The dining room bore a distinct resemblance to a greenhouse, but only one from a fantasy world. The ceiling was a glass roof, with what appeared to be moonlight shining down through it from at least three directions, although Marisa couldn’t see the sources through the mass of vegetation that filled the space.

In the centre, where the real-world dining room table was, she saw a life-sized stone carving of a woman with her hands held above her head and a short distance apart, and hovering between them was a green disc that would match the ones in Harley’s pockets. Symmetrical paths of stepping stones led around the table in either direction.

“This is much too easy,” Harley muttered. “There’s no way it’s going to let us just walk over there and take it.”

Marisa edged forward cautiously, setting foot on one of the first two stones.

The plants around them moved, a spaghetti tangle of vines uncoiling and reaching out.

“Name five cat breeds,” an expressionless, vaguely-feminine voice said, from the direction of the statue.

“What? Um... Siamese, Maine Coon, Norwegian Forest... uh...” The vines snaked closer. “Oh hell... Sphynx? And, um... Ragdoll!”

The vines paused, but when she tried to take a further step, they stirred, and she immediately halted.

Harley crossed the threshold, onto the other first stone.

“Name five characters from the Rocky Horror Picture Show,” the voice said.

“RiffRaff, Magenta, Columbia, Frank-n-furter, Eddy,” Harley said without hesitation.

Marisa tried a step. The vines moved warningly; she closed her eyes and put her foot down on the next stone anyway.

“List the classes of the characters from the 80s Dungeons and Dragons cartoon.”

“Ris? I haven’t the foggiest, so I assume you know.”

“I used to love it, Mistress—I watched it with my aunt. They’re actually listed, all together.” The vines swayed, not touching, but inching closer nonetheless. “Magician, pal... no, cavalier, acrobat... what are the first two? Ranger, barbarian, magician, thief, cavalier, and acrobat!”

The vines backed off again, and let Marisa stay where she was. When Harley tried to move forward, however, the vines snapped towards her, and she quickly retreated.

“Only one of us gets to move for answering a question, apparently. The good news is that any questions are probably coming from our own minds, so one of us should know the answer. The bad news is that it can be a bitch trying to remember trivia under pressure.”

“I thought we established that neither of us likes puzzles with time limits, Mistress.”

“We did. But I suspect that we’re both big enough geeks that a chance to show off odd and obscure knowledge is irresistible, even with only each other for an audience.”

“Um, actually... you could be right. If so, we really are hopeless geeks, Mistress.”

“I think that might be a high possibility, kitty-cat. All right, we know that taking a step triggers a question, and if you get it right, it lets you keep that spot. It allows that only for the person who answered the question. We don’t know what happens if we can’t answer, and we don’t know whether we can steal each other’s questions, but it seems fairly straightforward otherwise.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Harley took a step.

“When, where, and what was the first business transaction online?”

“Stanford, 1971,” Harley said. “It was an arrangement to buy a small bag of marijuana.”

“Seriously, Mistress?” Marisa said.

“Seriously. It wasn’t even the Internet yet, there were only four computers linked together, all in universities, and they were room-sized. But that was the first. Actually paying online came much later.”

“Figures.” Marisa edged forward.

“What are the three astrological signs associated with water?”

“What? Which of us knows that? Um... Pisces is fish, Cancer’s a crab... Aquarius is carrying water?”

Apparently that was incorrect.

Those vines moved fast. She barely managed to jump back to her previous position before they caught her.

Heart pounding, Marisa looked in Harley’s direction. “I don’t know whether I want to know what would happen if we didn’t get out of reach quickly enough, Mistress.”

“It’s not going to be dangerous. But it might make it extremely difficult to get any farther.”

Harley’s turn.

“What is the commonly-used term for artistic Japanese rope bondage?”

“Shibari,” Harley said, and it let her stay there.

“What now, Mistress?”

Harley glanced at her, and smiled. “One of my favourite forms of art, although I’m not strictly a traditionalist. And it really can be artistic and beautiful, along with being fun if it’s lighter and fairly intense if it gets heavier. I’ll find you some pictures later so you can see.” The smile quirked a bit. “Or do a demonstration, if you want. I don’t think that’s breaking rules—it’s not necessarily erotic.”

“Um... maybe, Mistress.” Why wasn’t her heart slowing back to a more normal speed?

“Your turn.”

“I hope I get a more reasonable question this time, Mistress.” She took a step.

“Badger, mushroom, and what?” the neutral voice said.

“Snake!” Harley said quickly.

Marisa had time only to throw her a look of outrage, before vines lashed around her ankles. More struck towards her arms; she yelped and pulled them in tightly, and the vines missed, but they changed tactics and simply looped themselves around her torso, pinning her folded arms against her with her hands just below the bell on her collar. Her tail was still free, and she could feel it lashing from side to side.

“What the hell? Why am I tied up again?”

“Oh, for a camera,” Harley laughed, taking a step forward unhindered.

“It’s not funny, Mistress!” Marisa squirmed madly, but couldn’t find any weaker or looser points anywhere. It wasn’t hurting her or interfering with her breathing or circulation, but there was no way she could find to escape.

“From here, it is.”

“It would be, Mistress, since you aren’t tied up plus it’s your fault I am!”

“I know. It’s great.” Harley eyed her measuringly. “Much simpler than shibari but nonetheless there is some real aesthetic appeal and I doubt that it’s uncomfortable at all. Physically, at least.”

“I suppose not, Mistress—physically. But I can’t move!”

“Usually the intent behind something like that, yes. And at least one of us is still free to get the key.”

The next two questions lost Marisa utterly, though she was hoping for a chance to steal an answer, return the favour, and possibly free herself: one was about Alice Cooper, who was on the edge of the music range Marisa liked, and the other was about safe zones for impact play, something about which Marisa knew nothing but it triggered some sudden images she wasn’t at all comfortable admitting were in her head.

“What is the structure that causes the eyes of cats to shine in near-darkness?”

“Tapetum lucidum!” Marisa said.

The vines snaked themselves around Harley’s ankles before she could move, and climbed up as high as her knees, pinning her to that spot while the others went after her scaled arms. She couldn’t evade them long; each arm was swiftly trapped.

“And now no one is getting any closer to the key,” Harley said, tugging at the vine around one wrist—actually, from wrist to elbow.

“Oops, sorry, Mistress,” Marisa said innocently. “My inner geek got the best of me and I answered without thinking.”

“I’m not buying it, kitty-cat. I certainly hope another right answer means freedom, otherwise we’re going to be yelling for Claudia to do a hard shut-down.”

“Why is it common practice, when recording video, to clap one’s hands together while in frame before beginning the actual content?”

“To make it easier to align the video and audio tracks in editing,” Marisa said.

The vines around her loosened and dropped away.

“Yay!” Marisa cheered, stretching happily. “I’m free!”

“For the moment,” Harley said. “Making your mistress get tied up is going to have consequences.” She was trying for a growl, but there was too much laughter just under the surface for it to be properly threatening.

“Like you said, at least one of us is free to get the key, Mistress!”