"But they have no other administrator as competent as you,” Gale reminded her.
"Confirmation. But there are lesser substitutes. You can't accomplish your purpose in this manner."
"Let's try it anyway,” Havoc said grimly.
"Bear in mind that I warned you."
Gale smiled, as grimly as Havoc had. “Bear in mind that it is not wise to cross Havoc."
"Perhaps."
They walked to the main chamber. This was a broad concourse with a number of potted plants set around support posts. “King Havoc has prevailed,” Mneme said, and her voice spread throughout the chamber, amplified by some hidden device. “He now controls the complex. Open the gates to his forces."
The men and women stared at her, uncomprehending.
"Havoc is now the Glamor of Trees,” she continued. “He will destroy us all if we do not yield. Open the gates."
A man stepped forward. “You know we can't do that. If you insist on this fantasy, we must depose you as flawed and promote a new mistress or master of the complex."
Mneme turned to Havoc, spreading her hands.
"We seem to be at an impasse,” Havoc said. “I do not wish to destroy this complex until I understand it better. It may be useful for some other purpose. Before we end the second truce, let's consider further."
"As you wish.” Mneme faced the man who had challenged her. “I spoke of King Havoc's demand, not my personal will. I remain competent. Continue business as usual while I negotiate."
Havoc walked to a potted tree. Most of the plants were shrubs, but this one he recognized as a stunted twist birch, a thing of quite a different nature. Evidently it had been transplanted from the polluted region of the mountain, not recognized for what it was: one of the largest and most aggressive trees of the planet. He had noted it during the tour, and returned to it by no coincidence. He sat down on the ledge beside it, and laid a hand on its warped trunk. Mneme sat next to him, and Gale on the other side of the tree. Gale wore an obscure smile.
"You have shown us that capturing you is not sufficient to take over the complex,” Havoc said. “Now I will show you that holding our ikons is not sufficient to balk us."
"So you noticed when I picked them up.” Mneme brought out the small metallic figure of a tree and the metallic ball of moss. “You can not touch them, but I can."
"But you merely have possession, not control. You are unable to use them, except to the extent they enhance your physical well-being and sexual capacity."
"Possession is control. I can take them from their source of power and thus slowly deprive you of yours."
"Correction: these are nonChroma ikons. You would have to take them to a Chroma zone, and there you would be subject to the will of our allies, the Chroma Glamors. This will not be feasible."
Mneme considered. “Perhaps. But I will retain them anyway. It remains your problem to force the capitulation of the complex, when you can not do it through me or any other individual here."
"Make another announcement: that if all the personnel do not swear fealty to me, I will destroy the complex."
"One has to admire your bluff.” Mneme stood and walked out a few paces. “King Havoc requires that all personnel swear immediate fealty to him, lest he destroy the complex."
The personnel ignored her, continuing their business.
"You'll be sooo-ry,” Gale said in sing-song.
"I will not attack you, Mneme,” Havoc said. “Per our truce. But I will make a demonstration intended to persuade you to lead off the oath. This may become uncomfortable."
"I am interested. Make your demonstration."
Havoc exerted his new power as a Glamor. He knew that it would take time for the two of them to learn to handle the full range of Glamor powers, but that they were there to be used when understood. He understood trees.
The twist birch started to grow. Normal examples of this species were tenacious and ornery, poisoning their neighbors to make room for themselves, and growing to considerable size. This one had run afoul of the pollution, but Havoc had been healing that injury as he touched its trunk. Now it was ready to be all that it could be.
The trunk thickened. The roots burst out of the pot and sought the ground below. The branches reached up and outward.
"What is this?” Mneme asked, surprised.
"This is no shrub,” Havoc said. “It is a twist birch."
"That means nothing to me."
Havoc smiled. “You are not the Glamor of Trees."
The roots reached the floor and dug between the tiles, looking for sustenance. The branches reached the ceiling, and pushed, sending twigs into crevices. There was a gentle breeze blowing in toward the tree, making its small leaves vibrate.
"It can't possibly get that big,” Mneme said. “There's no soil!"
"The twist birch can fed on almost anything,” Havoc said. “Including the dust of the air. But this one is sustained mostly by magic."
"There's no magic here."
"Correction,” Gale said smugly. “There is nonChroma magic."
"NonChroma is by definition without magic."
"Negation,” Havoc said. “Magic is everywhere on the planet. We simply did not recognize it before, because all that had been invoked was via the intercession of the Chroma demons. That is another reason why the Glamors of Trees and Mosses were unfulfilled."
Mneme stared at the tree. The trunk was becoming massive, its papery bark cracking and peeling to reveal new bark beneath. The roots were pushing up tiles as they burrowed deeper. The branches were thickening, putting pressure on the ceiling. The incoming breeze was stiffening.
Other personnel were pausing to watch, amazed.
"The twist birch is surly,” Havoc said conversationally. “It does not like being balked. It reacts by pushing harder. It has been known to crack open solid stone. Even volcanoes have some respect, because they can't readily dislodge it, once it is established. I should think the very last thing you would want inside your premises, apart from a hostile Glamor or two, is one of these ornery trees."
"We didn't know it wasn't a shrub."
"Which is another matter,” Havoc said. “What is the point of that pollution that stunts trees and animals alike?"
"It is to discourage intrusion. Unpleasant to endure for short periods, and unhealthy for long periods. Outsiders can readily avoid it by remaining clear."
"The plants have no choice. That poison will have to go."
"Not while we govern here."
"How secure is your roof?” Havoc inquired, glancing up. The tree was now pushing the entire ceiling up, making it bow. Chunks of plaster were falling.
"The whole mountain is above! A tree can't move that."
"Perhaps we shall find out."
She looked nonplused. The tree continued to grow. Now some branches were pushing on the walls, which were giving way. Cracks were developing and spreading as the pressure increased.
"It never was smart to challenge Havoc,” Gale remarked to no one in particular. “And maybe less so now."
The twisted birch tree was coming to justify its name. Its center trunk was a massive pillar with clearly twisted grain, from which eight thick round branches spread out and up. Eight stout roots descended into the floor, making it a mass of upended tiles and planks.
A large section of the ceiling gave way, smashing to the floor. But the floor was not in good condition either; questing roots were showing like feelers, their expansion quickly shoving blocks apart. The walls on either side were ragged remnants.
"We should see daylight soon,” Havoc remarked. “This birch is coming into its strength, now that's it has found edible rock. There must be some deep water, too."
Some of the personnel tried to approach the tree with axes and saws, but the floor rocked beneath them, sending them scrambling for safer footing.
"This is suicide for you as well as us!"
"We are Glamors,” Gale said. “Invulnerable to crashing debris. But you an
d your personnel may have difficulties, especially when the mountain cracks open and the pollution seeps in."
The woman looked around. She sighed. “Fealty sworn,” Mneme said. She called across the waste the hall had become. “The Glamor of Trees will destroy the complex if we do not swear fealty to him. I believe it is time."
The tree slowed its growth, but not entirely.
Somewhat numbly, the personnel within range began to move. They stood and lifted their right hands toward Havoc in the salute of fealty.
Havoc removed his hand from the trunk of the tree. “Rest, friend,” he murmured. The twist birch stabilized, neither advancing nor retreating.
Singly or by twos or threes, the remaining complex personnel appeared and lifted their hands in fealty.
"I think it best to leave the tree as it is,” Havoc said. “If it shrinks, there may be significant collapsing of structures its branches are now supporting."
"That may be the case,” Mneme agreed. “As it is, the complex has been rendered essentially useless. There will have to be enormous repairs before it can function properly again."
"Assuming that is allowed,” Gale said.
"It must be allowed! What we are doing here is vital."
"Now make your case,” Havoc said.
The woman did not argue or plead. “First I will make the case for preserving the complex essentially as it is, though under different management. Then I will make the case for retaining me as its mistress."
Havoc was surprised. “Make your second case first."
"I am familiar with the routine operation of the complex, and there is no better manager presently available. Apart from that, I can give you what you most desire, as a personal favor."
"Doubt."
"Do you wish that favor now?"
"Define its nature."
"You can marry your beloved and safely sire children by her."
Suddenly she had Gale's attention too. “What of the closeness of the brood?"
"There are a number of broods. We intend our changelings to breed, extending the number of superior human beings like yourselves. All the members of any single brood are of the same gender. Males may be as close as brothers, and females as close as sisters, but no male and female broods are sibling-close. They can interbreed."
Gale, eager for this news, nevertheless debated it. “But what if two males breed with two females in the same village? Their children will be as close as siblings, having almost identical parents."
"We do not send more than one representative of a brood to any single village. In fact we spread them around the planet, every two weeks as each new one becomes viable, so that there are seldom more than one of any particular brood to a Chroma zone. In the course of time, considering the vagaries of available hosts, it is possible that a second representative of a given brood will be sent to a particular village, but probably that one will be at least a decade younger than the other, more likely fifteen or twenty years, and unlikely to breed and have children that would choose to marry children of the other. It would be extremely unlikely that both male and female broods would be duplicated in one region, unless brood members happened to travel to a common site. This too is apt to be rare."
"A decade or more,” Gale said. “The difference between me and Symbol. We could be sisters."
"You are referring to King Deal's mistress? She is not of your brood."
Gale was surprised. “You know?"
"I track royalty, especially when it becomes mischievous. The closest you could come would be by each having babies sired by Havoc, and having them grow up and marry as half-siblings. Even then it would be no disaster, because none of our changelings have defective genetic traits. There is no problem."
"No problem,” Gale breathed. “Havoc, she has answered me. We can marry."
Havoc nodded. “If the complex continues, you will be its mistress, subject to my directives."
"I have given fealty. Your directives will govern."
"Now the other. Why make babies and send them out? Why keep that secret, if it is a good thing?"
"Normal human beings are imperfect. They quarrel foolishly, they evolve into brigands, they cheat each other, they discriminate against others of their kind simply because they are different. Both of you, as fourths, must be aware of that."
"Affirmation,” Havoc said. “But changelings are human too, surely with similar faults."
"Negation. We winnow for personality as well as body. Changelings are not only handsome and healthy, they are intelligent and pleasant. That is one reason they are attracted to each other: each appreciates the finest specimen of the other gender available. The two of you love each other because you are the two finest individuals you encountered in your early life. Actually you may be the finest on an absolute basis; your broods are superior. But other changelings are not inferior, merely distinct. They do not practice human vices. Were you in a position to encounter more of them, you would see that. Changelings are as nearly perfect human beings as we are able to craft."
Gale nodded. “I have met some. They are fine people."
"Perfect or imperfect, why interfere with the natural order?” Havoc remained troubled by this.
"Because we need to preserve the planet from the depredations of inferior folk. We want to replace them with superior individuals, who will upgrade the quality of the species and bring more sensible governance."
"Only if they are in a position to govern,” Havoc said.
"They already govern. They are leaders in many Chroma zones, and you are king. Soon they will have sufficient power to establish new directives and establish a viable future for the species."
"So you are saving our species from itself,” Havoc said.
"Affirmation. When changelings govern, and their children dominate, then the work of the complex will be done. But it is not done yet, and must continue for at least another decade or so, lest the effort be dissipated."
"Why the secrecy?” Gale asked. “Why kill kings rather than let them know? This does not bespeak superior ethics to me."
"Because the normal humans will turn on the superior ones and destroy them, if they know prematurely. The slight discrimination you felt as fourths would be magnified if others knew you represented superior types that could displace them. The process must remain private until the changelings are sufficient in number and power to withstand the reaction of the inferiors. We do not like killing, but we do what is necessary, for the interest of the greater good."
"I have a problem with that,” Havoc said, “when I am the person you seek to kill."
"You were so savvy in protecting yourself that we concluded it would be safer to recruit you. We have not tried to kill you since you enlisted the aid of the Glamors."
Havoc shook his head. “We all do what we must do. But you have not satisfied me that you are justified in continuing your operations. You do use unkind methods to maintain your power, just as supposedly inferior human beings do. I suspect that power itself is your objective, and that when changelings take over human affairs, you expect to govern through them."
"Negation."
"Question?"
"We do not govern now, and will not in the future. I am mistress of the complex, but I obey another power. Eliminate me, eliminate the complex—you will not touch the power beyond. That is what you must deal with. You are better off to leave the complex as it is while you orient on the real source of your problem, whatever that may be. I don't know its location or nature; all I know is that I must obey its directives. In my capacity as your vassal, I recommend that you follow this course."
"Another power!” Havoc repeated, dismayed.
"How do you get your directives?” Gale asked.
"I go into a private booth and lay my mind blank. The power may not communicate, but if it does, I follow its directive. It was what told me to change our policy with respect to you."
"This sounds more like invention."
"Read my mind.
I throw it entirely open to you."
Havoc did so, and found that it was true. Mneme did not originate the directives she implemented. He had completed only a stage, not the whole job.
"Keep it going,” he said shortly. “This is a temporary decision that may be reversed as I learn more."
"Appreciation. We shall be busy repairing the damage done by your tree."
"Sire!” It was Throe's voice.
"Here by the tree!” Havoc called. Mneme had been true to her word, and had opened the gates to the troops. The takeover was complete. There would be many details to attend to, such as how to repair the premises without damaging the twisted birch tree, and to arrange a daylight access for it, but that would be largely routine.
Throe appeared, climbing up through the wreckage below. “What happened here?"
Gale laughed. “Havoc wreaked havoc, again."
"King Havoc is now the Glamor of Trees,” Mneme said. “And Gale is Glamor of Mosses. Those powers disturbed this complex."
Throe hardly showed his amazement. “So I see."
"Let's go back to the city and get married,” Havoc said.
"Agreement!"
"I retain your ikons,” Mneme said. “Having made fealty to you, and been confirmed in my position by you, I say that it may not be in your interest to leave them here. To whom should I give them?"
"To Throe, for now."
She gave the ikons to Throe, who pocketed them without comment. The man was a marvel of discretion.
"Anything else, Sire?” Mneme inquired. She was making a point of her change of status.
Havoc looked around. “See to the necessary repairs to the complex, without damaging the tree. Arrange for light to reach it from above.” He glanced at Throe. “Designate a person to supervise our people, to work with theirs to accomplish the repairs safely and expeditiously. Establish protocols of secrecy; we do not wish to advertise the nature of this complex at this time, or to make generally known the assumption of Glamor status Gale and I have achieved. Then conduct us back to Triumph City."