“I would have to turn cloud to do that,” he said, smiling.
“Agreement."
He had not been serious. Now he wondered. “Could it be possible?"
“Can you do what your children can?"
Decision came in a flash. No need to hide Gale's ability if he tackled it himself. Gale—I want to turn cloud.
Gale was with the children. She did not look at him, so as not to reveal that they were in telepathic communication. Iva stays solid. But she was relieved that he was trying it first; her feeling imbued her thought. They both knew that one of them had to do it, now that they knew it was possible.
She was not completely serious, but it seemed like a good idea. “I will make the attempt,” he said. “I ask you to remain here, to relay news of me if I succeed."
“Agreement. Ilka is in touch; otherwise I would not be at sapient level. She will guide you."
Havoc communed with his constituency, the trees and plants. Help me.
They helped. They understood pollen, which could float in its myriads on the currents of the air, each unit capable of making a full new plant of its kind. Clouds of many types of pollen mixed, yet each remained true to its own nature.
Havoc concentrated on his individual cells, willing them to separate, to become isolated entities. But they clung to their positions in his body, refusing to let go. It wasn't working.
Then Gale brought Voila in the bassinet. “She wants to help."
The baby started to vaporize. Havoc attuned to her telepathically, tracing how she did it. She was in touch with the amoeba, and with the ifrits; both melded into a translation.
Havoc emulated her connections—and saw the fuzz of vapor before his face. He was doing it!
He watched as the vapor thickened. Then he couldn't see it any more; his eyes were going. He was blind. He suppressed his momentary panic and continued; there had to be a way to see in cloud form.
Feel. It was Voila's feeling, telling him to feel.
He tried to feel, and became aware of the touch of her vapor. He could tell its nature and identity by its feel. He was also aware of the temperature of the air. And yes, there were spores in it, and pollen, and he knew its humidity and pressure. There were smells too, of animals and plants. He could neither see nor hear, but he knew much about the air he floated in.
Another vapor tendril touched him. Ilka. It wasn't telepathy, just awareness of her identity: the cloud ifrit.
Voila? He thought, concerned.
Coalesced, Ilka thought. I will guide you now.
That was probably just as well. I know things about the air, but my normal senses are gone.
Ours are better for this form. Then she showed him how to use the vapor senses he had. Pressure gradients of the air allowed him to know and choose his level of floating. Humidity and temperature varied near different types of vegetation, because trees gave off cooling moisture. That helped a lot; he understood trees, and found he could relate to them about as well this way as by sight. He could tell their shapes by it without even touching their surfaces, though the touching confirmed it. In fact by surrounding them he could define their complete configurations.
They traveled, moving by magical propulsion: each suspended cell pulled and pushed against its environment, moving the way he willed. It wasn't fast, but it was sure. There was a slight cross wind; they let it flow through their clouds, maintaining their direction. The cells held their positions in a magic lattice that was largely immune to wind.
Who are you? he asked as they slid across the terrain.
Ilka understood, for the question was not verbal. I am the parent of Iva.
That explained much. How are we communicating?
It turned out that when vapor tendrils touched, they overlapped slightly, and each cell read the adjacent cell of the other entity. They exchanged complete information, which then spread through the rest of the clouds. A greater overlap enabled faster exchange.
But too much overlap was not in order: that could lead to the generation of a new ifrit. It happened on its own when the overlap was sufficient. The mixed cells of the two entities exchanged such complete information that they became their own entity, with the fused outlook of the parents. They separated, and became a small cloud, which in time would grow.
How did they grow? By feeding on the magical energy available in the air. It was diffuse, so growth was slow, but in time it amounted to enough to form an adult.
The farther they went, the more competent Havoc became. He now had a perfect picture of the landscape he covered. Not its color, for that was a function of light, or its sound, but its real nature. It was a model extending across the lower portion of his being. It was a more detailed awareness than he had had as a man, and he was comfortable with it.
Meanwhile, his dialogue with Ilka clarified the mental nature of the ifrits. Their floating cells related to each other directly, with no interfering flesh: every cell connected by magical lines to every other cell. This enabled rapid and powerful thought. If he wanted information, it was there; if he wanted understanding, it was there. Ilka was organized for sapience, a quality she had developed to accommodate the aspects of human nature being fed in through the solidified ifrits. She enabled them to converse verbally, drawing on the bank of vocabulary developed for this purpose. But now, with direct contact with Havoc, communication was far more comprehensive. There were no limits of substance; information was transferred whole.
Everything was there, including all the dialogues Iva and Ivor had had with several humans. Iva's sexual experience with Augur and Havoc were there, including the orgasms and the love. Both of those were new experiences to the ifrits, the one being intense local pleasure, the other emotional pleasure. Ilka—and all ifrits—wanted to know more about them. And especially about sapience. That last required restructuring of the levels of understanding; it could not simply be copied whole. But now, with Havoc in cloud form, it was feasible to emulate its pattern.
Havoc discovered that there was no deceit in the ifrits. They had no hidden motive. They simply wanted to know. They were the guardians of planet Counter Charm, and needed to understand whatever occurred on it, defining any possible threats.
How did they deal with threats? By understanding and neutralizing them. What was the last threat so handled? A hostile object had struck their world some time ago; they had been unable to remove or nullify it, so had sequestered it.
Havoc's excitement coursed through his being. That was the area defined by the tapestry map!
Ilka's excitement echoed his own. The planet wanted to be rid of that object; did the humans want it? Then they should take it.
They came to the edge of the Chroma zone. To ifrits, color was irrelevant; they simply condensed, rolled across the intervening nonChroma zones, and returned to full form in the next Chroma zone.
That is unnecessary for me, Havoc thought. I can retain cloud form and cross.
She was amazed. This was impossible for ifrits. She protested that it was not safe to cross; they had to turn back.
Havoc, flush with the joy of cloud competence, preferred to make a demonstration of his Glamor competence: he floated on into the nonChroma zone, across it, and into the next. He could feel the magic; it was qualitatively different here. He knew from his prior human survey that it was a Green Chroma zone; he zeroed in its equivalent feel, so he would know it in future.
Ilka was no longer with him, being unable to cross without supportive magic. He did not mean to tease her; he would return, having made his demonstration.
Then he became aware of something else: the ground was shaking. His cells nearest it felt the vibration, and now the area was taking on a special charge of magic. The ifrit experience he had acquired from Ilka identified those signs: the local volcano was making ready to erupt. He had to get out of there before it did. It might not happen immediately, but at the cloud's velocity, he'd have to hurry.
But as he moved back, he discovered that some
thing had changed. Ringing the edge of the zone were several funnels lifting from holes in the ground. His thinning fringe defined their shapes. The ifrit information identified them: fog suckers. Creatures that sucked in air and vapor at high power, filtering out the ifrit cells, consuming them. A deadly predator. There was information how to escape: get out of suction range. An ifrit might lose some substance, but could regenerate the lost cells in time.
But Havoc had been caught by surprise, and was too close. The suckers had let him pass over them, and lifted behind him. Had he continued on into the zone he would have been all right, but the building eruption prevented that. As the suckers evidently knew.
Now he realized that he should have paid more attention to Ilka's caution. The information was there: Bad zone. He had assumed she meant the nonChroma strip. She hadn't. Now his arrogance had gotten him in trouble.
The air was moving faster as the suckers developed power. One sucker he might have held off, by letting its suction pass between his cells while he slid to the side and out of its range. That was the way ifrits avoided being blown by adverse wind. But there were four there, increasing the effect and broadening the coverage. He could not get away from them.
There was another strategy of defense, an untried one suggested by the solid air Chroma human Ini: do a partial condensation, forming larger cells with hard edges that would abrade and clog the filter meshes. It should be effective—against a single sucker. But not against four; he lacked the mass to stop them all, and would be consumed.
What could he do? The rising airflow was already drawing him in toward their funnels. To late to condense to full solid form; he'd be gone long before he made it. His Glamor invulnerability would not avail him here; he was too diffuse. He had to think of something in a hurry.
His leading edge was approaching the nearest sucker; he felt the increasing air shear.
What would frighten a fog sucker? A sand storm?
His outer wisps were at the funnel, getting drawn in.
Maybe so. But there was no such storm here.
Unless he could make one. By illusion.
He concentrated. His diffuse cells performed marvelously. He formed a vision, using his memory of his human sight. A haze of flying sand appeared. He surrounded himself with it, making every cell seem like a grain of sand. He generated noise, using memory of sound. True ifrits surely couldn't do this, because they lacked eyes and ears, but he was a false ifrit. He made a raging sand storm.
The suckers were animals. They had small eyes on stalks and ears in the ground. They saw and heard the sand storm.
Their funnels dropped back into the ground. The last thing they wanted was to suck in sand.
But Havoc knew the illusion wouldn't fool them from long. He took his chance to condense; he would be much better off in his natural form. Condensation was not a rapid process, but it was faster than the time it would take to float his full cloud over the suckers and across the nonChroma zone. Once he was a man, he could simply conjure himself back to the Red Chroma zone.
He solidified, but awkwardly. He had had guidance when evaporating; he needed it when condensing. His body was forming wrong. He had to reverse, turn full cloud, and try again.
There was another shaking of the ground, but this was not the eruption. It was closer and more localized, and it occurred in beats. What was it?
He focused on forming his eyes before his limbs were complete. He looked, and saw a bounding six legged tiger, reasonably similar to those of Charm. A large predator, coming in for a kill. As if he didn't have problems enough!
Now the suckers, discovering that there was no storm, were lifting their horns again. They were too late; he would be completely solid before they got up sufficient suction. But the tiger was faster; it would get to him before he completed his condensation.
However, now his head was complete, and with it his command of general magic. He conjured a metallic staff, swung it about, and rammed it at the tiger's nose.
The tiger snapped at it—and bit off the end.
Havoc paused briefly to stare. This creature was less similar to those of Charm than he had thought; none of them could chomp metal like that.
Well, there were other ways. He conjured a fireball and lofted it at the tiger. That should set it back.
The animal snapped at the fireball, took it into its mouth, and swallowed it with no apparent discomfort.
Havoc whistled. “You are more formidable than I judged,” he told it. But now he had almost completed his condensation; there was a bit of fog around his feet, dissipating.
He conjured a big wad of spruce gum. This was a tree specialty; it was light but solid, and extraordinarily sticky.
The tiger snapped it up—and its teeth stuck in the taffy-like ball. It tried to open its mouth, but the gum clung, distending rather than yielding. In time the beast might work its way clear, but Havoc would be long gone.
One tiger nullified. But two more were on the way. No wonder the ifrits were wary of this region; volcano, fog suckers, and big predators abounded.
He conjured two more wads of gum, but the tigers were not stupid; they had seen the fate of the first, and refused to snap at them. They prowled around him, studying him, aware that he was not defenseless.
The last of the vapor disappeared into his feet. He was wholly solid; now he could jump away from here. But he was ornery; he wanted not merely to escape the tigers, but to beat them back, establishing his dominance. He also wanted to make his mark on the fog suckers. So he dallied.
What would teach both tigers and fog suckers a lesson without actually killing them? Illusion worked only briefly. After the first experience, they would recognize it.
Then he had it. He cast a spell of illusion over the fog suckers, which were starting their suction. He made them look like six legged rabbits. Then he teleported himself out of the way, behind the tigers.
They spied the rabbits and pounced, crashing into the fog suckers. The suction hauled on the feet and tails and the tigers’ weight flattened the funnels. There was a horrible growling as the tigers scrambled to extricate themselves from what turned out to be inedible and entangling.
The Green Glamor appeared. “You seem to have the situation in hand,” he remarked.
“Affirmation. What is your interest?"
“Ilka Ifrit reported you were in trouble. Unfortunately it took her a while to float back to the rendezvous area."
“I foolishly ignored her caution."
“So the ifrits had no ill will?"
“None. I am satisfied they are innocent."
Then the green volcano roared and shook. “We seem to be having an eruption,” Green remarked.
“Affirmation. Shall we depart?"
“Sensible,” Green agreed, though he had little to fear from such activity in his natural Chroma.
They jumped back to the Red Chroma zone staging area. “Havoc!” Gale cried, spotting him. “What happened?"
“Own fault,” he said. “Ilka told me not to cross zones, but I ignored her caution and encountered some problems."
She ran to embrace him, followed by the three children. “You were always wild,” she said, not wholly reprovingly. Then, mentally: Real story?
Ifrits are innocent. Now I trust them. Ilka warned me, and summoned help when she knew I was in trouble. But I knew her nature before that.
Gale kissed him. “Next time I'd better come along to keep you sensible."
“Agreement. We can be a family of clouds."
“A family of clouds!” Warp agreed as the children arrived.
Now they were committed.
* * * *
Gale was more excited than she cared to show. She had seen the children become clouds, and Havoc, so the technique had been proven, as it were. But she would not be able to accept it fully until she did it herself—and she intended to do that today. But what a risk—allowing herself to disintegrate, float away like vapor on the breeze, and return to her natural f
orm. Suppose something went wrong? Who could care for the children?
Symbol, Havoc thought in answer to her concern. We might have to co-opt Spanky too, to emulate you.
The bath girl? she thought, appalled.
She's a nice girl, he thought, teasing her. Phenomenal bottom.
Berm's not bad either, she thought, teasing him back. But the exchange did ease her concern somewhat.
They came to the Red Chroma zone. Ivor, Iva, and their children were already there, in condensed form. “I want to go first,” Gale said. “So that I can track the children before they have a chance to float away."
Iva smiled. “It is the nature of children. But this zone is safe for them."
“They won't stay in this zone."
“Agreement. Ivor will guide you."
Gale didn't question why it was Ivor and not Iva. Iva wanted to be with Havoc, and surely Ivor had a hankering for Gale. They had not had sex in solid human form, while Havoc and Iva had. Gale understood and accepted it. In fact she was curious herself: how was it done in cloud form, and what was it like? Perhaps there would be a chance to find out.
“We shall have to separate as we change,” Ivor said. “So as not to overlap at the outset. I will expand in this direction, and you may expand in that direction.” He indicated left and right. “I will extend a vapor contact to touch you, and will guide you throughout. Then we will move off enough to give the children room to change."
“Agreement.” She remained tight. She really was concerned about suffering some mishap and orphaning the children. Havoc meant well, but he was not a mother. Symbol meant well, but she was not a Glamor. Gale had to be there to do it, and even the slightest chance she would not be was unnerving. But she couldn't track the children unless she could turn cloud when they did.
And, she realized belatedly, she was still holding Voila. She looked around for Symbol, but she was busy with the other children.
Then Voila began to change, anticipating Gale. They would do it together. Gale set her down, giving her room, and focused on herself. What was the first step? She had started doing it unconsciously before, but now had no idea how she had done it.