“If you don't stop being the jealous female,” Gale said severely, “I will fetch Warp and kiss him right on the face."
“Outrage,” Weft said, disappearing.
“And you weren't even bluffing,” Havoc said.
“And I have the kiss to prove it. You'll have to take it.” She kissed him. “And now it's my turn: I love you."
“And I have your bottom,” he said, taking hold of it.
They snuggled on into sleep. It was fun being lovers when they weren't busy being married.
In the morning they organized for the attack on the illusion. The Glamors had hashed it out, and were prepared for a slow but certain penetration. They had concluded that all they needed was a marked path through it; it was not necessary to nullify the whole thing, assuming it could be done. A single path should be comparatively simple.
“Want to go too,” Weft said as Havoc kissed her parting.
“Negation,” he said. “Not safe. We don't know what we'll find. You stay with Symbol and your Ifrit friends."
She looked rebellious, but did not argue further. The child was getting possessive of him; he assumed it was a phase. He set her down with the others, and she went to join Igor.
The illusion party lined up at a station they had set up at a convenient adjacent nonChroma zone. Havoc took Ini's hand. She had the altar, and would indicate the direction. Futility would remain just outside the illusion zone with the tapestry map. The Red Glamor and the Gray Glamor Avian would be liaison for this initial penetration. They knew that the outer illusions were fairly simple; it was the inner ones that were likely to be the challenge.
The first illusion was a courtyard amidst stone ruins of a castle. That was interesting; the day before if had been a grassy valley. It had changed. Which was of course why they needed direction, map, and marked trail; no single indication would be proof against shifting illusions.
He glanced at Ini without letting go of her hand. A strange woman stood beside him. That was Ini as changed by illusion. For one thing her face, arms, and legs showed clearly, while the real Ini was completely swathed. The illusion had given her a costume like that of the Red Glamor, and a face like—
He smiled. It was his own face on that body. The illusion was taking aspects of all of them and putting them together in different combinations.
He concentrated in the manner he had practiced, nullifying the visual illusion. Slowly it cleared, and he saw swathed Ini again. “Report,” he said. “We stand amidst stone ruins. Ini has my face and Red's clothing."
Garbled words came back at him. He looked to their source and saw swathing. That would be Red, in Ini's garb. She was repeating what he had just said, but he couldn't understand her because he had not nullified the sonic illusion. She could understand him, however, because that was the nullification she was focusing on.
The illusion was doing exactly what the ifrits had indicated, drawing on the natures of the intruders to confuse them. It allowed just one aspect of illusion to be nullified by one person, with effort; that was evidently according to its rules. But was that all?
He did not bother to penetrate the illusion form of the Red Glamor, as that was not necessary to his progress. It was enough to know that she would relay his message to the others, who would note it, and Futility at the edge would mark his progress on the tapestry map. Once he had reached the object, that map would enable others to do so.
Meanwhile, he was impressed. It was one thing to be informed that the illusion was dynamically interactive; it was another to experience it. This scene seemed quite real in every respect. When he penetrated its visual aspect, seeing the barren plain it covered, the sounds and odors of the courtyard remained, and the feel of the stones at his feet. And the moment he stopped concentrating, the sight returned. He was standing near a wall; he put his hand out to touch it, and felt the mossy stone. A six legged lizard scooted away with a faint squeak of protest.
“Experiment,” he announced. “I can see that there is no wall beside me; I shall try to walk through it.” He let go of Ini's hand for the moment.
He focused, getting the true vision again, and stepped into it. And banged his chest and arm against the wall. It was a solid jolt, unbalancing him; he wind-milled his arms, but banged into the wall again. He sank clumsily to the ground/floor. “Oof!"
There was the sound of sobbing behind him. Ini was holding a dripping handkerchief to her face.
Newly cautious, he focused his vision again, and saw that she wasn't crying, she was laughing. She had seen enough of his motion to understand what had happened.
Negation. I got it from your mind.
Oh. That did not improve the situation. Embarrassment, he thought.
Now let's make love, while Gale can't see.
Havoc got back to his feet. Something was wrong; Ini was not one to sneak around. And why were her thoughts coming through ungarbled? “Ini,” he said aloud. “Did you just—"
He cut himself short. Ini wasn't telepathic. She wasn't even able to nullify any of the sense illusions except sound; only the Glamors seemed to be able to accomplish even that much. So she hadn't seen him fall, unless the illusion had showed it. It couldn't have been her.
He had just learned something. The illusion didn't have to garble; it could make seeming mental sense if it chose, just as it made seeming visual, sonic, and tactile sense. They had agreed not to use telepathy because of the garbling; now he knew that was not the only reason.
“Report,” he said. “I tried to walk through the wall, but it felt real and I crashed and stumbled. Then I heard Ini sobbing and thought she was laughing, and received a seeming mental seduction invitation from her. Most of this was illusion."
After a moment he looked at Ini again, nulling the illusion. Now that she had heard his report, she knew what had happened. She held a handwritten sign: I DID LAUGH.
Oh. He had reported his intent, then exclaimed “Oof!” and she must have pieced it together.
Then he looked at Red. Her sign said I PROPOSITIONED YOU.
So Red's teasing invitation had been transposed to seem to come from Ini, otherwise coming through intact. They couldn't even trust the illusion to be completely wrong. It relayed what it chose. That had nervous implications.
“Ini,” he said. “What do you see here?"
After a moment she held up her plaque. STONE COURT.
He nodded. “Observation: we are experiencing the same illusion setting. Only our companions are garbled."
He gave them time to relay his observation, then took Ini's hand again. This time it felt like the claw of a bird, but his null vision verified that it was gloved human.
“Question: direction?"
Ini lifted the hand he held, pointing it ahead. That was the direction of the object they sought. They stepped across the court as he watched to be sure there were no real gaps in the real surface. Reality was the plain.
But as they stepped through the arched doorway, reality changed. The plain became a glade in a forest, the arch a set of trees with branches crossing overhead. That made him pause again. How could reality change? He was penetrating the illusion, so should have seen what was there throughout.
“Pause,” he said to Ini, letting go of her hand again. He stepped back through the archway, nulling the visual illusion.
The plain returned. Experimentation showed that there was after all a limit to his ability; it could null only the immediate illusion, not the more distant one. So the near part of the plain he saw was real, the far part illusion. He had been fooled into thinking that all of it was real.
He made a report on that, then took Ini's hand again and stepped on out of the ruin, concentrating on near reality.
Ini stopped walking. He knew because he found himself stopping. He glanced at her, then ahead, forgetting for the moment to null. And stood amazed.
The illusion scene had changed far more than the reality, or perhaps it was merely the larger scene expanding from the partial on
e they had been in before. It was a glade formed by trees and towering ruins, trunks and columns mixed, as if the portals of a great ancient castle had been centuries overgrown. But that was only the background. The setting was filled with odd people, mostly clothed, of several different sizes, with wings. The wings were in addition to their human limbs, three of them encircling each waist. Most of the folk were standing, but some were flying, lying horizontally in the air as their birdlike wings spun rapidly, propelling them forward.
Havoc took time to assimilate the picture. It was another composite of features, this time human and avian. The Gray Glamor was a three winged bird, so that was the source of the wings. The people, male and female, were like Havoc, Ini, and Red, each a bit different but with a family resemblance. Most were going toward an elevated stone stage where several people stood. It was evidently some kind of gathering.
Ini tugged at his hand. He checked to see whether this was real or a touch illusion, then saw her sign: MOTION BUT SCENE UNCHANGED.
Oh? He looked again. People were still streaming toward the stage by foot and by wing, but no more had arrived there than before, and there were just as many at the periphery. So they weren't actually getting anywhere. Smart Ini had caught on before he had noticed. So this was an animated yet unchanging illusion scene. That was another new effect.
“Report: we see an assemblage of winged people of different sizes.” He described them, and the manner the larger scene did not progress.
Two women were walking along a path toward the stage clothed in pale robes and barefoot. One turned back to the other, glancing at her and lifting her hem, making a flirt of her head as if to say come on, we don't want to be late. But the other hung back, disdaining the event. Then the first spied Havoc and Ini, smiled, and signaled them.
And there was yet another novelty. The image figure was making eye contact, inviting him along. This was truly interactive. But what did it mean? That the illusion was trying to get the visitors to participate in the illusion ceremony?
He focused, nulling the scene, and saw the empty glade. There were trees but no towers; all was natural. No pitfalls, so it wasn't that sort of trap. The young woman was pretty and well formed; Red must be the body model. But she was all illusion, so if he went to her he would be relating to nothing.
After a moment the illusion woman shrugged and walked on toward the stage, her companion reluctantly following. Both had wings but weren't using them. Havoc felt half disappointed, half guilty. Meanwhile the other folk continued flocking stageward.
“Report: we were invited to participate in the gathering, by a comely young winged woman. Haven't accepted yet."
He looked again at Ini. “Direction?"
She held up her sign: INDETERMINATE.
“The setting is interfering!"
SEEMS SO.
So Iva was correct on this point too: they had to play the game by the illusion's rules. This setting was evidently on the way to the object, because the altar had pointed to it, but the altar could not point beyond it until they were through it.
Was the illusion woman trying to help them—or to lead them astray? He suspected the latter. But what else was there to do except enter the setting?
Havoc wasn't satisfied with that. The illusion was trying to prevent passage to the hidden object. Cooperating with it was bound to get him nowhere.
But he did have to play the game. What were its rules? Was he supposed to go along with the mock woman and learn something from her? To reject her? Ignore her?
The two women appeared again as the illusion recycled. This time Havoc went to her, holding Ini's hand so she would know where he was. With his other hand he took the illusion woman's hand, and it felt completely real. He kissed her, and her lips felt not only real but responsive.
But she still wasn't there.
“Welcome, Havoc,” the woman said.
So now the illusion had picked up on his name, and was addressing him ungarbled. He already knew that after this mission was done, he wanted to learn mastery of this type of display, as it was superior to anything he had known on Charm. How could a setting that had remained for centuries and had no conscious input be so relevantly apt? This was intriguing and frightening.
He let the illusion govern, as he didn't need to constantly verify her nonexistence. The woman was a pleasure to view, with her loose robe not at all concealing the esthetic outlines within it. “Appreciation.” He let go of Ini's hand.
“We must formally meet the queen. Then we shall be free for pleasure."
“Apology. I must pause to consult with my associates."
She frowned prettily. “Must you? Whatever for?"
“I must report that I am talking with a lovely woman, with whom I am about to meet the queen, and then share pleasure. I must learn whether they have any objection."
“Impatience.” But she waited.
In a moment he nulled the vision and turned to Ini, who held up her plaque. WE HEAR THE WORDS YOU DO. BUT THEY HAVE NO ORIGIN.
He had thought as much. Ini could penetrate the illusion of sound so as to hear the reality, which was silence. At least it wasn't dangerous.
Then Ini seemed to speak. “Go with the maid, Havoc. I will find a handsome man."
That was more illusion, and Ini herself would be hearing it. She knew he would not be fooled. “Can you track me by sound?” he asked her. “As I track you by sight?"
AFFIRMATION, her plaque said.
“Then stay close."
He faced the woman, who had not moved. That was one thing about a programmed illusion: it reacted to direct input, and had no volition otherwise. His parameters were beyond its capacity, so it ignored them. “I will go with you."
“Appreciation.” She took his arm and guided him toward the stage. Her female companion was no longer in evidence.
He was getting along well with this illusion. He had no doubt that he would be able to converse with the queen, receive her blessing, and then go to a private place with this nice nameless woman and have sex with her, all of it seeming quite real if he did not null the visual aspect. But would this get him through the setting? He doubted it. After all, the purpose of the illusion was to lead him astray, to prevent him from reaching the object it guarded. Why should he allow it to do that?
But what was the alternative? He had to grasp and honor its rules, or there would be no way through. How could he go along with it and not be led astray?
Then he had an inspiration. “Apology,” he said. “I just remembered something important I forgot, and must return for it."
“Confusion."
“Regret.” He turned to face away from the stage. He saw the faces of numbers of folk of all sizes, all proceeding toward the stage. This setting was not even pretending to be realistic; the different sizes of animated people showed that it was crafted. Even if they had existed, they would not have had identical proportions; the larger ones would need larger legs and wings. So this was meant to be understood as a challenge, assuming that the designers of this illusion had any such intention.
The path he was on wound back into the forest, and others were walking along it. He would be going against the current, as it were.
He started walking. The oncoming folk moved around him without pausing, some afoot, some flying, none paying him any other attention. The flying ones generally had less clothing, and it was filmy to the point of translucency. Most were female, their breasts and thighs evident as they were carried by their central wings. The illusion had also caught on to the appeal of such anatomy to a visiting human male.
He encountered the two women walking their course. The young one caught his eye and smiled invitingly. He shook his head. “Regret,” he repeated. It seemed the recycled figures had no memory of their prior interaction with him. Why should they, since they didn't exist?
He proceeded to the edge of the glade, to the forest. He stepped into the shadow of the forest—and was in the next illusion field. He had fathome
d it.
This one was all stage, and he evidently had a front seat in the audience. A line of buxom women were dancing, kicking up their scantily skirted legs in unison to show their well fleshed thighs to the junctures. But Havoc, not one to miss incidental details, noticed that their heads were those of birds, and some of them had three or four breasts. Nothing like good composites to make it interesting.
He stepped back into the glade, making sure Ini remained with him. She was not in sight until he nulled the visual aspect; then he saw her, and beyond her Red and Gray.
“Report: the key to the flying people glade is to go opposite to the apparent folk.” He glanced at Ini. “Direction?"
She came to the border and pointed at right angles to the path. Well, now. So the next obvious setting was a wrong one, no way through, or at least not on the way to the object. That meant that this was a puzzle not limited to the obvious. He liked that.
He took her hand and stepped off the path, into an apparent thicket of thorns. It opened into another stagelike setting, this one consisting of a checkered floor with a number of people standing to the sides. Those on the right were all male, ranging from king and bodyguard to a row of boys. Those on the left were all female, ranging from a queen and Amazon guard to girls.
“Observation: it's a chess game, men against women.” He gave Ini time to relay the message as he considered it. The pieces were properly laid out for the opening, each confined to his or her square. Obviously this was a game to be played. It must have been drawn from the minds of the humans, for surely the ifrits had never played chess. It was a game of ancient Earth, thousands of years old, its pieces and rules long since fixed.
Surely the setting required that the game be played to a conclusion. But which side was supposed to be the victor?
“Question, Ini: do you play chess well?” For of course she knew the game; every person on Charm knew it, and all the other games. Humans were a gaming species.
AGREEMENT.
As he had expected. She was a very smart woman, surely a tough opponent. Havoc himself was one of the best players he knew, though he had not touched a piece since becoming king.