"This is beginning to make more sense to me. But I remain dubious. Do I understand correctly that you are prepared to have sex with me, but not with Jamais unless you marry him?"
"You understand correctly. The one he marries will be his virgin bride, as far as that relationship goes. Of course, we are not virgins in any other sense.” She drew him in closer, touching his cheek with her lips as she spoke. “And did you please your wife?"
"I hope so. When it came time for the fourth child, I urged her to seek it from the man she loved. I wanted to give her at least that much satisfaction."
"You are a nice man.” She was speaking into his ear, and her soft breath stirred him further. She was going to seduce him, and they both knew it.
"I am not a nice man. I am a warrior. I have killed repeatedly, and performed other ill acts in the service of the King. There is much blood on my hands."
"Your wife knew better. So do I. Blood is of no relevance. Did she go to her love?"
"Yes. And he turned her down in crude language. It seemed that her passion for him had been one sided. He had wanted to be rid of her, and had a hand in the arrangement of her marriage to me. He broke her heart."
"That was cruel. He could have pled other business."
"Yes. I wanted to kill him, and I could have done so."
"But she stayed your hand."
"She stayed my hand,” he agreed. “She still cared for him, despite his attitude. She made me promise to leave him alone, knowing I would keep my promise though it galled me. I wanted to comfort her, but did not know how. I offered to—to leave her alone, so that at least she did not have to submit her body to the wrong man any more. But she—"
"She said she would not do to you what her love had done to her."
Throe was astonished. “How did you know that?"
"I am a woman.” She certainly was! She put her arms about his shoulders and drew his head down to her breasts. “Tell the rest."
He spoke against her right breast, feeling the passionate wonder of it. He was completely unable to distinguish illusion from reality; the breast seemed fully as well formed as represented. “She went elsewhere, and got her forth from a man she had no passion for. Thereafter it was as before, and she remained my delight. I hoped that she had come to love me as I loved her, but when our children were of age so that our marriage was no longer required, she chose to separate, and of course I let her go."
"Of course,” Ina echoed. “As you will let me go, tomorrow."
"But I do not love you."
"Perhaps not yet.” She put her feet on the floor, stood, drew him up, shrugged out of her invisible dress, removed his cloak, and led him to the bed. “Savor my body. I want you to have no doubt that it is genuine."
He was beyond protest. He clasped her, and ran his hands over her back and buttocks, and kissed her mouth and then her breasts as they fell on the bed. All of her was exactly as represented by the illusion; she was indeed a beautiful woman. In moments he was in her, climaxing with a force he had not felt in years. She participated completely, catering to his every whim of the moment. It was quite clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. She had the body and the touch. Inamorata—how well she was named!
"Oh, Ina,” he gasped. “You are the best lover I have encountered."
"I rather thought to be,” she agreed. “Now I will let you sleep a while, before passion comes again."
"There is no need—"
She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “This is what we are here for, and it is my area of expertise. What I do for you I will do for Jamais, if he marries me."
"Acquiescence.” He lay on the bed while she fetched the sponge and cleaned him off, for he had sweated again and become somewhat sticky in another manner. Then she disappeared—literally—to attend to her own toilette. At this point he wondered whether there was any point in interviewing the other two sisters; he had already found the one who would put Jamais into bliss.
Ina returned to join him on the bed, and she put one hand on his shoulder and slept. So did he, but as she had predicted, he woke in the night, dreaming of her, and in a moment she embraced him and made the dream come true. Just the touch of her breasts and thighs were enough to inflame his passion. It was dark, and he didn't know whether she was invisible, but she was definitely there.
As light came, she kissed him. “This will be last. Are you up to it?"
He had to laugh, for she was already stroking him into urgency. She bestrode him, her remarkable breasts pressing him down as she kissed him and took him in. She stroked him internally, too, summoning his final performance. He simply lay there and let her do it, and it was a fulfillment of another nature, less impetuous, but more meaningful. He flowed, and she accepted, and it was about as nice as a relaxed experience could be.
"It is fortunate that this is no fault,” he said. “For you could readily take me from my fiancée if you chose."
She kissed him again. “I like you, Throe. At such time as I am in need of a fourth, I may come to you."
"If you seek me, you will surely have me,” he agreed.
Then they got up, and she joined him in the lavatory, sponging him off once more and letting him sponge her off. Oblige had never done that. She had obliged him completely, as was her nature, but not made a project of impressing him the way this young woman did.
Then Ina gestured, and he saw his original clothing, neatly cleaned and folded on the table. He donned it while she shrugged into a yellow dress and went to prepare breakfast. He fastened on his weapons.
"You know I must interview your sisters,” he said as they ate. He noted that her breasts no longer showed; she was demure, having completed the sexual aspect of their encounter.
"They will impress you similarly, but in other ways. Then you will decide."
"Then I will report my opinion to Jamais, and he will decide."
"Perhaps.” She glanced down, in a fetching mannerism, then met his gaze. “Your wife—Oblige—did love you in her fashion. But she felt she had wronged you, and did not deserve you, so she freed you to find happiness elsewhere. Just as you tried to do for her."
"How can you know this?"
"I am a woman,” she repeated.
There was a dismaying certainty in her verdict. He had indeed found happiness elsewhere. But he would never have left Oblige if he had realized it wasn't her preference. “Have I wronged her in turn?"
"I don't think so. A good relationship is not made from guilt. It is unfortunate that you were not able to love each other simultaneously, but your relationship is not over. You will surely be there for her when she needs you."
"I hope so."
"Jamais returns.” Indeed, in a moment there was a knock on the door.
"Then I must go,” Throe said. “But I must say, this has been more of a—an experience than I anticipated."
"Appreciation.” Her dress vanished and she stood before him splendidly naked. Then she opened the door, and her dress was back in place.
Jamais stepped in and kissed her, and she kissed him back. Throe could tell by the supple yielding of her body that her feeling for the young man was dimensionally greater than any she had for Throe himself. Quite possibly she had imagined Jamais in Throe's place as she indulged him during the night. She was ready and able to make the man a good wife.
Soon they were on their way. Jamais did not inquire about Throe's night; he surely knew as much as he needed to. Instead he showed the way on toward the Invisible Volcano. This was impressive in a new way; the scenery was now wild and at times threatening, but Jamais knew how much was real and how much was bluff. A monstrous serpent dangled from an overhanging branch, hissing as it opened its mouth; Jamais walked right through it, not seeming to notice. But when a small black rabbit sat on the path, Jamais went carefully around it, and Throe followed.
"I do not question your expertise,” Throe said. “But I am curious what that rabbit was in reality."
"Then you shal
l know.” Jamais turned, took a pebble from his pocket, and threw it underhand back at the rabbit.
The pebble bounced off the rabbit's head. The rabbit roared and leaped—and became an apelike creature with huge hands and teeth. But its hands closed on air; there was nothing for it to grab.
"An ogre,” Throe said, recognizing the species. “But why didn't it grab one of us as we skirted it?"
"It was masquerading as a bunny. It is not smart enough to focus on two things at once, so was not alert for prey. It simply grabbed anything that touched it."
Throe nodded. “A simple device, normally effective. Yet how did you know?"
"I heard its breathing."
Men of the field did know animals by sound and smell as well as sight. “I admit to being impressed."
"I would surely be impressed by a demonstration of your expertise."
"I hope that is never necessary."
As the day wore on, the invisible Volcano cone came into view—or the illusion of it. “Do inanimate things cast illusions too?"
Jamais smiled. “No, but their associated demons do. The invisible demons are proud of their cone, and want it to be admired and feared, so they show it. They will be less forthcoming when we approach it closely."
"There is, then, danger?"
"There is danger everywhere, for those not wary of it. We should manage."
Throe did not argue the case. He knew it was true, and especially true of volcanoes.
They came to another house. This one was plain but well constructed, with satellite sheds around it. “Ini will be expecting you,” Jamais said, and faded out.
Throe walked on toward the house. Sure enough, a young woman appeared. She was garbed in brown work clothes, and was rather plain. She had to be using illusion, because otherwise she would have been invisible, but she was clearly not much interested in appearances. She resembled Ina on possibly her worst day. “Greeting,” she said, spying him.
"Acknowledgment."
"You would be Throe."
"I am. Jamais asked me to—"
"Of course. I am Initiative, the intellectual sister, or at least the inquisitive one. Do come in."
"This role is not entirely of my choosing."
"It is nonetheless a worthy one.” She had precise enunciation, and an efficient way of speaking. Her every gesture was businesslike. “Allow me to clean up and make myself presentable."
"I think all I really need to do is talk with you."
"Hardly.” She took his arm much the way her sister had, bringing him inside.
So he was not to escape the rest of it. “May I help you in some manner? If there are chores—"
"It really is not necessary."
"Please. I feel guilty approaching you in the manner required, and would like to pay my way in some manner if that is possible."
She studied him with disconcerting savvy. “You dread having to have sex with me."
She had him dead rights. “That, too. But I am serious about the other."
She nodded. “There is something. Come this way.” She led him out of the house and around to a shed. “I am studying Planet Counter Charm, hoping to fathom a bit of its mystery. I have fashioned a telescope, but it is difficult to orient and focus it while actually viewing the subject. If you care to do the viewing, and report what you see, it would significantly facilitate my work."
"I shall be glad to. I share every person's fascination with Mystery. Counter Charm."
The shed opened out into a large shiny concave disk. “This is illusion,” Ini said, passing her hand through its edge without resistance. “Maintaining it isn't difficult; it is using it that is challenging."
"I am not acquainted with such things,” Throe said. “I thought a telescope was a tube used by White Chroma folk to see long distances."
"It is. But all Chroma magic is similar in its underlying principles. When I make an illusion telescope, it operates in much the way the White Chroma devices do. I am doing by Invisible Chroma magic what they do with White Chroma magic. White Chroma magic would not work here, of course, but its parallel in Invisible Chroma magic does. I learned the principles by consulting with a White Chroma scientist. He thought my illusion would work, if I wrought it correctly, and he was correct. But he couldn't stay to see it through. The principle is this: light comes from Counter Charm, reflects off the shiny apparent surface of the disk, focuses on the little reflector there, and reflects to the eyepiece here.” She gestured to the various parts.
"I do not wish to appear dull, but what is the point of all that reflection?"
"What is the point of the reflection in a mirror?” she retorted, then answered immediately: “It is to see something you can't otherwise see. You want to see your face; I want to see magnified detail of the surface of a foreign planet."
Throe began to catch on. “It is like standing closer to a thing, so as to see it better?"
"Exactly. This will make it seem as if we stand only a tenth of the distance we do now. So we should be able to see ten times as much detail. How I long for that revelation!"
"Ten times the detail!"
"To start,” she said, pleased by his reaction. “With the hand-held refractive scope. That one I have used; it is the big reflector that I need the help with. That starts at a hundred power."
"A hundred times as close to Planet Mystery?” he asked, awed.
"Yes. Isn't it marvelous? The very thought excites me. Unfortunately, my neighbors are not much interested. They ask why I should bother looking at a world I can never visit personally. They say it's impractical."
"But Mystery is the most wonderful thing in the sky! I have gazed at it all my life, and am always intrigued. I want to know whether there are people there, and whether they are similarly gazing at our world and wondering about us."
Ini nodded. “I can see that you and I are going to get along. I am glad you stopped by."
"It is no glad mission, as far as you are concerned. I have to make a judgment I am incompetent to make."
"Perhaps,” she said, in much the way Ina had. She handed him a wooden object, larger at one end than the other. “This is the telescope, which is simply a tube of wood with illusion lenses at either end. Look through it in this manner.” She produced a second telescope, lifted it high, pointed the large end at Planet Mystery, and put one eye to the narrow end. “Tell me what you see."
Throe emulated her procedure, and discovered that there was a picture visible in the tube: the curving fringe of a monstrous object. “I think I am looking at the Charm horizon."
"Unlikely; the horizon is not being animated by illusion at present. You are seeing Counter Charm."
"But it's so big! I can't fit the whole of it in this little window."
"Ten times as big,” she agreed. “Pass across it until you see a big black spot. That is what I am orienting on."
He moved the scope, and the scene jumped dizzyingly. But in a moment he got it under control and found the black spot. “Shaped like a sleeping spider,” he said.
"That is it. I believe it is a Black Chroma volcano, larger than any we know on Charm. But I can't see enough detail to be sure. So we'll employ it as a reference, and orient on something nearby."
"Even so, it is impressive. I have seen that black dot before, but now it's a huge blotch."
"Do you see the yellow line below it?"
Throe looked, and after some waving around managed to find the line. “Slightly curving."
"Do you know of any volcano that forms a Chroma zone like that?"
"No. Ours are round or irregular, as the Chroma settles around their cones. That can't be a volcano."
"Not like any we know, at any rate. What about a volcanic vent?"
"I suppose that's possible. But tiny as it looks, it must be enormous on that world. We don't have vents that size."
"My sentiment exactly. I think it is time to go to the reflector scope, now that you are conversant with the principle. I have been consum
ed by curiosity about such details, and perhaps now at last I can begin to fathom their natures."
Throe was getting excited. “I was never a—an explorer of this nature. But my curiosity is becoming painful."
"Give me the telescope."
He removed his eye from the lens, reluctantly, and returned it to her. “I begin to appreciate your frustration, having an even more potent tool without being able to use it."
"Exactly. Here is the eyepiece of the reflector.” She showed him a lens mounted on a tripod set at about head height. “Now you will have to tell me where to move, and report what you see as I adjust the orientation.” She went to another tripod. “I will change the angle of inclination of the illusion lens by gradual stages."
"I will do my best.” He saw how it was that she could not do both jobs at the same time. Obviously the illusion did not manipulate itself; she had to put her full attention on it. This was a two person job. Would Jamais cooperate with her on this, if he married her? That was critical.
This time the picture was so big he had no idea where he was. “It is just a mass of vague color,” he said.
"It is out of focus. Tell me when it clarifies."
The fuzzing got worse, then abruptly better. “It looks like a map!"
"Let me see if I can find the yellow line. First I will seek the black region, as that can not be mistaken. I will cast back and forth; tell me when you see black."
The scene fuzzed, as if he were flying across it too rapidly to see the details. Then it turned black. “Black!” he cried.
"I will try to move below, slowly."
"How do you know where you're going, when you are flying blind?"
"I know the general layout. I know where things should be. But getting specific is impossible when I'm doing it indirectly."
There was a flash of yellow. “Yellow!” he exclaimed. “But you passed it."
"I will nudge back."
Then the yellow returned. It was a vague patch rather than a line. “You have it, but I can't make out detail."
"I will increase the magnification. The image will lose focus, but you can tell me as I get it back."
"Yes."
"This is 1,000 X—the picture a thousand times as large as what the naked eye sees."