But of course they weren't from any of the other planets. They were from Earth, which was the same as Oria. But not only would this be difficult to explain, it might not be wise. Their party of four had gotten trapped in an alternate reality in which a galactic emperor intended to use them to begin his conquest of other realities. Colene had worked a trick to free their anchor in that reality, and the Virtual Mode had found a new anchor here. If these despots caught on to that, not only would Nona be in trouble, the four of them might be similarly trapped here.
But Colene knew that Darius wasn't going to lie about it, if asked directly. He had a thing about integrity. She loved him for that, but it was now a bad problem between them. As was the matter of women: he didn't have a thing about being limited to one.
"None?" Hobard was amazed, and King Lombard was plainly skeptical,
"From a more distant planet?" King Lombard asked. Colene got the gist from Hobard's understanding of the question; the king's mind remained opaque to the horse.
We're wasting time, Colene thought to Darius. We need to get settled with these folk and get by ourselves, so we configure out how to get back through the anchor. Because this was a temporary stop; they were on their way back to Darius' reality, where they would be together, once they worked out their problems.
To her relief, Darius agreed. "It is hard to explain. We have come a long way, and we are tired. May we eat and rest?" He did this by spreading his hands in bafflement, then letting his shoulders slump, then putting a hand to his mouth as if eating. Seqiro buttressed these signals with projected meaning, so that Hobard interpreted them correctly without realizing the source of his understanding.
Hobard translated for King Lombard. The king nodded, then gestured. Red-and-blue-clad theow servants entered, gesturing to the three visitors to accompany them.
The king is in doubt about your nature, Seqiro thought to them. He wants to know whether you are of the animus.
The animus. Provos had mentioned that, but the rest of them hadn't yet found out what it was. That was frustrating.
Then Colene had a bright notion. Seqiro—can you reach Nona and ask her about the animus?
Yes. But I will lose touch with you while orienting on her.
We can handle that for a while. See what you can get. It may be important.
She felt his presence leave, and knew he was seeking out Nona. She should be well within his range.
Meanwhile the servants were taking them to separate chambers. Some distance apart, by the look of it. She didn't like that, and not because of ignorance: the despots were doing it so that Darius could be seduced and she could be raped. But they were not in a position to protest, and Provos had indicated that those efforts would not be successful. Provos had also smiled mysteriously, as if there were more to it than showed. Provos wasn't worried, of course; not only was she unlikely to be a target, not being young and innocent, she had her memory of the future.
Well, Colene was not about to let any man rape her. She had been through the experience on one occasion, and thereafter become not only smarter about situations but militant. She did not want merely to foil a rape attempt; she wanted to foil it in such a way that the man regretted ever having the notion. What could she do to Knave Naylor that would have the desired effect?
She knew what she wanted to do: fix it so that he was the one who got raped. But she saw several problems with that. The man was likely to have potent (no pun) magic which she could not counter, and if she did counter it, that would only show that she had strong magic too, and women didn't here. In fact, it could be real trouble if she was even assertive, because women weren't supposed to be. So she couldn't fight him; all she could do was hide and whimper like a properly docile girl. That would get her nowhere.
She reached her chamber. It turned out to be well appointed, with running water and a big stone bathtub. What delight, in the midst of quandary.
So she ran the water, and it was hot, and she found some powder that made it bubble, and she soaked herself, truly enjoying it. It had been no lie about their being tired.
Colene. It was Seqiro's thought.
Hey, what kept you, horseface? she replied. I missed you. Indeed she had, she realized now; there had been a lingering tightness which now faded.
I am not conversant with Nona as I am with you. It took time to gather the concepts, which she understands well, and I understood when with her mind, but feared I would not retain them.
Well, I have a rape to avoid. Give with the background.
There are two forces, perhaps opposite directions of the same force from which they draw their power of magic, he thought. The animus and the anima, the male and female principles. Here the animus governs, and the men dominate. But if the current were to change, the anima would dominate, and the female principle would govern.
It came clear as she reviewed it with him. When the men dominated, they had the strong magic—or perhaps it was the strong magic that enabled them to dominate. The women had status only up to a level below that of the men they married. Any man had power over any woman, but a low-level man knew better than to mess with the wife of a high-level man, because her man would enforce respect. When the anima came, however, the women had the magic and power, and the men served them.
The despots were simply the descendants of the leading men: the firstborn of the firstborn, as it were. The theows were the descendants of men of low status. Theoretically a despot man could marry a theow woman and elevate her status, but this seldom happened; they preferred the daughters of ranking men. If a despot took a liking to a theow girl, he simply hired her for his household, and she was his to use as he wished. Since every theow had to work for a despot, the availability was broad. This was Nona's concern: that she would have either to marry and bear babies, which would deplete her magic, or become the plaything of a despot. It could be a liability to be beautiful, because by the time the despots tired of a theow woman, she might be too old and worn to attract a good theow man, so would be unable to marry and have a family of her own. That would mean, in turn, that she was nonproductive, and a burden to society, and she would disappear.
But with the coming of the anima, the women would have the magic, and the lastborn females of the lastbora females would be the inheritors. The status of men would derive from that of their wives, and their children would have status via their mothers. In effect, the theows would become the rulers, and the despots the servant class. So it was to the interest of the despots, including their women, to maintain the existing order. The change of animus to anima would lead to an immediate political and social and economic upheaval.
But how does it change? Colene asked.
That was where Nona came in. She was the ninthborn of the eighthborn of the seventhborn, all the way back nine generations to the common ancestor with the despot king, who was the firstborn male of the firstborn male back a similar way. The last change had occurred nine generations ago. There was a special power of nines here, or rather of a nine that followed an eight that followed a seven and so on. This was because of the nature of the planet Oria itself. Thus Nona was the one who could reverse the animus and overthrow the despots.
So what does she have to do?
That was the problem: Nona didn't know. Only that she must seek the Megaplayers, the giants who had played the gigantic stone instruments, and gain their help. She had thought the visitors might be from those godlike folk.
And instead they were coincidental travelers on the Virtual Mode. Nona had been opening her mind to that Mode, and tuned in to it, and become an anchor figure, thinking she was doing something else.
They would be unable to use Nona's anchor to depart this universe of Julia, unless Nona succeeded in her quest to bring the anima. Colene had no better idea how to do that than Nona did. Instead of being the creatures who could help Nona, they needed Nona's help.
We have a problem, Colene concluded.
CHAPTER 3
DARIUS
r /> DARIUS felt better after cleaning up. Now he was hungry. He had been checking in with Colene every so often, via the telepathic horse. That remained a novelty; he had learned only just before their arrival at this world that Seqiro was a very special animal. It seemed that in Seqiro's reality, the horses all were telepathic, and governed the human beings. In other realities, other animals had that power. It had been Colene's fortune to encounter an animal who liked human girls, and who wanted to travel the Modes, and who had the power to do so. Now it was the fortune of their group.
For Darius knew enough of the transfer of human emotion to grasp what the transfer of human information could do. This was a powerful tool, and would help them greatly. It was already helping them, because the horse could fathom the minds of these people, regardless of their language, and know their motives. It took a bit of time, of course, because strange minds could not be plumbed any more than a strange terrain could be understood at a glance. But Seqiro had related quickly to Nona and Stave, and was now tuning to Hobard, the translator. It was a great advantage to fathom the motives of their hosts, without the despots knowing.
We have a problem, Colene's thought came.
Quickly she filled him in: Nona had supposed their party to be the Megaplayers she sought. She now knew better, but that left her in difficulty, because she alone could help her people, the theows, and her only avenue for help had been taken by their party's coincidental arrival. Not chance, really; Nona merely had not realized that it was the Virtual Mode to which she was relating, or that she would become an anchor person. In fact she had no notion what either was.
So we have to help her, Colene concluded. Because we messed up her effort.
Darius did not necessarily see it that way. But since this animus was blocking their use of the anchor, they had to deal with that, and Nona was the one who could change it. So they had to help her, not because of any moral obligation, but from self-interest.
That, too, Colene thought with mental humor, and he realized that she had been teasing him slightly; of course she had understood their need. But she doesn't know how.
We have a problem, he agreed.
THEY joined the despots for the evening meal. They understood, now, that the despots had not decided whether they were despots or theows. If they were the latter, they would be immediately killed, because it would be an embarrassment to treat theows as if they were human beings. But if they were despots, the case would be more chancy. Despots should be allies—but might be seeking conquest. Especially if they were of the anima, and enemies not only of the governing class but of the entire animus.
How did King Lombard propose to ascertain the status of his guests? There were several ways, Hobard's mind suggested as Seqiro quietly explored it. First, despots of the animus were male-dominated. For a moment it had seemed that Colene was the leader of the group, but then it turned out that Darius was. But that wasn't certain, because a group from a world with anima might try to pretend to be animus. Second, the males of animus had the magic, and the females of anima had magic. Illusion was common to all, and was discounted. Who had the magic here? None of the visitors had shown their magic yet, which might be a matter of courtesy or might be suspicious. If none of them had magic, they were theows, and could be dispatched after suitably entertaining their hosts. Entertainment, by despot definition, ranged from sexual exploitation to outright torture.
So the issue would be forced, tonight. Queen Glomerula would try to fathom Darius' nature, evoking what magic he had. If she did not come to a conclusion, King Lombard would arrange to discover the tryst, and would challenge the interloper to a duel. That would bring it out, certainly. But it had its risk, because if Darius were a ranking despot he might have stronger magic than the king, and would kill him and take over his throne. So it might be better to avoid that chance. Unfortunately, Darius thought, he did not have magic in this reality, and in any event it was not the same type.
How do you know?
Darius paused, surprised. The horse was merely curious, but it was a seminal question. Darius had become so used to lacking his magic in other realities, except sometimes his ability to project emotionally, that he had just assumed this was the case here. Yet this was definitely a magic reality, and perhaps more than one kind of magic worked.
He had two types of magic, in his home reality. One was common to all people there, known as sympathetic. The other was unique to him, at least in degree. As the Cyng of Hlahtar—or, as Colene termed it, the King of Laughter—he could draw emotion from a subject person and rebroadcast it, multiplied a thousandfold. That way every person within range achieved die joy of the one. That made everyone happy for several weeks, until the emotion gradually leaked away. The chief liability of this ability was that he needed a subject from which to draw, and this was by custom the wife of the Cyng, who was gradually depleted until she was an emotional husk and had to be discarded. Distressed by the prospect of doing this to a woman he loved, he had sought through the Modes for a woman who could handle it. That was how he had found Colene—only to learn that she, instead of being full of joy, was secretly suicidal. That would be disaster! But he loved her, having foolishly committed his emotion before properly understanding.
Meanwhile he had found another woman, Prima, whose power was similar to his own, who would marry him and enable him to perform his necessary role without being herself depleted. It would not be a love match, but she desired the position rather than love, and would allow him to love Colene as a mistress without hindrance. It was an ideal solution to his problem, except for certain technical factors. Such as the fact that he and Colene had not yet been able to get to his reality, and were currently somewhat estranged. Oh, they were working together, because they had to, but they had to have a settlement when they could, and it was not possible to know what the result of that would be.
But that was all conjectural. Right now he needed magic. Was it possible that he had it? If so, he could readily deal with the queen. He could drain her of her joy, stopping her in the middle of whatever she had in mind.
That left Knave Naylor's effort. The man would simply go in and seduce the girl, and rape her if she proved to be diffident. If she were anima, she would not submit to that; instead she would flatten him with her magic. But if she were animus, she would make only token protest before yielding. Of course then there would be Darius to deal with; as animus he would not take kindly to having his woman used by force. But Queen Glomerula would simply accuse Darius of raping her, and the matter would be open to negotiation. It was, it seemed, axiomatic in this culture: one rape canceled another, as far as any onus went. It wasn't as if women had rights or feelings that mattered.
Darius had to admire the directness of it. These folk mixed their pleasure with business, with the business paramount. They expected to take the measure of their guests without delay. If they lacked a certain finesse and took certain risks, well, that was evidently the way of their kind. It was not an attitude he liked, but at least now he understood what was in store.
However, he suspected that innocent little Colene was going to surprise them. She could, he had discovered to his chagrin, be as devious as anyone. Provos had assured them that the planned malice would not be successful, but they still had to find out exactly how they would foil it.
A theow girl led him down to the banquet hall. As he saw the king, queen, and knave again he was struck by the fit of their clothing. The theows had somewhat shapeless general-purpose tunics, salvaged from disaster mainly by their sashes, so that even a man as handsome as Stave and a woman as lovely as Nona looked somewhat awkward. But the despots had perfectly tailored tunics, enhancing their bodies. The king looked regal despite his masked paunch, and the queen looked sexy. The knave looked both, and suitably sinister as well.
The meal itself was good. The despots lived well. Darius and Colene watched the manners of their hosts, and emulated them, while Provos proceeded confidently from future memory. They ate sl
ices of roast animal, and squares of assorted fruits, and drank excellent wine. One glass only, he warned Colene. It turned out to be unnecessary; the mere thought of an alcoholic beverage made her stomach tighten, and her revulsion came through to his stomach. She had had a bad experience whose nature he did not know, but it had turned her off this particular business.
So he made it easy for her. "No wine for my woman," he said in peremptory fashion. "Water is all she deserves." After an exchange of signals, Hobard understood, and Colene's privilege of wine was removed. But King Lombard, though appreciative, was not convinced: this was Hobard's opinion.
Darius, concerned about the coming night, tried to focus on the minds of the king and queen. And especially the mind of the knave, who was watching Colene with disturbing directness. But Colene's horse was unable to penetrate any of these; only Hobard was at all open.
He reflected again how this business of informative mind contact was almost as new to him as it was to the folk they had met, Nona and Stave. He had little idea how to take advantage of it. Fortunately Colene was used to it, and she was happy to handle this aspect of their situation. So he merely let her know his concern, and let her work on it.
Indeed, she was up to something. There was a power and deviousness to her mind-set that he had not before been aware of. This precious little girl he loved became more complicated as he came to know her better. So he focused on the amenities of the meal and let her work it out.
The queen was watching him with much the same interest as the knave watched Colene. He felt like a bug under her glass. She was using the standard mechanisms of women with men: a low, loose decolletage that proffered frequent and profound glimpses of her breasts, and glances which lingered just a bit too long. She was not a young woman, but neither was she old; she was at that age at which a woman was capable of the maximum exploitation of her body. It was interesting.