Key to Chroma

  "We will need a theme,” she said.

  "The Ballad of Hayseed and Nonesuch."

  She smiled. “I love that one."

  So did he, but that was not why he had chosen it. It was that it was the best vehicle for the key hint. The ballad itself was an invention of theirs, when they were children. They liked to claim that the tale of the Hats and Coys had been stolen from their Ballad. Of course the tale preceded their effort by centuries, but that suggested their inspiration for it.

  The Ballad was really their story of a contest between a talented man and woman, to see who was the best entertainer. They did not perform for others, only for each other. Hayseed wanted to impress Nonesuch so much that she would fall in love with him. Then he would laugh in her face, humiliating her, and be adjudged the best performer. Nonesuch had a similar objective, seeking to impress him with her talent and her body so that he would fall in love with her. Then she would deny him, and be judged superior. But their efforts would prove to be too effective; each would be impressed while impressing, and each would fall in love. So instead of humiliating each other, they would recognize their mutual losses, and make wonderful love. This notion had been thrilling to them as children, and remained so as adolescents, and they had played it out many times, each time with a different surprise. For there was another element, that grew with their experience: each one of them was not what he or she seemed, but actually a superior person, perhaps a professional entertainer masquerading as a beginner, so that their effort to impress each other was effective. Or a king, matched by a queen, or a long-absent lover returning. Not every variant worked perfectly, but all concluded the same way.

  They had had full sex the first time in the Ballad, perhaps not a great performance on any absolute scale, as their bodies had not at that point quite caught up with their feeling, but highly significant for them. It was not the sex per se that had moved them so strongly, but the full realization of their love. That love had grown and refined as they aged, defining itself, perfecting itself, becoming its own end. Havoc had progressed to be a skilled martial artist, a clever minstrel, and a dedicated lover: for Gale. Gale had become a lovely actress, a remarkable songstress, and a dedicated lover: for Havoc. She had broadcast that emotion during their kiss, and stunned the minds of those who received it. It was that perfect union that had been interrupted by Havoc's forced assumption of the role of King of Charm, a development that had at first outraged him.

  All of it, really, had been put in motion by their discovery of Mentor the Blue Dragon, whom they had befriended, and who had given them the dragon seeds that guided them so reliably. He had set them on the paths to entertainment and defense, and taught them of magic, preparing them for the larger world that had been hidden from them. None of them had known how much that guidance would be needed in their early adult lives. At least now they were together again, even if they could not marry.

  Havoc paused in his walking. He had been so busy recently that he had had little occasion to reflect on his relationship with Gale. Now the memory overwhelmed him.

  She paused too. “Question?"

  "Love."

  "Vivid and Void."

  They embraced and kissed, this time only for themselves, without restraint, sending their feeling out not to others, but to each other. It passed back and forth between them, intensifying almost painfully. Havoc had known many women in the past year, and denigrated none of them, and Gale had known a number of men, as they followed the exigencies of governing and no fault. Symbol was correct: each of them had potent appeal for the other gender, and relationships were easy to come by. Ennui, Lady Aspect, Symbol, Bijou, Stevia, Ine, all were excellent in their particular fashions, and some were remarkable lovers. One was a concealed Glamor, with powers beyond his ken. But Gale was his one true love, and would always be. Little else truly mattered.

  "Devotion,” she murmured.

  In time they had run out of surprises for the Ballad, so could play it through only when one of them came up with a new one. It was that element that would give Gale the hint this time. But could it work? He did not know, and if it did not, they would both be dead. He did not want her to die.

  He gazed at her, about to speak again, to urge her to give this up, that he would chance it alone. But she shook her head, knowing and refusing. She would not leave him.

  "If I could marry you this instant—” he said.

  "This would be my wedding dress,” she said. She did not mean that she objected, but that she was ready at any time.

  "I loved you before you were beautiful."

  "I loved you before you were competent."

  "But now you are the loveliest woman on the planet."

  "And you are king."

  And none of it mattered, apart from their love.

  They resumed walking, and soon reached the village. The Village Elder stepped out to meet them. “Greeting."

  "Acknowledgment,” Havoc said. “We are traveling entertainers, interested in exploring new terrain, and in finding responsive audiences along the way. Are any to be found in this vicinity?"

  "Affirmation. We seldom encounter entertainers here, and welcome the opportunity."

  "Introduction: I am Hayseed the Minstrel, and this is Nonesuch the Songstress."

  "I am the Elder of Mountain Lee Village. We lack a separate house, being much in the backwoods, but a family will be glad to provide for you this night."

  "Appreciation. Have you a preference as to type?"

  "We are a moral village.” That meant that no risqué or immoral songs were wanted.

  "We honor that."

  They were soon ensconced in the house of a willing family that made them quite comfortable. Then they went to the central circle, where the villagers had gathered, the children seated in the tightest circle. The Elder had taken them on faith; now they would amply reward that faith.

  Havoc stepped into the center of that stage. “Greeting."

  "Acknowledged!” the children chorused.

  Havoc introduced himself and Gale, then got down to business. “We need a tree,” he said.

  The Elder signaled a man, who stepped forward. “Stand here,” Havoc said, indicating the edge of the stage. “You are the lonely willow tree."

  There was a murmur among the elder members of the audience. They recognized the song, while the children did not. That was a good sign; the parents would approve, and the children would be surprised.

  "Beyond this willow tree is the sea,” Havoc said. “That is to say, a very great lake, below a steep bank, with fierce currents and hungry monsters. No folk dare swim in it, for they would die."

  Several of the children shuddered; this was scary.

  "But it is a fine view,” Havoc continued. “There is space between the tree and the bank where folk can stand and feel the cool breeze from the sea. It is nice."

  Then Havoc walked to the other side of the stage, where Gale waited, properly demure, with her hammer dulcimer. He faced away from her and addressed the audience. He played a chord on the dragon scale, and sang:

  There was a youth, a cruel youth,

  He lived beside the sea.

  Six little maidens he drownded there,

  By a lonely willow tree.

  The children looked alarmed. The adults nodded. There was a lesson in this song. Havoc turned and took Gale's elbow without interfering with her music. They walked slowly across the stage to the tree.

  As he walked forth with a nice girl

  As he walked by the sea

  An evil thought there came to him

  By that lonely willow tree.

  Havoc paused, letting the moment build. Then he faced Gale, who looked divinely innocent as she continued to play the musical theme. He sang to her:

  "Now turn your back to the waterside

  Your face to the willow tree

  Six little maids have I drownded here

  And you the seventh shall be."

  Gale had looked interested, u
ntil he came to the part about drowning maids. The she reacted with obvious alarm. So did the children.

  "But first take off your golden gown

  Take off your gown,” said he.

  "For though I intend to murder you

  I'll not spoil your finery."

  Gale looked desperately around, as if seeking some escape. But she was caught between the tree and the sea. Then she lifted her chin as if thinking of something. She faced the cruel man and sang:

  "Then turn around, you false young man

  Turn around,” said she.

  "For it is not meet that such as you

  A naked woman should see."

  There was a gasp among the children; this was indeed a moral village, and the very thought of a naked woman was alarming. The parents nodded approvingly; this was a proper response.

  Havoc looked at the audience, then shrugged. It was obvious that the maid could not get away, because the cruel man blocked the way. He raised his nose with supercilious disdain, turned to face the sea, and sang the narrative.

  He turned around then, that false young man

  Round about turned he.

  At that point Gale took over the narrative. She put away her dulcimer for the moment and grabbed Havoc from behind. She shoved him violently forward. Obviously surprised, he lurched off the stage and fell to the ground with a musical splash.

  And seizing him boldly in both her arms

  She tossed him into the sea!

  "Lie there, lie there, you false young man

  Lie there, lie there,” cried she.

  "Six little maidens you drowned here

  Go keep them company!"

  The children cheered, and the adults remained approving: the maid had not gone naked. Havoc, meanwhile, was lying on the ground by the children, drownded. He sang:

  He sank beneath the icy waves

  He sank down into the sea.

  No living thing grieved a tear for him

  Save that lonely willow tree.

  The village man representing the tree raised one hand to wipe an eye. Volunteers always liked getting in on the act; that was part of the appeal of such presentations.

  Gale concluded, setting aside her dulcimer, bowing to the audience, and was greeted by more cheering. Havoc remained dead a moment more, then quietly got up and stood at the edge of the stage. Their opening number was a fine success.

  Thereafter, they could do no wrong. They dramatized several other proper moral songs before pausing to teach some of them to those villagers interested in learning. It was a pleasure to get back into this sort of thing. Havoc knew that he was a good stage manager and singer, and Gale was expert; they had provided as fine a dramatic singing as was likely to be had anywhere. For this evening, they could forget the duties and perils of governance and just be themselves, in a manner.

  "We seldom see troupes here in Mountain Lee, but you are something special,” the man of the house remarked as they returned for the night. “Extremely handsome and talented, both of you. May I inquire what brings you here?"

  "We thought we'd climb the mountain,” Havoc said. “We seldom get out alone together, no fault."

  "No fault,” the man repeated. “Best not to mention that in this village."

  "We won't,” Havoc agreed, allowing the implication of illicit liaison to stand.

  "As for climbing the mountain: best not."

  "Not?” Gale asked, looking prettily disappointed.

  "It is haunted. Unsafe. We avoid it, especially at night."

  Havoc found this interesting for his own reasons. “Surely there can be no haunts in nonChroma territory."

  "We don't speak much of Chroma in this village, either. But there are haunts. There're deadly merfolk where a Blue fringe intersects the path, and goblins further up. In fact we call it Goblin Mountain. That's as much as we know; none return from beyond. So if you want peaceful hiking, stay clear of the mountain."

  Havoc put on a daunted look. “Goblins!"

  Gale looked at Havoc. “But dear, you promised—"

  Havoc sighed. “Yet if it is dangerous—"

  "More likely scare stories to hide nice camping grounds. Who ever heard of deadly merfolk? They make love not war."

  "Negation,” the old man said. “He tempts young women to their doom, and she tempts young men. They abuse their victims horribly, then destroy them."

  Havoc was surprised by this. “I had understood they usually sought sex with travelers, but not that they harmed them."

  The man stared darkly at him. “Depends or your definition of harm. Even those few who escape are so corrupted by the temptation that they are unable to reside longer in Mountain Lee Village, and must go elsewhere."

  Havoc realized that the act of sex with a mer buoy or guirl might well be appalling to the moral villagers. Why would a person care to remain moral after experiencing such interaction? Extended mer sex could be wearing, but brief sex might be delightful, if the mers cared to make it so. They might, just to mess up the moral villagers and cause more young folk to visit. So that was perhaps understandable. But the idea of abusive merfolk disturbed him.

  "They should be no danger away from the water,” Gale said. Of course she knew better, but that caution did not fit her present role.

  Havoc shrugged and returned to the man. “I think we must go there, at least until we encounter goblins."

  "Then it will be too late,” the man said. “We understand they do unmentionable things to women—and to men."

  Such as forcing them into sexual activity. But Havoc had heard of rogue part-humans who could make sex ugly indeed. The villagers could have a legitimate case. For one thing, if the goblins were part of the Changeling complex defense, the affronts would be calculated to discourage further intrusions.

  "But if there's a path, it must lead somewhere."

  "To a goblin stronghold, most likely,” the man said. “I urge you not to go there; no one will come search if you disappear."

  "Appreciation for the warning.” Havoc shot a dark look at Gale. “We will have words on this anon."

  She looked properly rebellious. “As long as no one goes back on his word."

  They were given a nook with reasonable privacy, but considering the nature of the village, made it a point to sleep clearly apart from each other.

  In the morning they traded a song for some bread to carry along, and set off on the path to Goblin Mountain. No one stopped them, but neither did anyone encourage them. They had been warned.

  Once they were fairly clear of the village, they talked about it, playing their roles. “There must be something interesting up there,” Gale said.

  "It may be dangerous. Goblins are not creatures to be fooled with."

  "I don't believe it. I want to see."

  "I hope you don't get us both gobbled."

  "He didn't say they ate folk. It sounded more like sex. What's the harm in that?"

  "I wouldn't care to describe it to you."

  "O, pooh! You're just trying to scare me off. Maybe those goblin maidens are pretty."

  "And the men sadistic.” They were speaking for unseen ears, as Hayseed and Nonesuch. So that the Changeling Complex would be reassured that they thought their disguise sufficient, and that they could actually sneak in and open the gates. “But first there may be the merfolk. They normally want sex too, but it's different."

  "In what manner?"

  "They don't always leave off soon—and their partners can't quit."

  "That sounds fabulous."

  "Not necessarily."

  "So you say. I'm intrigued."

  "Foolishness.” Of course she knew exactly what he meant, but Nonesuch was supposed to be foolishly innocent.

  They came to the base of the mountain. “This is weird,” Gale said, peering at a rocky projection. “It's not volcanic."

  "All mountains are volcanic."

  "That's what you think. For one thing, where is the color? There are no nonChroma cones, are
there?"

  He laughed. “How could there be? They would erupt nonChroma magic.” Which was a seeming contradiction of terms.

  "Anyway, look at this: layered rock. That's not lava flow."

  Havoc shrugged. “So maybe it is a mountain of debris or something. Now we've seen it; let's go elsewhere."

  "You promised!"

  Havoc sighed. “Let's get on with the Ballad."

  She nodded. Theoretically they thought themselves beyond the range of spies, so had been speaking openly; now they were coming close enough to go into their act.

  Privately Havoc wondered: to what degree could they fool the Changeling masters ? If they did not, they would probably be killed without ever getting into the complex. The agents of the complex had tried to kill him before; this would be handing them an easy victory. Even if the two of them did get inside, there was no guarantee that his remarkable ploy would work. There were so many ways to fail, and only one to succeed. This whole thing seemed crazy.

  Which was the reason no one else should anticipate it, including the personnel of the Changeling complex.

  And Gale was taking it on faith. She trusted him. She had always liked to say that when things got worst, Havoc would wreak havoc. He would love to do that, as he had on prior occasions. If his plan worked.

  The path ascended. “You are a remarkably pretty woman, Nonesuch,” he said to Gale, playing the role of seducer.

  "You are equivalently handsome, Hayseed,” she rejoined, playing a similar role. They had to compliment each other constantly, and do things for each other, doing their best to make each other fall in love. It was a game whose conclusion was foregone, but they both enjoyed playing it.

  "Let me help you with that pack."

  "Why thank you sir,” she said, giving him her pack. “That deserves a kiss.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  As they climbed, his compliments become more suggestive, and she arranged, under the pretext of becoming warm, to show an increasing amount of interesting flesh.

  Oh get on with it! It was Swale, checking on them, having little patience with the slowness of the script. To her, what wasn't immediately sexual was a waste of time. She had intercepted him by placing herself ahead of him as he walked, so that his motion overlapped her. She could not touch him herself, but this device, employed with his acquiescence, had similar effect.