Key to Chroma Page 7

  "No vision. I kissed you. At night I will do more. Now conduct me to this address.” She spoke the coordinates.

  "That is awkward territory.” He was a cartographer; he could visualize exactly what given coordinates indicated in real terms.

  "Understood. It is challenging and dangerous. You will take me there."

  "I will take you there,” he agreed. “Yet caution requires me to advise you that—"

  She squeezed his arm warningly.

  "You could die there!” he flared. “And I would be blamed."

  She was tired of his well meaning arguments. He was surely correct, but she had to go on her mission regardless. She read his mind, verifying his confused sincerity. But she knew his weakness. She would have to seduce him now, to gain his unquestioning commitment. “Take me to a private place."

  "Lady, I am only trying to—for your own safety—"

  "Now."

  He hesitated. “You want me to stop arguing."

  "Yes."

  "Nothing can change your mind?"

  "Correct."

  "I think I should decline to do it."

  She brought him to another halt, faced him, and opened her shirt.

  He had to look. His tongue ran around his lips. He was normally oriented, but still could not really believe that anything of such nature would be offered to him. “You are not being fair!"

  She opened wider.

  He capitulated. “I am lost.” Literally true; she saw the vision of her breasts obliterating all else in his mind.

  Gale discovered that she rather liked playing the vamp. She had always known she was lovely, since capturing Havoc's love, but had preferred to play a slightly demure role. This was a change, and fun, as long as she knew it wasn't her real nature. Telepathy enhanced it; she knew the exact effect of her display. “We will not have this discussion again."

  He now knew better than to attempt to protest that aspect. She could obliterate his arguments with just a twitch of her shirt. “But you must let me choose the route. There are dangers—"

  "Of course.” She turned in place, closed her shirt, slipped her arm inside his and made them resume their walk. He carried his staff with his other hand, upright. It was easy to control a shy man whose thoughts were open to her. “That is why I need a man who can handle himself well in threatening situations."

  He took her to a caravan master, a balding older man. “Greeting,” Dour said.

  "Acknowledgment."

  "We travel to the third Red Chroma zone on your tour."

  "You are welcome, of course, Cartographer. You have toured with us before. But the woman must pay her way."

  "I will cover her."

  "I will cover myself,” Gale said. “I am a songstress."

  The caravan master studied her with an experienced eye. He recognized beauty when he saw it, regardless of the clothing. “You will dress for the occasion?"

  He was asking whether she would show some flesh. Theoretically songs were their own object, but an indifferent performer could win over an audience if she looked good. “Agreed."

  "Then welcome, songstress. We depart noon tomorrow. Meet me here two hours before."

  Gale nodded. “Parting."

  They were back in the wooden hall. “I have only my small spare chamber,” Dour said. “If you wish to return tomorrow—"

  "Negation.” She pretended not to be aware of his thrill of excitement and fear at the news she would night with him.

  His chamber was indeed small and spare, with little more than his bed and clothing. “You may take the bed. I am used to the floor when I travel."

  Gale smiled, reading his suppressed desire. “No fault has begun. I will share it with you."

  "But—"

  "I think we need to break the ice. We'll do it now."

  "I—I have never been with a woman."

  She had already picked up on that. “Then it is past time."

  He stood there, staring at his stout shoes. His mind was in turmoil; he wanted so much to have sex with her, but was unable to take any initiative in this respect. So she undressed and stood naked before him, no longer hiding the perfection of her body. She shook out her hair, letting the brown tresses play about her shoulders. She smiled.

  He did not look at her, though he wanted to. So she approached him and undressed him, taking his staff and leaning it against a wall, noting in passing that one end was metalically pointed, the other squared off like a hammer. Weapon and tool and walking stick in one. She lifted off his helmet, then the shield at his back, and then opened and drew off his cloak while he offered no resistance. His bared body was well constructed and muscular; he was a powerful man, physically. There were scars to prove he had fought and survived. He was probably a tiger against an armed man, yet helpless before a woman.

  Then she brought him to the bed. He was rigidly erect, and embarrassed about it; it was obviously awe of her rather than incapacity that inhibited him. He truly did not know how to proceed. She would have to lead him through it.

  She had him lie supine on the bed. Then she got on him, full length, and kissed him, preparatory to setting his member within her. His mind was a welter of disbelieving hope. No woman had ever indicated interest in him, let alone approached him like this. But then she felt pulsing at her belly, and realized that he had already jettisoned; the approach and contact had been too much. He himself had not realized it was happening until too late.

  "Apology,” she said immediately. “I mishandled that.” She got off him, fetched a cloth, and cleaned him up. “We'll try again in an hour."

  "My fault,” he said, flushing furiously. His mind was horrified; he feared he had thrown away his only chance.

  "No. You lack experience. I do not. I will make it right, in due course."

  He lay there with his eyes closed, not knowing how to respond. She had to get his suffering mind off this loss. So she lay beside him, taking his hand. “If you led us into a trap, and I died, you would blame yourself, for your expertise would be at fault. This is in effect my area of expertise, and I let you die. The blame is mine. But I will mend it, and we will not speak of it thereafter, to spare me embarrassment. Agreed?"

  "No, that is not—"

  She rolled over, coming to rest partly on him so that her breasts flattened against his chest. “Agreed?” she repeated with more emphasis.

  "Lady, you know that—"

  "Call me Nonesuch."

  "Nonesuch. I have shamed myself."

  She moved again, sliding across him to reach his mouth with hers. She kissed him. “Agreed?"

  He formed a ragged smile, on one level appreciating the irony of the situation. His internal shame was finally abating, in part because she evinced no embarrassment about his situation. “Agreed."

  She rolled off him. “I am really a village girl, not at all a lady. My upbringing is barbarian."

  "No, lady!"

  "But blessed by appearance. I love a man it seems I must not marry, but at least I can help him by accomplishing this spot mission. I will do my best never to embarrass you in public the way I have in private. Since men we encounter in the caravan are apt to wish to sire a fourth by me, I prefer to be fully committed elsewhere. I will be your woman, and I ask that you be ungracious if the matter of a fourth is broached by any man."

  He was supposed to be possessive of her, sparing her other attentions. It was bad form for a man to decline to sire a fourth when a woman requested it, but women tended to be more choosy about sires. They could and did turn down offers. She was really telling him that she intended to be true to him alone, for this trip. “I will try,” he said, bemused.

  They talked a while longer. Well within the hour she saw that he was ready, so she proceeded to the act before he could get charged up enough to lose it externally again. She lay on him, and kissed him, and squeezed him where it counted, and brought him to a proper culmination within her. It was slow because he had lost his charge so recently before; this was a tric
k of management she had learned with Havoc, when she wanted him to take his time. She was not close to achieving her own climax, but she was quite satisfied with that; in this manner she was obliging Dour without really participating herself. This was business, not love. This man lacked the sophistication to realize that she had not given him all, and she hoped he would not catch on.

  "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?” she asked as he subsided. She knew the rapture she had evoked in him, having received it from his mind as it happened.

  "I love you!"

  "No fault!” she reminded him sharply.

  "Apology. No fault."

  Thus they had established it. Men did tend to get romantic about sex, but it had to be understood that the two of them had no relationship outside of this tour. She would remind him of that as often as was required. His emotion probably would carry over beyond, but he would have no illusion about any larger relationship. One reason no fault encounters could be mutually delightful was that same lack of commitment; the future did not exist, only the joy of the present, that had to be exploited immediately or lost.

  They cleaned up, ate from his limited supply, then retired to the bed for the night. Gale addressed the man again, preferring to take the edge off his resurging hunger so that she could get a good night's sleep.

  "You don't have to—” he began. But his guilty desire was strong.

  "When we are in the field, I will not question your judgment."

  He was silent, acquiescing to her ministration. This time she lay on the bed and had him approach her from above, taking more apparent initiative. He was clumsy, but did find the place. He hesitated to kiss her, so she caught his head and brought it down to hers. Soon he climaxed. That would probably hold him for the night.

  She was correct. She slept beside him, touching him, and he did not interrupt her sleep with his eagerness. But in the morning, to be sure, she took him again. That should hold him for the day. She wanted no awkwardness in other company, or frustration that might distract him from their mission or safety.

  "I—I am not questioning your judgment,” Dour said. “But this—this is much more than technical compliance. It can't be because you are attracted to me."

  Candor was best. “Correct. It is because I mean to deliver full measure, completely satisfying you, expecting the same of you in return. You will know that I am completely yours as long as we associate. I will know that I can trust you with my life."

  "I will do all I can!"

  She was sure he would. He was indeed already in early love with her. Men could launch into love in an instant, following their penises, in contrast to the more discerning nature of women. She had known this could not be helped. All she could do was make sure that he had no expectation of permanence. His mind indicated that he did understand.

  They were at the caravan master's station on schedule. Several merchants appeared. “So we have a songstress,” one remarked, glancing appreciatively at Gale, who was no longer concealing her prettiness.

  "That is all she is,” Dour said firmly.

  "Of course, Cartographer.” But the merchant had been fishing for something else. Dour was doing his job, being openly possessive of his lovely companion, exactly as she had asked him to do.

  They left the pyramid of Triumph and proceeded to the staging area of the caravan. Gale and Dour were given a curtained chamber in the lead wagon. They rode in style as the six-legged horses hauled the wagons to the fringe of a nearby Translucent Chroma.

  "The Water Chroma specializes in mind reading,” Dour murmured. “Try not to think clearly of anything you wish to conceal."

  "I will try,” she agreed. She did not tell him that she was able to read minds herself, and to mask her important thoughts. Probably he could be trusted with the information, but there was no point in spreading it without reason. For one thing, the ability of the Translucent Chroma folk meant that the Cartographer's secrets could not be kept from them. Actually at this time his private thoughts were all on her and their night together; others might marvel that she had given him so much, but would not discover any of her secrets from him. Probably the very intensity of his focus would distract mind readers from her mind, especially if she stayed close to him. Who cared what was in a lovely woman's mind?

  The caravan came to a halt just within the fringe of the Chroma. It was glistening wet, because not only was Translucent the water magic, this was a water volcano, and its outflow was fairly steady. This far out, the water had had time and space to thin and cool, so the appearance was rather like regular land after a rainstorm. But this moisture was magic.

  There was a wait while the Translucent contingent took note of the caravan and organized transport for it. Gale and Dour got out and walked around. “Have you crossed Translucent before?” Dour asked.

  Actually Gale had; she had even had a no fault affair with a Translucent man, Placebo, and retained a fondness for that nice youth. But she did not want to go into that. “Not on land. The one I visited was a lake."

  "Most Translucent is lake,” he agreed. “But not all. This one is water-covered land, with a rather pretty volcano.” He was animated as he spoke of geography; it was of course his specialty. He knew just about every aspect of his region, and would note any changes so they could be properly mapped.

  There was the wail of a baby, followed by several more. A woman jumped out of a guard wagon and ran toward it. Dour and Gale happened to be standing beside it. “Greeting!” the woman cried as she ran by.

  "Acknowledged,” Dour replied to her back.

  "The mother?” Gale asked.

  "Amazon guard."

  Gale had never met an Amazon. “Where is the mother?"

  He glanced sidelong at her. “There are no mothers. This is a baby trading caravan."

  Gale stared at him, horrified. “You didn't tell me that!” And she hadn't thought to look in anyone's mind.

  "Is it relevant?"

  "Yes it's relevant! I don't want to touch that business."

  "It is legitimate,” he said. “There is considerable demand. They take good care of the wares."

  "Wares!"

  "They are traders. Their wares are the babies and young children."

  "Obscenity! I don't want to be here!"

  "But this is the one caravan that is going where you are going, and doing it now. There will not be another for several days."

  And she needed to accomplish her mission as rapidly as possible. In addition, the dragon seed had not buzzed to prevent her from associating with this caravan. She would have to live with this atrocity. “Apology. I did not specify type of caravan. You chose appropriately, considering."

  He was out of sorts. “I did not know you objected. I would have spoken, but was distracted."

  She had given him little opportunity to formulate possible objections to her travel. She had seduced him instead. It really was her fault. “I will make the best of it,” she said grimly. “I will go see the babies."

  "That may not be feasible."

  "Why the expletive not?"

  "Babies are valuable cargo. They try to conceal them, to prevent raiding."

  "Contempt!” Gale marched toward the wagon aperture where the Amazon had gone. The dragon seed did not object.

  Dour followed helplessly. “You must not!"

  "Obliteration."

  The Amazon was there, with two others who must have come from different directions. Each was holding a baby, and nursing it.

  Gale stared. “Amazement!” She had assumed that the Amazons were single women.

  "I could not prevent her,” Dour said apologetically to the Amazons. “I tried to explain."

  "Then she must participate,” an Amazon said. She drew her baby from her bared breast and held it out to Gale.

  "Aversion,” Gale said. “I want no part of any of this affront."

  "Threat,” the Amazon said. “Take—or I drop."

  "Outrage! I'll accept no threat from you!"

  Th
e Amazon let go of the baby. It started to fall. Gale dived for it, catching it before it hit the ground. “Appalled!” But she realized that she had been bluffed out; the woman would have caught the baby had Gale not done so.

  The Amazon removed a thin chain from her neck. From it dangled a red gem. She put it on over Gale's head, so that the gem fell down across her shirt. “This is a demonic freshening stone. It travels with the baby, and goes with it to the adoptive mother.” She opened Gale's shirt so that the gem dangled between her breasts. Gale, holding the baby, was unable to prevent this familiarity. The gem seemed to reach out to fondle her breasts with warmth, making them swell urgently. It was a weird sensation. “Now nurse."

  "I will do nothing of the kind!"

  The baby began to cry. The Amazon pushed its head so that its mouth collided with Gale's left breast. It found the nipple and took it in. It sucked, satisfied.

  Gale stood openmouthed. “Impossible!"

  "The Red Chroma specializes in demons, ectoplasm, healing, blood, and the like,” the Amazon said. “The freshening stone is designed to enable instant breast feeding. Yours will strengthen soon. Relax and enjoy it."

  Gale opened her mouth to protest this virtual rape, but discovered that there was indeed pleasure in the nursing. The baby was a warm little bundle of joy, and was abating the press of substance forming in her breasts. It was as though she had birthed this infant herself, and was giving it its first wonderful feeding. There was an almost sexual satisfaction in the process. She did not want to stop.

  "Now you understand,” the Amazon said.

  Gale was beyond arguing. “What gender? What name?"

  "Female, no name. The adoptive parents will see to that. But we will take the best care until that time."

  "I—I don't want to give her up.” Gale was surprised to hear herself say that, but it was abruptly true.

  "Understanding. That is more of the work of the stone. When you remove it, your passion will fade along with your breasts, as mine has."

  Gale remained appalled that there should be such open trading in babies, but she no longer had the will to condemn it openly. “Capitulation. Greeting."