"I will leave you to your negotiation,” Vision said. “Take my seat, Jamais."
"Appreciation.” The young man sat, as the woman went to rejoin Inertia. Throe wondered why Inertia was not invisible, then realized that the farmstead by the fringe of the Chroma zone was probably no accident; the millipede was a nonChroma creature tamed by the Invisible Chroma woman.
They exchanged formal introductions. Then Throe repeated the coordinates.
"This is a considerable challenge,” Jamais said. “We shall have to brave the cone itself. You are aware of the danger?"
"I approach no volcano by preference. But my mission is to recover an artifact from that site, and I must make my best effort."
"I can do it if I choose, but I have a price you may prefer not to pay."
"My resources are limited, but my need is great."
"Are you committed to a woman?"
Throe was surprised. “This relates?"
"Yes."
"I have been married and have raised my four. Now I have a new woman, and I love her, and she me. We will marry when our present businesses are done."
"Excellent. So you have no interest in any other woman."
"I admire youthful proportions, as always, but wish no relationship other than the one I have."
"I must marry within the month, but have not decided on the woman. You will help me decide."
"This is hardly my business."
"Oh, it is, because this is my price. You must acquaint yourself with my three loves, and advise me which one I should marry."
"I plead incompetence. I am not of your generation, and my expertise with women other than my former wife is slight."
"But you have traveled no fault?"
"Yes. But such relationships hardly count. In fact they are by definition non-committal."
"They are nevertheless experience."
"Perhaps. But not toward marriage. Surely only you yourself can make such a decision."
"They are sisters, similar in respects, yet set quite apart from each other. Ina, Ine, and Ini, in descending order of age. All well worthy of a man's commitment. Each has a quality I desire. Were it allowed, I would marry all three. As it is, I must choose one. I am not able to do so."
"There must be others to advise you. I am not the person for this."
"Oh, but you are. You have no interest in a foreign relationship. You are objective. You will have insights I lack."
"I will have clumsiness and confusion you lack, and no clear notion what might be best for you. I am not of your Chroma, and hardly know your conventions."
"All I need is your opinion. As an outsider your judgment will not be distorted by local issues."
They argued, but Jamais Vu was resolute: Throe must meet the sisters and form an opinion which one Jamais should marry. That was the price of Jamais’ service as guide. Throe had no choice but to agree.
They set off by foot, for Jamais assured him that no one employed magic means to approach the cone; magic could react dangerously in that vicinity. Throe was not sure he believed that, but had to accept it. He did not try to read the man's mind, for any such effort might be detected, and in any event, what he needed was the man's service as a guide, not information on his private thoughts.
It was a pretty path, with multi-colored flowers growing on either side. Further back were trees with leaves of several hues, some with exotic fruits and nuts. There were hills and dales, and they crossed a bridge over a sparkling river. “Is all the zone this lovely?” Throe asked.
"Not all; some parts wish to be left alone, so they make themselves ugly."
"The scenery makes itself pretty or ugly?"
"The living aspects of it. Each tree puts on its appearance, and each shrub, and each tuft of grass. Animals project their chosen aspects."
"So illusion is not merely the choice of the human population?"
"It is not. We merely follow the natural pattern, as is the case with other Chroma."
Throe wondered. He had thought that the human populations guided the specialties, but this suggested that the creatures and plants originated them. What was the real answer?
"How is it that you do not fly, or use other magical means to travel more readily?"
"We could fly, and some do. But it can be awkward or even dangerous outside of carefully defined channels. Since all that is visible is illusion, we can be certain of nothing unless we know it personally. It is safer when going beyond our own homesteads to stay afoot, and on the marked paths."
"Couldn't a marked path be illusion covering a pitfall?"
"Indeed it could. That is why you need a guide. I know which paths are real.” He gestured ahead, to where the path divided. “For example, the path I know is the left fork. The right fork may be new, or may be nothing. Shall we find out?"
To Throe's eye, the two paths were similar. One wound through a field of red flowers, the other through blue flowers. Both were level, without threatening aspects. “I am curious."
Jamais produced a brown staff. He had not been carrying it; evidently he had conjured it at need, or perhaps had it waiting invisibly where he needed it. That was one advantage of living in a Chroma; incidentals were convenient. He poked at the right path, and nodded. “Try it,” he said, handing the staff to Throe.
Throe accepted it, and tapped at the worn surface of the center of the path. But the end of the staff passed through it, encountering no resistance. Only when it was a good foot beyond the visible surface did it strike solidity. That lower surface, it turned out, was sloping down, and rocky. The person who stepped onto it might find himself sliding down a steep slope to some unknown landing.
"Point made. But why would anyone—or any thing—take the trouble to set up a ruse like this? What is to be gained from it?"
"It may be a settler who does not like trespassers. Or plants that have been molested by passing youths. Or a predator."
"But it is just a slope down."
"Or the edge of an ant lion trap."
Throe had seen the conic holes of insects that trapped unwary ants or other small insects. This one would be large enough to catch a man. That spoke for itself. “I hope you do not make any mistakes."
Jamais laughed. “I hope so too. We shall have to go carefully near the cone, because I do not go there frequently, and the landscape changes constantly.” He led the way along the left path, walking with confidence.
In due course they came to a lovely little cottage. “This is Ina's house. You will stay here the night, and I will come for you in the morning."
"I don't mean to take the only lodging. Surely we can share."
"Not tonight. Ina is the first sister."
Oh. “One you might marry? But I should not spend the night with her. I can talk with her, perhaps an hour, and go on."
"You must get to know her better than that. Parting."
"But—” He stopped, because Jamais had literally faded out. He had turned off his illusion, and now was invisible. “As you wish,” Throe concluded gruffly.
He walked to the house. The door opened as he approached. A lovely young woman stood there, with an elegant blue coiffure and a rather scant red dress. “You must be Jamais’ friend. Do come in."
"Greeting,” Throe said awkwardly.
"Acknowledged. Introduction: I am Inamorata, Ina to my friends and lovers."
"I am Throe, traveling in the King's service."
She took his elbow in much the way Vision had, guiding him into the house. He realized that when everything visible was illusion, a physical touch could be a necessary guide to spot reality. “I have prepared a nice supper for us, and a soft bed."
So she had known he was coming. “I appreciate the supper, and shall be glad of comfortable sleep. But it was never my intention to put anyone to any inconvenience."
"I'm sure.” She guided him to an inner door. “Here is the lavatory. You will want to clean up, as you are sweaty."
"Thank you.” He reached f
or the door handle, and to his half surprise it was exactly where it seemed to be. He had traveled through Invisible Chroma zones before, but always in the company of the King, who rated special facilities. He had never stayed in the house of a private Air Chroma citizen.
There was a privy pot, a basin, sponge, and pitcher of water. Just what he needed. There was even a mirror on the wall behind the basin. He doffed his clothes, which were indeed sweaty, and sat on the pot. Then he used the wet sponge to clean his body, rinsing it often in the basin. It was good to get clean again.
He stooped to pick up his clothes from the floor, but did not find them. They were gone. He suffered a pang of alarm, then realized that they must have turned invisible when separated from him, yielding to the Chroma ambiance. He felt around more carefully, and found cloth. He lifted it—and discovered that it was an unfamiliar blue cloak.
Throe paused, considering. She must have left the cloak there for him to find. But what had happened to his clothes? What of his weapons? He did not like to be separated from them. So he expanded his search, feeling across the floor.
His bow and arrows were resting on an invisible table to the side, along with his knife, short club, and personal items from his pockets. All returned to visibility when lifted from the table. But his clothing was gone. So there was no confusion on his part; someone had taken his clothing, neatly storing his artifacts. Which meant he had not been alone in the lavatory.
He pondered further. Obviously the motive was not robbery, and he doubted that there was any other person in this house besides Ina. She must have done it. She was invisible in her natural state, and could have come in silently to exchange clothing. Probably she was washing his grimy things, and would return them clean in the morning. This was one of the things a good woman did for a man. So his best bet was accept it without quibble, and express appreciation in due course. His weapons could remain where they were; they were not suitable props for a quiet dinner with a young woman. Should any threat materialize, he was hardly helpless bare-handed.
He donned the cloak and faced the mirror, combing his hair with his fingers. As he did so, it fell perfectly into place, as if done with a fine comb. His gruff bearded face was darkly handsome; he looked thirty rather than forty. Illusion, of course, making him seem more appealing than he was. Deep within the Chroma of illusion, this sort of thing was to be expected. The natives did not even consider it magic; it was simply part of their routine existence.
How did a mirror work, when it could not be seen? The illusory image of the glass overlaid the real mirror, which might simply be a wooden board. But reflective illusion? Apparently it was so.
Another aspect caught up with him, a bit belatedly. If Ina had come to take his clothing and leave the cloak, she must have done it while he was on the pot or sponging himself. She had to have seen him naked. A native could have used the facilities naked without embarrassment, because he would be invisible, but Throe was all too chronically visible. So she had viewed all of him. Did it matter? Probably not. She would have known that he was not trying to flaunt his body before her. She might have been curious. She would have seen a healthy muscular man who was nevertheless twice her age.
He turned, opened the door, and stepped into the main house. She was there, lighting a candle on the table. She had set it for two, and green wine had already been poured. It was evident that anything she wanted to be visible was visible; only neglected things disappeared.
"Appreciation,” he said.
She smiled, and there was a gentle glow about her face as she did so. “Welcome, Throe."
They sat down to eat. The candle flickered, casting pleasant shadows across Ina's face and décolletage, reflecting from her sparkling necklace and the translucent gem hanging between the upper swells of her breasts. The wine was excellent, as were the purple potatoes and orange fruit. She served a green cake with surrounding leaves that swayed slightly in some imagined breeze.
"I am here on somewhat awkward business,” Throe said as they concluded the meal.
"I understand. You must decide which of us Jamais will marry."
"Surely not! He must decide. But he has asked me to—to interview the three of you, and proffer an opinion. I must say that this is not something I sought, nor do I feel competent. I am a martial artist, not a judge of women. But he refused to yield to my demurral."
"You are married?"
"I was married, for twenty years, until our children were grown. Then we separated amicably. It was a marriage of convenience, but we got along well."
"Tell me about your wife."
"I will be glad to. But is this of interest to you? I should be asking about you, rather than talking about my own relationships."
She smiled again, and again there was a glow, and a flicker from the gem at hollow of her breasts. It was impossible not to note how well formed that region was. “You will learn all that you need to know of me soon enough. Meanwhile I am curious what relationships are like in the dreary nonChroma realm."
"It is not dreary, merely different from your experience, because of the lack of ambient magic. We are accustomed to it, as you are to your Chroma environment."
"But you and your wife, seeing each other all the time, in your worst and middle phases instead of merely at your best—how did you stand it? Or is that why you separated?"
"By no means. My wife was a comely enough woman. She simply—"
"What was her name?"
"Oblige. It fit her well. The constraints of culture and parentage required her to marry well, and I, as a warrior in the service of the King, was considered suitable. I think she loved another man, but she was not allowed free choice, so she obliged her family. It was similar for me. Because there are a number of fair young women in the King's larger household, it was required that I be firmly committed elsewhere, and—"
"Exactly."
Throe was nonplused. “Explanation?"
"I am a comely young woman. Jamais wants an opinion from a man who will not be tempted to dally beyond his necessary stay."
"I have no designs on you! If I ever gave that impression, my immediate apology.” Throe felt himself flushing.
"Be at ease, warrior. I merely clarify that this was the basis of your selection for this service. You are a man, with a manly eye.” Her eyes flicked down to the gem at her bosom, which flared. She had caught him looking. His flush increased. “We desire that eye; it shows that you understand the appeal. But also your commitment elsewhere. I could have virtually any man I choose, with the snap of my finger.” She snapped her finger, and as the sound came, her red dress flicked off for an instant, showing a flash of her fine bare breasts. “But none in this zone would separate opinion from personal desire. You will."
"I will,” Throe agreed. “But perhaps it would be better if you covered the—the gem."
"By no means. It is time to move to the next stage."
Next stage? “I am ready for sleep. It has been a long and varied day."
"In due course.” She rose from the table, and it faded out. “Come sit by me. Hold my hand and tell me the rest about your wife."
"Confusion."
Again she smiled, and was stunningly lovely. “Is it possible you do not know the extent of this interview?"
"It seems possible,” he agreed. He had deliberately not read her mind, fearing that would skew his impression of her. “I thought to talk with you perhaps an hour, and then talk similarly with your sisters. You have already been a far more gracious hostess than I deserve, considering that I have been required to make judgment of you. Do I have a confusion?"
"Evidently you do. Jamais already knows our three personalities and capacities, as well as our family background. We are all suitable partners for him, socially and practically. It is our sexual compatibility that he can not know, for none of us will indulge him in that respect until he commits to one of us. You will advise him which of us is the best in bed."
Throe felt his jaw drop. “How co
uld I possibly know that?"
Ina laughed, and the gem flickered, synchronized. “How could you possibly not know, after this night?” She caught his hand and drew him to a soft couch. “We are about to get to that, but first I still want to know the rest about your wife.” Her red dress faded out—and so did his blue cloak. They were virtually naked.
"Wife,” he repeated, trying without success to avert his gaze from the juncture of her slightly-parted thighs. She was perfect in every part, thanks to the illusion. Belatedly he realized that her name, Inamorata, was literal: she was a lover, a sweetheart, and was playing her role. He clung to the haven proffered: the subject of his wife. “We were a fair match, and we understood the nature of the marriage. She was a seamstress for the Queen, and at times had to remain at work for several days at a time, for the Queen could be very particular about her apparel when a social or political event was incipient. I was a guard, and required to travel with the King, and might be away from Triumph City for weeks at a time. So we spent more time separated than together, and we both accepted that. We understood that our union was secondary to royal convenience."
"Of course,” Ina murmured, leaning forward so that her breasts became fuller.
He was reacting, and she knew it, for the invisible apparel concealed nothing. She was half his age, but was now the very essence of sex appeal. He continued, doggedly. “We did get together for the generation of our offspring. And I must say, Oblige was a wonderfully supportive partner, and a delight in bed. I would never have thought that her heart longed elsewhere, had I not known it before we married. I—I did love her, and wished she were fully mine. I wanted so much to please her, and it seemed that I did, but there was always that hidden shadow."
"The shadow Jamais must avoid."
"You love elsewhere?"
"No. But how can he be sure of that?"
He thought about it a moment before speaking. “If you turn out to be his best match, and he marries you, then he will be sure of it."
"Affirmative. But he must take the best match. Otherwise there could come later problems, and alienation of affection. None of us want that, or even the potential of it."