Yet even so, she knew it would be wrong. Nona was the ninth of the ninth, and supposed to govern her world and guide it into the new order where women had magic and men did not. But she had found another way, and left it, not wanting to be royal. And felt guilty for deserting her destiny.
Where, then, was the solution to her life? She was in her fashion as unsettled as Colene—and Colene was badly disturbed.
"We all must do what is necessary," she murmured.
They reached the Swine village. A dragon came out of the forest to intercept them. Both Nona and Tom paused nervously, but the dragon gave the signal of peace by averting its gaze as it approached. It was ready.
Boars, sows, and pigs were gathered in the village square, looking frightened. They had evidently received word, but hardly trusted it. Nona did not blame them; however arrogant the Swine on the capital world might be, these here were innocent.
The demonstration proceeded in the pattern they had established, with Nona speaking, Tom translating, and the dragon cooperating. In due course they had piglets climbing over the dragon's huge body, and the case was being made. Rats were routed.
While they were watching the progress of the Swine villagers' trust, a sow approached Tom. She spread her knees slightly in invitation. She was of course sexily human, except for her pert snout and hooflike feet. The Swine tended to be more heavily fleshed than the Felines, and this one's breasts were very large and full, and her bottom impressive.
Tom hesitated, glancing at Nona. She knew that he did not wish to hump a Swine, but also did not want to annoy the villagers. Normally any visiting non-Swine male would be in considerable demand. He needed a pretext to decline.
"Eyes on me," Nona snapped, as if jealous.
Tom obeyed with alacrity. The sow apologetically retreated. She had not realized that Tom was committed to this mistress. No other sows came forward; they had gotten the word, and of course no boar would ever dare approach a full Human woman. Nona knew that if she should signal any boar to come to her, he would obey immediately and gladly, but she had no such interest. Thus Tom shielded her as much as she shielded him. This was a convenience she hadn't thought of before. Thereafter she made more of her supposed relationship with Tom.
"We must go," Nona concluded as the day declined. "But tomorrow the dragon will come again. Let it hunt your rats, and have folk to converse with it, and all will be well. Assign a villager, perhaps an intelligent pig, to befriend it with information and entertainment."
They left, but were later than expected, and darkness caught them before they were more than half way to the Feline village. "I think we had better camp, and complete our return in the morning," Nona said.
"As you prefer," Tom said. "I will make a nest for you, and guard it."
"No, don't expose yourself to danger unnecessarily."
"It is my duty to protect you."
"Yes, of course, and I do not question your competence. But we can share whatever protection we have."
He hesitated. "Normally we nulls are completely at the service of our masters, and your party is our master. But we were instructed not to indulge our masters or mistresses, because of complications."
"Indulge?"
"Normally masters make sexual use of nulls."
Nona laughed. "Tom, I wasn't suggesting anything like that! I merely meant we could share accommodations, as it were, for convenience."
The Feline looked embarrassed. "I apologize for misunderstanding."
"Don't. I should have been more careful in my expression."
Tom sniffed out a suitable spot, with fruit trees and a streamlet nearby, and fashioned a kind of treehouse from branches and leaves. He worked efficiently and well, while Nona ate and went briefly aside for urination. The structure was a nice job, rounded like a large covered nest, and looked comfortable and safe.
"I will find some large leaves for blanket covers," Tom said.
"Tom, it is now almost completely dark. Is it safe for you to be out in the forest at this time?"
She saw the vertical slits of his eyes narrow. "Yes. We Felines are hunters of the night."
She realized she had made another mistake. "Of course you are. How silly of me; I was thinking of my own limitations."
"I will return soon," he said, and disappeared.
She settled into the nest. But she was not quite comfortable. She needed a cushion for her head. In her home Mode she had been able to conjure a pillow, or transform any handy object into one. She had gotten out of the habit of planning ahead for such things.
That made her wonder. Colene was learning to read minds, and sometimes even to glimpse spot scenes of the future, though her interpretation of those could be confusing. At one point she had thought that Nona was marrying Darius, when actually Nona had been a proxy for Colene herself. So Colene's vision of Nona at the altar with Darius had been correct, but the meaning was quite different. But here was the prospect: if Colene, who originally had no supernatural powers, could slowly develop them, what about Nona herself, who originally had extremely strong magical abilities? She had been deprived of those when she left her Fractal Mode and encountered other fundamental forces of nature. But the Mode-crossing telepathy of the horse Seqiro had connected her to her home, and on occasion restored her powers. Then Seqiro had freed his anchor, to save Colene, and they had been stranded here in the dread DoOon Mode. But Colene's limited magical power remained. Could Nona herself have some?
There was one way to find out. She would fetch a stone or dead branch and see whether she could transform it to a pillow. If she couldn't, nothing was lost by the effort. But if she could, why then her prospects and those of their party would be significantly enhanced.
She climbed cautiously out of the nest and lowered herself to the ground. She cast about in the darkness with one hand, and found a small rock. She held it before her and focused on it, willing it to change its form and nature.
Almost, she thought it was transforming. But her effort collapsed, and the rock remained a rock. So if she had any magic here, it was too slight to do more than perhaps soften the surface slightly. She dropped the rock, disappointed.
Something loomed suddenly before her. It was a huge pale monster face with glowing eyes and glistening fangs. She screamed.
There was a pounding in the forest, coming rapidly closer. The face bobbed, the eyes flickering. Nona screamed again and backed up against the trunk of the tree.
Something bounded in from the darkness. "Mistress!"
It was Tom, and in a moment his strong arm was around her. The sound had been his response to her screams, as he charged back to help her. Her relief was great. But the fanged monster remained. "Tom! That thing!"
He looked. And laughed. "That's a moth," he said.
"A what?"
"A radiant night moth. That's protective camouflage. To frighten potential predators. It will fly away in a moment; it's just curious about you."
Sure enough, the fanged face turned away and fluttered on through the forest. She had been terrified of nothing.
She drew away from him. "It certainly works. I'm ashamed of my ignorance. I shouldn't have interrupted your search for leaves."
"I should not have left you alone," he said, refusing to let her take any blame. "You have no way to know the features of this world." He hesitated. "I have not yet gotten the leaves, but do not wish to go again."
Nona still had the shakes. "Then stay. We can sleep close for mutual warmth. The night is not that cold; we can get by without a blanket."
"As you wish," he said uncertainly.
"Is there a problem?"
"There should not be."
"I'm not sure that's a straight answer."
"I prefer to avoid such an answer."
She considered. "Let me see whether I understand. A male null does not normally embrace a human woman unless she has directed him to be sexual with her. You find the prospect of being close to me unsettling."
"Yes,
mistress," he agreed faintly.
There was an irony in the term "mistress" but she doubted that he was aware of it. He meant that she was the one in command. "I regret putting you in an awkward situation. Perhaps we should simply continue traveling in the night."
"No, Nona. That would not be safe. You lack—you would not find it comfortable."
"I lack the night vision and knowledge to avoid blundering around and bringing mischief upon us," she said.
"I did not mean to imply—"
"My feelings are not hurt, Tom. I merely stated the reality you are trying to spare me. So we must remain here, where you have made a fine safe haven. I am sure I will be safe in your embrace."
"I will protect you with my life," he said.
"I certainly hope it will not come to that."
They climbed back into the nest. Tom curled into a near ball in a remarkably Feline manner. Nona curled up beside him—and remembered that she still lacked a pillow. She needed some sort of support for her head.
She tried to find a suitable position, lifting her arm, but nothing was right. In a moment Tom's head lifted. "There is a problem?"
"A really stupid one. I have always slept with a soft pillow under my head. I find myself unable to get comfortable without one."
"My shoulder is soft. But—"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose."
"There can be no imposition. I mean that I should have to be closer to you than perhaps is suitable."
"Tom, you are such a gentleman! Get close to me."
He uncurled and moved over to join her. He stretched out his arm, and she put her head on his furry shoulder. He closed his arm across her. This was much better.
But he did not relax. She could feel the continuing tension in his body. She knew why: they were too close, and he had a conflict between physical and intellectual signals. So she was gaining her comfort at the expense of his.
"Maybe this won't work," she said with regret.
"I apologize. I thought my shoulder would be soft enough. But I am too tense. It is my failure."
"No, Tom! Your shoulder is perfect, and marvelously muscular. But it bothers me that you can't relax too, especially when it's my fault."
"There is no—"
"Yes there is. Let me speak bluntly: I am a beautiful woman. I am acting physically as if I seek your sexual service. But you know I am not. So you have a conflict."
"It is true," he murmured. "But I am supposed to adapt to whatever you require, so the failure is mine. Please sleep; I do not need to."
Was there any way out of this impasse? "I will sleep," she decided. "Then maybe you will be able to relax and sleep yourself. I hope so."
He did not respond. She closed her eyes and felt the faint strong pulse in his shoulder; it was indeed comforting. And in due course she felt him relaxing also, as he grew accustomed to the proximity.
Then suddenly he tensed again, much worse, rousing her from her lassitude. What was it?
"Mistress," he whispered. "There is danger."
Nona sat up. "Can you handle it?"
"No. We must flee immediately."
She felt her heart beating hard. "Show me the way."
He looked rapidly around, sniffing the air. "I fear it is too late."
She neither saw nor heard anything. "What is it?"
"You would call it a flytrap. A predator plant."
"Flytraps are little plants that catch insects."
"This one is big. It has spread its strands around the nest. It will slowly close in, having cut off escape. I should have been alert!"
"I told you to relax," she said, distressed. "If it moves slowly, can we charge past its strands?"
"No. They are triggered by touch, and are extremely sticky with digestive acids." He turned, feeling the nest. "But maybe I can attack it with sticks from the nest, and make an opening for you to pass through."
"And you," she said.
"No. It will entangle me the moment I attack any strand. If you get free, get well away from here. It will not pursue you once it has me to digest."
"Tom, I can't do that!"
"You must do that, or die horribly. You must not die." He wrenched at a stick, and the nest began to come apart. "I will throw stick after stick at it, hoping to engage enough strands to enable you to pass. It is a very efficient predator, but not intelligent. I should be able to fool it for a while. When I call to you, go without hesitation."
"Tom—"
"Mistress, I will save you if I can. May I kiss you before I die? It will help me endure."
She knew he was serious. Now she smelled something faintly sweet, faintly awful. The flytrap was closing inexorably in on the flies. "Yes."
He paused in his wrecking effort, caught her in his embrace, and kissed her passionately. Suddenly she knew that there was more than a question of mistress and servant, or any question of sexual engagement between them. He had feelings for her. It was the way of any null with a mistress or master; Doe had feelings for Darius. But suddenly it was embarrassingly personal.
Then he let her go and returned to the demolition of the nest. "Down through the bottom is best," he said. "Prey normally flees upward or outward. I am making a hole. I wish we had light so you could see the strands; then you could better avoid them."
Light. Her magic had been inadequate to soften the stone, but what about illusion? That was so simple as to require very little magical energy. She concentrated, and made the image of a lamp.
Light eked out, providing dim illumination. Her magic was slight. But it was working!
"What is that?" Tom asked.
"Light," she said. "I have just a little of my powers of magic. Just enough to make a little light. Is this enough?"
"Can you make a fire?"
"Not a real one. Not here in your Mode."
"A pretend one. That looks as if the nest is on fire."
She caught his drift. "Yes!" The glow disappeared. In its place appeared a little flare of light, as of a twig being ignited. A tiny flame licked up, and began to spread.
"Yes!" Tom echoed. "The flytrap hates fire. Fire dries up its substance and wilts its strands."
"Got it." She focused, and the tiny flame spread. But as it grew larger, it grew paler.
"Brighter," Tom said tersely. "Hotter."
"I can't. I have only a trace of magic here."
"Then I must fight it," he said grimly. He was not exaggerating; now the strands were coming into view, thin dangling green tentacles covered with translucent ichor.
Nona remembered her experience with Darius: how he had drawn her joy, and returned it. She had been meaning to sort that out internally, but had been too busy with other things. But if the principle could be applied elsewhere, they might have a chance.
"Tom, there may be another way. I lack sufficient strength of magic to make the flame bright and hot, but I might be able to do it if I drew strength from you. I don't know whether this will work, and it might not be pleasant for you—"
"It must be better than being dissolved in acid. What must I do?"
"Just let me draw from you. If I can."
He remained still while she embraced him. Then she applied the feeling of the power she had felt in Darius—and felt it drawing into her. Suddenly she had all the illusion she needed.
The tiny pretend flame leaped up. It spread into the surrounding twigs of the nest, and they crackled audibly as smoke billowed up. Nona felt the heat on her skin.
The strands of the flycatcher quivered and retreated. The flame climbed higher, reaching out. The strands jerked back. Still the flame increased, engulfing the entire nest, the two people included. But the heat did not burn them; it was radiating outward, pursuing the strands.
Soon all trace of the strands were gone. The flycatcher had been driven away. They were safe.
Nona let the fire die out. None of the nest was burned; all had been illusion. But what an effect! Light, sound, and heat. She had never made illusion that thor
ough before.
Her companion sank down. He fell face first on the nest.
"Tom!" she cried. "Tom! Are you all right?"
He was not all right. Suddenly she knew why: she had drawn too much of his life force, and not returned it. She had squandered it on the fantastic illusion, reveling in her sudden power. Tom's power, dwindling, ebbing, fading, leaving him with almost nothing. She had left him almost without joy.
"Oh, Tom," she said, taking his inert form in her arms. "I didn't realize. I didn't mean to do this to you. Tom, Tom, I'm sorry." She hugged him as closely as she could.
He stirred. "Let me die," he gasped.
"No! You must live. I did this to you thoughtlessly. You must recover. You must!"
He did not reply. His body was limp, and starting to feel cold. "Tom!" she cried again. "Don't fade," But she knew he was sinking.
How could she undo the damage she had done? She had to restore him quickly, or it would be too late. But she lacked her powers of magic; even simple illusion had wasted his life force horribly. How could she make him better?
She could give of herself. She had magic; the illusion had proved it. The most fundamental magic was healing. She could draw on her own life force to try to heal him magically. "Tom, I'm going to make you better," she said.
She found his face and kissed him. Then she held his head close to her bosom and focused on healing, or restoring his joy, his life force. She felt the power of it flowing from her body to his, strengthening him.
He stirred again. "Oh, Nona, I love you." Then he passed into sleep.
She held him firmly, feeling his body slowly recover. But now she was getting tired herself, very tired. She did not have enough life force to sustain them both. But she could not give up the struggle. She had to restore enough to him so that he would survive away from her.
And if he did, what else had she done? She had taken his joy and given back some of her own, and bound him in love. He might have had feelings for her before, but she had, she feared, inadvertently intensified them.