Darius, wiping the spread vomit from his lips, had to smile. This was Colene, all right!
"And what are you doing with this slut naked on your bed?" Colene demanded of him.
"Demonstrating my magic," he said. "I am of the animus: a magic-wielding man. You wish to make something of it?" That was a colloquialism he had learned from her; it was a kind of challenge to evince disapproval.
"Yeah," she said. "But not in the same bed with Queen Nympho here!"
Darius turned to the queen. "I have decided to play with my own woman. You may go."
The queen assessed the situation, picking up enough of his import to know that she was finished here. She shrugged; there would be another day. She stood, clothed herself again with illusion, and departed the chamber in good order. She had ascertained what she sought: Darius really did have strong magic, and was well able to protect his woman. He was animus.
"Okay, I'm here," Colene said. "Play with me, you macho animus man."
"You need to rest, and to eat something," Darius said, sliding her off his lap.
"I'm not hungry, and I'm not ready to rest."
He glanced at the vomit splattered on the floor, then took one of the larger quilts and used it to mop up the mess. "And put on some clothing," he added.
"Oh, come on, I'll do that," she said. "It's my mess." She got down and nudged him aside.
He glanced at her naked body. "At least don a diaper."
"A diaper!" she exclaimed. "I got sick, not incontinent." Then she remembered. "Oh, that's right—the women of your reality wear big diapers, so no one can see their stuff. But that's when they're in public. They take them off for sex, don't they?"
"Yes. But that is not the case here."
"Stop treating me like a child, Darius! I know what sex is. And by the look of you with that slut queen, you had it in mind! She bundled the quilt and carried it to the bathroom. Show him, Seqiro, her thought came back.
Immediately, Darius felt the heat of her love. Colene was raging with emotion, and desired him in a way which belied her youth.
He fought back his response, lest he be overwhelmed by his answering desire for her. "But you are a child," he said. "You are fourteen, which by the standard of your culture is below the age of consent. It is not proper to indulge with you."
She emerged from the bathroom, still defiantly naked. "Aren't we in love, Darius?"
"Yes. That does not change your age."
"But according to you, it's all right for you to have sex with nympho queens, meanwhile?"
"Yes, if I choose. But I do not respect Glomerula, so sex with her is not an option."
"If you did respect her, then you would have sex with her?"
"Yes, ordinarily. However—"
"And do you respect me?"
He hesitated, then answered. "Yes."
"And you want me?"
"Yes." He knew this was mischief. The queen's challenge had been replaced by the girl's challenge.
"So by your code, it is all right to have sex with women you don't love, but not with the one you do."
"It is an irony," he agreed. "Now put on a diaper, or I will put one on you."
"Oh, cut the hypocrisy," she snapped. "You won't have sex with me because you say it's against my culture, but you want me to wear a diaper when you know that's no part of my culture."
He was taken aback. "That is true. I can not dictate your mode of dress."
"You can't dictate my mode of sex either!" she flared. "I had it with four men before I ever met you!"
Darius felt his jaw drop. Can this be true? he asked Seqiro.
It is true. And the horse opened up the memory to him: Colene at thirteen, on a date with a high school boy she hardly knew, who took her to a private party where they plied her with alcohol and then raped her. Unable to resist, she had gone along with it, and been too chagrined to tell. But she had felt unclean ever since, and carried a brooding, helpless anger. That episode had been a significant step toward her obsession with self-destruction. But along with the shame, she had developed a secondary fascination with sex: to flirt with it, to see how close she could come to it without getting caught again by it. As if a close escape somehow alleviated the disgust of the sex she had not escaped.
"So now you know," she said, watching him as he assimilated the memory. "Why I cut myself, and why I risked having you rape me. Sex and death: they are allied. So you see, anything you are saving me for was lost before you ever met me. Do you hate me now?"
"No," he said, appalled.
She stepped toward him. "So will you—?"
"No."
"What is it with you? You know it's pointless, when I'd much rather you did it with me than with some slut like the queen, and there's no reason not to."
"There is reason not to. I am not those men, and you are underage."
"This damned idiotic moral code of yours! It doesn't make sense!"
"It makes a sense you do not appreciate."
"Is that a cut?" she demanded. "When I asked if you respected me, you hesitated. Why? Out with it."
He did not like this, but it was a valid issue. "You deceived the Emperor of the DoOon, in the other reality, and tricked him into terminating his anchor."
"It was the only way to save us and all the rest of the realities! He was going to conquer everything!"
"True. But you prevailed by trickery, violating your honor, and causing me to violate mine."
"I may have saved us and every other universe—and you condemn me?"
"No. You have a standard other than mine. But it is a taint on my love for you."
"I don't understand you!" she exclaimed. "I did what had to be done. You know that. It was the only way. Tell me: how can you blame me?"
56
He suspected that it would not persuade her, but he tried to clarify it. "The Emperor had made captives of us all, though he did not treat us badly in the direct sense. He proposed to confine us to his reality until he had what he wanted from us, which was a Chip to enable him to cross realities. He threatened to kill Seqiro if you did not cooperate, so you cooperated. He threatened to destroy you if I did not cooperate, so I cooperated. What he did was wrong. But that did not justify wrong-ness on our part. When I agreed to help him—"
"Under duress!"
"I became bound by my word. Whether given freely or under duress, it was my commitment. He trusted me because he knew I would not break my word. Then we came to the anchor, and you had Seqiro, whose power I did not then know, get into the Emperor's mind and make him free the anchor. That cut us loose from his reality, and we spun through the realities until we connected with another person who formed a new anchor. Now we are in Nona's reality. That may be better for us and for the realities the Emperor would otherwise have invaded. But it was accomplished by a betrayal of trust. I promised to help the Emperor and not to seek harm to him. Instead I led him into betrayal. Because I depended on your word to buttress mine, and your word was not good. For that I must condemn you. How can I love a woman who can not be trusted?"
She was hurt. He saw it in the way her body shrank into itself, and felt it in the roiling darkness of her mind, which remained connected to his. For the first time he felt like killing himself, and knew it was her feeling. His own power of emotional projection might be void in this reality, but that of the horse remained. If only he had understood this aspect of her nature before he loved her! But she had betrayed him in that too, though unwittingly. She had not understood that he needed a woman full of joy, not pain. Had he known, he would have avoided any relationship with her, especially love.
Then her pain turned abruptly to fury. Now her rage beat at him. "Oh, you would have, would you? You didn't care about me or anything, just about a vessel full of joy you could empty, so you could do your job at home. It was all strictly business. But you made a mistake. You got emotionally involved before you were sure. Too bad. Well, let me tell you some things you maybe didn't think of. Here you're so
damned concerned with your private personal code, you're not looking at what's best for everyone else. You think your given word is more important than the rest of the universe, literally? You're crazy! The universe doesn't give a wormy horse dropping about what goes on in your head. You think it's better to let billions of people be enslaved and maybe die than to break your word, when you only gave it to save me? I'm not worth it! Your word isn't worth it. You have no right to impose your foible on the rest of everything."
He tried to answer, and could not. Never before had she assaulted him like this, with her grief and her fury, and it was devastating. She refused to heed his logic. She continued, her emotion so strong that he was helpless.
"And even if you did, you still have no call to condemn me for doing what I had to do. Maybe you had to keep your word. I had to save our realities. I don't have the luxury of your kind of integrity. I never was able to impose my standard on anyone else. Not when my family started breaking up, and it tore me up more than it tore up my folks, but they were the ones doing it and I was the one who suffered from it. Not when I got raped by those four horny freaks who didn't care who else they hurt, so long as they dipped their sticks. The only real choice I ever had was surviving, any way I could—and I'm not sure I want to do that. So don't tell me you can't love me because I'm not what you thought I was. If you want to love me, it better be for what I really am. You can trust me to be what I am, and that's all. And what I am is in love with you, and you're the greatest thing that ever happened to me, and without you I'd be dead by now, and if you're in trouble I'm going to save you some way, and if I have to kill someone to do it, then I will, and if I have to break my word, then I will, and if I have to hate you for not loving me back the same way, then I will."
She stopped speaking, overcome by emotion. Her face was slick with tears and her hair disheveled. Darius stared at her. As she spoke, something had been occurring in his mind, a subtle but painful change, and now he realized what it was.
It was the realization that he was wrong. That he had judged her by the wrong standard. She was beautiful in her own way, mentally as well as physically, and he did love her for what she was, and he desperately craved her wild and total passion.
He owed her a phenomenal apology.
He started to speak, but she had his thought before he could formulate the words. "Oh, Darius!" she cried, and flung herself into his embrace, her forgiving as abrupt and total as her fury.
He kissed her and held her, feeling her love coming back at him with the cutting edge of her suicidal nature. She did not do things halfway; when she gambled, she gambled everything. When she loved, she loved without restraint. Perhaps he had somehow known her nature all along, and been attracted to it. She was almost completely different from him, but he needed her and could not give her up.
They lay together on the bed, their bodies pressed together. Her damp hair fell partly across his face. "Was that our first?" she asked.
"We didn't do it," he said.
She hit him gently on the shoulder with her fist. "I know we didn't do that! I mean, our first knock-down, drag-out fight?"
"May it be our last!" he said fervently.
"No, folk can fight if they want to. It's fun making up, after. Now we can do it." The reference needed no clarification; her mind made it compellingly plain.
"No. Just let me love you, with understanding." It was his mind's turn to make it clear: he did not want to follow after callous young men who had sought no more than her body. Her body was unimportant compared to her feeling.
"That's the nicest thing anybody ever thought about me," she murmured, satisfied.
So they slept, their passion spent in a way the despots would not have understood. Indeed, the despots were probably watching, not understanding their words, mystified by the whole business.
IN the morning they had breakfast with their hosts. King Lombard looked amused, and Queen Glomerula looked grim. Knave Naylor was absent. Provos kept to herself, unwonied, as became one who had no need to be concerned about the future. Obviously the despots were satisfied that the visitors were of the animus, but not satisfied about their purpose here. It might be dangerous as well as unethical to murder visiting animus, but might also be dangerous to let them stay. Or go.
Hobard continued working on common words. Communication, aided by Seqiro's hidden assistance, became better. But they were at cross-purposes. Darius and his retinue, as the despots thought of it, wanted only to return through the anchor and travel the Virtual Mode, going home. The despots wanted only to find out enough to exploit the visitors, or to kill them. It was pointless to remain here much longer.
But there were guards throughout the castle, and it was obvious that it would not be possible simply to walk away. Darius disliked the notion of sneaking out at night, and wasn't sure that would work either. So he would have to use magic. That would mean making figurines of all of them, so that he could conjure them to another place. Assuming that the despots had no way to stop his particular type of magic.
He sent a mental message to Provos: I need solid, liquid, and gas of yours.
Yes, I gave you those this evening, the woman returned.
That left the horse. How could he get the necessary essences there? If he sought to visit Seqiro, the despots might be suspicious. He wasn't sure how much of his magic Queen Glomerula understood. He had shown her the figurine of Colene, and used it to conjure Colene to him. Conjuration did not seem to be a type of magic these folk used, but he couldn't be sure.
Well, he might conjure himself or Colene to the horse tonight, to get the essences. Then he would be able to complete the icon.
The day passed pleasantly enough. The despots were reasonably gracious hosts, until such time as they came to their decision. Communication was getting easier as a basic vocabulary grew. Queen Glomerula, evidently hoping that Darius might like to conclude the business they had only started the prior night, was attentive. Colene was studiously neutral, as befitted the place of a woman of the animus.
They went to Darius' chamber together in the evening, to the queen's disappointment. Colene chatted about this and that and did an impromptu striptease dance, not for Darius' sole benefit; she was doing it to distract those who were surely watching via their magic. That gave Darius the chance to make three more icons without, they hoped, being observed.
After a reasonable time, they settled down to sleep, Darius showing his seeming contempt for his woman by not bothering to use her for sex.
In due course Seqiro notified them that no one was watching them any more; they promised no further entertainment, either in what they might do with each other or in what the queen might do with Darius if he conjured his woman to her own chamber. The castle slept.
Now we can go to Seqiro, Colene thought.
I will conjure myself there. You may remain here and pretend to be both of us.
Like hell I will! How will I know you're not conjuring yourself to the queen?
For a moment he was irritated. Then she laughed, mentally, and he realized that she had been joking. But she also wanted to come with him, even if the conjuration made her sick again.
Darius didn't argue. He set up for his conjuration. First he used his finger to sketch a square between the two of them, on the bed. We are here. This is my chamber, our starting point. Then he sketched another square below it. Seqiro is here. It is his stall.
Urn, should we go direct? Colene's thought came. They might be alert to contact between any of us and Seqiro.
That was a good point. Not everybody in the castle was asleep; some night-shift guards remained alert. He erased the stall square, physically and mentally, deactivating it. Then he made another: This is the chamber where we donned Oria clothing. That was reasonably close to the stalls; they could walk across the court to reach Seqiro.
He took the figurine of Colene. Colene, he thought firmly, activating it. Then without moving it, he addressed his own: Darius,
Now t
hey were ready. We are here, he thought. Colene is stepping there. He moved her icon from the first square to the second—and she disappeared. I am stepping there. He moved his own, and the wrenching took him, and he was there beside her. Both of them lying on the floor in their nightctothes.
He deactivated the icons and they got to their feet. Colene did not vomit this time; she had been prepared and exerted her will to keep her stomach in line. He gave her a silent squeeze of approval around the shoulders.
He could make a light magically, but decided not to; it was better to use the starlight, which was so bright that it shone in through the doorway. Their eyes were already adjusted to the night.
They stepped out—and stopped, amazed.
There was light in the sky, all right, but it wasn't exactly starlight. It was a series of connected patterns, as if each star had several glowing moons, which in turn had a number of moonlets, which hi turn—there seemed to be no end to it. Furthermore, these stars seemed close, because beyond them they saw the larger glow of Luna. Yet this great moon was not exactly the same. For one thing, it wasn't round. It was crudely shell-shaped. For another, it was surrounded by curlicue patterns of stars, some of which passed behind it and some in front of it. One pattern seemed to dance its way directly toward this planet, before getting lost in the patterns of closer shell patterns.
The Mandelbrot set! she thought, remembering her revelation of the prior day. It really is true! We're in a fractal universe!
Like the one they showed in their image? he inquired. With all the planets and stars connected together? He was as amazed as she.
Yes! I recognize it now. The shells and seahorse tails, all linked in intricate patterns. This is it!
They looked down at the dark surface of the planet Oria—and the patterns extended all the way to the ground. In fact, there were tiny whorls of light right at their feet, rising from tiny irregularities on the ground. The stars weren't just in the sky, they were everywhere, and they weren't distant and large, they were close and tiny. They were like cobwebs, except that their feet passed through them without effect.
Illusion, Darius decided.