Chapter 7: MinstrelChapter 7: Minstrel

320 Key to Havoc

It is enough, Sire. In fact it seemed to be more than enough, if the conta-gious strength of her passion was any indication. Still, he regretted not being

with Gale.

The matters requiring his attention were no better. There was a constant stream of niggling details of governance that Chief was fully competent to handle; but according to protocol, Havoc had to acquaint himself with them and make pronouncements. There were also direct appeals from citizens, for favors, justice, or recognition, that Havoc had to handle personally. These he liked better, as he was helping people directly. But overall, being king was an uncomfortable bore.

There was also the matter of the unknown enemy. The one who had killed King Deal, and tried to ambush King Havoc. Neither he nor any other king was safe until that riddle was solved. He would far rather be out solving it than vegetating here in the huge city.

Why don't you, Havoc? Bijou asked him. He had removed the crown for one of their lovemaking sessions, as they both much preferred it that way. He loved Gale, and Bijou knew it, but in the physical and mental heat of passion, what they had together was undeniably real and intense. So she had read his other thought, and responded.

I have to stay here to be king, he thought. They spoke mentally, because that gave them special privacy. They had discovered that it was possible to lower their mind shields just enough to share their phrased thoughts, and whatever else they wished to, without being open for mind reading by others.

But you could sneak out, the way Gale did, leaving someone else here to impersonate you.

It was as if a great light dawned. He could do that! He grabbed Bijou and kissed her, and felt her answering thrill. This was not sexual, but appreciation for his appreciation. She loved having him happy with her.

Have Ennui set it up, he thought. Because concealment would be better if Havoc himself had no direct hand in the arrangements. Then he put the crown back on, held Bijou's hand, and slept.

Next day Chief had something else for him. "Sire, there is a People's Petition for your removal from office."

"A what?"

"The people fear an autocratic government, so have reserved the ultimate power for themselves. They can present a Petition, and require the Chroma to vote on it, and if seven of the ten do not support the king, he can be discharged. This is one of several devious mechanisms that counter the power of the king."

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"Well, bring it on," Havoc said. "I don't want to be king anyway."

Chief smiled. "Not so fast, Sire. If you are dismissed within a year, it must be for cause, and this is dishonorable. But don't be concerned; this one is routine. There is a similar petition every year, or a month from the onset of

a new king. The Petition will be presented, and go out to the several Chroma, who will approve or disapprove it. That process takes another month. I doubt that the Chroma will approve it; you have done very well so far. But you need to be aware of the Petition."

"Tell me when it is voted on," Havoc said sourly.

"I will. If the result is negative, there will be a Crown Assessment. That is a more serious matter."

"I'll be concerned about it when it happens."

Meanwhile, Ennui got busy, doing research amidst her expanding contacts, and in due course brought in a minstrel. He was a man about a decade older than Havoc, but of similar physical configuration. "Sire, I am enormously pleased to have been summoned for your personal entertainment,"

Minstrel said. He glanced at Bijou. "And yours too, Lady."

Bijou smiled. She was pleased with this whole thing, because it was her idea Havoc was following up on. He had her there because he could not read minds while wearing the crown, but she could do that for him, and report later. "We do enjoy a good story," she said, crossing her legs in an appealing way.

Havoc saw the prospects immediately. "Tell me all your tales," he said.

"Sing me all your songs. Demonstrate all your routines."

"Sire, that would require several days, and much of what I have is hardly worthy of your notice. I can give you a selection of my best, however."

"No. I want it all. I have time. You will be well treated here while you perform."

"As you wish, Sire. Do you have a preference of type?"

Havoc was about to tell him just to do them in any order, but suffered a pang of absence from Gale. "Start with one about forbidden love." In this case, forbidden by separation, but few tales related poignantly to that.

"Certainly." The minstrel strummed on his lute. "There was once on Planet Mystery a male teacher of considerable competence. His wife had died, and in his loneliness he threw himself into his work. But he overdid it, and suffered a magic virus that put him into a coma. Now you might think that this would be a dull state..." He continued, accompanying his words with music, including special themes for leading characters. Havoc had thought to be bored, but soon related to the story, and liked it very well. Bijou liked it

322 Key to Havoc

even better, as she informed him passionately later that evening when they were alone.

Minstrel stayed for several days, and delivered his full repertoire. Havoc made careful mental notes, and filed it all away for future reference. But more

of his attention was taken assessing Minstrel's style of delivery, and judging the likely effect of his tales on a village audience.

Bijou was a great help. "I like some of those tales better than others,"

she reported privately, and explained why. "And I think Minstrel is all right.

He's honest and means well. I believe you can trust him, Sire."

So Havoc tackled the next stage, once the delivery of stories was complete. "Minstrel, I have another task for you. Can you keep a secret?"

"Sire, I can, if required."

Bijou, reading Minstrel, nodded almost imperceptibly, so that Havoc would know the man was speaking the truth. Actually the dragon seed did that, but he was glad to have confirmation.

Havoc plunged in. "I wish to take your place on tour, and to have you take my place here, as king."

"Sire!" Minstrel protested, dumbfounded.

"I am a barbarian, and I chafe at the civilized royal life," Havoc continued. "I need to have a break from it. So I want you to play the part of me, so that others will not know of my absence. I will return after the first tour, and

you may then resume your ordinary rounds, with my appreciation and a reasonable gem or other valuable item from the treasury. I think you have the ability to emulate me, if you choose, and you will have the assistance of the king's key staff members. It should not be difficult."

"But Sire, the--the effrontery of trying to be you! I dare not presume-"

"My consort will of course remain to foster the illusion, and support you as necessary." He indicated Bijou.

Minstrel stared at her. She recrossed her legs and smiled. He was plainly overwhelmed. "Sire--not your Lady! Of course she wouldn't--"

"I would," Bijou said. "Of course I will not actually share your bed, for my ultimate body belongs only to the king. But in all overt matters I will be your loving companion, and there will a beautiful woman to share your bed.

You will not suffer neglect."

Minstrel was lost. "If this is your true desire, Sire--"

"Excellent. Now let me see you emulate me. Here, you will need to wear the crown."

"The crown!" the man said, aghast. "I could not even touch--"

Havoc set it on Minstrel's head. "You will not even feel it, after a mo-Piers Anthony 323

ment. This is necessary not only to present the illusion, but to protect your person and your thoughts from intrusions. We want no illicit mind reader to fathom the secret."

"Yes, Sire," Minstrel agreed, though plainly ill at ease.

"You will have the best clothing, the best food, and the best attention,"

Havoc said. "It should be a very nice diversion for you."

"But Sire, to pretend to be you--this borders on treason." The man was truly nonplused; Havoc almost thought he could receive his thoughts, though this was not possible while the man wore the crown.

Havoc tried another tack. "It is a service to me. But there is a liability that could cause you to decline. This does have to be of your free choice."

"Liability, Sire?"

"Someone is trying to kill me."

"To kill you!"

"So there is danger. If my unknown enemy believes you are me, he may try to kill you. Of course you will have a competent bodyguard, and the crown will protect you. But there is nevertheless the threat. Thus by impersonating me, you will be protecting me. But I can not ask you to take such a personal risk, when--"

"Of course I will do it, Sire."

Spoken in the manner of a truly loyal citizen. Bijou made a mental laugh. Havoc suppressed his smile. "Still, perhaps I can make it worth your while despite the danger. Let's take you to the bath."

"The bath, Sire?"

"One of the onerous requirements of the kingship is the need to be constantly clean, and to be washed by the mistresses of the bath."

"Washed by women, Sire? They are grandmothers?"

"No. They are freshly nubile girls, who vie for the honor of such service."

"But Sire, I--this would--I would much prefer to avoid--"

"I understand. This was my attitude. They stripped me naked, and I got a great erection, and they washed that too. But if you would like to have one of those girls as your bedmate, she will be more than willing."

Minstrel clearly had mixed feelings about all this. "I will of course do what you wish, Sire. But this seems extremely awkward."

Havoc snapped his fingers. Majordomo appeared. "This man will emulate me during my absence. The household will do its best not only to support his emulation, but to make him feel welcome. Conduct him to the bath, and garb and tonsure him to resemble me."

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"And alert Spanky to accompany him," Bijou said.

Majordomo nodded, and conducted Minstrel away.

"Spanky?" Havoc asked. They had agreed not to advertise their ability to read minds unnecessarily, so continued speaking aloud.

She sent him a picture of a voluptuous young woman with an especially well developed posterior. "The new bath girl."

Havoc recognized her. "Oh, her. I did not know her name."

"But she knows yours, Havoc." She sent another picture, of the young woman embracing Havoc, strongly tinged with desire.

He laughed. "So you are eliminating the competition by assigning her to Minstrel."

"Of course. And with her in his bed, he will have no thought of me."

"You are more like Gale every day."

"Thank you, Havoc."

Soon Minstrel returned. He looked startlingly familiar. In a moment Havoc realized why: he looked a great deal like Havoc himself. The change of clothing and set of hair accounted for most of it, but his manner had changed too. Now he was emulating Havoc, and he was good at it, as a minstrel could be. He was a decade older, but no longer looked it.

"Great!" Havoc said. "But for now, you will have to practice in private, because I still have things to do. Suppose I send you to the bedroom with Spanky?"

"Great!" Minstrel said, echoing him perfectly.

Bijou went to get Spanky. The girl appeared, fully clothed, and lovely.

Of course all the bath girls were lovely; it was part of the requirement. But he

had not before seen her in other than bath attire.

In the next few days, Minstrel perfected his impersonation, and Bijou, as Gale, began accompanying him on trial public appearances. No one noticed the difference. Bijou was sure of that, because she lowered her mind shield just enough to sample the reactions of others, and reported to Havoc. His substitution was in place. Now all he needed was the return of Gale, and they could get away from all this together.

Of course he had his mission: to investigate the murder of King Deal.

They had decided to invoke specialized magic to locate the precise place and time and circumstance of Deal's death, to discover exactly what caused him to fall. Minstrel had been heading for a particular area, to take over the practice of a retiring troubadour. Part of this tour was in a Brown Chroma region, and the Brown Chroma specialized in the things of earth, such as conjuring substances and precise location. It would have the magic to pinpoint Piers Anthony 325

the spot. Havoc would made a side trip when he was in the Brown Chroma, and try to get the necessary magic.

But that was to a degree a pretext. He wanted to be free of civilization for a while, free to be barbarian. And to be alone with Gale, the one person in this city who truly understood him. He couldn't stop being king, but he could, as Bijou had suggested, sneak out for a while.

At last the glad news came: "She's back, Havoc," Ennui murmured as he passed her desk.

No need to inquire who. "I'll go meet her!"

"No. She has asked for the Lady Aspect to meet her."

"The Lady Aspect! Why?"

"I don't know, Havoc. She's not within mind range. But she surely has reason."

He knew Gale well. "She surely does. Let Aspect do it."

Ennui nodded. She went to tell the Lady Aspect.

Later a servant came. "The Lady Aspect requests the presence of the Lady Ennui in her apartment."

What is going on? Havoc demanded mentally. Minstrel was out with Bijou, making a semi-public appearance, so had the crown.

I'll find out, Havoc. She departed, leaving him to chafe at the mystery. Had something happened to Gale? Surely she should have told him first!

Soon Ennui returned. "Havoc, she will stay with the Lady Aspect, using the room I used before I moved in with Chief."

"But she's with me!"

"Havoc, there is a complication."

"I will see her now." He strode toward the Lady Aspect's apartment.

Ennui ran after him. "Havoc, there may be danger. You must not go to her right now."

"The hell with that! If there's a problem, she can tell me herself."

"Havoc, listen to me."

But he forged on, not slowing.

She hit him with a mind blast. His shield was high, but even so, it made him dizzy for a moment. It was a flash of light and crash of sound combined with a feeling of panic, as if a magic bomb had detonated right behind him.

She had never done that before.

He paused, and turned to her. "All right, you got my attention. Am I being an idiot?"

"No, Havoc. There's just an unexpected threat we can't ignore. You must understand it before you touch Gale. Maybe it will be better if the Lady 326 Key to Havoc

Aspect explains."

"And I'm to stay clear of Gale until she does?"

"Yes, Havoc. Then the decision will be yours."

"Why do I fear that it's a decision I won't like?"

"Because you're picking that up from my mind."

So he was. Something very serious was afoot. He knew he should stop and talk with Ennui, to get straight exactly what it was, before going farther,

but he couldn't stop himself. He moved on to Aspect's door.

The Lady Aspect opened it immediately. "Did the Lady Ennui explain?"

"No. I want to hear it from you."

Aspect's eyes did not move, but it was almost as if she rolled them. Her mind was in a kind of impenetrable chaos. "Of course, Havoc. Come in."

He followed her into her main chamber. He saw a backpack there: evidence of Gale's presence.

"Please be seated, Sire."

"Why do I have to--" But a mental warning from Ennui stopped him.

He sat.

"Please remain seated as Gale joins us, Sire. Do not rise to greet her until we have finished what we have to say."

Havoc nodded. This was certainly something serious.

Gale entered the room. She was completely familiar, and lovely; there was nothing physically wrong with her. She offered him a brief smile, and sat on a chair across the room from him. But her mind, too, was in turmoil. He could not read her.

"Sire, there are two major things the Lady Gale has to report. Both seriously affect your relationship. I will cover them briefly, and the Lady Gale

can amplify thereafter, when you understand the parameters."

"Thank you." He was trying for irony, but there was a current of appre-hension. None of these three women were the kind to interfere with him without excellent reason.

"When the Lady Gale went on her mission," the Lady Aspect said, "a demon spirit, a succubus, was sent to intercept her. She--"

"A succubus! Now the demons are after us?"

"No, Sire. This one was captive of what we think of as a torture cult.

Its purpose was to prevent the lady Gale from accomplishing her mission.

But she fought the demon, and managed to capture it, and to complete her mission. Now she has that succubus with her."

"With her! But they--"

"If you have sex with the Lady Gale, the succubus may abscond with Piers Anthony 327

your soul," the Lady Aspect said seriously. "That is why we are keeping her from you, for the moment. We do not wish you to come to harm."

"But if she conquered the succubus--"

"It may be that the succubus was intended to be captured. So as to gain access to you, Sire. We do not think this is the case, but we are unwilling to take the chance."

"Why not just get rid of the succubus?"

The Lady Aspect was for a moment at a loss. Instead, Gale answered.

"Because it may be able to lead us to the murderer of King Deal."

"But you can't trust a demon! It may be pretending to cooperate, just to stay with you. So as to be able to spring its trap."

"I don't think so, Havoc."

"Why not? Demons don't operate the way human beings do."

"Because it was the succubus herself who warned me about this possi-bility."

That set him back. "Why would--?"

"She's not really a demon. She's a human being named Swale who was imprisoned and tortured until she did the bidding of her captors. She wishes to help us destroy the torture cult. But what she does may be involuntary. If I have sex with you, she will no longer be captive, and you may be destroyed.

I don't want to risk that, Havoc."

Her sincerity came through. And of course Gale would never try to hurt him. She did not dare have sex with him--or even to embrace him, lest it lead to dangerous passion. No wonder she was so diffident about meeting him. He would have swept her into bed before asking any questions.

"Point made," he said. "What is the other thing?"

"Sire, the Lady Gale has solved part of the mystery of the changelings,"

the Lady Aspect said. "This was enough to provide serious doubts about her identity, and yours. The changelings are human babies of superior quality, distributed by the Temple to women all over the planet, of every Chroma.

They are distributed by being implanted in prospective mothers, so they are not recognized as changelings. There are now several generations of them, and they are achieving prominence in a number of areas. King Deal was a Changeling. So is Gale. So are you."

"But we're human!" Havoc protested.

"But also changelings," Gale said. "We are not the true children of our parents. We are like twins, closely related to each other. And there are many others like us, differing only in superficial details, such as color of eyes and

hair and shape of face." She took a breath. "Whatever conspiracy is distrib-328 Key to Havoc

uting the changelings, we are part of it, Havoc."

"Like twins," Havoc repeated, numbed. "But twins can't marry."

Now the tears started down Gale's face. "This is the way I understand it, Havoc. I hope I am wrong." But she didn't think she was.

The enormity of the situation was closing in on him. "You mean I can have any woman I want--except the one I love?"

"That seems to be the case, Havoc," Ennui said.

"And I have to continue faking Gale's presence--even when she's here?"

"That may be the case, Sire," the Lady Aspect said.

"And when I can marry--it will have to be someone else?"

"I fear so," Gale said, her tears continuing.

"Damn it! Damn, damn, damn it!" Havoc got up and punched the wall.

The pain lanced through his hand as the wood splintered. That helped.

He saw Ennui wince. She felt his pain, literally. That gave him an idea.

"Give Gale the mind reading infection," he said. "Teach her to compen-sate while I am gone. We can still love each other with our minds."

"With our minds?" Gale asked blankly.

"We have had our own experience, in your absence," Ennui told her.

"Some of us can read minds now."

"We can read yours," Havoc said.

Gale thought they were joking; Havoc picked up that thought. But she tested them, imagining an image of a man whose upper half was red, and whose lower half was green: an impossible cross-Chroma figure. "What am I--"

"Red-green man," Havoc and Ennui said together.

The bottom portion turned red. The top half became green--and female.

"Green woman, red man," Havoc said.

"Merged," Ennui added.

Gale, amazed, tried one more.

"A blue dragon," Ennui said.

"Mentor," Havoc added.

"You can do it," Gale agreed. "You can teach me?"

"It's more complicated than that," Ennui said. "But yes, you can acquire this ability. Havoc suggests that you do it while he is away. Then you will be able to share your love mentally, without physically touching. That is just about as good."

"It will take me some time to believe that," Gale said dubiously.

Havoc smiled. He was still hurting, but this promised some relief. "You will have the time." Then, before he was tempted to do something rash, he Piers Anthony 329

turned and headed for the door. Ennui did not follow; she had other business to accomplish.

He sought Bijou. "There has been a change," he said. "Gale will not be traveling with me. You will."

"But Sire, now that she's here--"

"How fast can you get ready?"

"I am ready now. But--"

"Then we'll go now."

She read his mind, and stopped arguing.

It was not after all immediate, as there were arrangements to be made at the other end. But in due course Havoc and Bijou were delivered to the Minstrel's new territory. There they talked with the retiring former minstrel, learning details of his route and favored villages. He did not know that Havoc was not the original Minstrel, or that his helper was adapted from another role. They learned that trail raiders were not much of a problem here, because there were no wealthy caravans, and much of the route was around a large lake that was patrolled by boats of several Chroma. So they did not need to join a party for protection; they could go as they were. "No one bothers a minstrel, anyway," the retiring minstrel said. "The people wouldn't stand for it."

Havoc had figured that; it was one reason why he had chosen this role.

To outlying or isolated villages, a minstrel was both entertainment and news, and they valued every one. Nevertheless, he had a couple of masked weapons, just in case. Those, and the dragon seed, and his mind reading ability, should get him by.

They donned the distinctive Minstrel costumes: broad, flat, circular hats that shielded them from the glare of the suns. Sectional cloaks that could cover their whole bodies, or just parts of them. Sturdy light boots for hiking.

Competent gloves. Rope belts. The whole done in iridescent plaid, the sure signal of a traveling entertainer. But the elements of the costumes were not entirely what they seemed; some of them were concealed weapons. Bijou was untrained in their use, but Havoc would teach her, to a degree, as they traveled. He also carried a strong light staff somewhat taller than he was; he would not care to be without one, when traveling on his own.

They set off walking along a popular trail. Havoc loved it, as he had felt the lack of proper exercise, but Bijou soon tired. She did not complain, but he felt it in her mind; she was a creature of the city, not hardened to distance

foot travel. That was the first of what might be many details he hadn't thought

of, in his hurry to get the hell away from temptation.

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As they separated from the more thickly settled region, traffic got lighter.

"I need more exercise," he said. "You need less. I'll carry you."

"But Sire--"

"Don't call me that! Call me Minstrel." He handed her his staff, and put his hands to her shoulder and knee.

"Yes, Minstrel," she said contritely. "I forgot."

"You can go by your own name; no one should know you here. Just keep your mind shield high." He picked her up and carried her.

"I'm sorry you couldn't travel with Gale," she said. "But I love being with you like this."

"I'll always love Gale. But until she's done with the succubus, I can't touch her physically. And until we find a way to change what we are, I can't marry her. So you are what I have, for now."

"I'll try to be as much as you want me to be."

He carried her for some distance, then let her walk some more, then carried her again. It worked well enough. She would toughen up as the tour progressed.

As evening came, they approached the first village of this tour. Children ran out to greet them. "Minstrel! Minstrel!" they cried, dancing around them.

Thus honored, they marched on into the village. This one was nonChroma, but others would be of several Chroma. This was one of the ways Chroma unified with nonChroma, and city with country: everybody loved a good story.

The village headman came out to greet them. "Welcome to Village Quibble, Minstrel. I think I do not recognize you."

"I have assumed the practice of your former minstrel," Havoc explained.

"He is retiring, and I am trying out for his route. It may be that next time you

will see another new face." All perfectly true.

"Have you new tales?"

"I have new and old tales, Headman. I think you will be satisfied. Does your village have preferences?"

"The children like adventure. The women like romance. Some like mystery. All of us like humor. None of us like to be bored."

"I have all of these, and will try to avoid being boring. Shall I present one tale tonight, and others at intervals tomorrow?"

"Very good, Minstrel. You can make your first presentation while we prepare a banquet."

"Agreed. Suppose I begin with forbidden love?" That was an almost certain winner.

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"Does it have sex appeal?"

"Yes. Do you prefer that aspect open or masked?"

"Masked, for this night." The man hesitated, about to say something more, but decided against it. Havoc, however, read his mind: there had been a recent village scandal that had left village sentiment sharply divided.

Havoc's

suggestion of forbidden love had triggered the memory. An adult male teacher had run off with a young female student, surprising everyone. Half the villagers condemned it, while half appreciated the seeming romance of it. Headman was of the latter school, but felt obliged to stay out of the debate.

Havoc nodded. "Masked, but suggestive."

"Very good, Minstrel. Here is your room."

The room was spare, but had an attached privy and a comfortable bed of good size, piled with pillows. "Oh, I like this," Bijou said.

So did Havoc. "Thank you, Headman. We shall do our best to please you, as you are pleasing us."

Headman nodded. "I am the next door down. Knock if you need me."

He departed.

Havoc's gloom of separation from Gale was wearing off as he addressed the challenge of being a troubadour. He knew he was competent, as he had told stories before, but there was still considerable variance in audiences.

He

had seen good minstrels fail to relate well, and he had seen poor ones succeed admirably. It all depended on the chemistry of the moment. He wanted to make a good impression on general principles, as well as to abolish any doubt that he was a legitimate entertainer.

"Did you pick up on Headman's gossip?" Bijou inquired as she stripped and washed. She believed in utter cleanliness; it was a mark of her former profession.

"Yes. Teacher and girl. She was too young, so he took her into anonymity."

"More than that. She loved him, and he had lost his wife, but he had to remarry before she came of age for early marriage. So she couldn't have him.

So she took him away."

Havoc stood still, appreciating the new perspective. "He didn't do it, she did it!"

"We girls have ways," she agreed, coming to strip and wash him. "Who do you think suggested to Majordomo that he did not need to look outside the house staff to recruit a false wife for the king?"

"But you were furious when you learned about the imprinting."

"That was before I remembered the rest of it. I had no right to be angry."

332 Key to Havoc

"You let me wade in guilt anyway?"

"It was as close as I could get to love, from you. True emotion."

"You vixen!"

"Now the guilt is mine."

He grabbed her and kissed her. "Let's forget all that. We both do what we must."

"If I could find a way to give Gale back to you, Havoc, I would. I want you to be happy. I never aspired to be more than your temporary mistress.

Apart from the imprinting, I mean."

"You are on the verge of becoming my friend, Bijou. That's more."

"I hope so. You're going to do something about that village scandal."

"You know I am. You know the tale."

"My favorite. The first one Minstrel told us."

"You can handle it?"

"I will make it steam," she promised. She was sincere; her mind set was such that he wanted to make love to her that moment.

"Bijou--"

"I will do it, of course, if you wish," she said, caressing his erect penis.

"But this time I think we should wait until after the tale, to get maximum effect."

"You are right," he agreed reluctantly. "You are also developing into a considerable tease."

"I like to hold your attention."

He spanked her pert bottom and dressed.

The stage was, as was customary, in the center of the village, with the audience all around. For this tale, all he needed was a chair. It was a simple but he believed powerful story, that should put the villagers in the mood for more.

When the audience was complete, Havoc and Bijou took the stage. Minstrels typically needed no introduction; they took over immediately. Bijou sat on the chair, her eyes downcast, her expression demure. She was garbed as a schoolgirl, looking very young. Even so, she was also very pretty.

Havoc walked around the stage, gazing at the surrounding audience. He wasted no time on explanations; his success would stand or fall on his performance. He knew he had a live issue, because of the scandal; his interest was in fully exploiting it. He would have to keep his mind shield high, to avoid distraction, but would get a notion if the audience reaction was fairly uniform. Bijou would probably pick up more of it, because she did not need to speak.

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He lifted his blue dragon scale and strummed a chord. It was one of his treasured belongings, that his father had packed for him when he left Village Trifle. He had never played this during his tenure as king, so as to keep it as

a private talent that would not give his identity away when he wished to hide it. As was the case now. The fact was, he was good with this instrument, and its magic made him better; it invoked subtle emotions, enhancing the mood.

He had been a bit nervous, facing a new audience, but the scale gave him confidence.

"There was once on Planet Counter Charm a male teacher of considerable competence," he said, strumming again, and felt an immediate surge of response. Oh, yes, he was scoring, thanks to the situation. They thought it coincidence. He had made sure to get the local name for Planet Mystery right, so as not to seem like a foreigner. Such details counted. But mainly, it

was the choice of story. "He was highly regarded in the village, and folk believed him to be happy. But he was not. His wife had died recently, and in his loneliness before remarriage he threw himself into his work. He was a very good teacher, and his students prospered. But he overdid it, and suffered a magic virus that put him into a coma." Here the tale deviated from the village scandal, but that was just as well; the semblance of coincidence was best, just as the standard invocation of their twin planet was used to avoid any suggestion that the tale applied to any real people.

He strummed again, beginning to pick out a theme that would be typical of the teacher, for this narration. Not everyone appreciated how much music contributed to a story, but Havoc had learned by observation and study. "Now you might think that this would be a dangerous or a dull state," he continued.

"And it was, for a while. Master Teacher spent some time unconscious, as his body fought the virus, and gradually beat it back. But his convalescence was tediously slow, and he spent many days unable to move, even as his consciousness returned. He lost his will to live, for it seemed that he would never

have proper control of his body again, and even if he recovered it, what was the point? His wife was gone, and rather than being allowed to mourn her alone, he would be required to marry some widow and make a new and duller life. Fortunately, his students came to his aid, and took turns feeding him, cleaning him, and just watching over him. There was always one of them near, to see that no further ill came to him."

He paused, looking out over the audience. Then he walked to the chair.

Bijou got out of it, and Havoc sat in it, letting his legs extend out and his right

hand hang down limply. He strummed with his left. "By day they propped him in a chair, so that he would be able to look around, if he recovered 334 Key to Havoc

enough to do so. It also facilitated feeding. They so much wanted Master to recover, and watched for any signs of it. But his body lagged behind his mind, and though he could hear them speak to him, he could not respond.

His eyes were closed because he lacked the physical strength to open them, and if he had opened them, it would have been worse, because he lacked the ability to blink. He could not tell them how well he appreciated their efforts on his behalf. They were showing him that there was at least one reason to live: to resume his work with these good young folk. His own life was perhaps past, but he might yet help some of them toward their brighter futures.

"Then one girl came for her hour with him." As Havoc spoke, Bijou approached his chair, and he strummed a new theme: delicate, appealing, feminine. "Ì am here for your physical therapy, Master,' she said. Her voice was vaguely familiar; he knew she was in one of his classes. But without being able to see her, he could not recognize her.

"Ì will move your arms and legs and head,' she said. "To keep your body limber, for the day when you recover the strength to move it yourself. I hope this helps.' She knelt before him, and put her hands on his right leg, lifting it somewhat." Bijou did this to Havoc's own extended leg, following his narration. "She flexed it at the knee, slowly and carefully, several times.

`So you will be able to walk again,' she explained. Ì hope you can hear me, Master, so you understand. Your students love you, and want you back. You must recover, so you can teach us again.'

"She shifted to the other leg, and flexed it also." Bijou did so. "She was diligent but gentle, and Master did feel the circulation improving as she moved

his limbs. She continued to talk to him as she worked. Ì love you too, Master,' she said. Às my teacher, and as a man. I wish I could marry you. But I am too young. Even if you cared for me, you could not marry me, because by the time I come of age to marry, you will be married elsewhere. You can not wait for me; our culture does not allow it.'"

As he spoke, Havoc watched the audience. Not with his eyes, for now he had them closed, emulating the part of Master Teacher. It was with the upper fringe of his mind, picking up the dominant feeling. It was strong and almost unified: they were thinking of the errant teacher, and how it might have been with the girl. They were much with the tale.

"Girl got up and took his right arm." Bijou did so. "She flexed it, bending it at the elbow, and at the shoulder, giving it its full range of motion.

Her touch was gentle but firm, and his bare arm warmed to it. Òh, Master, how I wish I could encourage you to recover! I wish I knew whether there is anything I could say or do to motivate you, to give you more reason to get Piers Anthony 335

back your strength. I love you, and would do anything for you, but I don't know how.' Her voice was tremulous as she tried not to cry. Master wished he could reassure her, and dry her tears, but he could not move. Not even a finger, to signal her that he heard.

"Girl did his other arm, and moved his head carefully, and then was done. Ì hope I have helped, Master. I will come again tomorrow.' And she lifted his right hand again, and kissed his fingers. The touch of her lips sent

a thrill through him; it was so very much like a lover's kiss. She was young, of

course, but her innocent passion was as old as the human species." Bijou kissed his fingers, then set his arm down beside the dragon scale and walked across the stage. He could tell by her footsteps and a peep at her mind that she stopped at the far edge, facing away from him, out of the scene. This was the standard way to signal absence, when all the stage area was open.

"Then she was gone, and the next student was there, to feed him his lunch. But Master's mind was on the first one. Who was she? She had told him everything except her name. She had inflamed his imagination by her tenderness and expressions of love. He tried to picture her as a member of one of his classes, but no image came forth; he could not place her. There were so many students, so many faces, so many voices. He needed more.

"She had said she would come again tomorrow, to try to help him anew.

Already he longed for that encounter, for the gentle touch of her hands. He appreciated what all the students were doing for him, but most especially this one anonymous girl, who had not only done her job, but put so much of herself into it. He had never been aware of her in his classes, he was sure, because otherwise he should have been able to fathom her identity, at least to the extent of picturing a face in a chair. She surely was not the brightest student, or the prettiest girl, or a troublemaker, because those he noticed early. She was just a lost identity he surely would never have noticed, but for

this blind session.

"Next day, at the same time, she did come again." Bijou turned and walked back across the stage to stand by his chair. He strummed her theme on the dragon scale as she moved, more forcefully than before, signaling her increasing importance. "`Hello, Master; do you remember me? I'm the therapy girl.' Did he remember her! He had hardly thought of anything else. Indeed, her session had charged his imagination, and to a faint extent his body; he could feel the impulses of his nerves forging outward from his mind, laying siege to the dreadful lassitude that possessed his body and limbs. He could not move anything of his own volition, but he knew he was substantially closer to recovery. Because of the incentive she had provided him, by her 336 Key to Havoc

touch and her caring.

"She worked his legs again, and his arms, and finally his head. He felt her soft, steady fingers across his ears, lifting his head so that it no longer

sagged down forward. She made his face look forward, so that he could have seen her, if only he could have opened his eyes. He felt the caressing mist of her breath as her face came close to his. He no longer cared what she looked like, if only he could see her for just an instant, to resolve the dire uncertainty

that plagued him. Who was she? He had to know--yet could not.

"Then her face came very close to his. `Master, you know I love you. To you I am nothing; I'm sure you have no idea who I am, and maybe you don't care. But to me you are everything, and I would not mind dying if only by that action I could give you back your life. If I could even see one flicker of

awareness in you, to know that you know what I am doing here. To have just that much of your attention, for just an instant. But yet I know that if you did, you wouldn't care about me; there's nothing remarkable about me, nothing to make a great man like you ever take note. I will never have your slight-est attention, let alone your interest. But I do love you, and I treasure having

even this much of you--to touch your hand, to talk to you, even if you can't feel my touch or hear me speak. And so I apologize for what I will do, knowing that you can't prevent it. It's wrong of me, and I hate myself for doing it, but at the same time I can't stop myself. Master, I will kiss you.'

And

she put her firm young lips to his flaccid lips, and kissed him, and the girl warmth and girl smell of her encompassed him, and he floated."

Bijou kissed Havoc, lingeringly. He felt the mind of the audience, sharing the passion of that gesture. They were into it, wanting Girl to succeed in aiding Master's recovery, and wanting him to open his eyes and see her. Then Bijou drew away, and departed, and he did not need to describe it. He knew she was holding herself a little straighter now, so that her body looked more mature, and her bosom began to show. She was not after all a child, but a nascent woman, with the early yearnings of a woman. Neither was she by any means ugly, or plain, or even ordinary; she was dawningly lovely. Girl into Woman: the audience was seeing it happen. The audience understood that this was not the way Girl looked literally; it was the way Master was coming to

see her. She was beautiful to him.

"It was as if her lips had burned his, animating them. His mouth tingled, and there was a hint of firmness returning to his lips. Girl had animated his mouth, to an extent, and his desire to a considerable extent. He did not remember her from his classes, he did not know her name, but he was coming to love her. On the third day she came, he tried valiantly to respond to the Piers Anthony 337

exercises she performed on him, to help his legs and arms to move. He could not, but he felt heightened sensitivity, and knew that he was making progress even if it didn't show. He wanted so much to please her, to show her that he did hear her and feel her, and that she was truly helping him, not only physically, but in restoring the rest of his desire to live.

"She went through the ritual, helping his arms and legs, and it went faster, perhaps because of familiarity, but perhaps also because he was able, if

not to move his limbs on his own, at least to facilitate their motions for her.

She finished with his head, as before. She kissed him again. Òh, Master,' she said. `Probably its just my foolish imagination, but it almost felt as if you were kissing me back, a little, maybe. I wonder whether you are faintly aware of me.'

"Yes, yes, he was! But he could not tell her, however hard he tried.

Fortunately she did not depend on his response. Ì am going to assume that you are at least a tiny bit aware, Master, and that possibly I can help you become more aware, and start to recover, if I just give you reason.' She paused, reflecting. `More likely, I'm just rationalizing, pretending that I'm accomplishing something though I should know better. You always cautioned us against that, Master. I do know better, but my hope is so great that I can't

help myself. So I am going to help you to know me, and I will imagine that you care, because even if it has no meaning for you, it does for me.' She took his right hand and lifted it up, and took it in her two warm little hands, positioning his fingers with her own. Every aspect of her touch was a delight, sending tingles along his arm, and evoking answering efforts to make his hand do whatever she wanted."

Bijou lifted his hand, and splayed his fingers, and her touch was exactly like that of Girl. Then she brought his hand to her face. She stroked his fingers across her cheek and nose and mouth. "Girl used Master's hand to explore her face. He could not tell what it looked like, for he had never touched a face in that manner before; it seemed ordinary. He could tell that it

was neither fat nor lean; it was average, and young, and smooth. When his fingers crossed her lips, she kissed them. `Remember that I love you, Master,'

she murmured. Ì dream that this is your touch of returning love. I can never have you; I know that. Even if I weren't too young to interest you, you couldn't wait. But at least I have this dream. I can pretend that we are in bed

together, and that you are caressing my face, taking joy in my aspect, and it gives me such a wonderful feeling.' But as she brought his hand back up to stroke her closing eyes, he felt the moisture on her cheeks, and knew that she was crying. Ì am crying for very joy,' she said bravely. But it was of course a

338 Key to Havoc

lie. She was crying for impossible love.

"Then she returned his dampened hand to his body, and departed. She left him in a storm of emotions. Her love was so real, so great, and now he was returning it, but he could not let her know. And she was right: even if he recovered soon, he would have to marry an older woman, before Girl came of age. What was he to do? All the rest of that day, and the night, he struggled,

willing his healing to proceed, so that he could at least give her some signal.

At least open his eyes, to see her and recognize her. His mind and heart had responded to her; why could not his body? And he felt his body returning, charged by the burgeoning force of love, so that the tips of the fingers of his

right hand tingled and almost moved. He was making progress--but would it be soon enough to catch her, before she finished her therapy and departed and was lost again in anonymity? Even if nothing else was possible, he wanted to recognize her, and let her know.

"Next day she came again. This time she moved through the exercise routine more rapidly, as if intent on something to follow. `Don't tell,' she cautioned him, surely with a smile. Ì mean to do something naughty today.

Maybe because I think it will encourage you to recover. Maybe its because if you could speak or move, you wouldn't let me do it. Maybe because I just want to pretend you want me. Maybe none of the above. Maybe just because I love you.'

"When she completed the exercises, she kissed him, and made his hand stroke her face. `Now I want you to know that if you ever had any interest in me, I really could give you something interesting,' she said. Ì will show you my bosom.' She untucked her shirt and passed his hand up under it to contact her unbound breasts. They were not large, but they were well formed, and they excited him phenomenally. Ì imagine you stroking me, like this, and brushing my nipple like this, and squeezing like this,' she said. `Delighting in

my body, desiring it, wanting more and more of it. And I give it all to you, for

all I want is to give you pleasure.'" Bijou had Havoc's hand inside her shirt, and was giving him her fuller breasts. Because this presentation was masked, she did keep her shirt on, so the audience could not actually see her breasts or

his hand on them. But it was quite evident what was happening. Havoc knew what some others did not: that partial concealment could make something even more intriguing than full exposure did. Bijou was reading the sense of the audience, and reacting to it, making motions that generated the greatest interest. Even the children were fascinated; their minds had the added excitement of novelty, for this was newer to them than to the teens and adults.

Bijou was, as she had promised, making it steam.

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"She pressed his hand between her breasts, so that he could feel her heartbeat. `Now you know I really am a woman, even if thought to be yet a child,' she said. Ìf you could only hear me, and move, and if you wanted me, I would give you all of this. As it is, it is only in my dream. But my love for

you is no dream, Master.' Then she drew his hand down and away, and set it on his body, and departed, for her time was up. As before, she left him with raging thoughts. He still did not know her identity, but how he wanted her!

"Now at last his recovery was reaching his body. He found that he could move the fingers of his right hand, and his eyelids. Girl had helped him to make the breakthrough; he knew that his progress would be faster now, and that he would be able to use his body again. But he still couldn't talk, or make

larger motions. Rather than disturb things, and risk losing her hour, he concealed his progress. Maybe he could open his eyes and see her, next time.

Then, whatever happened thereafter, he would know her identity. That was the one thing he had to have.

"She came again, next day. She finished the routine quickly, then kissed him, made him stroke her face, and touch her breasts. `Today is my last day,'

she confided. `My tour is done, and since you have not made progress, they will end the physical therapy. So I must do it now. It is the only way I will ever

possess you, or be possessed by you, my love.' Then she took his hand and ran it under her skirt, stroking it over her firm thigh and buttock. Her flesh was smooth as only the young could have it, and her female contours, however modest they might seem to others, were utterly compelling by this close touch. Ì am pretending that you are making love to me, with nothing held back. I want so much to be yours, all the way.'" And of course Bijou was doing the same with Havoc's hand, and her contours were hardly modest. It was all he could do to publicly ignore her, for she was merely illustrating the

tale, not trying to seduce him. Supposedly. Actually she was having her fun teasing him unmercifully, in the manner Gale once did. She knew that they had a whole banquet and meeting of villagers to get through. It would be hours before he could get at her infernally tempting flesh for real.

He forced himself to focus on the tale, which was almost done. "Then she formed his hand into a fist with the forefinger extended, and angled it past her scant underwear and up into her warm damp cleft. `Take me, Master,' she breathed. `Take the very center of me.' She worked his finger up inside her until his fist pressed against the crease of her buttocks. It was not

a deep penetration, but it was enough to inflame his imagination and desire.

Ì love you, I love you!' she whispered ardently. And her hot flesh tightened about him. Holding him there, she leaned slowly forward and kissed him on 340 Key to Havoc

the mouth. `Master, I am yours!'"

Bijou was following the script exactly, and the audience was absolutely fascinated. They couldn't tell whether his finger was really in her or just pretending, because her short skirt masked the action, as was required for this

performance. The mystery enhanced the naughtiness of it. It was time for the conclusion.

"Master Teacher, goaded beyond endurance, made a supreme effort, and flexed his finger slightly. Girl felt it, and froze for a moment. `You're awake!' she gasped, appalled. `You know! I am undone!' She pulled away so suddenly that his hand was ripped from her body, and her underclothing tore, and his arm dropped flopping. He opened his eyes, but she had already spun away, and was fleeing the room. All he saw was her back. He couldn't even tell the color of her hair, for she wore a kerchief over it. She was gone, and would not be back, and he still did not know her identity." Bijou, acting out his words, fled to the far side of the stage, facing away.

Havoc opened his eyes. "And so the Master Teacher lost his most appealing student," he concluded. "Unless he somehow managed to discover her name. Possibly, as he recovered, he inquired as to the identities of those who had taken care of him. We do not know. We also have no idea what he might have done, had he found her." He paused, gazing knowingly across the faces, feeling the turmoil of lust and shock in their minds. "Or do we?"

For a moment the audience was silent. Then the applause began, and it swelled enormously, though there were those who clearly did not approve completely. They liked the tale, but knew it was romanticizing an impropriety.

A minstrel could get away with that, to a degree.

Then the scene dissolved into motion and dialogue, as the people got up, compared notes with their neighbors, and departed for their houses. There were several couples who seemed to be rather in a hurry. Havoc was jealous of them, for he could not do the same. Damn you, Bijou! he thought.

Bijou merely smiled, physically and mentally. Then she met the villagers who came to compliment her on her assistance, as they complimented Havoc on his narration. The performance had been a success.

At the following banquet, Headman made a passing remark. "This is of course quite coincidental. What happened here was nothing like that, I'm sure. But I believe that our vanished teacher will be invited to return, and to

marry the girl he loves. She will have a waiver of age; the consensus seems to be that she is after all old enough."

"I am glad to hear it," Havoc said solemnly.

"Thank you, Minstrel. We look forward to your other tales, tomorrow."

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Hours later, exactly as he had feared, they got to retreat to their room.

Havoc read Bijou's desire, and acted on it. He grabbed her the moment the door closed, carried her to the bed, threw her down on it, and threw himself on her without removing their clothing. He tore some cloth in the process of getting into position, and savagely possessed her. "You damned tease!" he said, even in the throes of it.

"You chose the tale; you spoke the script," she reminded him, not at all contrite.

"You said you would make the story steam. You didn't say you would make me steam."

"You should have known." She was laughing in her mind.

"You wanted me to suffer the frustration of unconsummation."

"Just a taste of what you do to me. I can have your passion, but not your love."

And that was serious. He could not deny it. "I'm sorry, Bijou."

"It's not your fault, Havoc. It's just the situation. I wouldn't try to win you even if I thought I could. Since I'm limited to your passion, I'm taking all

of that I can."

Yet she was also making progress on his emotion. He loved Gale, but was coming to care for Bijou more than he cared to admit.

And if she read that in his mind, she was smart enough not to react to it.

There were ways in which she was indeed like the Girl of the tale.

The following day was routinely successful: Havoc told several more tales, with Bijou's assistance, and they were well received. There was another banquet at the close of day.

"Tomorrow you will be on your way," Headman said. "We will miss you, Minstrel, and your lovely girl. You have told your tales well. We shall be glad

to see you another season."

"I may not be the one, another season," he reminded the man. "But I appreciate your appreciation."

"We understand. But there is something I must mention. We have received a report of brigands in the vicinity. They are not common in these parts, but pass through occasionally. We fear they have received news of a pretty girl traveling between villages, and wish to take her for their own.

There

is always a good slave market for such."

"So I understand. What size is the brigand group, and what kind of magic does it have?"

"We believe it to be three men, of adult age. We know of no magic. But such folk are unscrupulous. We believe we should offer you a guard for your 342 Key to Havoc

journey to the next village."

"I appreciate the offer," Havoc said. "But you have need for your man in the village, and he would have to make his way back alone. I am competent to handle brigands, when suitably warned."

"Are you sure, Minstrel? You are young, and perhaps have not encountered--"

He broke off, for Havoc's deadly knife was suddenly before his nose.

He held it there for a moment, then made it disappear. "I am trained."

Headman nodded. "So I see. Then I wish you well, hoping nevertheless that you do not encounter the party."

"We hope so too," Havoc said.

"I never saw that knife before," Bijou remarked that evening.

"I got it at the examination for king, and liked it. It's a memento of the occasion. I have not had to use it yet."

"Do you really think we'll encounter brigands? I suppose Gale could handle herself, but I'm a soft city girl. In my joy of getting to be with you, I

didn't think how I would hold you back."

"You know that my dragon seed warns me of danger. So stay close to me, and obey without question when I tell you something. It may be to drop to the ground, or to run back the way we came. If I have to fight, I don't want

you in the way."

"I will get out of the way," she agreed. "But maybe I should learn how to use some of those weapons you have me carrying."

"They are reserves, in case I lose mine. But you should learn their use.

I'll show them to you as convenient."

"Thank you, Havoc." She kissed him, and one thing led to another, as she intended.

Early in the morning they set off for the next village. The path was good, but the terrain became rugged. This was because inter-village paths typically wound between Chroma, and the fringes of Chroma were largely random with respect to the convenience of human travelers. So the paths did not stay on clear level contours, but cut up and down slopes, across rivers, and

through jungles. Sometimes there was a split in the path, with one part taking a physically easy route through a secant of a Chroma. But it was best for nonChroma travelers to avoid that, without invitation, because they would be largely helpless against the magic of any person or creature there. So they picked their way around. It was part of what made travel uncommon. Havoc, accustomed to such travel, used his staff efficiently to clear spot debris and brush back obnoxious vines, and Bijou followed close behind.

Piers Anthony 343

They came to an intersection with a path emerging from another crevice between Chroma. The two paths joined to show the way to the next village.

It was downhill, rocky, but clear of brush.

The dragon seed buzzed. Havoc continued walking, but was fully alert.

Bijou, there is danger. Be ready to run, when I tell you which way.

Ready, she agreed mentally.

Then he spied a man, behind a boulder ahead. A brigand, surely. But where were the other two?

One is down the other path, Bijou thought. He is watching me walk.

So he was. And the third was farther along the trail they were following.

Three minds, intent on mayhem.

Keep walking. I will take out the nearest one. Rejoin me quickly when I call you.

Yes. There was fear in her mind, but she did not flinch.

They walked by the rock, which was about six feet off the path. As they got beyond it, the man leaped out and charged them from behind. Havoc drew his knife, whirled, and met the man as he pounced. It was too late for the brigand to stop; he was already swinging at Havoc with a wooden club.

Havoc put away his knife, freeing his hand. He stepped into the man, avoiding the club, blocked him with a hip, caught his club-hand, and used it to

lever that man into a somersault. It was a barehanded martial art trick, effective against an overbalanced person. The man rolled over his hip and landed hard on the ground, the air whooshing out of his body. He was stunned.

But now the other two were closing in, from behind and in front. They thought their trap had closed, not realizing that they had already lost a man.

"Here!" Havoc called.

Bijou turned and ran to him. He put his hands on her shoulders and put her back against the boulder. He put the long staff in her hands. Then he stood in front of her, taking down his hat. The chin strap became a hand hold, and the hat became a round shield.

The two brigands converged, discovered their unconscious companion, and turned to face Havoc. "Now we can do this in one of two ways," Havoc said. "You can pick up your third, who is only stunned, and get out of here.

Or you can take your chances against me. But if you attack me, I will hurt you, so that you will not bother another minstrel."

They did not even hesitate. They charged him, raising their clubs. It was obvious, to them: they were two, he was one. They could crush him, and then have easy access to the girl.

Well, he had warned them. Havoc jammed his shield against the nearest, 344 Key to Havoc

so that it banged his chest and bounced up under his chin. The sharp edge of the shield caught the chin, laying it open so that blood showed. The man fell back, groaning. Meanwhile Havoc's knife was back in his right hand. He jabbed it at the other man's right shoulder, cutting into the muscle there.

The

man screamed, and spun away.

"Second chance," Havoc said. "I don't want to have to bury your corpses, so I have only wounded you. Go now, with your third, and I will let you go."

This time they listened. They stumbled back to the path, picked up the other man, and dragged him back and down the intersecting path.

Havoc turned to Bijou--and found her slumped on the ground. She had fainted.

He smiled, somewhat ruefully. Indeed, she was not used to violence.

Gale would have stayed clear, but used her own shield and knife if any other man had shown up to complicate the matter. But Gale was barbarian; that was the difference. She was no warrior lass, but would do what she had to, to protect herself.

Havoc cleaned his blade, put it away, and put his shield back on his head.

Then he picked Bijou up in his arms and carried her on down the path. It would have been more efficient to carry her over his shoulder, but he wanted the exercise.

He knew that he probably should have killed the brigands, but what he had told them was true: it was a lot of work to bury bodies in stony ground, and it was no good leaving them out to stink. So he preferred to have them take themselves away. Of course they would be a menace to other travelers, but less of one, because the one had a concussion, another had a cut chin, and the third would have a lot of healing to do before he swung a club with that arm again.

"Besides," Bijou said. "You don't like killing."

"I ought to drop you on the ground," he groused. But he didn't. "How did you wake without alerting me?"

"I'm getting better with the mind mask. I covered all my thoughts, and you thought that I wasn't thinking at all--that I was unconscious."

That was a trick he hadn't thought of. "Show me exactly how."

She showed him, and he practiced feigning mental unconsciousness. It was different from merely covering thoughts; he had to allow fleeting dream images to show, as though the unconscious mind was at work.

"You can put me down now," she said. "I'm sorry I fainted. I need to toughen up to walking distances."

He set her down. "Violence isn't fun. I avoid it when I can. But some-Piers Anthony 345

times it's necessary."

"Yes, I see that. Those men--if they had won, they would have killed you, raped me, and sold me into slavery. It was in their minds. That's what really put me out. I don't mind straight lust--as far as I can tell, all men have

it, when they look at me. I like evoking it in you. The mind reading has really

educated me about that. But the ugliness--that's painful."

"You prefer my clean lust to their dirty lust," he said, smiling.

"That's no joke, Havoc. You would never force a woman, or hurt her.

You want her to like you. And women do like you--all of them who get to know you. But those brigands--they like making a woman hurt. They want to degrade her. I saw it in their minds. They wanted to make me scream and cry and be dirty. It was awful; I feel dirty just having seen into their minds."

"I suppose so. Some men hate women, and want to make them suffer, to pay for arousing passion in them. But I don't think all woman like me. Not sexually, I mean."

"You're thinking of Ennui," she said. "And Aspect. They're older. You're not a woman, so you don't see them the way I do. Either one would get into your bed, if you asked."

"I don't believe that."

She opened more of her mind to him, focusing on the two other women.

It was there: sexual desire, hidden beneath layers of propriety and denial.

"Well, of course as king I have special power."

"It's not just that. I should know. There's something about you, Havoc, that turns on women. Actually I think Gale is the same way. Only she turns on men."

"Changelings!" he exclaimed. "I forgot--Gale told me we're changelings, and that's one of their qualities."

"That's right--it was in her mind. And your minds are different from others, except for Symbol."

"Symbol!" he said. "Could she be a changeling too?"

"I think she could. She can excite any man she chooses."

"Yes. The only reason she didn't seduce me is that she chose not to."

"And the only reason you didn't seduce her is that you chose not to."

Havoc was amazed. "And King Deal was a changeling. Gale learned that. So Deal and Symbol--no wonder they got together. They couldn't resist each other."

"Yes, that must be it. I knew King Deal only to wash him, and he never even noticed me, but he was a fine figure of a man, handsome and virile and decent. I would have gone with him without question, if he had wanted. He 346 Key to Havoc

just had that power. You reminded me a lot of him--and I think now I know why."

He nodded. "I wonder whether we'll encounter other changelings?"

"If we do, we'll know them. Anybody who is like you, or Gale, or Symbol, physically and mentally--that must be a changeling. You're superior speci-mens."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." It wasn't modesty, but realism; Havoc was a believer in natural differences, rather than in superior types.

"Get real, Havoc. If you weren't already in love with Gale, and you could choose between her and me, which would you take?"

"Her." There was no point in concealing it.

"Because she's a better woman than I will ever be. Smarter, prettier, stronger, healthier--a fit match for you. We both know it. And we know that so is Symbol. Well, if I had my choice of any man, I'd pick you, Havoc, because you're a better man. So would any other woman, even if most of them don't yet know it."

"But there's nothing wrong with you, Bijou. It's just that--"

"It's just that I'm cast from an ordinary mold. A pretty girl of average intellect. It was my prettiness that got me the job as Mistress of the Bath.

I'm not a changeling. That's just the way it is."

"That's just the way it is," he agreed. "But I'm not easy about this business of changelings. Why are they being spread about? What's the point of it all?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," she reminded him. "And I guess King Deal was trying to find out--and when he got close, he got killed." She suffered a siege of horror; he felt it in her mind. "Oh, Havoc--don't get killed!"

"I'll try not to," he said, somewhat bemused.

"I would give my life for you."

There was no point in arguing; she was serious. "I will try to see that you don't have to."

The path wound down to a moderate pond, and skirted it. The pond was stream-fed, so seemed fresh; they could drink from it. The water was faintly pink, meaning it had originated in a Red Chroma district, but that would not make it unpotable.

"Great Planets, I'm thirsty, after all this walking," Bijou said. She got down to her knees, about to dip out a double handful of water to drink.

Havoc stepped to the edge. The dragon seed buzzed.

"I heard that," Bijou said. "Your seed, right? Danger."

Piers Anthony 347

"Danger, or a lie, or a wrongness. No one is lying, but there seems to be no danger."

"Could the water be poisoned?" she asked, alarmed. "It didn't buzz when I got ready to drink, only when you stepped close."

"It's true it won't protect you," he agreed. "I had better test the water."

He knelt and touched the water with one finger.

The seed buzzed again.

Bijou quickly got up and backed away from the pool. "I'm thirsty, but not that thirsty."

"Yet the water is fresh, and looks good," he said. "Bijou, you can help.

Make conjectures."

"The water is poisoned," she said.

The seed buzzed. "That's a lie."

"But I don't know it's a lie, so how can the seed tell I'm lying?"

"It knows whether you are telling the truth. You don't need to know. I can't do it, because it won't buzz when I lie, consciously or unconsciously."

"There's something else about this water," she said.

There was no buzz.

"There's something dangerous in the water."

No buzz.

"Get back," Havoc said. "I don't like this."

They backed away from the pond. But they were too late. The surface was rippling, as if something were rising in it. Yet the water remained clear.

What could be doing it?

"I think we had better get the hell away from here," Havoc said. "This must be magic. The water has a red tinge; it's from a Red Chroma, so can support some magic. The dragon seed is never wrong. It buzzed twice, which meant the danger is getting worse. There's a threat."

They retreated, watching the pond. "Maybe a water dragon?" Bijou asked nervously.

"The Translucent Chroma can make dragons from water, but I'm not sure the Red Chroma can."

"Red associates with blood, demons, healing, ectoplasm, and the like,"

she said. "I learned that in school."

Havoc recognized a word he didn't fully understand, though Throe had mentioned it. "What's that last?"

"Ectoplasm. It--it's a sort of living plasma that can shape into things, usually harmless. But not always. That's all I remember; I've never seen any."

Then she corrected herself: "Yes I have: the Red Chroma man who was wit-348 Key to Havoc

ness in the White Chroma--he showed some ectoplasm. That floating face."

"Oh, yes," Havoc agreed, remembering. "But this doesn't look like that."

The pond heaved, and the water in its center rose up in a glistening mound. "Maybe this is another kind," Bijou said.

"Or something else, like a demon."

The water mound continued rising. It separated from the pond and floated above it, a seeming ball of pink water about three feet in diameter.

It

bobbed, then began moving toward the two of them.

"A water bomb!" Bijou cried. "That's what it is!"

This, too, was new. "What is a water bomb?"

"A bomb made of water. Like a fire bomb, only water. When it touches its target, it explodes. It doesn't just make things wet; it blows them apart.

Oh, Havoc, this is bad."

"A firebomb attacked our convoy," Havoc said. "This must be from the same enemy."

"The one who's trying to kill you," she agreed. "The one who killed King Deal, maybe."

The seed did not buzz. "Yes, that's it," he agreed. "So that enemy knows me even when I'm masked. As it knew Gale, and sent the succubus after her.

This won't be stopped by a knife or shield."

Meanwhile the ball was floating slowly toward them. "Havoc, can we run?" Bijou cried pleadingly.

"It's slow, but evidently not limited to the pond," he said. "That was just where it was hiding, waiting for us to come within its range. To activate it.

Now it's got my scent, and I don't think running will stop it. It will just keep

following, until it catches up."

"But if we just wait for it, it'll get you faster."

Havoc looked around. "There may be a way to stop it. We must be in the fringe of a Red Chroma; maybe we can go to a nonChroma region, where it can't follow."

"I don't think so, Havoc. That stream carries the Red Chroma Magic, so there is magic along its banks, and that bomb is made of Red Chroma water.

As I understand it, they are as big as they are so that they can carry a lot of

magic. I mean, a Chroma gem, like the ones in your crown, is highly concentrated magic. This water is dilute magic, so there has to be a lot more of it to

get the same punch. There's enough so that it can maintain itself as long as it

needs to."

"Until it takes me out," he agreed, understanding. "So it can follow me anywhere."

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Bijou got sudden resolution; he felt it in her mind before she spoke. "I'll intercept it. That will detonate it, saving you." She stepped forward.

Havoc leaped forward to catch her. "Don't do that!" He hauled her back away from the looming ball.

"But Havoc, you're the king. You have to survive."

"I'll survive some other way. Get away from it." He set her down and shoved her away from the direction of the pond. "Now go!"

Cowed, she ran away. But he felt the horror and grief in her mind. She truly feared for him, and wanted to save him.

He looked around again, casting desperately for anything that might give him a chance. Then he saw it: a dissolver plant. The kind that dissolved anything it touched, making its substance sink into the ground to fertilize its

roots. It could be deadly to a living creature, though some animals had fur that resisted its effect. Mostly, animals stayed away from it.

Havoc picked up two dry sticks and ran to the plant. He used them to lever it out of the ground. They dissolved as they touched its leaves and stem,

but that took a few seconds, and he kept feeding them in and prying. When his hands got too close, he fetched more sticks and resumed.

"Havoc! It's coming on you!"

He looked up. She was right: in his distraction he had not tracked the water bomb. He had to get away before it dissolved him. He just didn't have time to pry the dissolver all the way out of the ground.

He flung himself away, getting some distance between himself and the slowly floating bomb. What a relief that it moved so slowly!

But how was he going to deal with it? He didn't see any other dissolver plants, and that one was covered by the bomb.

Then he cursed himself for a fool. The plant didn't have to stay covered; he could lead the bomb away from it, then return for another session with the plant.

He started walking, slowly. "This way, waterbrain," he called to it. The ball of water floated after him.

"I can do that," Bijou said. "You keep leading it away, and I'll have plenty of time." As the bomb departed, she ran in to pry at the plant.

"Don't touch it directly," he called back.

"I know; I got the warning from your mind." She picked up sticks and got to work. But the plant was well anchored in the ground, and wouldn't come loose.

"Piss on it!" Havoc called.

She bared her bottom and did so. The liquid soaked the ground around 350 Key to Havoc

the plant. That, added to the dissolving fragments of stick, loosened the soil around the roots, and she was finally able to pry the plant out of the ground.

She got new sticks, picked it up, and carried it toward the bomb.

But Havoc saw that this wasn't good enough. "You can't throw it far enough to be safe yourself," he called. "Not with those clumsy sticks."

"I don't know what else to use."

"Leave it there for me; I'll return for it." But first he found a massive stick with large thorns; that should do. He picked it up and ran around the bomb to the dissolver plant. The bomb changed direction smoothly, following Havoc. "Get well away from here, Bijou."

She obeyed, running back toward the pond. That was one thing about her: she followed directions well. He ran on until he came to the dug out place.

He swung the club down on the dissolver plant, spiking it on the thorns.

It would melt them, but that would take a few seconds. He whirled the club around and hurled it at the oncoming bomb, carrying the plant with it. Without pausing to see whether it scored, he spun and ran the opposite way.

There was an explosion that boosted him farther along. Because he had been expecting it, he was able to keep his feet. After a few more steps he stopped and looked back.

There was a wet crater in the ground, and plants had been cleared from a circular area. Those beyond the radius of destruction were leaning outward, and dripping pink water. Then he became aware of the wetness of his back; it had plastered him too. It would have done worse than that, had he been at its point of detonation.

Bijou returned. "I thought that plant was supposed to dissolve it."

"So did I," he admitted. "I thought it would dissolve into a puddle. I don't understand magic."

"Maybe the bomb wouldn't let itself be defused," she said. "Because then someone might study the remains and figure out who set it. So when it felt itself being compromised, it went off."

He nodded. "Bijou, for a pretty girl of average intellect, you're pretty smart."

"It's just common sense." But there was a wash of pleasure in her mind.

"It's obvious that my masquerade as Minstrel didn't fool the enemy. It knows where I am and where I am going."

"Then why doesn't it just kill you outright?"

"My guess is that it doesn't want to reveal itself. So it killed King Deal in a seeming accident, and tried to interfere with Gale indirectly, and sent an Piers Anthony 351

anonymous fire bomb to intercept me in the Brown Chroma. I was probably supposed to think it was a dissident party in Brown, or that White was behind it. Now I think it's not any of the Chroma."

"But it must be one of them, Havoc. There isn't anything else."

"There's plenty else. There's the Temple, though Gale exonerated that.

There's the torture cult Gale's succubus came from. There must be other organizations that exist in several Chroma, with purposes of their own. I need to figure out which one doesn't like the king, and why."

"King Deal wasn't trying to hurt anyone. He just wanted to be a good king, and he was. Checking the changelings--I think that was just a side investigation. But if he knew he was one of them--why would seeking his origin make him have to be killed?"

"Why, indeed. But it may be the case."

They returned to the pond. Now it was safe to drink from.

The day was late, and they had not reached the next village. "It's not smart to travel at night, if it can be avoided," Havoc said. "That bomb delayed us."

She looked at him. "Could that have been its purpose? To interfere with your schedule, so you would have to be out at night, where some wild creature might get you?"

"Making it truly seem like an accident," he said. "That could be."

"Not that I mind spending any night, anywhere, with you. But maybe we should get back our schedule."

"I think you're right. We had better push on. But it's dangerous. I'll have to show you more about the use of weapons."

"I don't think I'd be very good with them."

"You forget about our mind connection. I can direct you mentally, and you'll know what to do."

"Yes, but I don't have any part of your strength or speed or training."

Quite true. Once again, he missed Gale, who was competent in the wilderness. "The hat is a shield, as you saw. Use it to block off anything you fear. The rope belt is a weighted net, normally used for hunting, but it could entangle a predator and give you time to escape. The gloves are masked gauntlets; you could put your fist in the mouth of a carnivore and it would not be able to bite through to your flesh. The boots are similarly protective; if you kick something hard, it will be like the strike of a club. So if you have

to fight, do what comes naturally, and it may be effective. But mainly you should stay behind me, as you did when the brigands attacked."

"I will."

352 Key to Havoc

"We'll eat while we move, so as not to waste time. Remember, my dragon seed warns me of danger, so we don't have to be afraid while it's silent. I won't be able to carry you this time."

"I'm tired, but I will stay the pace," she said.

They moved on along the path, climbing up the slope beyond the pond.

The shadows were lengthening. The next village should not be too far beyond, because they had come a fair piece. But Havoc did not trust the dark at all; it was indeed dangerous, especially for one from the city. He was especially alert.

A large winged shape glided silently by. Night hawk, Havoc thought to her, reassuringly. We're not its prey. But there were winged creatures who did consider man as prey, and they could be close by.

Havoc's staff glowed slightly; that was its inherent magic, making it especially useful at night. It showed the small obstructions of the path, and that helped. Then it showed a larger one: a tangle of tentacles. They writhed when the staff touched them, and tried to catch on to it. But he rapped them sharply several times, and they concluded that the staff was inedible, and too apt to fight back. So they retreated, and the two people passed unmolested.

What would happen to someone who got grabbed?

They haul things into an acid center that dissolves them from one end first.

The path was free for a while, perhaps because the tentacles had cleared it. It crested a ridge and angled down into a forested section. Planet Mystery showed in the sky, helpfully illuminating the ground. Havoc increased his pace, and Bijou followed closely.

The dragon seed buzzed. Havoc halted, holding the staff before him.

Then he saw it, glistening faintly in the wan light: the trip-strand of a web.

Had they blundered into that, the spider would have been upon them in an instant. It would have set its snare at dusk, and would take it up again at dawn.

What is it?

A spider net. He peered along the line, trying to spot the spider, but it was well hidden. So he opened his mind, trying to relate to its mind--and found it. The spider was directly above the path, ready to drop down to wrap whatever passed. It was a big one--big enough to wrap a man.

He looked about, to see whether they could make a detour around the web. But the banks of the path were steep, and the footing was treacherous; he might cross safely, but not Bijou. In any event, a detour would take time, and the less time they remained out here, the better. It was best to remain on Piers Anthony 353

the path.

Which meant he would have to deal with the spider. He could probably kill it, but the job would be messy and he might get entangled or bitten in the

process. In addition, he did not like killing wild things any better that he liked

killing humans. They were just going about their business, making their living. But he knew this one would not let them pass.

Then he thought of a way. It might not work, in which case he would have to attack. But it was worth a try. He could read minds, because of the disease, but many wild creatures seemed able to do it as part of their strategy

of survival. If this spider could read his mind, he could engage it in dialogue.

Talk with it? Bijou thought, shuddering.

Maybe. He reached out with his thoughts, focusing on his memory of Gale's experience with the yellow spider. This one was translucent, as were the local plants, for this was the fringe of a Translucent Chroma. Translucent specialized in mind reading, so its creatures well might have that power. He wanted the spider to read his mind. To relate to Gale, saving the little spider,

bringing it inside her house, caring for it, feeding it, making a safe haven for it.

Until at last it had to leave, because it was too large to hide any more, and her

people could be hostile. But she had loved that spider, and it had loved her.

They had never tried to hurt each other.

Then he felt its feeling returning. It saw Gale through his memory, and though it did not understand the nuances, it accepted the fact that this person

and this spider had bonded. That made the person a friend, and spiders did not eat friends. It did not distinguish between persons; all humans seemed much alike to it.

Havoc reached back and caught Bijou's hand. He led her forward, past the trip line, under the spider. Terrified, she followed, keeping her mind mask

as high as possible, understanding that it would not be wise to broadcast prey feelings. Havoc held his mental picture of Gale hugging Yellow, and moved slowly on, bringing Bijou along. They brushed the trip line, but the spider did

not move.

Soon they were beyond the net, and could resume walking at speed.

"Oh, Havoc, that was horrible," Bijou said.

"Spiders are not horrible, just different. This one honored a memory of friendship. Wild creatures are honorable, when they have the right associations."

"I was still terrified."

"It was chancy. But not more so than fighting it would have been. It's always better to proceed in peace, if that's possible."

354 Key to Havoc

"You learned that from the wilds?"

"And from my martial arts training."

"You learned peace from fighting?"

"Where else?"

"But--"

"When you fight, you learn how hard and risky and painful it can be. So you seek to avoid it thereafter."

"Oh."

The jungle section eased, and the path became a niche in a steeply sloping mountain side. Above, it rose into green tinged snow; below, it sank into a small canyon squeezing the river. The light of Mystery made the whole scene eerily clear.

"This scares me, Havoc," Bijou said. "Suppose there's an avalanche?"

"That snow seems pretty well frozen. As long as there's no flare from Void, it should be stable."

"Void's hidden now, same as Vivid, so that shouldn't matter. They're both dayside."

"But a flare could bounce off Mystery, and it could also shake Charm."

"Let's hurry," she said nervously.

He smiled, unconcerned. The dragon seed would warn him if any such danger threatened. And, indeed, they did pass the slope without event.

The path opened out, and now there was the distant light of the next village. They had made it.

There was of course a challenge at the village gate, but Havoc had Bijou step forward and smile and inhale, and the guard concluded that they were legitimate. He summoned the headman, who welcomed them to Village Dampath, and they were given lodging. They washed and fell into bed, too tired to talk or make love. At least Bijou was, and Havoc respected that; she had pushed herself to her utmost to keep the pace, and her legs were soundly sore. So he sat beside her and massaged her legs, restoring them while she drifted blissfully to sleep. There was a rainstorm in the night, making him glad they were under cover. He could handle the weather of the wilderness, but Bijou was more delicate, and in any event, this cabin was more comfortable.

In the morning they breakfasted and put on their first show, and it was well received. Havoc was a good tale teller, and Bijou was lovely; that combination was bound to win over villagers.

At noon, the headman approached. "It's a good thing you got through last night. There was a washout of the path, and we have had to close it today Piers Anthony 355

for repairs."

Havoc remembered the night's rain. "You would not have let us pass?"

"We are familiar with the area, but we do not chance a washout. There can be finely balanced boulders, and forming sink holes. So we do not let anyone pass until we are sure it is safe. This is part of our mission; we repair

the wet path. But it will be open tomorrow."

"That's good to know. However, we will be going on to the other villages on our route."

"Of course. There is a boat for you."

As the day waned, there was the mandatory banquet; the presence of a competent minstrel was always reason for celebration. Then they were approached by a young couple. The man was ruggedly handsome, and the woman was well formed. She was the one who spoke. "Minstrel, we don't receive many travelers in Village Dampath in this season. I would like you to sire my fourth. I am in season now, and so it is feasible."

This was the kind of request it was bad form to decline, even if it wasn't couched in the most positive manner. But Havoc was cautious. "As you know, I have a companion, and I would not wish to cause her distress." He shot her a quick mental summary of village conventions, realizing that they were not necessarily matched in the big city. Every family must have four surviving

children, but one of them is supposed to have a different father or a different mother. So

even the most devoted couples look for outside conception, on this one occasion. Visiting

men are thus in demand, if they seem healthy or otherwise desirable.

Oh, yes, I know of this, she agreed. To mix the parentage, to foster variety in the

species. We're supposed to do it in the city, too, but often don't.

Now the man addressed Bijou. "My wife anticipated this. If you would consider diverting yourself with me, a balance would be restored to the proceedings."

Bijou was plainly surprised. She had barely assimilated Havoc's thought, and was having trouble with this one. "I should be with you, to balance Minstrel being with your wife?"

"There is of course no obligation. It is merely an offer, to show our good faith. We would prefer to have our fourth on our own, but this is not encouraged."

Havoc added an explanation. They don't want to stray, but have to, for this. I should accept, as a matter of courtesy. He had managed to avoid it at Village Trifle,

but was fairly caught this time.

Bijou came to a sudden decision. "All right. I am not in season, but if you want diversion, it will do." Havoc felt the bold naughtiness in her mind.

356 Key to Havoc

The woman frowned, but quickly covered it. "Very good." She had evidently hoped that Bijou would decline. That was of course why Bijou had accepted. She was nettled by the need to let Havoc clasp another woman, so was in turn nettling the other woman.

So it was that they spent the early part of that night apart. This was the first time Havoc had actually tried to service a fourth, and now that he was committed, he was intrigued. So it was flattering, and interesting, for the woman was different from both Gale and Bijou. She had a good body, but accepted the mechanics of sex as a duty, and made no effort to enhance it.

He realized he had been spoiled, first by the love and understanding of Gale, then by the enthusiasm of Bijou. So the experience lacked much of the novelty and excitement he had anticipated, but was nevertheless educational.

There was also no follow-up. The woman did not want to be clasped and appreciated by a man all night, she wanted to sleep. Once satisfied that his seed was in her, she became politely remote. Seeing the way of it, he suggested that it was time for him to return to his own room, and she did not demur. So he dressed and departed--and met the husband on his way back from Bijou. They passed each other with a nod, and that was it.

When he entered his own room, Bijou greeted him with a glad cry. "Oh, Havoc, let's not do that again!" she cried. She was in the process of washing, and he realized that she was making sure to have nothing of the man left in her.

"Why, was he unkind to you?"

"No, he was businesslike. Mechanical. He knew what he was doing, and he did it, and I had almost no input. You're so different, Havoc. You enjoy it."

"I think those two are well matched," Havoc said.

"Havoc, hold me, kiss me. You don't have to be sexual, just get me close."

He stripped and joined her. She hugged him, then washed him, clearing any possible remaining trace of the woman. Then she kissed him, her ardency growing, and her body and her mind drew him in. So they had sex after all, standing there, not so much for its own sake as just to be that close.

They cleaned again, and went to bed. He held her hand. "Even there,"

she said, squeezing his fingers. "You care. It's not just my body."

"I care," he agreed.

"You love Gale, and care for me, so what I have is left over--and yet that gives me more than a man like that has to give in total. And still I saw in

his mind that he considers himself normal--and I think he's right. Oh, Havoc, you have spoiled me."

Piers Anthony 357

"That's what I thought about you."

"That I'm normal?"

"That you spoiled me. That woman was no more fun for me than that man was for you."

She kissed him joyfully. "Thank you."

Next day they departed Dampath and resumed the route. The village was at the edge of a lake, and the path disappeared, appropriately; from here they needed a boat. There was a designated visitor's craft they could borrow; it would remain on the lake when they were gone, so there was no concern about losing it. Eventually they or some other visitor would bring it back, traveling the other direction.

"That's a nice convention," Bijou said. "We are more possessive about things in the city."

Havoc was not used to boating, as Village Trifle was landlocked. The huge expanse of the lake impressed him greatly. He saw that several Chroma bordered it, and from them issued rivers carrying their diluted colors. So the lake was magical, but mixed; no single Chroma dominated, and no Chroma visitor would be much better off than the nonChroma folk. But the creatures in it would have had time to adapt to the mixed magics. The village headman assured them that none were dangerous to travelers, as long as they stayed in their boats. That was only somewhat reassuring.

The boat was propelled by a rotary paddle pedaled by the feet, and steered by a trailing oar. Havoc found the contraption awkward, but soon got used to it, and it did work well enough. Bijou sat in front, as a passenger. She had carryover tiredness from the walk of two days before, so that was just as well.

There was a sudden brightening of the sky. Bijou looked up with alarm.

"What's that?"

"That's a Void flair. You haven't seen one before?"

"Triumph has windows only for the upper class folk. I'm an underclass girl."

"I've seen many flares, and always been intrigued by them. I thought it was just the dark sun getting angry. Now I know that it's because more substance is spiraling into Void, and it is getting squeezed and heated until it's as

bright as a fire. This is the season for such flares; I think they occur all the

time, but Charm is now closer to Void than to Vivid, so we see the flares more clearly."

"And feel them," she added. "The day is already heating."

"Yes. A flare can make winter into summer, in a few minutes. That's why some paths are not much traveled in the Air season--not only too many 358 Key to Havoc

wind storms, but unpredictable fire season interludes."

"Yes, that's why Triumph is closed in," she agreed. "Some storms are so fierce in Fall--that's what we call the Air season--that we actually feel the buffets and rain rocking the walls."

"Fall? Is that an old planet term?"

"Yes. Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, matching Water, Earth, Air, and Void."

"Then what matches Fire season?"

"I don't think anything does. I have heard it called super-summer, but I don't think that's generally accepted. The flares aren't contiguous; they happen randomly or not at all, anytime in Spring, Fall, or Winter, when Void is in

sight. So it's hard to call them a season."

"I never thought of it that way. But I suppose--" He paused, because something else was happening.

The water of the lake was rippling, and the ground itself seemed to be shaking. A rushing sound was coming from beyond Village Dampath, and clouds were boiling up into the sky.

Bijou caught on first. "The avalanche! It's happening!"

"The avalanche," he echoed. "Void is flaring, suddenly heating the snow, and it triggered the snowslide."

"Where would we have been at this time, if we had not pushed ahead in the night?"

Havoc rehearsed the events of the past two days. The night rain had washed out the path, closing it for the following day. They would have had to camp out somewhere near the spider web. Then they would have used the new path the day after, and be about two hours along it. "Right in the middle of that slope," he said.

She shuddered. "Would your dragon seed have warned you in time?"

"It might have. But I might have thought that it was warning me about some threat pursuing us, and hurried forward to avoid it. I don't always understand the seed perfectly."

"Could it anticipate a Void flare?"

"I don't think so. Its magic is limited, and Void is very far away. The seed does remarkably well, but there are limits."

"So if your enemy knew you have the seed, and wanted to get you anyway, this is how it might do it. Use the water bomb to delay us, feeding us into

a situation that was beyond the dragon's seed's capacity to foil. Because it was

more than a day away in time, and originated from far away in space."

Havoc was amazed. "Bijou, I think that's it. You fathomed it when I did Piers Anthony 359

not."

"No, you acted to avoid it, by forging on in the night."

"No, you anticipated mischief," he reminded her. "You got us going when I would have waited."

She looked at him, surprised. "Why, maybe I did. But that was sheer coincidence."

"I wonder. If my enemy knows me, it could devise a scheme that would trap me by seeming accident. But this time we were guided by your thought, so didn't act as I might have. I think you saved us, Bijou."

She paused, her thoughts uneasy. "Havoc, I depend on you for protection. I don't like to think that we can't trust your competence."

"My competence is as it always was. Perhaps improved by the addition of your input."

"I wish I could just kiss you and accept that. But--"

"I'll settle for just the kiss, then."

She had to laugh. She faced him, leaned forward, and kissed him. "You have a genius for making a girl feel useful."

"A girl is useful. But right now I have to pedal, or we'll get behind schedule again."

Smiling, she let him pedal. But she tempted him with mental images of the two of them embracing in the boat, while psychedelic colors illustrated their passion. The irony was that he liked her mischief, though it frustrated him considerably. She was not Gale, but neither was she any nonentity.

Clouds formed, and thickened. "I think we're going to get rain," Bijou said.

Havoc looked toward shore. "I see no place to land safely; it's all jungle.

We'll have to stay on the water."

"And hope there's no water bomb," she said, not quite joking.

"So far, the enemy has never used a device twice. Or tried another in rapid order. It must take time to set up a trap. My seed gave me no warning."

"I suppose getting soaked is not a threat."

"We can take off our clothes and seal up our packs to keep them dry."

She considered, looked at the sky again, and removed her clothing, leaving only the broad hat. Havoc did the same. He had seen her naked many times, but outside like this, in daylight, seemed different. She was a wonderful

figure of a young woman.

"You're quite a figure of a man yourself," she said.

The rain started, first lightly, then more solidly. The bottom of the boat began to fill. Bijou spied a bucket, and began bailing out the accumulation.

360 Key to Havoc

As the rain intensified, Havoc got off the paddle cycle and helped her. "They didn't tell us about this," he grumped. "Here we are naked, and too busy bailing to make love."

"Well, I suppose we could kneel facing each other, and bail behind each other's backs."

"And tip the boat over in our effort to do two things at once."

Then they spied a tarpaulin stored under a seat. It was obviously designed to cover the boat, shielding it from rainfall. They stretched it across the front, hooking its eyelets at the sides, and that eased the problem. They put another across the back, so that the only part of the boat exposed to the rain was the center, where to the two of them were. The two tarps met in the center, and were made to hook together, overlapping, but then there would be no place for the people. They decided that complete closure was not necessary.

"Now we can make love," she suggested.

But the boat, and the rain, and the vertical position proved to be too awkward to manage, and they had to give it up, to his continuing frustration.

Havoc returned to paddling, and Bijou to bailing. The job was much easier, with only a fraction of the water entering. And soon the storm passed, making things easier yet.

At which point another boat appeared on the lake, stopping them from making the scene they had in mind. "I'm sorry I teased you," she said. "I really thought we would be able to do it, somehow."

"There'll surely be another time," he said regretfully.

"You know," Bijou said as they dressed, "we could use this at night.

Cover us over and sleep under the covers. It would be cozy."

"Especially naked," Havoc agreed, wryly.

"I'd do my best to keep you warm."

"You always do."

The light of Vivid returned, warming them. The flare of Void had already faded, having done its own mischief. They made good progress, following the shoreline, and reached the next village in mid-afternoon. They would not have to spend the night in the boat.

The accommodations and performances were as before; they were both becoming accustomed to the routine. The tales were familiar, with repeated tellings, but they were new in style and detail to each audience, especially the

children, and that lent novelty.

And in the evening they played a game of being in the boat, in a storm, and indulging in phenomenal passion that blasted away the weather. In fact Piers Anthony 361

their reenactment would have been quite impossible in reality, but it was fun.

Then on to the next village, which was on an island in the lake. As they moved toward it, Bijou peered into the water. "Look, Havoc--it's turning brown. We must be stirring up mud from the bottom."

He looked. "I don't think so. It's too even. It think it's diffusing from a brown Chroma."

Soon that became certain: the island was brown, and the vegetation on it was brown. There was a village not far from the shore, and its houses were brown. This was a Brown Chroma region. A small one, perhaps, but definite.

They beached the boat and walked up the path to the village. The Elder came out to meet them. His clothing, like his hair and skin and eyes, were brown. "Welcome to Village Brownisle, Minstrel. Have you come to entertain us, or are you moving on?"

"I had understood that the villages on this route were nonChroma,"

Havoc said, pretending to be a bit taken aback. "I'm not sure that Chroma folk would find my stories entertaining. You have real magic of your own, so hardly need to hear about it from someone who lacks it." He didn't want anyone to suspect that his mission brought him here deliberately, though the enemy might already know.

"On the contrary, we enjoy well told tales as much as anyone. We are a Chroma, but somewhat isolated from the main Brown terrain. We have a lateral brown vent which provides our magic, but all our neighbors are nonChroma. So we cultivate amicable relations, and trade with others around the lake, and generally get along well."

"In that case, we shall be happy to entertain you. Do you have preferences as to type or style?"

"We are strong on forbidden love, as many of our people are attracted to nonChroma neighbors, but we are supposed to eschew those and marry into mainland Brown families."

"We can adapt to suit your situation," Havoc said, thinking of the tale of the girl and the teacher. He could be Brown, and she from a nonChroma neighbor village. There were others that should fit similarly well.

The cabin they were given was marvelous. When Bijou stepped into the wash stall, expecting to find the usual tub and bucket, a tiny brown cloud formed overhead and rained warm brown water on her body. "Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, using brown soap and brown shampoo, which were both magically effective. "Come try this, Havoc!"

He did, and was intrigued when he held one hand up to the cloud and tiny bolts of lightning speared out to painlessly trim and polish his finger-362 Key to Havoc

nails. "How about the toes?" he inquired--and the cloud floated down to do them too.

"I could get to like magic," Bijou remarked as she stepped out and a brown towel appeared in her hand. "Now if it would dry me itself--" She broke off, because it suddenly came to life and did just that.

Once she was dry, clear brown clothes appeared and draped themselves on her. A brush stroked across her hair, quickly putting it into excellent order.

Havoc got similar service. "Brown is the Chroma of conjuring," he said, remembering. "I haven't seen it in action like this before."

They did the Girl and Teacher tale, with Bijou suddenly in gray and white clothing when she expressed the desire to be so attired, while Havoc remained in brown, signifying their identities. Instead of Girl's youth being the problem, it was her color. There were a number of nonChroma children in the audience, evidently visiting to attend the show; both they and the Brown

children seemed to relate very well. But so did many of the older villagers, some of whom sat with nonChroma partners in evident defiance of Chroma policy. Of course in time they would all become Brown Chroma, if they remained on the island. But the difficult time was when they were mixed, and they did understand the temptations and the problems of miscegenetic relations. There was considerable applause when the tale finished.

Then came the banquet, and that was another experience. Each person merely spoke the name of the food he preferred to eat, and it appeared before him, hot and edible. Havoc had cooked brown skunk cabbage and brown yak milk, staples he had missed since leaving home and adapting to kingly ways. They were provided in Triumph when he asked, but he had soon concluded that conformity made for a better kingly aspect. Here he didn't need to be concerned. Bijou, in contrast, had a thoroughly conventional city working person meal of brown bread and brown steak, with brown ale on the side.

After the meal, the villagers entertained them with a magic show. A collection of brown balls appeared, forming a small pyramid on the center table. Then they floated up and made three dimensional patterns overhead, intricate and changing, dizzying the eye. Then each ball became the figure of a small brown woman, dancing in the air, her brown skirt flaring as she performed intricate steps. Havoc assumed that this had become illusion, until one of the girls landed on the table before him, twirled, then bounced onto his hand. She had substance; he felt her small weight. She sat down and kicked her little feet at him, showing her brown legs all the way up. She was perfectly formed. Then she smiled, winked, and sailed back into the air, re-Piers Anthony 363

joining her companions. They danced in unison, closing together, then became the brown balls again, and the balls dropped to the center table, as a pyramid, and vanished.

Havoc and Bijou applauded, delighted. This was true magic; there was no way it could have been done by sleight of hand or diversion of attention.

Then the group broke up, and individuals came to inquire about news of the world beyond.

Elder approached. "As you see, we do our best to integrate. Some nonChroma folk fear magic and see Chroma residents as aliens, but we are as human as any. We encourage nonChroma neighbors to visit, and many do, and we also visit their villages."

"It looks good," Havoc said. "I never saw a magic show like that before.

The doll that came to me--she seemed completely real, except for her size."

"She is, except for her form."

"Her form?"

Elder glanced to the side, and signaled someone with a glance. A woman of middling age and spread approached. "This is the lady who conjured that particular doll. She controlled it magically with her mind, making it emulate her own motions. Each doll is managed by a different person."

"Conjured? I thought that consisted of summoning objects from elsewhere."

"The term also means to influence or command. The dolls are first summoned, being magically transported from storage, then animated by their familiars."

"Conjured," Havoc agreed. "That is impressive coordination."

"Thank you, Minstrel," the woman said. Then she smiled and winked, exactly as the doll had, and walked away.

"They can manage larger dolls too," Elder said. "If you lacked a female partner for the night--as I see you do not--one of them could entertain you in that fashion too."

A lovely woman form, managed by a distant living woman, being with a man. These folk had entertainments hardly dreamed of in nonChroma regions.

"Male dolls too?" Bijou asked.

"Of course."

"Can they--?"

"Yes. Their familiars do not gain the actual sensations of touch, as there are no nerves in the dolls, but the dolls can perform well enough to give their

human partners satisfaction."

364 Key to Havoc

"See, I don't need you anymore," Bijou said to Havoc, laughing.

The other villagers had drifted away, so that their dialogue had become private. "Elder," Havoc said, "I have a favor to ask of the Brown Chroma.

Perhaps you can tell me to whom I should apply."

"What is the favor?"

"I need a locator, for use in a nonChroma region."

The man studied him appraisingly. "For that you will have to apply to our parent source. We are but a Brown Chroma isle, not a major zone. But I must say that such a favor is unlikely to be granted without excellent reason.

It is proprietary magic."

"I know. Only Brown has the quality of locator magic required for this purpose."

"Can you tell me for what purpose it is to be used?"

"No."

"I see. Then can you tell me who it is who wishes to use it?"

"If privacy is guaranteed."

The man made a gesture. Suddenly a shimmering translucent brown globe appeared around them. "We are private."

Evidently so; Havoc didn't know how magic worked, but trusted its power.

"Guaranteed apart from this moment," Havoc said.

Elder considered him again. "You wish to obtain it in secret? Without others knowing?"

"Yes."

"I will keep the secret if it seems warranted, and fetch the locator, if warranted. But you will have to satisfy me that such an effort is warranted."

"I am King Havoc. I need it to help study the murder of my predecessor, King Deal. Do you have means to verify my identity?"

"No. The Translucent, Red, or Blue Chroma could do that, but this is not our specialty. Further, I do not believe you. King Havoc is at this time in

the capital city of Triumph, making daily appearances; our representative there

so reports. Therefore I believe you are pretending to an office you do not have, for what reason I don't know and do distrust. There is no valid secret to

be kept."

Bijou spoke. "I can attest to his identity."

Elder turned to her, annoyed. "And who are you?"

"The head Mistress of the Royal Bath. I--"

"You ran away with a minstrel?"

"No, with the king. I--"

"You are not a credible witness."

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Havoc realized that he had masked his absence from his office too well.

He had divested himself of his crown, and had no other way to identify himself. Except mental. "Do you read minds here?"

"Of course not. You must go to the Translucent Chroma for that."

"But all the Chroma can do similar magic, when they focus, regardless of specialty. Just not as well as the specialists."

"Perhaps. But as I said, we are a small zone. We have no mind readers here. We practice personal privacy. Now if you have done wasting my time, I suggest that you drop this pretense and return to your true role as Minstrel.

As that, you are indeed competent, and I will say no more about this other imposition if you will agree to perform tomorrow in the usual manner."

Havoc cursed his lack of foresight; he should have thought to keep some sure signal of his identity, to use at need. Now what could he do?

Sire, Bijou thought. Your proficiency in combat--that might persuade him.

Good idea. "Has your representative told you that the new king hails from an outlying village, and is a barbarian?"

"Yes, this is common knowledge. He belched at his inaugural address."

"That he is a skilled martial artist?"

"Yes, of course. What is your point?"

"Suppose I demonstrate my competence in that respect?"

"That would demonstrate only that you can fight. Minstrels do have to defend themselves on occasion."

This man would not be swayed! Havoc couldn't blame him, but he had to get that locator, which meant he had to convince Elder. "Then what about this: forget about whether I am the king. Let me challenge your champion for that locator. If I win, I get it, regardless of my identity."

"And what if you lose?"

He was stuck again. He had no equivalent prize to offer.

Until Bijou stepped in. "If he loses, then I will remain here to marry the man who chooses me."

Bijou! You mustn't--

You will win, won't you?

Yes, of course. But--

Then I can do this.

Meanwhile Elder was contemplating her. "That performance you gave--

you are an extremely comely and obliging young woman."

"Thank you. I try to be."

"You realize that in time you would become Brown, as our magic infuses you, but that you would never become as facile with magic as the natives?

366 Key to Havoc

That three of your children would be Brown Chroma?"

"Yes."

"I believe there are a number of our young men who would be interested. If you will accede publicly to the terms-"

"Of course. Minstrel wins, he gets the locator. He loses, you get me."

Elder faced Havoc. "I still do not understand or respect your game, but I will consult tonight, and if you stand ready to meet our champion in single combat, these will be the terms."

"Agreed."

"But there is more you must understand. Our champions do not fight directly. They manage dolls. What you might call golems. Even if you are skilled, you will be at a disadvantage, unless you have had experience manag-ing golems."

"I have no such experience. But it doesn't matter."

Elder frowned. "Of course it matters! You may be an impostor, seeking what you should not have, but that does not entitle us to put you at an unfair disadvantage. I am trying to show you why this challenge is ill advised.

Surely you have no wish to lose your lovely assistant in an unwinnable competition."

Havoc had to admire the man's integrity, though it was getting in his way.

"Your golems are indirect, like the dancing dolls. They can't react as well as the people who manage them."

"True. But they make such contests safe, as no actual person can get hurt. In any event, that disadvantage is evenly distributed, as both parties use

the dolls."

"And even if they could react as well, no single golem could be better than the person who operates it."

"Of course. But it can be worse, if for example a man knows martial art, but is not conversant with the mechanisms of golem control. Since you admit that you are not--"

"I will not use a golem. I'll fight my own fight."

Elder was agitated. "Minstrel, you don't understand. These dolls use real weapons. They hack each other apart. We never have real people participating. It would be barbaric."

Bijou laughed. "Havoc is a barbarian. He loves that reckless violence."

"Nevertheless, we are not barbaric. We could not countenance such a suicidal risk."

Bijou stepped in again. I have a notion. She smiled beguilingly at Elder.

"Maybe you should give Havoc a golem, and let him practice with it. Then if Piers Anthony 367

he still wants to have the fight, he can."

"That is certainly sensible," Elder agreed.

"Yes," Havoc said.

"Enjoy our hospitality this night," Elder said. "In the morning we will provide you with instruction and a practice golem. In the afternoon you may engage in the contest, if you still wish to."

"Agreed."

Elder departed, and they returned to their room. What's on your mind?

Havoc demanded as they washed and changed. He knew better than to speak aloud; they were in magic territory, and if there was not mind reading, there could certainly be ears. Golem ears.

"This should be interesting," Bijou said aloud. But her real message was mental: They won't let you fight without using a golem. But if you practice with one that

looks like you, then when the real fight comes, you can step in yourself, and they'll think its

the golem.

Brilliant! he thought, kissing her.

No, just garden variety lower class cunning. She paused. But Havoc, I'd really rather you did use the golem. It's so much safer.

And would put you at much greater risk of becoming a Brown Chroma wife.

Well, it would not be such a bad fate. Maybe better than what I will return to once I am dismissed from the king's service.

I'm not going to dismiss you!

If you die, I will be dismissed by the next king. If you live, I will be automatically dismissed when I turn eighteen and have to marry. This is the way it is.

He gazed at her, disgruntled. She was being realistic. He did not plan on being king beyond his mandatory year. So she faced a brief tenure regardless.

"This is something I will address at another time," he said aloud. He had no good answer at the moment, but intended to come up with one before he left the office.

"Of course." She sat on the bed and drew up her nightie, silently offering him her body.

He took it, hungrily. She met him with special passion. He knew why: she had been reminded of the temporary nature of their association, and she wanted to make the most of it. She was a passionate creature at the best of times, and more-so at the worst of times. Always worth it.

Thank you, Havoc.

In the morning, Elder brought them to a building beside a brown gully.

368 Key to Havoc

The air shimmered with magic power. "This is the Chroma vent, an offshoot from the main Brown Volcano. It does not erupt as such, so is relatively safe.

It spews mostly gas, sometimes dust, rarely lava. The island appears to have been built up from its emissions, so it has been here for some time. We form our dolls here, of Brown basalt, then move them out when the familiar has bonded."

They entered the building. It was a rock workshop, with large blocks of brown stone being carved by artisans. There was a line of finished golems standing against a wall. Some were like powerful men, others like buxom women, and others like children and animals. Along another wall was a collection of smaller ones, like the dancing dolls they had seen.

Havoc was impressed and interested. "You can make stone figures move?" He had not thought about the actual material of the golems before.

"The magic of their substance makes them move and change shape.

The bonding process enables a person to use that magic. Then they will do what that person directs."

"Can one be shaped to resemble me?"

"Certainly." Elder brought them to a standing golem of Havoc's general size. He signaled, and one of the artisans approached. "Make this one in the image of this man, and have him bond."

The artisan nodded. "If you will stand beside the form, Minstrel, please."

Havoc stood beside it, and the man did something odd: he focused one eye on Havoc and the other on the stone man. Nothing seemed to happen, but Bijou, who was watching from the side, made an exclamation. "It's changing!"

"It is being crafted to resemble him," Elder agreed. "Except that he is pale and it is brown. We could not eliminate the color without destroying the magic, of course."

"Couldn't you paint it?"

"We could, but to what point?"

"Point made," she agreed. Naturally she could not explain that they wanted a golem that looked exactly like Havoc, so the two could exchange places.

"Now the bonding," the artisan said. "Please face the doll and focus intently on it."

Havoc faced the golem--and saw a brown image of himself, as though he were looking in a stained mirror. It even had his hat and clothing, all in brown. He focused--and the thing began to breathe. Its mouth worked, and its eyes looked back at him.

Piers Anthony 369

"Done," the artisan said, and walked away.

"Now you can control it with your thoughts," Elder said. "Because body movements are complicated to control consciously, it is best simply to lock it on emulation. Will it to do whatever you do."

Havoc tried. Do what I do. Then he scratched his head.

The golem scratched its head, synchronized precisely with Havoc. Again, it was like a mirror image, except that it wasn't; the golem used the same hand

Havoc did.

Havoc walked, and the golem followed him, its feet landing the same time Havoc's did. It seemed fully alive.

"But isn't it a lot heavier than he is?" Bijou asked.

"Not when bonded to him," Elder said. "Then its weight matches his, as does its softness of flesh. But that is merely the beginning. If you please,

Minstrel, close your eyes and see through the doll's eyes. You will need to do this in the arena."

"I thought they had no nerves," Bijou said. "How can they see?"

"Their eyes attune to the eyes of the familiar, as do their ears, and their gross features of body. The doll does not see; the familiar does, and uses that

sight to control the doll."

Havoc closed his eyes, and the golem did the same. Havoc focused, and in a moment made the golem differ from him: it opened its eyes while his remained closed. He saw through its eyes--and it was the same, apart from the change in perspective. He saw himself standing there with eyes closed.

"With a little practice, you can cause it to move as you think, rather than as you move," Elder said.

Havoc worked at it, and soon was making the golem walk around while he stood still. It was somewhat clumsy, but becoming less so.

"You are making excellent progress," Elder said. "But perhaps you now appreciate the difficulty of using a doll in combat against an experienced familiar."

"I do," Havoc said through the golem's mouth. The words were slurred but intelligible.

"Do you still wish to engage in the competition?"

"Yes."

Elder shrugged. "We feel that you are needlessly sacrificing the future of your assistant. Not that we will mistreat her; she will surely be cherished,

for she has a form that only our dolls possess ordinarily. But doubtless she has other plans for her life."

"I do," Bijou said. "But if he loses, I will surely find life here at Brownisle

370 Key to Havoc

interesting. Will I be allowed to have a golem?"

"Certainly. All of us have personal dolls. Wives often find them useful as diversion for husbands"

"Do I understand you correctly?" she asked. "A woman will operate an image of herself for her husband's bed?"

"Not precisely. There would be little point in an exact image. She naturally crafts an image similar to herself in youth, perhaps somewhat enhanced in certain female features, which pleases him more."

"But isn't the stone cold and hard and unresponsive?"

"Not unless she wishes it to be. It is extremely difficult to tell a conjured image from the original, when the familiar is experienced and attentive."

"This is more interesting that I thought."

"Perhaps," Elder said. "We of Chroma take such magic for granted. We produce dolls for export to other Chroma, in exchange for some of their specialties."

"But don't they lose their magic, when they go to other colors?"

"No, not immediately. Chroma people lose much of their magic in foreign zones, being living things merely imbued with the magic of their surroundings. But the dolls are crafted from the essence of Brown Chroma, and will endure for years if used carefully."

Havoc realized that the golems were masses of Brown Chroma magic substance, similar to the Chroma gemstones. So they could function elsewhere, but each use would deplete them somewhat. Still, a man-sized golem should last for some time.

"One other question," Bijou said. "If I had a golem fashioned in my likeness, could it bear a baby?"

"No. It is a superficial emulation. It also has no need to eat, or eliminate. It breathes only to speak. That is why we call them dolls: they are not alive, however they may appear." He turned to Havoc. "And that is why we use them for combat contests. They suffer no pain, and have no consciousness. When not managed by their familiars, they are inert."

"Nevertheless impressive," Havoc said through the golem's mouth, handling the words better.

"Practice as you wish. You make take the doll to your chamber. At noon I will inquire whether you still wish to engage in the contest, for the agreed terms. You will be free to decline, which is what I recommend."

"Thank you," Havoc said. Then he opened his own eyes and walked out of the building, the golem in lock step behind him. Apparently it maintained its balance magically, as it did not stumble or wobble when its footing differed

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from his.

Bijou paced them. How can these people control golems, if they have no mind reading?

I suspect they have a different form of it, relating only to the golems.

She switched to verbal communication. "Are you still determined to fight their champion?"

"Yes. I need that locator."

"Then we had better be sure you can operate that golem well. My future depends on it." The dialogue was merely for whoever might be listening; she knew what he intended.

In the cabin he did practice, and was satisfied that though he could ma-nipulate the golem, he could not do so well enough to match the performance of his own body.

So they got to work on what he had intended all along. First Havoc disengaged from the golem, and it became inert, standing in place. Then Bijou addressed the golem in the manner Havoc had, attempting to bond.

She succeeded. The golems were not limited to a single familiar; it seemed that anyone who made the effort could relate to them. This one looked like Havoc, but didn't have to respond to his commands. In a moment it came back to seeming life, only now it emulated her motions. She concentrated, and made it speak, sounding like him. Soon she had a reasonable approxima-tion. It wouldn't fool anyone who knew Havoc at all well, but among strangers it would do.

They got to work with what pigments they could muster, painting the face and arms of the golem off-white, and painting Havoc brown. They exchanged clothing, so that Havoc wore shades of brown and the golem wore his varied colors. Havoc and the golem came to look more like each other than themselves. However, Havoc retained his own weapons, preferring their familiarity of heft and balance. It was easier to color them than to

adapt to strange weapons.

Then Bijou practiced walking and talking on her own, while causing the golem to emulate Havoc. That turned out to be impossible; the golem crashed into a wall and almost fell, while she got dizzy. So they practiced fast bondings:

Havoc controlled it, then stopped, and she took over. Again, they weren't really good at it, but it would do if no one were looking for this ploy.

Noon came. Elder arrived. Bijou, scantily garbed, embraced and kissed the golem. "You still won't change your mind, Minstrel?" she asked it.

"No," it said, speaking for Havoc.

Elder looked at Havoc. "Is your doll armed? We would not send an 372 Key to Havoc

unarmed doll into the arena."

"Yes," the golem said.

Bijou and the golem walked with Elder, and Havoc followed, acting slightly clumsy. The golem was dressed as the minstrel, and carrying the staff, but were they really fooling Elder? Or was the man playing along, so that he would not be any overt party to their deception? It was possible that the interest of the village in obtaining Bijou was such that they wanted the contest to proceed. Havoc found that interesting in itself: if they could make golems as beautiful as they wished, and have them emulate real women, why was there such desire for a beautiful real woman? He assumed that a beautiful doll that could be operated only by the full attention of real person was not as

good as a beautiful woman who needed no such operation. Reality was always better than looking at a statue, even if the statue could be animated.

They came to the arena, where a fair number of villagers were gathered.

Elder stepped into the center and turned to address them. "Minstrel wishes to obtain a magic device of some value, and will contest for it. If he loses, he

will allow his assistant, the Girl Bijou, to remain here at Village Brownisle to

marry a man of our choosing. We have tried to dissuade him, but without success." He faced Bijou. "Girl, are you also amenable to this?"

Bijou walked out to join him. "Yes. I here publicly agree to marry one of your men and remain here to bear his children, and oblige him in every way a wife does, if Minstrel loses the encounter." She smiled and turned around, showing off her assets. One reason for her brevity of costume was to distract the attention of others from Havoc. The several young brown men present were definitely intrigued. "I think it would be interesting, living here,

though I have confidence that Minstrel will win."

Elder spoke again. "Is it the sense of this gathering that the terms are fair and that this contest should proceed?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Then let the champion of Brownisle show itself."

A door on the far side of the arena opened, and a massive and muscular brown man emerged. He was naked except for a loincloth, and held a sword in each hand. He was not at all clumsy; he moved as if alive.

"The challenger will step forward."

Havoc relinquished control of the golem to Bijou and walked into the arena. If the golem who was supposed to be Havoc seemed preoccupied, that would be attributed to Havoc's concentration on making the figure in the arena work. If Bijou needed to speak to someone, she would let the golem stand and do it. The ruse should work because it was unexpected. They hoped.

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Elder spoke once more. "Minstrel, having seen the champion, you have one more opportunity to withdraw from this contest. We recognize that you are inexperienced as a familiar of dolls, and may prefer not to risk losing your

assistant in such manner."

They were being more than fair. Havoc was coming to like the folk of Village Brownisle. "I will stay," the golem said, as Bijou made it speak for him.

Havoc, meanwhile, was studying his opponent. If the golem was as powerful as it looked, either of those swords would be capable of cutting him into flying halves. The fact that there was no shield spoke for the strategy: to

come out swinging, heedless of whatever threat the opponent represented.

That was impressive. But also stupid, in the face of a competent martial artist.

"Then let the contest proceed," Elder said. "There will of course be no magic other than that of the dolls, who will be confined to the arena and the ground. The first to step out of the arena, or to suffer a fatal injury, will be

declared the loser. There are no other rules of engagement. Go."

Havoc strode forward to meet the golem. He walked with a token stiff-ness, deliberately. He tucked the staff under one arm and took down his hat, making it into the shield. He did not touch either his knife or his belt.

The audience was evidently surprised. Havoc had his mind shield up and was not trying to read any minds; he wanted to keep his full focus on the task before him. He was sure he could "kill" the golem warrior, but he wanted to avoid any surprises. Carelessness was his greatest enemy. There might be some subtlety in the other's attack; it was after all managed by a living man.

So Havoc wanted to test its reflexes before he committed himself.

The golem strode forward and waded in, swinging the sword grasped by the right hand. Havoc danced away, landed awkwardly, turned, and poked the golem's belly with the end of his staff.

The golem's other sword whipped across and caught the wooden staff, slicing eighteen inches off its end. Havoc stumbled back. Yes indeed, the thing was not clumsy!

He brandished his shortened staff, and feinted at the golem's head. The golem countered with another quick slash, lopping off another length. But this time Havoc did not stumble back; he leaped close, jamming the remainder of the staff at the thing's face. He scored on the golem's left eye, pulping

it. Now it was the golem that stumbled back, its familiar surprised and half blinded. It was having trouble getting its extended swords into play.

Havoc dropped the staff and drew his knife. He jumped close again, 374 Key to Havoc

and again caught the golem by surprise. That was the key: doing the unexpected, and doing it swiftly and forcefully. He used his shield to catch the golem's right arm, shoving it into the other arm, off-balancing the figure. He plunged the blade into the golem's neck, twisting. He pulled it out immediately and leaped clear.

"Is that a lethal strike?" Elder asked uncertainly.

The golem remained on its feet, brown fluid staining its shoulder and chest. The strike was lethal, but apparently these folk were so accustomed to lopping off limbs and heads that they didn't realize it. What would they think of one of the White Chroma guns, that put just a tiny pellet hole in a body?

There was no help for it: he would have to finish off the golem in obvious manner. Those two swords swung too swiftly; he would not risk getting in close again, even with his shield. So he put away his knife and used one hand to undo his belt, shaking it out. It became the net, with small weights around its perimeter. He swung it, waiting for his opening.

The golem shook off the wound in its neck and advanced on him again.

This time it did not simply swing at him, its operator having learned that this

was an unlikely way to catch him. Instead it stalked him, looking for its own opening.

They circled each other at a respectful distance. Then Havoc feinted, and succeeded in provoking a swing. He jumped back, then in, and the second sword came for him. But that stroke was weaker, because the golem's balance was off; it was more of a defensive move. Havoc knocked it aside with his shield, and hurled his net.

The net caught the golem's head and swirled down around its arms, interfering with its motion. The thing swung at it, ineffectively; a sword was not much good against a net. In a moment one of its arms was entangled, and then the other.

Havoc leaped in, knocked down one sword arm with his shield, and trapped the other against the ground with his foot. Then he drew his knife and stabbed again at the neck, repeatedly, until the head finally came loose.

He picked up the head and waved it at the audience.

That they understood. "Victory to the challenger," Elder announced.

"I will send for the item." He shook his head. "I must say, you showed surprising competence. Perhaps it was the element of surprise." He was speaking to the golem-Havoc.

"He's a quick study," Bijou said. She was openly relieved. She had seen Havoc fight before, but that two sworded golem had been fearsome.

Havoc shambled back to rejoin Bijou. "We will return the doll to the Piers Anthony 375

shop," Elder said, as he approached them. "You will have no further need of it."

"Oh, we'll take it back and clean it up first," Bijou said.

"No need. We will wash it off and save it for reshaping to another model." He signaled to one of the young men, who came to take Havoc by the arm.

Havoc wanted to protest, but preferred to keep his secret if he could.

So he went with the brown man, while Bijou returned to the cabin with the golem.

Inside, the young man called to an artisan. "Here's a doll for reshaping.

Put it in the melting pot."

Melting pot?

The artisan approached. "Easier simply to chop it into rubble, for now.

It's in pretty sloppy shape."

Then Havoc read their minds. They were on to him, and were teasing him. "How long did you know?" he asked.

"When you attacked, you forgot to be clumsy," the young man said.

"No doll ever moved that fast and sure. Elder was chagrined to have been deceived, but it was too late to renege."

"And you are sweating from the exertion," the artisan said. "No doll ever sweated."

Havoc hadn't thought of that. "Does this mean that the contest was no good?"

"No, Elder will honor the deal, though we are sorry to lose the girl.

She's a rare one."

"She is," Havoc agreed.

"And so are you, Minstrel."

Havoc shrugged. "I do what I must."

"Come on, we'll wash you off, and then you can fetch back the real doll."

"Thank you."

Soon Havoc, back to his own colors, returned to the cabin to fetch the golem. "Oh, I was just going to find out how well this thing made love,"

Bijou said.

She was teasing him too. "It wouldn't work, with you controlling it. It would be like self stimulation." But it was an intriguing notion.

"Too bad. Then you will have to do." She kissed him, and let him take the golem.

It was mid afternoon. They resumed their tale telling for the villagers, and their presentation was duly appreciated.

376 Key to Havoc

Elder approached. "It will be here tomorrow morning."

"Thank you."

"You are clearly a competent martial artist, but I still do not believe you are the king."

Havoc smiled. "At some point I may communicate with you officially; then you can judge."

Elder departed, his doubt remaining.

That evening a woman arrived at their door. She was lovely in a brown way. "Will you sire my fourth?" she inquired of Havoc.

This was awkward. "I realize that this is not a request to be snubbed,"

Havoc said carefully. "But I was asked at another village, and I found the experience not entirely comfortable. If it is possible to decline, without giving offense-"

"It is not possible," the woman said. "I feel you have an excellent body, and I would like to have a son like you."

Havoc looked at Bijou. She shrugged helplessly.

"Excellent," the woman said, and pushed on into the room. "Do it now; I have to return to my children in fifteen minutes." She began removing her clothing. She had a stunning upper torso.

Bijou's eyes widened. Havoc--read her mind.

He tried. But there was no mind there. "You're a golem!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "Oh, you caught on too soon. I wasn't going to tell you until you were in the throes."

"This is retribution for what we did," he said.

She nodded. "You fooled us, so we wished to fool you. You opened the door on that game."

"We did," he agreed ruefully.

"But you carried through, showing us your quality. I will too, if you wish." She glanced at Bijou. "I believe you expressed interest in this aspect."

Bijou had been distinctly uneasy about this, but now her interest quickened; Havoc felt it in her mind. "Yes. I'd like to see how it works."

"Now wait-" Havoc protested.

"I can show you," the golem said. "I will turn over this doll to you, for this occasion, if you wish."

"Who are you?" Havoc demanded.

"I am the Familiar of the warrior you defeated today."

"A man!"

"A woman with a hobby. Hardly as lovely as the doll, but certainly female. But with the dolls we can assume any role, as a diversion. I am the Piers Anthony 377

village champion gladiator. I thought to engage you again, another way, if I could deceive you long enough. I failed."

"I can borrow the golem?" Bijou asked.

"I am vacating it. Bond." The golem went inert.

Bijou sat in a chair, and concentrated, and in a moment the golem reanimated. It looked at Havoc. "Well-get your clothes off," it said.

"You can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am," the golem said. "When we return to Triumph, and you need a cover for you or Gale, you might use golems. But you need to know just how completely they can perform. Now is your chance to find out."

She was right. Still, it bothered him. "This is a thing made of stone."

"Not when I'm animating it. You saw that warrior golem bleed. So I think this one is soft and wet in the right places." The golem looked at him sidelong. "Lost your nerve, Havoc?"

"You're angry that I will someday leave you."

The golem shook its head. "No, Havoc. I love you, but I know what must be. I never had a real claim on you. I think you need to know just how real a golem can be, and this is the time." It stripped the rest of the way and

approached him. "Please. It can't be as bad as that business in the other village." It put its arms around him and drew him in for a kiss.

The amazing thing was that its body was warm and supple, and the kiss felt real. It was becoming impossible to think of this as a construct of stone.

What the hell. Havoc found any woman interesting, especially well formed young nubile ones, and this golem was as well formed as any could be. When women were made to order, magically, of course they were ideally shaped.

Since Bijou, far from objecting, was urging him on, and being the familiar of the golem herself, this was really an alternate way of clasping her. Such golems

could indeed be useful to him in future, if they could perform well enough to fool living folk. So it made sense to give this one a full try.

She was already removing his clothes for him. Her fingers fumbled a bit, because Bijou was not yet fully conversant with intricate small muscle coordination, but they got the job done.

Naked, he clasped the naked female. He ran his hands over her posterior, appreciating its perfect rondure. He explored her neck and shoulders, and then her breasts. Every woman was perfect in some spots, and imperfect in others, physically, but this one was perfect everywhere. Her belly, her thighs,

her legs--she was an idealized doll throughout.

Then she explored him, in the manner Bijou liked to do, and in a moment he was at a fever pitch. She might not be getting any direct sensation 378 Key to Havoc

through the golem's hands, but her touch was sure. They were standing, and he couldn't wait to move to the bed; he picked her up, finding that indeed, she

weighed no more than she should. She lifted her legs and clasped his waist.

Her cleft slid slowly down to meet his erection, and it was exactly as warm and

slick as it should be. He found his place, and was about to slide on in--when the dragon seed buzzed.

Oh, no! There was danger or deception or wrongness, and he dared not proceed until he knew which. He froze.

I heard the buzz. Bijou was as alarmed as he. In her distraction, the golem became immobile--and crushingly heavy. It had returned to the brown rock, the basalt from the Chroma vent. She quickly reanimated it, and the weight faded, and the softness returned.

Havoc stood there, clasping the golem, at the point of entry, horrified.

Suppose it reverted to stone when he was inside it? He might be most intimately and painfully trapped!

I wouldn't do that to you, Bijou thought, distressed.

But you might not have a choice, if the other woman wrested control back from you. She could do with me what she wished--and it might be lethal.

True. Set it down, get away from it.

He still wasn't satisfied. If we are being watched, and they realize we know, this

creature could become a warrior woman with strength I can't match. The arena warrior

was crafted to have human vulnerability, but that's no necessary limit.

But if you play along, and there's danger-- Her thought became pure horror.

Could it be a succubus? Here to suck out your soul when you spurt within it?

He hadn't thought of that. Make that a statement.

The golem in his embrace nodded. Its legs still clasped him; the position remained incipient. It is a succubus, here to steal your soul.

The seed buzzed. No, he thought, relieved.

It will revert to stone when you are inside, to punish you most cruelly.

The seed buzzed. No. He was almost as relieved.

The golem's face brightened. The Brown Chroma woman really does want you to sire her fourth. The golem will collect your seed for her to use.

The seed did not buzz. But it had buzzed before, warning him. Was that just to let him know that things were not as they seemed? It had not buzzed when the golem first came to him, asking him to sire a forth, so that much was true. Perhaps the seed should have buzzed to indicate that the golem was not what it seemed, but if it was merely a surrogate for the real woman, the distinction between bodies might have been considered immaterial. But there Piers Anthony 379

must be danger in actually penetrating this body. What was it?

There must be something else, Bijou thought. Can the seed distinguish between whole truths and half truths?

Maybe not. Maybe it goes with the predominant aspect. If a statement is more false

than true, it buzzes. If it is more true than false, it doesn't. It was an aspect he had

not thought of before.

That makes sense, since few things are completely true or false. So the truth that

the woman does want to have your seed for her fourth covered the fact that she was using the

golem to get it. Her real body is probably not one you would care to clasp.

But there must

be some danger in your entering this body--maybe something the woman herself doesn't

know about.

Make that a statement.

There is danger she doesn't know about.

There was no buzz. Reverse it.

There is no danger.

The seed buzzed.

Havoc continued to stand there, holding the golem off the floor, though his erection was fading. They tried other questions, and gradually cornered it:

most of Havoc's seed was to be saved in a special compartment within the golem, and given to the woman for her fourth, but part of it was to be sent to the main Brown Chroma territory for magic analysis. To verify his true identity, and if he should actually turn out to be the king, to establish a measure of

secret control over him. That was the danger.

Now they had it. They verified that Elder did not know about this; the man was honest and would not approve. Neither was it intended by the woman who had sent the golem. That was good to know--but meanwhile, how were they to deal with this enemy ploy?

Bijou had another working-class-girl-cunning notion. She fetched a bit of flour from their traveling food supply, diluted it with water to form a thin

paste, then used a straw to blow it into the golem's nether channel. Then Havoc made a pretense of having a violent climax, and set the golem down.

In due course the Brown Chroma woman resumed control, and took the golem away. She might never understand why the siring did not take, but might assume that its viability had been lost by storage in the golem. The analysts of the main Brown Chroma would of course realize that they had been had--and would not be able to protest. They would probably assume that Havoc was not the king, and had prevented them from exposing his pretense.

Once they were alone again, they proceeded to some real lovemaking.

380 Key to Havoc

Bijou, pensive for a moment, had one request: "Havoc, when you are done with me, and I must go marry elsewhere, will you give me my fourth?"

"Yes!" And there it was, the way he could repay her for her loyalty and help and companionship. "And not via any golem girl."

She laughed. "Even if I want my fourth first?"

She was not speaking nonsense. The "fourth" meant one baby out of four, sired outside the marriage; it could occur at any time, and the baby could

be the first, second, or third. "Especially if it's first, when you are closest to

the way you are right now."

"Oh, thank you, Havoc!" She kissed him and clasped him with unusual passion, even for her.

Next morning Elder gravely produced the locator. It was a small brown metal ball in a special casing. "We ask that you return it, when you are done with it, as we do not like to let Brown magic, other than the dolls, go far beyond our premises."

"I shall," Havoc agreed. There had been deception, but Elder was not part of it, and it was a fair request.

Then he and Bijou went to the boat and peddled on toward the next village. There were a number of villagers there to see them off. He wondered whether one of the women was the one who had sent the golem. He was a bit regretful that the matter had turned out as it had, as he would not have begrudged her her fourth, but he couldn't let the Brown Chroma gain any magical control of him. Some other time, perhaps, for her.

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