“Helpful voyeurs,” Throe said.
She frowned, but did hide her crown. She faced Havoc again. “Well, Hayseed, you have not traveled with a woman as lovely as I. You are too country boy shy to make the first move, so I will help you. We shall start with a kiss."
“Delight,” Havoc murmured.
She approached him slowly. “Of course I wouldn't touch a barbarian ordinarily, but folk might suspect my identity as the queen if I acted too regal. So I will act like a barbarian girl, and smack you one."
Then, suddenly, she lunged. She caught him hard on the mouth with a compressed kiss. There was an electric jolt and she bounced away, reeling. Havoc realized that the jolt was hers; he had picked it up from her mind.
But this time she managed to hang on to awareness. “How did you like that, Hayseed?” she demanded.
“That was some smack,” he agreed, remembering how his kiss had put Nonce out for the duration.
“You kissed Nonce?” Bijou demanded. He hadn't shielded his thought.
Chief chuckled. “Hayseed's in trouble now. He kissed a bath girl."
“And they weren't even traveling,” Throe said.
Bijou recovered and donned her crown, delivering a queenly glare. “There will be another encounter,” she said grimly.
Havoc hoped so. Bijou was fun and deserving.
They looked out the coach windows. Everything was brown: trees, vines, grass, even the birds flying near. The shadings made it possible to distinguish details, but it seemed dull to Havoc. Soon he nodded off.
He woke to a kiss. Bijou was practicing again, her crown off, and this time she managed to hold lip contact for several seconds before the resistive tingle became too strong. It was good progress, but still a long way from full sex.
“But I will get there, Hayseed,” she murmured. “Just wait until night."
The coach came to the far edge of the Chroma zone. The giant golems set it gently down at the staging area and hitched a new set of horses to it. They rolled some distance out of the zone, seeing the brown fade. They entered a zone of nonChroma colors, then came to intensifying yellow. This was a Fire Chroma, but not the zone with the problem. Chroma folk could travel to their own colors and have no difficulty, but because the zones were isolated from each other, they tended to be autonomous. That meant that whatever happened at the farther Yellow zone would be unlikely to affect the near zone's attitude toward the king. In fact it was the disunity of zones of any particular Chroma that made centralized government by nonChroma folk feasible. The king lacked magic power in any one zone, but all other zones would support his decisions.
The horses were released, and yellow Fire folk came to see to the coach's next leg of the journey. Of course Ennui had set up the itinerary and sent messages out to coordinate the route. Ordinary folk had to pay their way with caravans or walk, but the king had priority throughout. The yellow men worked yellow magic to lift the coach into the sky and float it on the wind. Here everything was in shades of yellow, monochrome of the current color. They were high enough to see the distant central volcano, intense yellow clouds clustering around its cone. It occurred to Havoc that volcanoes could be dangerous apart from their magic, because of the force with which they spewed out gas and rock; he had a healthy respect for them.
But again it got dull. Bijou tested her mettle, managing to hold a long kiss without fainting, but it remained a challenge. Havoc did not try to conceal his enjoyment of her effort; it was fun having a lovely young woman play ardently up to him. Of course Bijou had gone much farther with him in the past, and he liked her a lot, and not just because she resembled Gale. She was worthy in her own right.
“Thanks, Havoc,” she murmured breathlessly. Her effort was straining her physically as well as mentally.
“Caution: I don't want you to hurt yourself."
“It hurts me to have such a chance at you, and not be able to consummate. Maybe if you approached me—"
Havoc tried it. He moved slowly to hold her and kiss her. Her body went taut as if experiencing pain. Frustrated, he stifled that reaction, and she relaxed so that he could complete the kiss.
“Oh, Havoc, you numbed me,” she breathed. “I didn't know you could do that."
He hadn't known it either. It was another Glamor power, there for the asking—if he but knew to ask it. Maybe the Green Glamor had used that to help Symbol have sex with him, fifty times in succession.
“I was with the Green Glamor,” Bijou said. “He called himself Thumb. We were captured by White Chroma men, who were going to rape me, but I was rescued just in time."
“And Symbol got him,” Havoc agreed.
“I saved myself for you."
He laughed. “You'll get there."
They snoozed until the coach landed at the far verge of the zone. New horses were hitched, and they moved across the nonChroma zone to the fringe of a Green Chroma zone. Here tall trees reached down stout tentacles to haul the coach up, and swung it along across the green landscape.
Bijou continued her effort to get close to him, and with his numbing help was able to do it with less consequence. “Just wait until tonight,” she murmured in his ear. “Swale will be with me."
The succubus! Havoc had had sex with her once, in Gale's body, and it had been phenomenal. The succubus was a creature of sex, and she was expert.
After the Green zone they crossed a Black zone. This made Bijou nervous. It wasn't the unremitting darkness of the terrain so much as the fear that there could be an inruption that sucked them all into its funnel and destroyed them. “I know it's no more dangerous than any other volcano,” she said. “But it gets to me in a special way."
“It's a female volcano,” Chief said. “In instead of out."
That made them all pause for thought. It seemed like a valid analogy. Maybe the magic matter that was hurled out by the other volcanoes was drawn back in by the Black Chroma funnels, restoring the source. They discussed it, wondering whether they had come upon a significant understanding.
Night was closing as they reached the far side of the zone. They were glad to move out of it to the surrounding nonChroma zone, where there was a staging area and campsite. A modest royal banquet was ready for them, which Havoc and Bijou consumed in royal style, while Chief and Throe ate with less flair, not being royal. They could not be sure who might be spying on them. It would not be magical, but any of the local servants could report to other masters. So the four of them were obliged to act as if on show, though it probably was not the case.
King and queen shared a nice chamber for the night. They undressed, washed, and lay together on the bed. “Sire, do you desire me this night?” Bijou inquired.
What kind of question is that? he demanded mentally.
It's the style the mock king and queen employ, she thought. They don't know how you are in private, so err on the formal side.
So now he had to emulate the fake king, lest others think Havoc was the fake. “Disgust."
“My lord! How have I offended you?"
He realized he shouldn't have spoken that word, as it would seem to be in response to her offer of sex. She knew it, but was playing the role. “Disgust that you should ever suppose I did not desire you, this night or any night."
“Apology. I am yours."
Actually she wasn't. She had progressed to clasping and kissing, but sexual penetration remained beyond her threshold of pain. She struggled valiantly to accommodate him, and was mortified that she could not. Aware of that, he changed his mind, with sincere regret. “I am more tired than I realized. Tonight we shall merely sleep."
“Acquiescence, my lord."
And we'll have to educate the mocks. Damned if I want stilted sex! Then something else occurred to him. What of the succubus? Couldn't she help?
I asked her to let me try it alone this time. Tomorrow she'll step in if needed.
They concluded that an aspect of the failure was that for this he had to play the role of king, not the hayseed
barbarian, so she could not complete the diversionary image. She did not want to be numbed for this; she wanted full awareness. They would have to work out a new ploy.
Havoc spread out his Glamor awareness in a routine check of the local environment—and made a discovery. Our crowns have been stolen!
Astonishment! She did not doubt his perception. The two crowns on the table were fakes.
A servant must have exchanged them while we were distracted. I would have been aware of magic.
“Agreement,” she murmured aloud. Servants can be sneaky. I know; I was one.
Havoc laughed. An excellent one.
We must get them back. Do you know where they are?
I can locate them. But I prefer to let it be, until we know the rest of this mischief.
The two crowns protected the king and queen from hostile magic. Havoc's was now his own fake, but Bijou's was real. So now the fake had been replaced by a fake. He sent his awareness back—another ability he had not known of before—and spied hands appearing from behind the desk, taking the two crowns, and seemingly putting them back immediately. It had happened so quickly and quietly that they had not noticed.
He followed the crowns along the floor just out of sight of eyes on the bed, and out of the chamber. Then the servant stopped crawling and stood, carrying the crowns to an unoccupied chamber and hiding them in a closet there. That was all; the servant returned to the servants’ quarters. Havoc followed her a bit farther, but she seemed to be entirely ordinary. Returning to the present, he reached out and touched her mind, but found no memory of the event. She had evidently acted under some other compulsion, and did not know what she was doing.
This had the aspect of a sophisticated plot. He did not know where it would lead, but now he had been warned. The plotters did not know he was a Glamor who did not need the protection of his crown. That was his means to foil it, once he discovered its nature.
Pretend you don't know about the crowns, he thought. I will fathom this in due course.
Acquiescence, Havoc she thought nervously.
He took her hand, and they slept.
In the morning the routine continued. They breakfasted and returned to the coach. Havoc acquainted Chief and Throe with the matter of the crowns. Be alert.
They nodded. Their telepathy was a secret from those beyond the palace, and like Havoc's ascension to Glamor, was at times a significant benefit. Now they knew there was dirty work afoot, and would be alert for it, physically and mentally.
Havoc also sent a long distance thought to Ennui. Our crowns were swapped with fakes. We pretend not to notice. Advise the Glamors.
Havoc, don't risk it! she thought with motherly concern. Return swiftly and let Throe handle it.
Negation. They don't know my nature.
She grudgingly accepted that. But if other Glamors care to intercede, I won't stop them.
Havoc smiled. It was her way of telling him that she would urge the other Glamors to get on his case. Especially Gale. But he knew that Gale was going out on her own mission with the babies. He could not commune telepathically as readily with Gale as with Ennui, but they did have a certain awareness of each other's location and state of mind. By the time Ennui reached her, Havoc might well have solved the case of the missing crowns.
By the time they landed for the second night, Bijou had succeeded in putting Havoc's hand on her breast without flinching. It was an interesting experience; her breast was throbbing with her racing pulse, but it was effort rather than passion that caused it. She was pushing her limits. Chief and Throe pretended not to notice, knowing that this was exactly the progress she had to make.
But when they arrived at the campsite closest to the quarreling Chroma zones, Havoc made a seemingly arbitrary decision. Actually they had discussed it mentally and agreed it was the prudent course, considering the theft of the crowns. They wanted to surprise both the Chroma zones and the unknown enemy.
“Pack the meal; we are moving on immediately,” Havoc said. “Keep the horses."
“But my lord, I'm tired,” Bijou said, forming a queenly frown. “I don't want to have to camp in the field."
“Woman, when I desire your opinion, I will require you to speak,” he said gruffly. She made a moue and was silent. This was very much in the manner the mocks had adopted, so was in character for their public image.
The local servants hastened to pack the meal. The other coaches of the royal retinue turned about, rehitching their steeds, and made ready to travel again. They stashed the meal in the coach and moved on.
There was just one coach-navigable trail leading to the zones. It passed close to the overlapping territory. “I prefer to examine the situation myself, before hearing the arguments of the quarreling factions,” Havoc announced for the benefit of any eavesdroppers. “We shall camp at the edge tonight, and hold audience on the morrow."
“In a Chroma zone?” Bijou protested.
“A little magic will do you good, woman."
Bijou made a show of biting back a caustic reply. I'm going to get a bit of that magic inside me tonight, or freak out in the attempt.
They unpacked the meal and ate while traveling. In due course they reached the green/yellow overlap, which was a pale green hue. The king's coach halted at its verge, and the other coaches drew themselves into a roughly circular formation around it. The king never traveled alone or unguarded. In fact the king couldn't even crap in the pot without attendants close by.
Throe went to supervise the defensive preparations, and Chief met with his traveling staffers who would liaison with the Yellow and Green Chroma staffers, hastily revising the arrangements for the coming royal audience. Of course no one would complain openly of the inconvenience the king's arbitrary change of course made, but there was surely grumbling at a safe distance.
A considerable party was forming, as was usually the case when the king made an appearance. Attractive young green and yellow women showed up, bringing food for the supplementary staffers and servants. Tents were pitched, and it was apparent that the girls were available on a no fault basis for male hands who were interested.
Havoc walked out into the zone. Throe immediately appeared to accompany him, and guards deployed inconspicuously in the vicinity. This was of course why Havoc detested being king; he couldn't go anywhere alone. He much preferred traveling as Hayseed the Minstrel, with a good woman by his side. As soon as this mess of a mystery enemy was finished, and the riddle of the origin of the Glamors solved, he would see about an early royal retirement. Then he and Gale could raise their children in peace.
“It is a worthy ambition,” Throe murmured. Havoc hadn't bothered to mask his thoughts. “When you do, I hope to do similar with Ennui, albeit without children."
“Understanding. You have had yours."
On one side the zone verged into green; on the other, yellow. In the center it almost glowed with the intensity of the juxtaposition of Chroma, and the plants growing there seemed to have a special vigor. Most were familiar to Havoc, as the same plants grew everywhere on the planet. A few were new to him, and he studied them with interest.
What are you? he inquired of one, touching it gently with one finger.
Fire Fern, it replied in its manner, not in words but in identification.
I love you, fire fern, he thought, caressing it. He was the Glamor of trees and plants, and cared about all of them. If any were mistreated, he would be aware, and would respond if he could. He had not yet learned enough to fully implement his protection, but he was working on it.
Danger, the fern thought. But it lacked the mind to be specific.
Other plants had a similar warning. They knew his nature, and valued his company. From them he drew a special strength, because he was the Glamor of all plants, not just nonChroma plants.
Throe stood by, receiving the silent communion because Havoc shared it with him. “Amazement,” he murmured.
“I am not what I was,” Havoc said. “This is better, and
not merely because of the power it brings me. I am part of a special global community. I can live apart from the human kind, but I couldn't not endure apart from these.” He gestured, taking in the whole region.
They returned to the camp. A beautiful green girl approached them, lifting a hand in a request to speak.
“Speak,” Throe said. Normally a common person did not address the king directly unless she was part of his personal staff, and then she was cautious.
“I am here for your comfort, warrior, no fault."
Throe smiled. “Needless. But thanks."
She shrugged. “I will remain within beck."
“It seems you don't have to sleep alone tonight,” Havoc murmured as the girl faded back.
“I remain amazed that when offered delights like that, I still would prefer to be with Ennui. She was neither young nor pretty, until recently, and makes no pretense to special intelligence, but she has something."
“Commitment."
“Maybe that's it. When you exchanged oaths of friendship, she took it as seriously as you did. I like that in a woman."
“So do I. It was that way with Gale."
Throe did not seem to look about, but he picked up something Havoc had missed. “There are many local Chroma zone girls—more than necessary for servant duty."
“And all are young and pretty,” Havoc agreed.
“Their minds are innocent of any bad intention. But I do not understand why so many are here. The king's party does not usually attract such a number."
Havoc nodded. “Something is afoot, surely related to the theft of the crowns. But I can't fathom it either. We shall have to wait for the trap to spring."
“Agreement. But if I alert my men, that may betray our awareness."
“They are good men. Normal discipline should suffice."
“It should,” Throe agreed. “For a normal circumstance."
“We do have two advantages."
“I hope they remain unknown."
“The queen and I will retire,” Havoc said loudly. “Dismissed, bodyguard."
Throe bowed his head, and departed. Havoc went to join Bijou in the royal tent.
We are on show? her thought inquired.