“Was it a mistake to give them the ikons?” Gale asked.
“Negation. They are to be trusted beyond all others. It merely requires some realignment of perspective."
“I will ponder the matter.” She intended to consult Swale, who remained the sexual expert.
They collected the children and went to the loom chamber. Nonce had reverted the loom, and there was the tapestry, complete. It was an amazing picture, seeming alive. “We had some adventure along the way,” Aspect said.
“We want the whole story,” Gale said. Then, realizing that the women had been without their men for a year, she added “Tomorrow."
It turned out to be a considerable story of travel, sex, gardening, and village conspiracy. It seemed that the once-staid older women had made excellent use of their flashy new bodies. But they had gotten the job done.
Later, Symbol remarked on that. “Those ikons really made a difference."
“We thought they would merely keep them safe,” Gale said. “But the ikons almost seem to have wills of their own."
“Agreement. They're not just leftovers from Glamors."
That reminded Gale. This time she followed up, bringing Ini in to discuss it. Ini, too, had changed; she carried the altar ikon, and though she remained invisible, her swathing showed a shapely outline. Havoc had confirmed that she had become an apt sexual partner. Swale was also present.
“There are seventeen Glamors we know of,” Gale said. “But eighteen pockets in the altars. What would be the constituency of the last one?"
“Amoeba,” Ini said promptly. “That's the only significant class that's missing."
Gale remembered. “You thought it would be for one of the babies, but it wasn't."
“So it remains to be assigned a Glamor."
“I wonder,” Symbol said. “Are these things invariably random?"
“Negation. Havoc and Gale chose their constituencies, and were accepted by them."
“So someone could choose the amoeba, and perhaps become a Glamor."
Both Gale and Ini were surprised. “Possibility,” Ini agreed.
“Do we want that?” Symbol asked. “How do we know who would turn up as a new Glamor?"
Now that the question had been asked, it required an answer. Don't risk it, Swale thought. Ikons are bad enough; Glamors are potentially dangerous.
“We need to choose that Glamor,” Gale said.
“Suggestion."
Suddenly Gale realized that Symbol had an idea. Was she thinking of going after it herself? “Speak."
“You have three Glamor children. What of Voila?"
“She's three months old!"
“With Glamor parents and siblings."
Suddenly it was making sense. “But Voila is too young to make such a choice."
“So her parents should make it for her."
Gale looked at Ini. “Sense?"
Ini nodded. “Sense. That would eliminate the chance of an ugly surprise, and she would grow up properly prepared. It would be a perfect completion of the roster."
Sense Swale agreed.
Gale sent a mental signal to Havoc, and in moments he was with them. “Agreement,” he said. “But the other Glamors should be advised."
In a moment he advised them, telepathically. They thought it was a good idea.
Gale nodded. “Maybe when she's a little older,” she said, uncertain how or whether to proceed. “I would want her to understand, before commitment."
“Agreement,” Ini said, and departed.
Then Gale braced Symbol. “You thought of it. You don't want it for yourself?"
“Temptation,” Symbol admitted. “It could make me more than competitive with the others. But I think better for Voila. She can grow up knowing, instead of being spoiled by mortal distractions."
“I thought you were cynical, looking out for yourself."
“I was. Then I fell in love with Havoc. And with you. And with your children."
Gale was touched. “You deserve your own life."
“Cynical, looking out for myself? I am better off, and surely happier, patterning myself after you.” She smiled. “Anyway, Futility is better at those old qualities than I could be."
“Agreement!” Gale said, laughing.
The children were becoming restive. It was time for entertainment. This was one way in which Symbol was supreme: she could distract the children for hours at a time by showing them illusion stories from her comprehensive collection. She used an Air Chroma stone to power it, and though the stories had been crafted for older children and adults, they appealed to these three too. The fact was, the little Glamors were precocious; it came with their genes and health. They might not understand all the ramifications of the shows, but they followed enough to be distracted, and that was what counted.
Early in the adoption, the babies had fixed on particular stories and insisted on the same ones repeatedly. But now they preferred variety. They were making progress through Symbol's repertoire, and some were borderline appropriate, but the children demanded them. “Next one in line features Death,” Symbol said. “I'm not sure—"
“Let's try it,” Gale said. “If it spooks them, cut it off. They know it's just a story."
I'm interested too, Swale thought. I know about death. She did; her body had died, and she lived now because Gale provided a regular host.
The show started. The three children immediately oriented on it, sitting around its edges, facing inward. They liked to see themselves disappeared by the illusion; it made them feel like part of the story. Gale and Symbol watched from farther back. Voila slept in the crib beside Gale.
“Once upon a time there was a boy,” the narrator said.
Warp clapped his hands. He liked boy stories.
“He was caught late away from home, and had to hurry before it got too dark to see the way.” The boy appeared, a tow-headed lad of about six, running along a path through a forest. The path wound between colors on the left and right; everyone knew that it could be dangerous to go into Chroma zones, so the paths meandered as necessary to avoid them.
“But the way was blocked by something dark and scary.” The boy came to a sudden halt, for a formless blob blocked the path. It shimmered darkly and seemed menacing. In fact it was darkly terrifying.
But the boy had to get home, and had no other route. So he did what he had to: he addressed the blob. “Please, Blob, let me by."
The blob became aware of him. Two or three big eyes appeared and focused on him. “Who?” it asked with eerie windiness, as of the exhalation from an uncovered crypt.
“Introduction,” the boy said bravely. “I am Todd of Village Minor."
“I am Death."
Todd stepped back. “Death! I fear you."
“All mortals fear me, and rightly so."
But this wasn't getting him on his way. “Please, Death, let me by. I need to get home before dark."
“I would if I could. But I am bound."
“How can Death be bound?"
“I was chasing an errant soul, and blundered into an old spirit trap. It's an embarrassing nuisance. I can't depart until the confinement enchantment is nullified."
Todd was beginning to be curious rather than afraid. After all, if Death was trapped, then he couldn't grab Todd. “If you get it nullified, then will you go away and leave the path clear so I can go home?"
“Agreement."
The boy nerved himself. “How is the spell nullified?"
“That requires a drop of fresh warm blood and a spoken spell."
“Can I do that?"
“You can—if you have the courage."
“I'm just a small boy. I don't have much courage."
“So it seems."
“But if I did have the courage, I could do it?"
The blob had a somewhat resigned patience. “So I said."
“If I did, would you promise to go away and not kill me?"
“I can not promise that. All mortals come to me
in time."
“I mean, not right now."
“That I can promise."
The boy screwed his courage to the sticking point. “Okay. What's the spell?"
“The blood must be dripped onto the enchantment, and these words spoken: ‘Ill mode, with this fresh blood I banish thee.’”
“How do I get the blood?"
“Scratch your finger with a razor fern."
Todd found a razor fern growing beside the path. He held his hand out near the blob and stroked the fern across it. The serrated edge opened a cut, and blood welled out. “Sick zone, get out of here before I bleed on you."
“Irregular, but it will do,” Death said. The blob dissolved, and a tall black vaguely human form loomed up before the boy. “You have done me a favor. How may I return it?"
“I just want to go home!"
Death considered. “Another time, perhaps.” Then it disappeared.
The path was clear. Todd ran quickly along it, and soon was safely home, except for the cut on his hand. He bandaged that himself, not trusting his mother to understand about his encounter with Death, even if she believed it.
There was a slow fadeout, and fade-in to a new scene, signifying the passage of time. Todd was now a young man, handsome and confident, proceeding along the same path. He came to the same place where he had encountered Death as a child. There, coincidentally, was a strung net. He charged right into it before he realized it was there, and was abruptly wrapped and suspended just above the path.
Before he could free himself, three ugly brigands appeared. “Well, look what we caught!” one exclaimed.
“A healthy young man,” the second said.
“We'll cut him up and roast him for our supper,” the third said.
They were serious. They gave Todd no chance to plead for his life. They came at him with knives drawn, about to cut him up where he hung. He was entangled, and could not defend himself.
“Assistance!” he called desperately. But it was obvious that the chance was small that anyone was close enough to hear, or would be able to stop the brigands if he came.
Then a tall dark shape formed behind them. “Greetings, brigands,” it said.
They whirled at the sound. “Death!” one cried. “Flee!"
They tried to run, but Death made a small gesture with one hand, and the three fell to the ground. Their bodies puffed into smoke. Only their clothing, knives, and booty pouches remained.
Death turned to Todd. “I owed you a favor. Parting.” The figure vanished.
Todd worked his way free of the net and dropped to the ground. He checked the brigands’ things. He had no use for the clothing, but the knives were good, and the pouches contained a small treasure. He knew it was now his, by right of survival; anyone who killed a brigand was entitled to the brigand's things. He was suddenly well off.
“Thank you, Death,” he said. “I appreciate the return favor.” He picked up the things and went on his way.
That's nice, Swale thought. That's the way Death should be.
Gale had to agree. She was glad that it had turned out to be a wholesome story for children.
The illusion faded, and the playroom came back into sight. Gale looked around. Symbol was slumped in her chair, having fallen asleep. She had of course seen this show many times, and was bored with it. The babies were gone.
What happened?
Alarmed, Gale spread her Glamor awareness, seeking them. There was nothing. “Wake!” Gale snapped.
Symbol's swathed form came alert. “Question?"
“The babies are gone."
“Alarm! Who would have taken them?"
“Who could take them?” Gale was rapidly building up extreme nervousness.
I would have known if a demon spirit came.
“Only someone they trusted,” Symbol said. “Ini. Nonce. Bijou."
“Or a Glamor."
“Who would?” Symbol asked.
“Without our knowledge? None."
“And why did I sleep? I don't sleep while watching the children."
They stared at each other. “An attack?” Gale asked, horrified.
“Who could?” Symbol asked, echoing Gale's prior question.
“Unknown,” Gale said grimly. Havoc! she thought desperately.
He was there beside her, catching on immediately. “Mischief."
They quickly organized a thorough search of the palace, knowing it was futile, because the mental traces of the babies weren't there. Then they spread out beyond. And found nothing.
Use your past-seeing, Swale suggested.
Gale exerted a power she had developed after Havoc demonstrated it, to see the recent past connected to whatever object she focused on. In this case, the youngest of the babies: Voila. She was sleeping in the crib beside Gale. Then she faded out. The crib was empty.
“It's magic, all right,” Gale said. “She was conjured away."
They notified the other Glamors. None of them knew what had happened. There was no question of complicity; they laid their minds open.
“Who could have taken them from a Glamor's side?” Symbol asked.
“Only a Glamor she trusted,” Havoc said.
“I trust them all—but none are guilty."
“Unless—” Symbol hesitated, then continued. “Unless there is that eighteenth Glamor, that we don't know about. Isn't it true that not even a Glamor can detect a Glamor who wants to hide?"
“It is true,” Gale agreed. “But if there is such a Glamor, why would he take my children?"
“To stop you from making Voila a Glamor?” But Symbol immediately corrected herself. “If he's already a Glamor, he can have no such fear; there's no other Glamor to be made. And if he isn't, he would lack the power to steal the children from a Glamor's side. This doesn't make sense."
Gale controlled her burgeoning horror by organizing for action. “We must search everywhere! Again! Until we find them.” But she feared it was hopeless.
Then Ini had an idea. “If they are anywhere near, and hidden so you can't find them, there should be a patch of obscurity, as there was at the altar crater. Use your extended awareness to locate that patch."
“Yes!” Gale did so—and found a patch outside Triumph City, in an unsettled region of the nonChroma zone surrounding the city. She grabbed Symbol and transported them there.
It was a glade with a small pond, a fairly pretty place. The patch was beside the pond. They walked toward it.
Symbol paused, glancing down. “What is that?"
“A shiny blob,” Gale said impatiently.
The hell it is, Swale thought.
Symbol stooped to pick it up. “This is ikon substance."
They stared at each other in wild surmise. “The Amoeba Glamor!” Gale said.
“I have a marvelous suspicion,” Symbol said. “The children—they helped Voila do it. They heard us talking about it, and took action themselves."
“The children!” Gale said. “They are Glamors! They could have done it. Except that they haven't yet developed more than single Glamor skills."
“Haven't they?” Symbol turned and faced the far side of the pond. “Game's over, kids! Get your little rumps over here, now!"
“Awww!” Four small forms appeared the other side of the pond.
The little devils!
Gale opened her mouth.
“Caution,” Symbol warned. “They meant well, and seem to have accomplished well.” She lifted the amoeba ikon.
Gale stifled her threatening outburst. Symbol was right—and the children were Glamors. Including, now, it seemed, Voila. Somehow they had done it.
“Impressive array of skills,” Symbol said as the children made their way around the lake. Voila was floating, surely not by her own initiative. “They blanked themselves and Voila out, Glamor style, so that we were not aware. They made their way unobserved out of the palace and out of the city. They found a private spot where amoeba were likely to congregate. They addressed the amoeba, ma
de an offer, and obtained their acceptance. They made their little sister a Glamor, like themselves. Now the whole family is Glamor."
“But the risk!” Gale protested. “They could have been destroyed out here!"
“Doubt. They knew what they were doing. We underestimated them, though we have been with them throughout. We should cease doing that."
They showed great nerve, too. They'll be real terrors when they get older. Makes me sorry I'll never have children. The succubus had a taste for mischief.
Gale realized that it was true. The children had demonstrated abilities of planning and performance well beyond what any adult had suspected. They had also saved Gale the trouble of tackling the Amoeba Glamor matter herself. Now all she had to do was find a placement for the ikon.
I have a notion. The succubus gave it. Gale nodded.
The children arrived. Voila floated up, and Gale took her from the air. There was a subtle difference about her, a quality change. She was indeed a baby Glamor.
“Impressive,” Symbol told the three. “But we worried. You must let us know before you go out next time, so we won't cry."
They tittered. “'Greement,” Warp said.
Havoc appeared. “Found,” he said.
“They made Voila a Glamor,” Symbol told him.
“They wanted her to be like them,” he said.
Gale's knees felt weak, though they could never really be weak. “Havoc, take them back. We'll follow."
He nodded. “Let's float,” he said brightly to the children, and lifted into the air himself. He wasn't much help in taking care of them, except with Weft, who let him know what she wanted, but he was good when playing with them. He always picked up swiftly on Gale's wishes, too.
They did the same, smiling as they floated. Obviously all three of them knew how to do it, now.
“Question?” Symbol asked when they were alone.
“The ikon."
“It should join the others, safely hidden."
“Negation."
“Gale, those things have too much power to be left lying around! We've seen their effect on several people. You've got to put it away, for the sake of your baby."
“I want you to keep it."
Symbol stared at her, assimilating the meaning of that request. Then, slowly, she dissolved into tears. Gale embraced her, reassuring her that this was indeed what she wanted. Symbol would have not only the responsibility of protecting the vital magic connection of Gale's daughter, but the impressive benefits of ikon possession. She would become younger, stronger, tougher, prettier, and sexier. She would be able to hold her own with the other ikon bearers. Most importantly, perhaps, she would be able to hold her own with Havoc. She was no longer in any remote danger of being replaced.