
    They worked their way toward each other until they met in the center. Tilly grinned. “Dump or get dumped!” she exclaimed, and swung her pillow at him in a great circle.
    Bane ducked his head, and her pillow passed over his head. Such a miss could cause a person to overbalance and fall untouched, but she was experienced; she simply continued her swing in a full circle and came at him again, bopping him soundly on the shoulder. Her proficiency caught him by surprise.
    Bane started to fall. To restore his balance, he had to