Key to Survival

Chapter 1 Opaline

"Candor: I'm frightened," Opaline said as they approached the local Traveler's Exchange. "I've never been away from Sourberry before."

"We know, dear, and we're frightened for you," her mother Silver said, hugging her fondly.

"We'd rather keep you at home," her father Copper said. "But you'll need to find employment and get married, and there are no local prospects. You should do better at Triumph City, where folk are more liberal."

"But it's such a big city, and so far away," Opaline said. "In between are strangers and brigands and strange magic. It daunts me awfully."

"That's why we want you to travel in company," Silver said.

"A man who will guide you and protect you," Copper agreed. "No fault."

"But no fault means I'll have to give him sex."

"Not necessarily," her mother said, a bit primly.

"Nine and a half times out of ten," Opaline said. "And the others are skipped because they are repulsive."

Her parents exchanged a helpless glance, not able either to deny it or call her repulsive. It was the commonly accepted price of traveling. At least it didn't count on the record. A virginal girl who traveled no fault remained virginal when she arrived, by definition. It was certainly better than being robbed and raped by brigands.

A man approached. He was tall and solid, with a floppy hat and bright checkered shirt. He wore a large backpack, and carried a long wood staff. He spoke to Opaline's father. "A greeting, villager. You have the look of a man who dreads sending his nubile daughter on the trail alone. I am Hayseed the minstrel, traveling to Triumph City and looking for a companion. May we have a dialogue?"

"Negation," her father said. "Minstrels are notorious lechers."

Hayseed laughed. "Confirmation! And I am surely among the worst. But I detest traveling alone, and am no hand at foraging for meals. How might I persuade you to let me travel with your daughter?"

"Make a oath of brotherhood," Copper said.

Opaline bit her tongue. The idea that such a man would ever agree to that was laughable.

Hayseed focused on Opaline. He nodded. "So made. No fault brotherhood."

Both parents stared at him, astonished and unable to answer immediately.

Opaline could not let this happen by default. "How can we trust a stranger? His oath could be worthless."

"Request," Hayseed said to them. "I wish to talk to you separately."

He thought he could persuade Copper and Silver to let him travel with her? Opaline turned away and walked a short distance, signifying her willingness to let her parents settle the matter. They were not at all credulous.

In a moment Copper called to her. "Opaline! We have agreed."

Opaline whirled to face the three. "Disbelief!"

"Trust us," Silver said. "This man will keep his word."

How could this be? It was baffling. Yet she knew that her parents would never betray her.

Somehow the minstrel had talked them into trusting him. She had no choice but to agree.

Her mother kissed her tearfully, and her father hugged her. Then they stood back, in effect turning her over to Hayseed. Opaline hoped they had not somehow been dangerously deceived.

Hayseed started walking, and Opaline accompanied him, ill at ease. Soon they were beyond the village, and she knew that if she looked back she would not see her parents. She was on her way, and not at all easy about it.

They were on the path that wound between Chroma zones, avoiding the magic of the many colored regions.

NonChroma folk like them could not afford to intrude on Chroma zones, because all the people, animals, and plants of the zones had magic that could make considerable mischief. But here in the nonChroma section nobody could do magic, making it safe in that respect. The zones were all colors, and as a general rule it was best to stay clear of any of them.

She had to know the worst. "Minstrel Hayseed—"

"Just call me Hayseed," he said. "And I will call you Opaline. We are siblings."

She would not be diverted. "Question: What did you tell my parents?"

"The truth," he said easily. "That my oath can be trusted, and I will see you safely and unmolested to Triumph City. I can see you are wary of me; I hope to satisfy you that I will do you no harm, or allow harm to come to you."

"But you talked with them less than a minute."

"Concurrence."

"But no fault—men and women—"

"Have no concern, Opaline. I am a married man, with three grown daughters older than you and one younger. I love my wife, who I think is still the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"Doubt. I mean, about your age. You look twenty five."

"Appreciation. I try to stay fit."

Was he being evasive? "How old are you?"

"Forty one. My wife is 40."

"Disbelief."

He laughed. "Perhaps I will seem young forever."

There was a mystery about this man that did not reassure her. "Relevance: Married people travel no fault sexually. Even older folk. Why not you?"

"Opaline, I do, and so does my wife. But neither you nor your parents desire that for you, so I accompany you as your older brother. I will not violate that convention."

This irked her, for some reason. "Am I unappealing to you?"

"Negation."

"Then why so ready an agreement?"

"It was necessary. I need to travel with you."

"Why? I am nothing."

He paused. "I see this question bothers you. May I step out of role for a moment to make a demonstration?"

Opaline was wary, but wanted to know the truth. "Affirmation."

"If I had my free choice, I would do this with you." He stopped walking, took her by the shoulders, drew her in to him, and kissed her. The kiss was stunning in its impact; he was ten times the man she had supposed.

As she stood stunned, he continued. "And this." He slipped his hand into her blouse and squeezed her left breast.

The nature of the touch made it evident that her breast was full and firm. Somehow, oddly, this surprised her; how could she feel that about herself? "And this." He put his hand under her skirt and inside her parities and squeezed her left buttock. The touch established that her buttock was similarly full and firm. By some weird device she was appreciating it as he did. "And this." He took her left hand and passed it inside his trousers, which opened of their own accord. He closed her fingers around his rampant male member, which seemed to pulse with eagerness. This was really full and firm. How was it that she was neither terrified nor repulsed? "And more, plumbing the delightful depth of you, becoming a fountain of rapture." And she felt illicit delight in the notion of that fountain jetting within her.

Which was strange, as she was not at all that type of girl. She did wear the wire, so could not conceive, but that was a standard precaution for all nubile girls, especially those who had to travel. She was a virgin, and promised to remain so for this journey.

Then he disengaged. "But I am not your lover. I am your brother. I will do none of these things. It is not because you are unappealing. It is because I made an oath." He turned and resumed walking along the path.

She joined him automatically. It was as if she were in some other world. That gave her a certain boldness she would not otherwise have had. "Appreciation for not doing those things. They might have alarmed me." Somewhere on the horizon was a lining of mirth. Certainly he had satisfied her that she was not unappealing to him. She was not versed in sex, but knew that a man could not fake such an erection.

"Welcome."

"But why is it necessary to travel with me?"

Hayseed shook his head. "Observation: you are like a dragon with its jaws locked on the leg of a cow. You will not let go."

"It is one of my faults," she agreed. "Apology."

"Needless," he said, laughing again. He had an easy laugh that compelled her echoing laugh. "Will you accept a partial truth?"

"I would prefer the whole truth."

"The matter is complicated. The partial truth would be easier to assimilate now, leading to a later revelation of more of the truth."

"Acquiescence." This was a peculiar qualification, but she was really curious.

"Minstrels have avenues of information. We visit many villages and talk with many people. I knew of you before I came to Sourberry Village. I knew that you had unparalleled persistence and loyalty, and that you were to travel to Triumph City. I have a mission you might be suited for, but it is important and perhaps delicate, so I needed to get to know you first. So I intercepted you by no coincidence."

A mission? Whatever could that be? "Question?"

"There is a young man who needs help. He has a remarkable ability, that he needs to develop fully, but he does not practice. He needs constant encouragement."

"Persistence," she said, catching on to the relevance. "If I were with him, he would practice."

"Affirmation."

"What is this ability?"

"He can move a small object a small distance without touching it physically, if it is not too heavy."

"Perplexity: isn't this magic?"

"Not exactly. It seems to be independent of Chroma zones."

"But only Glamors can do magic outside their Chroma zone. Unless folk have a Chroma stone."

"Affirmation. But this man is nonChroma and has no stone. He does not seem to be a Glamor. It is a curiosity."

"Agreement! But setting aside whether this is really magic, it does not seem to be much of a talent. Unless he could learn to move a large object far."

"Apparently it is limited to very small objects, about the size of the last knuckle of a thumb, and the distance of movement is no more than that. Practice will not increase those aspects."

"Then what would be the point of encouragement?"

"There are other ways in which practice could help. He might move an object from a greater distance."

"But you said the distance could not increase."

"Clarification: the object moves hardly the width of a thumb, but he moves it from an arm's length away. With practice he might move it from several paces away."

Opaline nodded. "Understanding. Still, what is the value of such a thing? Wouldn't it be easier to move the object by hand and put it where it needs to be?"

"We think that if he practiced hard enough, there might be no limit to distance."

"Confusion."

"He might stand here, and move the object on yon mountain." Hayseed pointed to a distant green volcano on the horizon.

"Oh. Beyond a Chroma zone, where he could not go himself? But from that distance, how could he even see the object, let alone move it? And what would it accomplish to move it?"

"There is a corollary talent he seems to have. To move the object, he has to perceive it with some sense other than eye or ear. That, too, must be developed, because without it the movement would be useless."

"Agreement. Still, such a small object, moved with so little force, seems hardly to be worthwhile."

"Request: spot demonstration."

"Agreement." This business was intriguing, but so far seemed like much concern about very little.

"Here is the object, for this purpose," Hayseed said, holding up his thumb. "Here is where it is, perhaps carried in your pocket." He put his thumb in her rear skirt pocket. "Now it moves just a little." He moved his thumb, and goosed her.

Opaline jumped. "Indignity!"

"Apology. It merely shows how the ability to move a small object might cause a reaction in a person. Anything in your pocket could be made to do that to you, perhaps from out of sight. It would be effective against a man, too."

"Like this?" she asked, putting her finger in his front pocket, then poking his crotch through the cloth.

"Exactly. Such a thing might cause dissension in a distant hostile army."

She thought about that, and had to to laugh. "All those soldiers getting goosed! They'd be punching each other in retribution, and there would be a melee."

"Affirmation. So we feel this is worth exploring. But before you decide, there is another caution."

Opaline was learning to take his cautions seriously. "Question?"

"He is simple."

She considered that. "You are saying that he is not of average intelligence?"

"Stupid," he agreed. "His mother must care for him, for he can't exist independently. If you associated with him, you would have to treat him like a child in many respects. But he is not a child; he is a man."

"A man," she repeated. "The things you would have liked to do with me, he would also like to do?"

"Affirmation. It would be hard to explain to him why not."

"So this is more than guidance."

"He would need guidance there too."

Sexual instruction? "Conclusion: I couldn't give that. I have no experience myself."

He nodded. "Conjecture: Taken as a whole, this may not be a thing you want to do."

But she was dangerously intrigued. "Situation: I need a job, a man, and a feeling of personal significance.

Does this relate?"

"The job exists. There would be a permit from the king allowing you to draw whatever goods or services you needed to make a no fault household for the man and yourself. The man is simple, but he is amiable and amenable to direction. The significance of the training is overwhelming."

"Question?"

"There is an enemy approaching our planet who means to destroy us, and may have the power to do so. This may be our secret weapon to stop that enemy. The fate of our planet may depend on you."

Opaline laughed. "You are telling a minstrel story! Minstrels love to tell tales of kings and planetary threats. I was believing you until you reached too far."

"Regret. You would surely not believe the whole truth."

"Agreement."

"But I will get you safely to Triumph City." Hayseed looked ahead. "We are approaching the next village. Tenderpaw, I believe."

"I have heard of it, but never been there. I wonder how it came to be named?"

"Every village has its story," Hayseed said. "Like every person."

"I had better go to the bushes," Opaline said. "In case it takes a while to get through the village."

He did not pretend to not understand, so as to force her to be embarrassingly explicit. She had to pee. "I will guard the region," he agreed. "Request: do it under that tree." He gestured to a spreading tree at the edge of the Blue Chroma zone.

"Question?"

"I know that tree, and owe it a favor. It would really appreciate a donation of fertilizer."

"Amazement!"

He shrugged. "It is merely a request. You may do as you choose."

She went to the bushes, paused, then on to the tree. The concealment was not as good here, but Hayseed was dutifully facing away, so she drew down her parities, and squatted to urinate. As the liquid soaked into the ground, the tree shook, and a plum-orange dropped to the turf before her. Startled, she straightened up, well-nigh wetting herself.

It was almost as if the tree had given her a return gift. Coincidence, surely.

She pulled up her parities, dropped her skirt, and picked up the fruit. She walked back to the path. "Guess what happened," she said as Hayseed turned back to face her.

"Exchange of gifts."

"You knew!"

"I relate to trees."

Bemused, she did not comment. They walked on into the village, and to the central house where the Village Elder sat on his porch.

"Greeting, Elder," Hayseed said formally. "I am Hayseed the Minstrel, and this is my sister Opaline."

The Elder peered at Opaline's hand. "Suspicion: What's she doing with a plum-orange? We don't tolerate theft."

"Explanation," Hayseed said. "It was a fair trade."

The Elder remained suspicious. "That tree does not make trades."

Hayseed smiled. "Perhaps you should speak to it, then."

The Elder was not amused. "Girl! What kind of trade?"

Opaline felt herself blushing. "I did not mean to do wrong, Elder."

"She is innocent," Hayseed said. "As you can see. I told her it was all right."

"And who in Void are you to do that?"

"Just a traveling minstrel. I am familiar with all the trees along this path."

"You haven't been here before!"

"Not in the village. I normally sleep in the trees."

"That tree?"

"Affirmation."

The Elder openly assessed him. "Deal: demonstrate that you can touch that tree, and we will give you free lodging here tonight."

"Appreciation."

What was happening? Opaline did not understand why there was such a fuss about a tree. But she discovered she was tired from the unaccustomed hours of walking, and would appreciate sheltered lodging for the night.

They walked back to the tree, with the Elder and several curious villagers who appeared. Then Hayseed took Opaline's hand and walked with her to the tree. They went right up to the trunk, which was covered with spikes. Havoc took hold of them and used them to climb up the fat bole to the first major division of branches. He sat there and dangled his feet down. "It's a friendly tree," he remarked. Then he climbed down, took Opaline's hand again, and returned to the villagers, who looked faintly awed.

"Apology," the Elder said. "You do know the tree."

"Needless. If you wish, we will entertain you this evening before we retire."

"Appreciation," the Elder said gruffly.

They were given a nice cabin already stocked with food. "What happened?" Opaline asked when they were alone.

"That tree is of a notorious species. Its fruit is excellent, but it does not normally yield it gladly. The villagers have taken decades to cultivate the friendship of the tree, and strangers aren't welcome. Fortunately it accepted you."

"Because of my innocence?" Not to mention her urine.

"In part. But as I said, I know that tree, and it knows me. So it cooperated."

"What would have happened to someone it didn't like?"

"Those spikes can jet poison."

She was silent.

After a moment, he spoke again. "They gave us this house free for the night, in tacit apology for challenging you about the fruit and me about the tree. But we will pay for it anyway Are you familiar with minstrel performance?"

"Sometimes they pass through and sing songs," she said.

"Did they enlist any villagers in the presentation?"

"Sometimes."

"You will be my assistant this time."

She was appalled. "I'm no actress! I have no idea what to do."

"Just follow my lead. It will not be difficult. Trust me."

"Candor: I don't really trust you. That business with the tree—I don't understand that at all. The tree couldn't have human intelligence."

"I will win your trust, Opaline. I promise you will have no problem."

"I seem not to have a choice," she said nervously.

"You must change outfits, as will I. Traveling clothes are not suitable for this."

She was resigned. "Tell me what to do."

He told her, and she opened her pack and brought out her fancy green dress and slippers. He faced away as she changed, then came to unbind her hair and arrange it in a loose brown wave. Then she faced away while he changed, becoming a brightly colored minstrel with a blue dragon scale as a musical instrument.

They went outside. The villagers were gathering in the central square, the smallest children sitting in a circle in front, the larger ones behind them, and the adults standing to the rear. She had to go into that stage and somehow perform?

"Trust me," Hayseed repeated. "If I disappoint you, you need never trust me again."

She nodded dumbly.

They took the center of the round stage area. Opaline just stood there awkwardly, having no idea what else to do. But Hayseed immediately took command. "Greeting, children!" he called.

"Greeting, Minstrel!" they chorused back.

"I am Hayseed the Minstrel, and this is my little sister Opaline from Village Sourberry. She will assist me in my song."

All eyes focused on Opaline. She felt like sinking through the earth.

"This is a song of lost love," Hayseed said. "I will sing her words for her." The blue dragon scale appeared in his hands. He strummed it, and it made a melodious note. Without further pause, he sang.

Opaline stood amazed. She had not heard him sing before. He was good, amazingly good. The dragon scale was somehow producing a beautiful accompaniment, but he hardly needed it. His voice was so rich and powerful it made her shiver inside.

She saw the young village girls gazing raptly at the minstrel. He had captured their devotion from the first note.

He had sung two more stanzas during her distraction. Now he glanced at her, and nodded his head slightly, indicating that she should approach. She did so, tentatively.

Now she was with him, being nigh. The imposed role was permeating her, making her become that heartbroken maiden. She couldn't stop it, and didn't really want to.

Still singing, he guided her to lie on the ground. She yielded, bemused. He got down with her, acting out what he sang. If this were not being done in public, she would ironically have been even more ill at ease. Literally lying with a man?

And there they were, his head upon her breast, his arms reaching up over her face to halfway mask what she could see. She couldn't help herself; she caught his head in her own arms and pressed it to her bosom.

Then the villagers were applauding, and she realized the song was over. Embarrassed, she hastily let him go. Had she messed it up?

"Isn't she wonderful?" he inquired rhetorically, and the audience applauded more vigorously, causing her to blush.

Hayseed started another song, guiding her as a prop, and Opaline saw that more villagers had appeared. At first it had been mostly the children, with some parents to keep an eye on them, but now the whole village was attending. She understood why: this was not just a passing minstrel of indifferent quality. This was one of the finest voices on the planet. She felt privileged to be on stage with him, and somehow he made her seem to be a competent participant, whatever style of woman she represented for the time of a given song.

Then, abruptly, Hayseed ended it. "Night is closing, and my sister needs her rest," he said. Actually it was the children who needed it; they were getting sleepy as the songs catered to other ages.

"Minstrel," the young women pleaded. "One more!"

"One more," he agreed generously. "Then we all will soon retire. My sister and I have far to go, and the village has business to accomplish while the weather holds."

He posed Opaline in the center of the stage, then stood to the side facing her and sang.

Opaline hung her head, for the moment feeling the dejection the song described.

Hayseed approached her and gently embraced her as he sang. "True love don't weep, true love don't mourn..."

But she did weep, for it was a song of departure. The village girls wept too, loving it.

Hayseed finished, kissed her half chastely, half passionately—somehow he made it work—and walked away, leaving her abject. The song and the presentation were over.

Then the village girls thronged to worship the minstrel in the guise of bidding parting for the night. They were young but eager, and a number were lovely, making Opaline aware how relatively plain she was.

Yet several village boys approached her. "You were great!" one said. "No fault?"

Opaline stared at him, her blush burning her face. No one had ever propositioned her before. Not even Hayseed's demonstration of what he wouldn't do with her had quite prepared her for this.

A girl grabbed the boy's arm, yanking him away. "Apology for my brother," she said. "He has no manners."

"Acceptance," Opaline said faintly. Then, lest there be confusion. "Of the apology." But her blush continued unabated.

Several boys laughed. "Of course," another said. "But it is true you did well. We all wanted to comfort you, on stage."

"Appreciation." Gradually she was coming to believe it: she was a success.

Hayseed came to take her arm. "Don't mob my little sister," he said to the boys. "She is innocent."

"We noticed," another said, and they all laughed. But it was sympathy, not ridicule. They dispersed.

Now the Village Elder approached Hayseed. "I fear I have committed a breach of etiquette," he said. "I did not recognize you."

"Negation. I am just a traveling minstrel who likes trees," Hayseed said firmly as he looked the man in the eye.

"Conducting my sister to Triumph City."

"Just so," the Elder agreed, seeming to be taken aback. "We sincerely appreciate your art. Had I realized—"

"Needless." Hayseed guided Opaline to their house.

"Confusion," she said once they were alone. She was preparing supper for them from the fruits and breads provided in the larder. In this, at least, she felt competent. "Did the Elder recognize you from somewhere?"

"Minstrels travel widely. I don't believe I have entertained here before, but he might have seen me elsewhere."

She wasn't quite satisfied with that, but attributed it to the larger mystery of this remarkable man. "That first song—"

"Did I disappoint you?"

"Negation!" Then, embarrassed by her own vehemence, she shifted the subject. "Of course it is nonsense. No woman would be deceived about the direction of the rising of Vivid, let alone Void, and why did you refer to it as the sun? That proves the song is not local."

"The Sun is of Earth," he agreed. "So is the song. For a thousand years we have clung to our mother culture, though for most of that time we were out of touch. It is human nature to value our ancestors, whether they are people or customs or songs. Much of the value of the song is that it invokes the memory of Earth. So none of the songs refer to Vivid or Void. Earth does not have a binary system of a star and a black hole."

She served the meal, liking the idea of catering to him in the manner of a woman to a man. "I have no experience, but you made me feel like that lost girl."

"It is the art of the minstrel. I could have made a rock seem like a lost girl, and you are far more than that."

"And when you kissed me—" She broke off, flushing again. She was coming to a decision. "Is it possible to change from one mode of no fault to another?"

"It is possible, but not feasible in this instance."

"Confusion. After that song—" Again she could not finish. Her feelings were tangled, but she was strongly attracted to him.

"Explanation," he said firmly. "There are men who might agree to travel with a winsome girl as brother, then trick her into changing the mode so they could seduce her. The emotion of the moment can cause a person to do something she might later regret. So the original oath must govern. I am your oath brother, no fault, and I will not let any man seduce you, even myself, lest I abridge that oath. The sanctity of my oath is of greater importance than any casual tryst."

"But—but if the girl understood, and still were willing?" She hated the blush she was showing.

"It is inviolate. Incest is not allowed."

He was telling her no, yet she could not let it go. "A journey might end at a village, and a new one, with a new oath, commence on another day."

He gazed at her. "Observation: I think I should not have kissed you."

"Confession: It wasn't just the kiss."

"Awkwardness: you are a young impressionable girl. I am an experienced man. In matters of this venue, this is a mismatch. I very much wish not to hurt your feelings, but the oath must govern."

"I'm a child. And of course you are married to the planet's most beautiful woman." Now the tears were overflowing. She had humiliated herself for nothing.

He considered. "You are appealing enough, and no child. Deal: after I deliver you to Triumph City, and you need to travel again, it could be phrased as a new journey."

For an instant her heart fluttered. Then reality returned. "Is this assignment—this young man with the talent—beyond Triumph City?"

"Negation. Triumph City is our official destination, because the location of this man must not be publicly known. It is a deception necessary for others, not for ourselves."

"Then the deal is false."

He smiled warily. "I think I am running afoul of that persistence again. You are correct: I tried to put you off. My intention was honorable. The appearance of my wife is irrelevant; I would be delighted to love you all night. But I must not. Sincere regret."

She saw it was hopeless. She had been foolish even to broach the subject. "Apology," she said, turning away to mop up her tears.

"Apology mine, not yours," he said. Suddenly he was by her side, holding her close.

He was comforting her as a brother would. She turned into him and defiantly kissed him hard on the mouth. Then she pulled away and went to lie face down on the bed, sobbing.

He sat beside her, his hand touching her shaking shoulder. "Deal: on another day I will tell you more of the truth. If you still wish to change status thereafter, I will do it."

She had to respond to this. "Why should I not wish to? Are you a frog emulating a prince?"

"Something like that."

He thought that if she knew him better, she would not want to clasp him. That was intriguing. "Deal," she agreed.

"You are tired. I should have let you rest before this. Let me help you."

"Question?"

He rolled her over with that uncanny strength. He put his hands on her legs, massaging them. The tightness just seemed to flow away. "Thus," he murmured.

He did all of her legs, from feet to upper thighs. She knew he was getting to see everything under her skirt, but he gave no indication. He was indeed helping her.

"Gratitude," she said as he finished. Then, still somewhat physically and emotionally fatigued, she slept.

In the morning she found him up and about, making breakfast. "Dismay! I should be doing that!"

"Negation. You need your rest. We have far to go."

Her legs were slightly stiff from the amount of walking they had done the day before, though much better off than they would have been without his massage. She was not properly acclimatized to this. "Appreciation." Yet part of her wished he had lost control and joined her on the bed in another manner. He must have slept on the floor. "I would have been softer than the floor." Had she just said that?

He laughed. "Temptation."

She got up and used the toilet cubby, combing and tying her hair and changing into her traveling clothes. She no longer cared whether he turned away; in fact she might secretly have preferred that he look. Her good dress was sadly crushed, but she would fix that when she had time. She was privately glad that the journey was long, because she had come to value the minstrel's company More than she should, she knew.

In due course they left the house. The Village Elder intercepted them. "News: there is a report of brigands infesting the path toward Triumph City. Best to wait on a convoy, or take another route."

Hayseed shrugged. "Another route would be tedious, and there may be weather after today. We should be safe enough."

"But Sire!"

Hayseed glanced at him, and the man backed away with a muttered apology.

Opaline made a mental note: add one more item to the mystery of Hayseed the Minstrel. Why was he ignoring obvious danger? Was she safe from brigands in his company? But, again, did she have a choice?

They set out at a brisk pace, and the slight stiffness of her limbs dissipated with the exercise. It was a beautiful morning. What had he meant by weather? There was no sign of it. But the brigands—that bothered her. She had never encountered one, but had heard stories. They were said to be merciless predators intent on theft, rape, and murder. Weren't they taking an awful risk?

They paused at noon for a snack and natural functions, then moved on. Opaline admired the scenery, as they passed one colored zone after another. She had never been in a Chroma zone, and wondered what it was like to have magic. People who lived there must be very lucky.

"Beware," Hayseed murmured. "Do not draw your knife."

He knew she carried a knife? That was supposed to be a maiden secret, to be used as a last resort to protect her honor or life. But why was he warning her at this moment?

Then a large ugly man stepped out on the path ahead. "Ho, traveler!" he called. "We'll take your valuables now, including the girl."

"Brigands. If they approach you, run into a Chroma zone," Hayseed whispered. "They won't follow you there."

They were standing between a red and a blue zone. It would be easy to reach one or the other. But why wasn't he fleeing too?

Hayseed strode forward. "We are not for you," he told the man. "Let us pass unmolested, and you will be spared."

"Ho ho ho!" the man bellowed. "The man's a joker." He put his hand on his club, menacingly.

Hayseed's long staff swung up, clipping the man on the side of the head. He fell, cursing.

Then four more men jumped out from the bushes on either side. Two grabbed each of Hayseed's arms and swung him about.

"So you want to fight, eh?" the first brigand said, getting up. "Well, we'll oblige you, sucker." He closed his fist and struck Hayseed in the belly.

Opaline acted before she thought. "Brigand!" she called.

"Ah, the morsel speaks," the brigand said, turning to look at her. And stared, surprised.

Opaline was holding her blade to her own throat. "Let him go, and I will drop the knife," she called. She knew that would mean being gang raped, but she couldn't stand to see Hayseed brutalized.

"Well, now," the brigand said. "The wench has spirit. I like that." He strode toward her.

"Touch her and you die," Hayseed said.

"Ho ho ho!" The brigand continued striding.

Opaline tried to slice her throat, but her hand wouldn't move. It had been a bluff, and she lacked the nerve.

The brigand loomed before her, his body stinking of sweat. He reached out to take her knife.

And dropped to the ground before her. A different knife projected from his back.

Opaline looked at Hayseed. Now he was walking toward her. The four men who had held him were all sprawled on the ground, unmoving. Somehow she knew they were dead. Hayseed took the knife from her hand and returned it to her hidden underarm sheath.

"What—how—?" she asked, collapsing into his arms.

"I am a martial artist," he said. "We needed to be rid of those brigands, so I provoked them into giving me cause."

"Provoked them—by having me as bait?"

"Affirmation." He gently disengaged, and bent to draw out his knife from the brigand. He cleaned it against the ground and returned it to his own hidden sheath. "Apology."

"And this is not yet the whole truth about you?"

"Affirmation."

"I expected to be gang raped. I didn't even have the nerve to save you. You had to save me."

"You did a fine thing."

"I failed."

"Irrelevant. You showed your mettle."

She couldn't help it. She dissolved into tears, there in his embrace, with the dead men all around.