"I could spread the word. They would come to you, as I did, only they would have more action. Some like taking the initiative. They're not looking for fourths, just for fun. You're not handsome, but you're all man, and that's ideal for diversion. All you'd have to do is agree, and let them have their way."
This was an unexpected break. “As you let me have my way,” Gale said to him.
Dour sat with his mouth open. “I—I can't believe—"
Angina looked at Gale. “I think you're right. He needs practice. But how can you make him do it with me, when I can't meet him halfway?"
"You're an Amazon. You can follow orders."
"Affirmative. But—"
"Let me give the orders."
"You'd be right there?"
Gale blushed again. “I think I would have to be. To make it work."
The Amazon shrugged. “I'm game if he is. One time. More if it works. It usually takes more than one shot to be sure of a baby."
"I'm not—” Dour started.
"He's game,” Gale said. “We'll need a private place."
"Next staging area has rooms."
"Done."
"But—” Dour said.
Gale smiled. “Quiet, or I'll kiss you."
"But—"
She leaned across and kissed him.
"I couldn't do that,” Angina said.
"I think you could—in the dark."
"The dark,” the woman repeated thoughtfully.
The Cartographer remained out of sorts. “Darkness doesn't matter. The—the feel unnerves me as much as the sight."
"It will be like a song skit. You'll know it isn't real, but you'll be able to perform."
"A song skit.” That registered, for he had been successful there despite his awkwardness.
"The worst that can happen is failure,” Gale said. “None of us will be talking about it, so no one will know."
"I'll be there.” The Amazon disappeared around the wagon.
Dour turned to Gale. “This is impossible! I—you—you have captivated me. But anyone else—"
"I'll be gone after the mission,” she repeated. “No fault. But you can have other women, if you learn how. They all have similar equipment, especially in the dark. You won't need me."
"But you—only with you can I—"
"No fault,” she repeated. “You may love me if you wish, but you can't keep me. Another woman you might keep. If you learn how."
He licked his lips. “I will try."
"Good. And you will have me for the duration of this mission, after you are done with Angina. I am not foisting you off on anyone; this is a passing obligation. You must give her a life for your life that she saved."
He was silent, his mind in turmoil. She let him be, and nursed the baby.
Her own mind was not completely sanguine, however. Three babies per Amazon! No wonder she hadn't seen the warrior women out and around much; if they weren't scouting ahead for danger, they were in keeping up with their hungry babies. And she had felt the vaguely sexual pleasure of the nursing herself; those women were getting heavy doses of it. Indeed, there was a market for Dour's sexual passion. His future missions with this caravan could transform his success with women. She would do her best to make it happen; that way she would not have to feel guilt for arousing his passion and then relegating him to a resumption of painful celibacy.
The White engine hauled them to the far side of the Chroma, where there was a staging area with rooms, as the Amazon had said. They made camp, joined in with supper and entertainment—Gale sang more songs—and the three of them took a room.
"I really don't think—” Dour said.
"He's right,” Angina said. “This was a bad idea."
"No, it's a good idea,” Gale said. “One of you needs a baby. The other needs experience. Let's give it a try."
Both looked glumly at her. Gale herself had considerable doubt, but suppressed it. “We'll do it in darkness. Woman on that bed, there, naked, supine. Man across the room, also naked. I will sing a ballad."
Amazon and Cartographer exchanged a silent glance. Both thought she was crazy. But both were willing to cooperate to the extent they could. Both had formidable needs, with formidable impediments. Gale was picking up the tenor of their thoughts. Normally she could read only one person at a time, but their thoughts were similar now, so the medley was roughly intelligible.
"Turn out the light,” Gale said. She pulled the string that dangled from the bright glassy bulb suspended near the ceiling, glowing by the odd Science Magic of this Chroma. The brightness clicked abruptly off, making the darkness suddenly complete. “Assume your stations, as described. Then follow my song.” She found the other bed in the dark, and sat on it, laying the sleeping baby beside her.
Neither protested, though both retained strong doubts. They stripped efficiently, and Angina lay on the bed while Dour stood across the room.
Gale brought out her dulcimer and donned her little hammers. She played a tune, beginning the presentation. “This is the story of the Slumbering Belle,” she announced. Then she sang, going into a song in her repertoire, a ballad that described the manner a warrior woman of Planet Mystery had been caught by a spell, rendered unconscious, stripped, and robbed of her clothing and possessions. All except her primary weapon, the garrote, which was magic and dangerous for anyone else to touch. Gale was adapting, making it apply to the present situation. The garrote was laid across her neck; the brigand had dumped it there without handling it, and could not use it to throttle her. In this position it did not choke her; its magic had a slower effect, gradually fossilizing her body without actually killing it, turning to living stone. Thus she became a virtual statue, seemingly dead except for her innermost core. She had been left in a cave; now foliage grew up around her body, enclosing and to a degree protecting her, hiding her from discovery. So her companions never found her; they assumed she was deceased. But she wasn't, quite.
Gale tuned to the Amazon's mind as the story proceeded. Angina was getting into it, finding the role compatible. She lay absolutely still, feeling her limbs and head become cold while her belly retained some life. She could slumber for a thousand years this way and hardly notice the passage of time.
Meanwhile, Gale sang, an explorer, a hardy man dedicated to fathoming the unknown reaches of the planet, had traveled widely but never penetrated this particular region. He found it intriguing. He had never before seen terrain quite like this, or foliage. It was as if it concealed some subtle secret—and he was determined to discover what that might be. So he forged on, silently, carefully avoiding the stinging nettles and grasping vines, using his trusty staff to test the solidity of the ground.
Gale tuned to Dour's mind. The Cartographer was in motion now, making his way through the darkness toward the bed. He too identified, finding the story compatible. Gale amended details to make it more so, so as to turn him on increasingly to the wonder and challenge of it. Much could be done in story, especially when listeners identified well with the leading characters. That was a human magic that was independent of the Chroma magic of the planet.
Soon the explorer found the entrance to the cave, masked by the foliage. He made his way inside, and discovered the Slumbering Belle. He touched her toe, and it was stone. He recognized the situation: she had been petrified. Sometimes it happened. He saw that she was a fair figure of a woman who surely would be better off in the living state, so he was minded to save her. But there were cautions. First, he saw the garrote still lying across her throat, and recognized it as the mechanism for petrifaction. It was magic, of course, and in this partial position its killing potency was muted, so it stunned rather than killed. He lifted it clear with the tip of his staff, but that did not restore the Belle. She was too far gone. That meant that she had been here for some time, as the foliage around her suggested. Her whole body was stone, except for the core.
The explorer considered. There was only one way to save a far-gone living statue: an inje
ction of the essence of life into her warm core. That would reverse the cruel course of petrifaction, and restore her torso and then her extremities to flesh. But it was not necessarily safe to do. She was evidently a warrior woman, trained and experienced in fighting and killing. If she woke, she would not be aware of the long interim of sleep. She might think that he was the one who had stripped her and left her there to fossilize. Indeed, she might suppose he was raping her, and would fight back, possibly using her garrote to render him into a similar statue that would lie there for a long time, waiting for some kind woman to rouse him by addressing his core. So he would have to do it quickly and depart. She would never know who had revived her.
Gale remained tuned to their minds. They were in harmony: the Amazon hoped the man would save her from her stone age, while the Cartographer pondered how best to accomplish this safely. Gale encouraged them by singing more descriptively.
The explorer gazed at the Slumbering Belle and saw that she was fair. Her breasts were like young melons, her thighs like full wineskins, and her face like a perfectly carved emulation of a Glamor. She was desirable, and it would be a pleasure to embrace her. (But the real Amazon was tall and spare, not matching the description well. Gale amended her theme, increasing the sensuousness of the music, so that it became easier to visualize the body as voluptuous.)
But she was cold stone, so he didn't want to touch her, as that would ruin the effect. So he held himself above her and addressed just the access to her core. His member touched only the one soft part of her, the cleft between her parted legs, and nudged into the cool avenue there. (But the real Cartographer was suffering nervousness, not daring to complete such direct and personal action without encouragement from the woman. Gale strengthened the urgency of the theme, attuning to what increased his desire, making him potent.) It found the channel and slid slowly inside, discovering the lingering warmth of her core. Only when it was all the way inside did it pump out its essence of life. (The music became strident, intensifying the urgency, the sheer need to culminate, until it had to happen.) With the first pulse the core responded, animating, and the tightness eased. The warmth of life spread out through the belly of the woman. Each subsequent pulse added to the effect, until by the sixth one her arms, legs, and head were reviving. It was time to get away before she opened her eyes and saw him.
He jerked out and retreated just in time, for the warrior woman was indeed waking. She grabbed her garrote, but the explorer was gone, fleeing the cave with nothing but a rather pleasant memory to show for his act of restoration. He had done the right thing: he had restored the stone maiden to life, and that was to an extent its own reward.
Gale's song ended. The deed had been done, and the seed of the Cartographer was within the Amazon. Her song had sufficed to make it possible.
"Appreciation,” Angina said. “That is exactly the way I needed to have it."
"Acquiescence,” Dour said. “I did not think I could do it, that way, but that story—that music—made it feasible."
"There should be two more times, to make connection more likely,” the Amazon said. “Perhaps—perhaps the next time it will not be necessary to avoid touching the rest. If that makes it easier."
"It would,” he agreed. “The—the breasts—if that can be tolerated."
"How can a statue prevent a man stroking or kissing her breasts or her face, if that is his inclination?"
"It would signal no interest on her part,” Dour agreed. “No lack of faithfulness to her husband. She is not responding, merely enduring what she must."
"She is merely there,” the Amazon said.
"Merely there."
Gale was relieved. They were working it out, following this evident success, and the other acts of impregnation would be easier, not requiring the song.
"Gratitude, Nonesuch,” Angina said. “You enabled it. I shall return to my family with my fourth."
"Gratitude, Nonesuch,” Dour agreed. “You have shown me that it is possible to perform with another woman, even one who is completely passive."
"Physically,” the Amazon said. “Emotionally I was much there. I wanted to be revived."
"Acknowledged,” Gale said. “I am glad it worked out. I can absent myself the next night—"
"No!” the two said together.
Then they all laughed. “As you prefer,” Gale agreed. “Now we should sleep."
At that point the baby woke. Gale put away her hammers and dulcimer and lay on her bed, nursing. She was well satisfied with this particular project. She was also glad she didn't have to keep up with three babies.
Soon Angina had to go to feed her remaining two charges. “I want it understood that I have duty elsewhere,” she said. “I am not being driven from this room by the proximity of a man."
"Understood,” Dour said. Gale felt his appreciation for the Amazon's statement. She had implied that she would have remained to share the bed with him, had she been free to do so. It might be a false implication, but the verbal gesture was nice.
"As it is, you will have to settle for me,” Gale said, joining him with the baby. “Keep us warm.” This was a gesture on her part, demonstrating that his act of sex with the other woman had not alienated her. Indeed, she was pleased with the success of her ploy.
In the morning the horses came and hauled the wagons across to the fringe of the next Chroma. This one was Red, but it was not the one Gale was going to. They would have to cross this and another Red before reaching the one she needed.
Something touched her. Gale recognized the touch. “Swale!” she said subvocally. “Come on in."
The succubus spirit siphoned into Gale's body via her genital avenue and joined her mind. Routine tour, she said voicelessly. I am checking the four missions to be sure they are on track.
Mine is, so far. All is well elsewhere?
I checked Havoc. He is traveling with a Gray Chroma girl, not one we know.
A new girl? How'd he find her?
Swale made a faceless smile. Random.
I don't believe it.
Maybe not random, then. The Red Glamor visited him when he was on the pot—
On the pot!
I think she likes to tease. She made him hot for her, and vanished without completion. I got that from his mind when I visited him. She told him to go anonymously to a section of Triumph and accept the first person who agreed to accompany him. That was Stevia.
Stevia?
Very sweet girl. Her Gray Chroma magic shields him from magical observation. It was a struggle for me to get close to him.
Gale nodded. Makes sense. Is she pretty?
Mediocre. But they're traveling no fault, of course.
Of course. Gale felt better. She preferred that Havoc travel with a mediocre girl. As long as he's all right.
And you're traveling with an ugly Cartographer, Swale said. No fault. So you're even. And—
Never mind.
But the succubus was already drawing it from her mind. Oh, isn't that something! Vicarious sex!
Not exactly. It's a special situation.
You sang them together! The impotent man and the frigid woman!
They are neither frigid nor impotent. She's loyal to her husband and he's shy.
What a tale! I've known a lot of sex in my day, but this is a new one. She siphoned out and departed before Gale could retort. Probably it didn't matter; Swale wouldn't relay the story to anyone likely to encounter either of the participants.
"You are well?” Dour inquired.
"I was thinking too hard. Was I inattentive?"
"You were nodding your head as if talking with someone, but not speaking."
"I get that way sometimes."
The surroundings turned red. Gale had had sufficient experience recently, but still tended to be bemused by the monochromatic effect as she entered a new Chroma zone. Everything had been in shades of white; now it was in shades of red. This was the Chroma specializing in demons. That made her nervous—but of cou
rse just about any Chroma made her nervous. She remained at heart an ignorant village girl, not quite trusting magic, other than her dragon seed. But she had to deal with it.
Red men and women came. They boarded the wagons—and the wagons lifted into the air and floated forward, just over the red ground and red trees. The red man for their own wagon stood on the front hitch, facing forward, until satisfied that the elevation and course were good. Then he turned and nodded to Gale and Dour. “Greeting,” he said politely.
"Acknowledgment,” they answered together.
"You I have seen before,” the man said to Dour. “But you I have not,” to Gale.
"This is my first visit to these parts,” Gale said.
The red man spoke again to Dour. “You seem to have married."
"Negative,” Dour said quickly.
"He is my guide,” Gale said. “And this is not my baby.” She glanced down at the baby she was holding, who was sleeping at the moment.
"You do not look like an Amazon."
Gale smiled. “I poked my nose in—and got this.” She touched the red gem.
He nodded. “Now I understand."
There was a flickering between them. Something touched Gale. It was weird, and she jumped, waking the baby. Quickly she bared a breast and started nursing, to prevent crying.
"A demon,” the red man said. “The stone attracts them. This one is harmless.” He faced forward again.
The demon might be harmless, but it made Gale distinctly uncomfortable. She ignored it firmly, and after a few more eerie touches it drifted away, to her relief. She had no understanding of the nature of demons; they seemed to be mere whiffs of mist, but they could be dangerous.
They passed in sight of the central volcano, a massive red mountain-cone girt by intense red clouds. It was quiescent at the moment; they would not have come this close otherwise. But it started Gale thinking: how was it that each volcano had such purely different magic? She knew that there was constant convection in the depth of the planet, causing bubbles of molten substance to form, where it became charged with magic, but what made it separate into distinct colors? Why couldn't a Red Chroma person work Green Chroma magic? There was so much she didn't understand about her world of Charm.