Key to Chroma

  She glanced up at Mystery, now coming overhead, half its face deep in shadow, the other half a medley of colors. Surely it was very similar to Charm—but were there people there? The legend had it that only Charm had been colonized by the human beings from far-distant Earth, but how could anyone be sure of that? There might be a colony on Mystery too, told that it was the only one. How she wished they could communicate with each other and ascertain the truth.

  "I marvel too,” Dour said, observing her gaze. “I would give anything to visit Counter Charm."

  "If you ever find a way, take me too,” she said fervently.

  "Suppose we could go but not return?"

  "Incapacity,” she said. Indeed, she couldn't answer. At times her curiosity about their sister planet consumed her, but there were things holding her to her own world. Such as Havoc, if only the way could be cleared for their marriage.

  "We suspect the Glamors know,” the Red man said. “That they can travel there and return. So all you need is to be on good terms with one of them."

  And Havoc had a relationship of some sort with the Red Glamor, appropriately. A woman who could effortlessly take his body and mind, if she chose. That, too, made Gale nervous. She knew Havoc loved her, but no mortal could oppose the will of a Glamor. How clearly they had seen that, when the Black and Red Glamors had come to support Havoc as King.

  "Glamors are dangerous, if they exist,” Dour said.

  "They exist,” the Red man said. “Human and animal and plant. They are indeed dangerous."

  "There are animal and plant Glamors?” Gale asked, startled.

  "We believe so."

  Gale was silent, thinking about that. It made sense; why should human beings be the only ones with special members? Assuming that the Glamors really were human. They might be native spirits who assumed human form. In that case, they could also assume animal or plant forms. But if that was true, those natural spirits had a lot more power than human beings had ever credited. It would probably be better if they sprang from human roots; at least then their affinity would be compatible.

  They floated to the opposite staging site, and horses hauled them across to the fringe of the next Chroma: Brown. Dour made another shield note; it seemed the site had shifted since his last passage. Here they camped for the evening and night.

  And here, for the first time, a baby was adopted. A nonChroma woman approached the caravan master. He summoned an Amazon. The Amazon came with a baby. When she saw the woman, she nodded. She gave the baby to the woman, then took off her red gem and put it on the woman. Gale realized that of course the woman would need that, for she had not birthed the baby and would not otherwise be able to nurse it. Baby and red gem had to go together. By the time the gem's magic faded, the baby could be weaned. It was a viable system for adoption.

  "But how can the Amazon nurse her other two babies, without the red gem?” Gale asked.

  "She has two more stones,” Dour replied.

  Oh. Of course. One per baby. She would don one when nursing, then leave it with the baby when she was ranging out in defense of the caravan. Or having sex with Dour. Obvious, in retrospect.

  Gale sang her songs, earning her keep, but was distracted. When would she have to give up her baby? Would there be a good mother? Obviously the deal had been made before, and the baby paid for in kind or service, on a prior loop of the caravan. The deal had to be completed. But she hated the notion—not for her original reason of disapproving any trade in babies, but because she didn't want to give this baby up. She had real pain coming.

  In the evening, Dour and Angina coupled again, and it was easier for them both. Gale was there, and sang, but did not need to stress the key elements; the two were able to perform their roles without that encouragement.

  "Next time,” the Amazon said, “maybe without the song. As ourselves. In the light."

  "But you must not respond to another man,” Dour protested, unnerved.

  "I see that now as specious,” Angina said. “I couldn't respond to another man, so I put a moralistic face on it. But the fourth has to be from another man; everyone knows that. I—I would like mine to be from you. So I can name it after you. If—if you care to do it."

  The Cartographer hesitated, in the darkness. “Do it,” Gale murmured. “It's a very good offer."

  "But I—I can't—"

  "I will move my body,” Angina said with difficulty. “I will try to help. I will kiss—” She stalled out, her limit reached.

  "Do it,” Gale repeated. “She wants it real."

  "Real,” he agreed. “I will try."

  Gale saw in his mind that this surprising development pleased him considerably as its sincerity sank in. The Amazon knew his limitation, and was willing to help. And to make it an actual affair, instead of a pretense in darkness and anonymity. To make it an open fourth, the sire recognized. It would also give him more of the practice he needed, being with a woman other than Gale.

  The next morning the huge brown golems came and carried the wagons across the Brown Chroma. Again the Cartographer made a note; it seemed that the details of the landscape were constantly shifting, and his trained eye picked up on it. At the next staging area two more women came for their babies; the caravan was now in the thick of its delivery route.

  The following Chroma was Blue. Gale expected huge animals, but was surprised even so; this time it was a python so large that the wheels of the wagons locked onto scales of its upper surface, and it undulated smoothly but rapidly across the blue terrain.

  The third night Gale sat on her bed, neither singing nor playing her dulcimer, just nursing her baby, while Cartographer and Amazon made love. Gale had tried to excuse herself, but neither would allow it; they wanted her present in case it went wrong. But it did not go wrong; the man approached and embraced the woman, and the woman stroked and kissed the man, and they worked into a fully satisfactory mutual climax. It was amazing how well it worked, now that they understood each other and had mutual experience of the basic elements.

  "Gratitude,” he said when it was done.

  "Stay,” she said.

  "But—"

  "Stay,” Gale said.

  But then a baby cried, and it was one of Angina's. She jumped up.

  "I will fetch it,” Gale said. “I will fetch both to you here.” She now knew which ones were the Amazon's.

  "Appreciation."

  Gale fetched the crying one first. “Angina's getting her fourth,” she explained as she picked up the baby boy. “I am taking him to her there."

  "Her fourth!” another Amazon said. “She got up the nerve?"

  "With Dour."

  "Next trip he's mine,” the Amazon said.

  Dour and Angina were sitting together, holding hands, when Gale returned with the baby. “It's a real affair,” the Amazon said. “I will tell my husband. He'll be pleased."

  "Pleased?"

  "He always feels guilty about siring fourths elsewhere. Now he will no longer."

  It did make sense. Fourths could be adopted, or sired in sterile, non-romantic manner, or be the result of full fledged extramarital affairs. Sometimes a married man or woman had a hankering for one outside the marriage, and this was a way to satisfy that interest legitimately. Angina had let her husband do it openly, but had not been able to do it herself. Now she had done so, and would make the most of it—and be true ever after to her beloved husband, having proved her capacity. At first she had wanted only an insemination; now she wanted the credit of an affair, so that it could be documented and accepted. She had done it properly.

  Dour held one baby while Angina nursed the other. Then they exchanged babies. Gale felt his pleasure in this aspect; again he was emulating a married man. In the process he was discovering that he was not enamored of Gale so much as enamored of the role. He wanted to be sexual, to be loved, and to be married, and to have three children by his wife and let her have a fourth by another man but return to him with it. Now he was beginning to hope that it w
as possible.

  "I believe I have conceived,” the Amazon said. “So this will do it for me. But I will tell the others, and some will surely approach you."

  "I—I don't know,” Dour said. “Gale is so competent and lovely, she took me right through it, and enabled me to do it with you. Then, after the first time, you helped. But—"

  "Believe me, Cartographer, they will be competent."

  "One has already expressed interest,” Gale said.

  "But I'm with you!"

  Gale shook her head. “I am paying for your service as a guide and protector; you know that. An Amazon would seek you for a fourth, or for yourself alone. If she offers, take her. Do it before you part with me, so that if there is a problem, I can help. Then you'll know."

  "I think you are going to be a family man,” Angina said.

  "This—this is so much more than I ever hoped for!"

  "You hoped,” Gale said. “You simply did not believe."

  "Acknowledgment."

  Dour remained with Angina, helping with the babies, while Gale slept alone. She remained privately thrilled by how well this was working out. She had seduced the Cartographer as a matter of business expedience; now she knew she had done him a lasting favor. She had also freed him from his obsession with her; he knew he could make it with other women.

  The other Amazon did approach Dour in the morning, and took him to her own wagon that night. That turned out to be just as well, because Gale had a problem of her own: she had to give up her baby. It was at the fringe of a Silver Chroma, and a Silver woman came. “Nonesuch,” the caravan master called, and Gale knew her time had come.

  She nerved herself and walked to the center of the circle with her baby. “But you're no Amazon,” the Silver woman said, surprised.

  "The Amazon allowed me to care for this one,” Gale said. She glanced at the infant, who was nursing at the moment. “She gets a little colicky sometimes after feeding, and needs to be soothed. She—"

  "Of course. My three were like that."

  The woman held out her arms, and Gale disengaged the baby and handed her over. She felt wetness on her face, and knew her tears were flowing; she couldn't help it. But she lifted off the cord with the red gem and put it over the Silver woman's head.

  "Apology,” the woman said. “I see you really care. I did not mean to be curt."

  "I—it's my first time,” Gale said. “I didn't know how it would be."

  The woman started to nurse as her breasts freshened. “I can see you have taken excellent care of her."

  "She never left me,” Gale said. “I just couldn't let her go."

  "Gratitude. She did not have to share milk with two others, or spend much time alone. I can feel how well fed and healthy she is."

  "She's a fine baby,” Gale said, her vision blurred.

  "I will name her Nonesuch."

  "Appreciation.” Gale was halfway overwhelmed.

  Back at the wagon, Dour tried to comfort her. “It is the red gemstone,” he said. “It bonds you. The effect will soon pass, now that you have removed it."

  "The stone! I never thought of that!” But actually she had been told; she simply hadn't realized how deep the emotional component was. Perhaps she hadn't wanted to know.

  He was correct. Her emotion faded as time passed, and she no longer felt the same intensity of loss. But she knew she would never forget the experience.

  The caravan continued, but Gale was hardly aware of it. She was in withdrawal from her baby. Even the lessening of the attachment was painful in its way, because it confirmed the loss: she was losing her caring commitment. Still, by the time the destination Red Chroma arrived, she was pretty much over it.

  They bid parting to Angina. “You have given me more than I can repay,” the Amazon said. “I have my fourth."

  "You gave me the experience of the baby,” Gale said. “This is repayment enough."

  "Perhaps.” But the woman seemed unconvinced. “May I kiss you?"

  Gale had not encountered this convention before, but had heard of it. It did not suggest a sexual or emotional preference for woman, but a sincere moment of friendship. “Acquiescence."

  Angina embraced her and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She broke. “Parting.” She turned away, and in a moment was gone.

  Gale was shaken. She understood the meaning of the kiss, but was startled by its impact. It had been no token touch, but a sincere exchange of feeling.

  "You gave me even more,” Dour said.

  "You I owe for service.” But Gale was significantly moved.

  They departed the Caravan at the edge of the Red Chroma. “If you ever travel this way again,” the caravan master told her, “we will welcome you. We have never had songs like yours."

  "Thank you. This has been an exceptional experience.” An understatement.

  They set out across a red desert. The terrain was flat or modestly rounded; there were neither mountains nor chasms, just unambitious hillocks. There was a clump of red trees and bushes at the staging site, because it was an oasis, but not far beyond it there was only scraggly red grass interspersed by red cactuses. The sun bore down hotly.

  They carried a heavy load of water bags in addition to their regular knapsacks, and their legs were wrapped in red canvas available at the staging site. Gale found this awkward, because the wrappings came right up under her skirt, almost to her crotch. Dour had insisted that Gale take a red staff, also, and wear a long-sleeved shirt, together with a broad brimmed red hat. Almost every part of their bodies was shielded from the sun and air. All this seemed like more than was necessary, but she knew he had reason, so did not question it.

  "On guard,” the Cartographer murmured.

  Gale looked about, but all she saw was a faint rippling in the air, probably heat waves. Then she caught the warning from his mind: demons. They came floating up at about eye level, five or six of them, evidently curious about the travelers. She braced herself for the inevitable weird touching.

  Suddenly the scene changed. The two of them stood before a vista that could only be described as magnificent. It was the slope of a great red mountain, wending down to a pleasant valley with a winding red river. Open fields were interspersed by clumps of thick forest, the trees tallest in the centers, so that the clumps resembled hills. Bird calls sounded from them, and indeed, she saw a flight of red herons glide from a spot jungle to the river.

  "Oh, lovely!” she breathed.

  "It is illusion,” Dour said. “Do not trust it."

  "But it's a delightful illusion. How did it come to be?"

  "The Red Chroma demons make it. They are disturbed by our intrusion, so are trying to drive us out."

  "They are using the wrong vision. I find this attractive."

  "It is dangerous."

  "Illusion? How so?"

  "It can encourage us to do foolish things."

  "But all we have to do is ignore it."

  He grimaced. “That can be hard to do. Suppose a monster serpent charged you?"

  "I'd get out of the way in a hurry.” Then she paused, reconsidering. “Which might be foolish, if it didn't exist. Still, once I learn to control such reflexes, it should be all right. I can simply walk straight ahead."

  "Unless you step in a crevice."

  "A crevice?"

  "In the wet season this region becomes a brief marsh. When it dries, the mud hardens and cracks. It is dry now."

  Gale nodded. “Might turn an ankle,” she agreed. “I will step carefully."

  "Step this way,” he said. He demonstrated, tapping the ground immediately before his feet with the blunt end of his staff, back and forth, slowly advancing the tip. When he had tapped a pattern one pace ahead, he stepped into it, stopped, and resumed the pattern.

  "But that's very slow,” she protested. “It will take all day to get anywhere."

  "It will,” he agreed.

  "But I need to accomplish my mission as rapidly as feasible."

  "You hired me to guid
e you safely. You said you would not question my expertise in my specialty."

  She had indeed said that, when encouraging him to accept her guidance sexually. She peeked into his mind, and saw that he was quite serious; he had reason. She did not delve further; she knew he would tell her what she needed to know, and she would risk exposure of her mind reading talent if she learned his information too early. “Apology.” She took her staff and tapped and stepped as he had.

  They made slow progress across the lovely vista. Gale repressed her irritation. “How do you know where to go?"

  "Mental dead reckoning. I can find the coordinates."

  Of course—he was a Cartographer. It was a requirement for his office. He did not need to see where he was going; he knew. So he would get them there—tediously.

  A large bird detached from a flight, looped about, and flew directly toward them. “Schraw!” it screamed as it dived at them.

  Gale dropped to the ground, lifting her staff to protect her exposed body. Then, as the bird passed beyond, she stood again. Dour had not moved. “I forgot,” she said ruefully.

  "What we see and hear is not a threat,” he said. “We must beware what we don't see."

  After an interminable hour, he stopped. “Here is one."

  She emulated him, poking her staff ahead. There was no ground there; the land simply dropped down beyond the reach of the staff. “This—this is a crevice?"

  He nodded. “They can go deep.” He sat on the ground, his legs dangling down out of sight, as if buried in it. He extended his staff forward, and in a moment tapped on something. “Not too wide; we can hurdle it."

  "Hurdle it?” she asked, horrified. “You mean—jump?"

  "Yes. I will go first, and scout the landing for you. Most crevices are not wide, but it is not safe to make assumptions."

  "Not safe,” Gale agreed weakly. She had spoken of turning an ankle; how far short of the case she had been! She could have dropped into that narrow abyss and done herself far more damage than that, assuming she survived the fall.

  Dour scouted further, then squatted and jumped forward. It looked as if he were passing over a patch of red turf, but now Gale knew better. He landed, remaining in exactly the place his feet touched. Then he turned around, tapping in a widening spiral. Gale no longer begrudged the time he took; she wanted him to be sure of solid ground.