Key to Chroma

  At last he nodded. “It is secure.” He laid his staff on the ground, crosswise between them. “This marks the edge. Jump just beyond it, and hold your position."

  Gale nerved herself and jumped, handily making it. She had learned to move precisely as a child, traveling their paths into the magic wilderness. Any deviation could mean a severe sting from a plant. But she had never had to travel a completely invisible route before.

  They resumed forward motion. They crossed two more crevices similarly, then reached the great illusion river. It was in rapids at this point, the roar of them almost drowning out speech. Now she had to peek into Dour's mind to be sure of his meaning.

  "Proceed the same way,” he shouted. “We can not drown, but we can fall."

  "Understood,” she screamed back.

  They waded into the rushing river, feeling nothing. The illusion was sight and sound, not feeling, fortunately. In the middle they encountered another crevice; Gale thought irrelevantly that the water should be flowing down into it. They scouted it and jumped across in the usual manner, and moved on.

  By evening they reached an oasis. Here the illusion faded, and the clump of trees and bushes was as it appeared. “Why isn't the illusion covering this spot?” Gale asked.

  "It is crafted by the desert demons,” Dour replied as he made more notes on his shield. “They don't appreciate living things. Perhaps the plants have magic to resist the demons."

  "And how is it that we could see each other, and our staffs, when we were out in the illusion?"

  "We are not native to this region. The Red demons can affect only their own Chroma in that manner, making us immune."

  "Intriguing.” But how glad she was for that relief. They were evidently not completely immune, because they did see the illusion rather than reality, but it would have been much worse if they had not been able to see each other.

  They ate from their supplies and refilled their water bags for the morrow. Then they settled down for the night. But at that point Gale remembered her temporary baby, and her pang of separation returned full force. She no longer had the red gem, but maybe the red environment affected her similarly, because she was almost unbearably lonely inside. Now she knew: she wanted her own baby, one she could keep. Worse, she wanted it to be Havoc's. How could she endure, being denied both?

  She had to distract herself, or she would soon be in tears. But what offered, here on the red desert?

  What else but sex? It distracted men constantly; it might do on a spot basis for a woman. If she had to, she could mind read his passion and cling to that in lieu of her own. “And how was the second Amazon?” Gale inquired archly.

  "She was surprisingly easy. She—she took it to me. But she is not the woman you are."

  "I am flattered to hear it.” She stripped away her clothing. “How would you like me this night?"

  "I would like you the way you wish to be."

  "That is not sufficient. I wish only to accomplish this mission and return to my true love, though I may never marry him. Specify how you would have me sexually."

  "I understood you. If you prefer to sleep unmolested, I want you to do that. I—I want to please you. By leaving you alone, if you prefer."

  He was sincere. She was touched. “My truest desires may not be feasible. Meanwhile I prefer to pay my way. Take me quickly and let me sleep, for I am sore and tired from our creeping progress across the desert."

  "That I can help.” He put his hands on her, but did not move into sex. Instead he massaged her stiff muscles with his strong hands.

  The relief was immediate. She was transported by the firm stroking and pressing. Her muscles relaxed, melting into utter relaxation. “Oh, you have found me out! That is divine."

  "I am glad to please you."

  "This would please any woman. When you find one you wish to marry, do this to her, and she will be yours."

  "The Amazons are interested in spot liaisons, not marriage. And when they marry, it will not be to an ugly man."

  "Handsome is as it does. Your hands are wonderful. Do it with the Amazons, and one may marry you so as to reserve that treatment for her continuing life."

  "Humor?"

  "Serious. Women are less taken by appearance than men are. You have things to recommend you, and this is not least among them. When they ask you for sex, do this before or after, or maybe even during, and wait for results."

  He shook his head. “I will do it. But I doubt that—"

  "In fact one may propose marriage to you, so that you have but to decline or accept. Choose carefully."

  "I think I could be satisfied, if not actually happy with any woman who wanted me. Until you came, I did not believe any woman would touch me."

  She rose up and wrapped her arms around him. She bore him back, kissing him. “Now you know better.” She opened his clothing and set herself on him, bringing him quickly to climax. “Thank you."

  He had to laugh. “You could vanish forever this moment, and still have given me more than all other women combined."

  "Don't let me vanish.” She kissed him again, and prepared herself for sleep. The memory of the baby returned, but the sexual therapy had worked; the separation was no longer unbearable.

  In the morning she looked out of the oasis, and saw a changed landscape. They were on an island in a broad rippling red sea. Sea birds flew between other islands, and red clouds floated above.

  "They changed the illusion!” she said, amazed.

  "They do,” he agreed. “Each day it is a new one. Most are rather pretty."

  "What are the ugly ones like?"

  "Storms, monsters, barrens. There is a fair amount of artistic imagination in their efforts."

  "But they're not intelligent?"

  "Not as we know it. They don't reason from past to future. They merely react to intrusion, and do what works. Their failure to drive us out yesterday may have annoyed them, so we can expect more strenuous effects today."

  "As long as they can't physically hurt us,” she said.

  "Not if we don't let them spook us."

  "How far do we have to go?"

  "Half day's travel, at our likely speed. We can be there and back to this oasis by nightfall, in the normal course."

  "Let's hope for that."

  They set off across the heaving sea. It was only ankle deep on them, but of course it masked the treacherous desert floor. They could not hurry; they had to tap out every step. The crevices were there. It was weird leaping across seemingly open stretches of water, or ducking down below the surface to climb through indentations too wide to be jumped. Gale found herself unconsciously holding her breath when her mouth was under water.

  "We are approaching the cone,” Dour said.

  "That, too, is hidden by the illusion?"

  "That, especially. The demons are protective of their source of power."

  Gale saw that a disturbance was now forming on the horizon. Clouds swirled and the waves rose higher. It was a storm, and it was sweeping toward them. “But it's all illusion,” she murmured, trying to reassure herself.

  Dour nodded. “But the real terrain is treacherous. The volcano may shake or have a small eruption. We had better rope."

  "Rope?"

  He unwound a length of cord and fastened a loop about her waist. Actually it was a double loop, intricately knotted, with a strand that passed between her legs, so that there was no way she could slip out of it. “If you fall, just hold on; I will pull you to safety."

  "I will try not to fall.” Actually she had no expectation of falling, but knew he was trying to ensure her safety, so did not protest.

  The storm loomed ferocious as it closed in on them. Tendrils of cloud descended to touch the surface of the water, sucking up fluid, becoming waterspouts. Two of them circled each other, and then three, doing a deadly dance. Then they were shoved aside by a massive funnel that drove across the water, lashing it into red froth. The surface of the sea disappeared; now all was a giant spinning
wall of water, keening piercingly. Thin films of spray whipped out ahead, knifelike in their thrust.

  It struck. Gale cowered, unable to help herself—and her feet slipped off the unseen shelf. She dropped down, but found no reprieve; the storm was here too, roaring, battering at her without mercy.

  Then she got slightly smarter. She closed her eyes and covered her ears, muting the illusion. She felt the rope harness holding her. Dour had not slipped, and was hauling her back up.

  The noise of the storm was deafening; they could not talk. But Dour was like the trunk of a tree in his solidity, and kept her steady. She slipped, and slipped again, disoriented as much by the noise as the vision of the storm around them. Finally, Dour picked her up and carried her over his stout shoulder. The position was indecorous, but she appreciated his need to keep his hands free to wield his staff, scouting the path.

  Then she spied a dreadful sea monster coming after them, hissing as it opened its giant jaws. She screamed and struggled, overbalancing the Cartographer. He had to step off the ledge, into the depths. For sickening moment they dropped. Then he landed, and they were steady again.

  But they were well down in the crevice. Gale had gotten them in trouble by her foolish reaction. She felt silly and stupid.

  Dour had to set her down. She found her footing and stood beside him. She wanted to apologize, but could not make herself heard. That was a further humiliation.

  Then she read his mind. He was not angry with her, just concerned. He knew that the nearness of the Red Chroma volcano intensified the magic, and it was affecting her mind, making her abnormally flighty. She had not been this close to a live cone before, and was not schooled in resisting its effect.

  She read his mind further, seeking the mental ability to handle the effect. It was there, as he was invoking it. It was not precisely an understanding or determination so much as an attitude, a mental resilience that enabled him to slide past the effects and maintain his orientation. She emulated that, and her confidence increased; now she could handle this challenge.

  She took her staff, which Dour had carefully saved, and resumed tapping. She found a ledge ahead, and another, and stepped onto them as she scouted for more. The cartographer, after a surprised pause, followed. They were on their way again.

  As if fed up with this lack of effect, the storm abated. The level sea returned. They were able to converse again.

  "You have become competent,” the cartographer said. “I am amazed at the suddenness."

  She debated for a moment, trying to decide how to explain it without revealing the truth. And the dragon seed buzzed.

  Startled, she reconsidered. Deceiving him was a mistake? But she had concealed her identity from him throughout without the seed objecting. Except that she had done so openly, while now she was considering actual lying. Dour was an honest man; what would be the consequence if she lied to him, and he learned of it? She would lose his trust, and evidently she could not afford that. So she decided that he deserved to know the truth, and the seed did not buzz. “I read your mind."

  He looked at her. “You have magic?"

  "It is actually an illness I have learned to use. My brain's natural barrier to the thoughts of others has been lowered, so I can receive them. At first it seemed overwhelming, like the storm, but I learned to erect a substitute barrier so that I could protect my mind. Now that I can handle it, it is a useful ability. I copied your technique for handling the high ambiance of magic. I am competent because you taught me how to be. But I prefer not to have this ability of mind reading widely known."

  He felt alarm. “You can read my mind at any time?"

  "It is a good mind."

  "Even my—” He balked.

  "Even your sexual thoughts,” she agreed. “But you have no need to be embarrassed. I have read similar thoughts in many men; they are no novelty to me."

  "You must be disgusted."

  "No. It helped me seduce you. I understand you in a way few women do. Do not be concerned."

  But he was concerned. Now he knew that when he looked at her and felt a stir of sexual desire, she knew it, and that when he threw her over his shoulder and felt her breasts at his back and her thighs on his front, and delighted in those contacts, she was aware. That when he daydreamed of taking her sexually as she stood before him, she read those dreams. This was intolerably embarrassing.

  "Apology,” she said, pausing in her scouting and progress across the red sea. She was mishandling this. She should have anticipated his reaction, and phrased her revelation more cautiously. “It was never my intention to cause you distress.” But she saw she had done so; he was burning with shame.

  Rather than argue the case, she acted. She stood before him, opened his clothing and hers, removed her underpants, and put their genital regions together. “Lift me,” she murmured, taking his staff.

  Numbly, he set his hands on her elbows and lifted. His strength made this well within his capacity. She came up, circled his body with her legs, and worked herself around until his rigid member was in place. She relaxed, taking him in, then found his face and kissed him. She was enacting his guilty fancy, having sex with him in the middle of their trek.

  Then suddenly the dragon seed buzzed. Not now! she told it, but it was insistent, buzzing continuously. She had to stop what she was doing, at the least convenient moment.

  She lifted her knees, bringing her feet to rest against his hips, then abruptly shoved. She pushed herself away from him, breaking the intimate connection, then dropped to the ground, landing on her descending feet.

  "What?” he gasped, astonished and dismayed.

  "I changed my mind,” she said somewhat lamely. “I—I'm sorry. I'm not a tease. Something happened."

  His mind was in a whirl. “If I hurt you—"

  "No, Dour, no! You are fine. I—simply had to change course, unexpectedly.” How could she explain, when she didn't understand herself?

  "Of course,” he said. But his thoughts were a riot of uncertainty. He thought he must have hurt or offended her in some manner, and that upset him greatly.

  She performed quick ministrations, restoring them both to decency. “Suffer no further shame,” she said. “What you dream is not only natural, it is possible. You are a man; this is your nature. I just—it turned out I couldn't oblige you right at this moment. Apology. There will be another time, soon, I promise."

  He did not answer, but he was coming to terms with it, realizing that she truly was not embarrassed or annoyed by his thoughts. That was what was needed.

  "In future,” she continued, “the women you encounter will either be mind readers, or not. If they are not, as is the case with the overwhelming majority of them, what you think won't matter. If they are, they will already be as familiar as I am with male thoughts and will not be bothered. Probably they will not choose to reveal their ability, as was the case with me. Female thoughts are just as awkward when read by men; we too like to have our secrets. You need have no concern."

  He was accepting it. “Why did you reveal it?"

  She was glad to get the subject away from what she could not answer. “I did not wish to lie to you. I panicked and made mischief; you saved me. I owed you."

  He shook his head. “I am not sure you should have told me."

  She had her own doubts. So she would not tell him any more. But as she decided that, the dragon seed buzzed again. What was bugging it? She sighed inwardly. “It is the least of the secrets I have kept from you."

  He laughed, then sobered. “I think you are not being humorous."

  Gale considered again, and decided to tell him the rest. The seed was quiet. “I need to travel anonymously, to better accomplish my mission. But perhaps you can better help me if you understand who I am and what that mission is."

  He shook his head. “I think I would be further discomfited by the knowledge. You owe me nothing; in fact you have more than paid me for any service I can render you.” He was trying to persuade himself, in part
, because her abrupt sexual balk was painful both physically and emotionally.

  "I have come to know you and to respect you,” she said sincerely. “Therefore I believe I should be open with you, asking only that you keep my secrets."

  "I will. But the safest way is not to tell them to me.” He was trying to be sensible, but she had aroused his curiosity.

  "I am the King's mistress, and my mission is for him. It is to find and bring back a particular magical ikon. That is the whole of the secret."

  He stared at her. “You—Angina said you have the face and body—and you do, but that was an analogy."

  "I can prove I can read your thoughts,” she said. “The rest you will have to take on faith. Think a thought."

  Bemused, he tried it. He thought of her wearing a crown, garbed in a translucent negligée, waiting in the King's quarters.

  She told him. “But that's too obvious; think of something I could not guess."

  He thought of a purple book with little legs, running across a desk.

  She told him.

  He was convinced, yet confused. “You have given me so much. Why did you bother?"

  "Two reasons. I prefer to pay my way honestly, and this is not an easy mission. And I wanted you to support me absolutely, so that if any question came, I would know I could trust you."

  "I would never betray a client!"

  "I know that now. I did not when I first approached you."

  He nodded. “Yet you must have had some hint, for you approached me forthrightly, as if you knew of me before."

  "I did not.” Then she realized that there was one more secret she would have to share. The seed did not buzz, so she plowed ahead. “I had a way to know who was best. It was you."

  "The clerk told you of my cartographic region?"

  "No. I told him nothing."

  He smiled somewhat grimly. “Just as well. He's a gossip. The news of a woman taking me on a no fault mission must be all over the Cartographer's Guild by now. But if you had no prior knowledge—"