Key to Survival

Chapter 4 Magic Fire

By evening they reached the next village. They entertained the villagers as before, this time starting with "Early One Morning."

Opaline was of course the maiden.

Again the village girls were rapt. Hayseed was so handsome, and sang so well, that it was impossible not to love him, though his role here would be that of the unfaithful lover.

Hayseed had somehow fashioned a garland for her to place on his absent head. It was another song of love lost, a favorite type with unmarried girls. Some were happily crying.

The minstrel show continued from there, delivering full measure. Again Opaline was the envy of the girls, any of whom would gladly have changed places with her.

But she remained disquieted. There was too much she did not know about this man. It would be better to have it out, so she could make some sort of decision based on full information.

"Hayseed," she said, as she prepared their evening meal.

"Perhaps you are ready now," he said. "I can tell you the whole truth about me and about the mission. That will not be the whole truth about you or the planet, but perhaps it will suffice."

She laughed. "I already know about me. I'm a fifth. That's why I have no prospects at home."

He was expressionless. "Assume I do not know what a fifth is. Tell me."

She humored him, having become halfway accustomed to his odd little ways. "My parents lost one of their four children. Not the fourth—you understand?"

"Tell me."

"Each family must have four children, one of which is begotten by a man outside the family, to keep the species mixed. My parents did that. My brother was their fourth. He was different from the others, not just because he had a different father."

"Empathy."

"Question?"

"I am a fourth. So is my wife."

"So you do know about that. Why make me tell you?"

"Fourths are known. Fifths are less known. Continue."

Somewhat unsettled, she resumed. "Then their first child was killed in an accident, and they were down to three.

My mother did not want to birth another child, however conceived; she had been ill with the last and feared for her health. So they adopted me from the orphanage as a fifth. We are all alike in one respect: our orange eyes." She widened her eyes as she faced him, so he could see their color. "We are ordinary, neither smart nor stupid, handsome or ugly, talented or ill favored. We are just—there. But there are those who don't like us, because we are said to be unnatural, so we tend to be shunned. No boy of Sourberry would marry me, so we knew I would have to go elsewhere, lest I be single at eighteen. We hoped it would be different at Triumph City."

"It would be," Hayseed agreed. "But you will have another choice. I believe you are ideal for the mission."

"I don't want a mission, I want love and fulfillment!" she exclaimed angrily.

"This can be yours, if you choose."

"If I choose! You won't even touch me!"

"Opaline, there is something you omitted about fifths. Maybe you do not know it. Fifths are created to be very affectionate, once awakened."

"Question?"

"They have a high libido. They like sex. But not in the manner of other folk. They must satisfy their partners first. Only then can they enjoy it for themselves. They do not masturbate. So they make ideal sexual partners, always willing, always obliging."

"This is not something I would know about, yet," she said, somewhat taken aback. No one had ever discussed such a matter with her before, and she had never really thought about sex, only her need to have a relationship.

Which perhaps confirmed what he said: she was as yet unawakened. But he had already awakened in her the desire to discover the rest of it. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Affirmation. As far as we know, fifths do not age like others. That is, they don't get fat, or diseased; they just get slowly older. When you are fifty, your peers of the village will be unattractive because of the inevitable ravages of age.

You will be a handsome slender woman with a full head of hair and clear skin. In fact you will be prettier than you are now, if you are in a loving relationship with lots of sex. Your emotional satisfaction will have a physical benefit. Men may not seek you now, but you will never lack for male companionship in your age."

She stared at him. "You know this?"

"I believe this. There are no fifths beyond age 30 so we can't be sure, but that is the indication. A smart man would choose you over the village beauty, knowing that you would be far more rewarding both in the short term and long term."

Her mind seemed to be spinning. "I didn't know."

"It is one reason I selected you for the mission. You could make this man very happy for a long time."

"He is simple!"

"He is handsome."

"I want to marry someone smarter than I am, because I know I am not smart."

"You are smart enough. A smart man can be devious, as I am."

She nodded. "He could toy with my affections, as you do."

"And could never be completely loyal to you, even if he married you."

That shook her. She knew it was true. "What else is there about fifths?"

"They seem to be synthetic."

"Question?"

"Made in a laboratory, rather than birthed by any woman. That is why they are so similar to each other, varying only in minor details like hair color or facial features. Any other fifth girl your age could fit your clothing."

"But I'm alive!"

"Affirmation. But not natural, in that respect"

"You needed an unnatural girl for your mission?"

He raised his hands as if fending off a barb. "I needed a persistent, loyal, reasonably pretty girl who did not aspire to great things."

"Appreciation for that candor," she said sourly. "How did this—laboratory—come about?"

"We believe that a secret machines ship landed the original culture, perhaps in a protected casing, thirty or more years ago. Unknowing humans could have been encouraged to develop it, setting up a baby mill. It's a fair business for them; the babies they provide are exactly as represented."

"Machines?"

"Our enemy. Sentient and sapient. That is, they are not alive, but they are conscious and smart. They are on a campaign to destroy the living cultures of the galaxy."

"And I derive from them?" she demanded, appalled.

"You are not responsible for the background of your origin. You are a living human being, loyal to your family and your culture."

"But still unnatural," she said distastefully.

"You may nevertheless achieve a great thing."

"By encouraging a man to move an acorn half an inch?"

"By saving our world from subjugation or destruction."

"Disbelief!" He gazed at her compassionately. "Perhaps we have covered enough for tonight."

"It has all been about me! We haven't even started on you."

"Affirmation. I am worse." She considered that, and decided he was right: she had had enough for the day. "Tomorrow, as we walk, you will tell me about you."

"Agreed."

"All about you."

"Affirmation."

There it was. He would tell her. The mystery of him would be fathomed. But she had learned enough to believe him when he said she might not want to be with him once she knew.

"Favor," she said.

"I will sleep with you tonight," he agreed. "As a brother."

"Naked."

He hesitated. "I would be aroused."

"And not able to exploit it."

He laughed. "You mean to torture me!"

"All night. If, as you say, I am unable to have any joy of sex until my partner does, it will serve you right for awakening me."

He sighed. "As you decree."

They did sleep together, naked, and he was aroused. She plastered herself against his erect member, satisfied.

She had as much of him as was possible, and remained pristine. There was a certain satisfaction in that. But it did seem to confirm another thing he had said about her nature: she was not even interested in having any joy of sex until first he did. Her interest was in arousing and satisfying him. Only when he was in the throes of orgasm deep within her would she care to explore her own capabilities in that respect. She had to have his passion first, to be fulfilled.

In the morning they resumed travel, and they talked. "Who are you, really?" she asked. "Apart from being a minstrel and a martial artist and a man who does not look his age."

"I am King Havoc."

Opaline fainted.

She woke in his arms. Ordinarily she would have loved that, but not this time. "King Havoc!" she repeated, appalled. "How could I presume?"

"Needless," he murmured, setting her on her feet.

"I teased you. I made you sleep naked with me. Oh, Sire, I will die of shame!"

"Needless," he repeated. "I deceived you about my identity."

"But there were hints. My parents—no wonder they agreed to let me go with you! That tree—the legend says you are the Glamor of Trees. And the Village Elder called you Sire. He recognized you! And the brigands—you are the world's finest martial artist. And the way you sing! I should have known."

"Few know that Hayseed is Havoc, and they are circumspect, as was the Elder. I travel as Hayseed when I want to be unknown. Your ignorance is no fault in you."

"But Sire—"

"Call me Hayseed," he said firmly. "Do not give away my secret."

She paused, reassessing. "Of course. Yet what I did—"

He put his hands on her shoulders and made her look him in the face. "Opaline, you are a good girl. I deceived you because I wanted to get to know you without having your behavior distorted by awareness of my nature. I learned that you have the qualities I hoped for. I am satisfied that you are suitable for the mission."

"To nursemaid another man!" she exclaimed bitterly. "After I got a silly crush on you."

"Would it help to know that I encouraged that, in the hope that you would then be willing to do me a favor you might otherwise reject?"

"You are using me!" she cried, her embarrassment turning to flash fury. "Playing on my misguided girlish emotion."

He dropped his gaze. "Apology for that."

And she felt foolishly sorry for him. "You are the king. You must do what kings do. It must be really important." Then she remembered. "Saving the world—you weren't joking!"

"Affirmation."

"But all you had to do was order me to do it. I am your subject."

"Negation. This is something you must volunteer to do."

"Then of course I will volunteer."

Havoc drew her in to him and kissed her on the mouth. "Negation. You must want to do it. It is too important for anything but complete unselfish dedication."

Opaline's head was floating from the kiss, but she fought to maintain some common sense. "How can I ever want to be with another man—we both know I will have to give him sex—after knowing you? You have spoiled me for any such commitment."

"Deal," he said. "Give him a fair try, perhaps for a month. If you then do not wish to continue, come to me, and I will make you my temporary public mistress for the same length of time. All will know it, and I will be with you every night, and plumb you so often you will grow tired of it. And if you conceive, I will recognize the child. Then you will have no trouble getting a good husband, your fourth already accounted for. The king's baby."

She considered briefly. "This is the deal of a lifetime, for any common girl. But you already have a wife and a mistress, one said to be the most beautiful woman of Charm, the other the most beautiful of Earth. How could they ever agree to such a thing?"

He smiled. "Perhaps we should ask them."

She laughed, but with an edge. "Question?"

"When you are in Triumph, by day I will be busy elsewhere. One of them would guide you then, or put you into the hands of a trusted associate. Triumph is a complicated city; you would not want to be there alone. So it is fitting that you be introduced to them now."

"You tease me cruelly," she said. "That is not nice."

Havoc stepped away from her, lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers. "Gale," he said.

A woman appeared beside him, so beautiful that there was no one she could be but his wife. "Havoc," she said, and kissed him.

"Meet Opaline," he said.

The queen turned to focus on Opaline. "A greeting, Opaline."

"A—a—acknowledged, Queen Gale," Opaline stammered.

"I have proffered her a deal," Havoc said. "She will try a special mission for one month, and if it does not satisfy her, I will make her my openly recognized second royal mistress for a month. She will need your guidance at Triumph."

The queen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Necessary?"

"Not necessary," Opaline said quickly. "I will do it without the deal."

The queen nodded. "She loves you already, Havoc. You had better honor it."

"Concurrence," he agreed. Then he raised his hand again, and snapped his fingers. "Monochrome."

Another woman appeared. She was literally colorless, with white skin, luxurious white hair, and white clothing, yet strikingly beautiful. Only her eyes were pink, in the manner of an albino. "You must have been on the trail too long, Havoc," she said. "To want us both simultaneously" She kissed him.

"Meet Opaline," he said.

"The poor girl," Monochrome said, going immediately to Opaline and taking her hands. Her touch was marvelously supportive and comforting; this was a woman among women. "You have wickedly fascinated her. Naughty man."

"He has offered her a month as his second public mistress," Gale said. "In exchange for a vital mission."

"Please," Opaline said. "I will do it without."

"Negation," Monochrome murmured. "It is fair. We know you will do your best."

"But you're his mistress!"

"So I well know what a man he is. You will not be disappointed."

Her two hands continued to infuse courage and well-being in Opaline. "You—you don't object?"

"Sex is a unit of currency on Charm, as it is on Earth," Monochrome said. "The more sexually desirable people use it to pay others for necessary services, as I have done for decades. There is no more desirable man than Havoc, and no more important service than what he asks of you. The deal is fair. Take it."

Opaline could not doubt this magnetic woman. "I do."

"Appreciation." Monochrome let go, stepped back, and faced Havoc. "Another time, lover." She vanished.

"Next time perhaps you will have the wit to persuade a girl without having to call on us for help,"

Queen Gale said, frowning prettily, and also vanished.

"They treat you like an errant child!" Opaline exclaimed with mixed wonder and annoyance.

"It seems they put me in my place," Havoc said ruefully.

"How—how did they knew the deal is fair? You gave them no detail."

"They read my mind."

"They are telepathic?"

"Affirmation. It saves time."

"And you," she said, appalled anew. "You are too. You've been reading my mind all along!"

"Apology."

"All my girlish fantasies and doubts. My most shameful secrets, especially when I lay against you last night. Oh, I want to die!"

"Needless. Here is my mind, rehearsed from when I lay against you."

They were standing apart, but then she felt his mind, not just his thoughts but his feelings and urges. His mouth was avidly kissing her soft bare breasts, licking the nipples. Then his turgid member was sliding into her tight damp cleft, lodging fully, and spewing out a huge quantity of pleasure-saturated fluid. It seemed to fill her to overflowing, riding a divine current of rapture. "Oh!" she breathed, transported by that encompassing feeling.

Slowly it faded, leaving her warm throughout, especially in her groin. She had just had unutterably sweet sex with a man without touching him. Yet this was not her passion, but his. He had had the same thoughts about her as she had about him, only his were more specific and urgent.

"There is no shame," he said.

"No shame," she agreed. "Appreciation." The odd thing was that it was true: now that she had felt his masked passion, she was no longer ashamed of her own passion. What he found in her mind was a mere echo of what was in his own mind. The man truly loved women and sex, and could never get enough of either. Even innocent girls turned him on, though he treated them with the respect they deserved. Had any of them been able to read his mind, they would have found themselves spitted on his eager member, riding the waves.

They walked on, and Havoc told her more about the mission. "Background: there are many sapient cultures in the galaxy. Only ours is human, but the aliens are not inferior, merely different. They have their own societies, and their own Glamors. Even their own wars. But now comes the machine culture, that is systematically destroying all living cultures. Already its advance fringe is touching us, and we will be the next culture destroyed if we do not find a way to stop it. So we are allying with other sapient species, and working to find a way to oppose the common enemy. This is not an easy thing."

"Question?" Opaline was fascinated. She had never imagined such a thing before meeting him, and the most complicated machine she had seen was a grain grinder a visiting White Chroma man had demonstrated. It had seemed miraculous, as it swallowed whole grain and spewed out finely ground flour. Science magic, seldom seen in her backwater village.

"The machines can see the far future paths," Havoc explained. "They know which ones will give them victory.

We can see the near future paths, and need to invoke the ones that will block off the ones that favor the machines. It is like an intricate board game, where each move changes the options available to both sides."

"Awe," she said, her mind swollen with the difficult concept of changing future paths. She suspected that he had projected an understanding of it into her mind so that she would not be completely lost.

"Affirmation," he said. "But you do not need to fathom all of it. You just need to know that the threat is real, and our effort to deal with it is deadly serious."

"And my being with this simple man is part of that effort?"

"Affirmation. He is our secret weapon to defeat the machines." He projected sincerity, so that she had to believe it. "We need your help, Opaline."

"You can have it," she said. "No need to make the—the deal." Though she desperately wanted the deal. The thought of experiencing in reality what he had shown her mentally was powerfully conducive. She no longer cared whether he read that in her mind; it was true.

"The deal holds. Now you know it will be no chore for me to honor it."

"No chore," she agreed, gratified.

Toward evening they reached another village. Settlements were naturally spaced about a day's walk apart, for the convenience of travelers. Again they entertained for their room and board. This time Havoc—Hayseed—first sang "Must I go Bound."

Again the village girls were swooning over Havoc, and jealous of her for being in the song with him. Opaline loved it, though it struck perilously close to home. She was that girl, loving a man she had no right to love, who would never love her or marry her. The best she could hope for was that she would share his passing passion for a time, with the tolerance of his wife and mistress. Yet even that was so much more than she could ever have otherwise.

That evening as she fixed supper for the two of them, she broached the subject that bothered her most. "Last night I made you sleep naked with me. Tonight I know this must not be. Yet if I could, I would."

"Reassurance. There is pleasure in closeness, even without sex."

So he would do it. That was a relief, despite its attendant frustration. But there was more. "Why are you still taking time with me, when surely you have more important things to do elsewhere?"

"There is more I must tell you and show you. Nothing is more important than this mission."

Now she was inclined to believe it.

They slept embraced. This time she curled up and he lay behind her, one hand on a breast and his rigid member clasped between her thighs. It was as close to sex as she could imagine, without actually completing the act. She loved it. She pretended in her mind that they really were embraced lovers, who had just had sex or were just about to.

But mainly she just liked being so close to him. There was something about his body that invigorated her body and her mind. She didn't mind that he could read her thoughts; she knew, now, that his were similar, even if he was older and with two beautiful women to love.

"Affirmation," he murmured in her ear, and kissed it.

Next day they traveled again. This time the Village elder had another warning: "There's some kind of fire raging along the path. It may be impassible until it burns out."

"We'll be careful," Hayseed assured him. "Appreciation." And of course they proceeded anyway.

"Is this like the brigands?" Opaline inquired as they walked. "Something you can abolish? I suppose you wouldn't like a fire to damage your trees."

"Actually fire is all right," he replied, surprising her. "It is part of the natural order. It clears out brush, cauterizes infections, and returns nutrients to the soil. The forest would suffer if fires were eliminated."

"But wood burns! How can you accept a landscape of ashes?"

"Fire burns in a mosaic pattern. It jumps randomly, completely destroying some trees, singeing others, and skipping the rest. That leaves a varied habitat that supports many kinds of creatures, and is healthy for them all. The larger trees can handle it on their own; their bark resists it, and they are too tall for it to reach their foliage."

She shook her head. "You continue to amaze me, Hayseed. You are tolerant where I thought you'd be enraged."

"I am dangerous when I am angry I try to avoid it."

She did not even try to imagine him angry. She was familiar with the story of his name. Havoc was a synonym for mayhem. She remembered the brigands he had killed, defending her and ridding the planet of vermin. He was dangerous even when only annoyed. She discovered that she liked that aspect of him too.

Soon enough they smelled smoke. "I think the fire is still here," she remarked.

He sniffed. "Mischief."

"Question?"

"I must take you to a safe place. This is a magic fire."

"Confusion."

"A natural fire burns dry leaves, twigs, wood, cloth, bones. Organic things. A magic fire burns ground, stone, even water. It is a product of hostile magic and must be stopped." He was looking around. "Best that you retreat the way we came, rapidly."

Opaline did not argue. She turned and started running. Only to stop. The fire had already sent a tongue around to cut off her retreat. "Hayseed—"

"Observed. Apology; I was careless. I will transport you there directly."

"Concern: I wish not to distract you or get in your way. But wouldn't the villagers know I could not have crossed that burning path on my own? So they would suspect your nature?"

"Obscenity! You are correct. You must stay with me."

She was thrilled but nervous. "I will help however I can. Tell me what to do."

"The most convenient way to extinguish a magic fire is via its own ashes. They can be safely handled. But you need to be behind the line of fire to fetch them, while the fire needs to be stifled before the line. This is tricky."

"I can't gather its ashes, and go before it to spread them?"

"It would burn your flesh as you crossed, setting it afire. It could be stopped only by cutting off the limb that was burning."

"Oh," she said, aghast.

They watched the fire a moment more. It had encircled them and was burning rapidly inward.

There was a slight wind, but the fire advanced into the wind as well as with it.

"It is conscious," Havoc said. "It knows what it is doing. It likes living flesh when it can catch it."

"And it has caught us," she said, shuddering.

"Negation. It reckons without the power of a Glamor."

"And you are a Glamor," she said, remembering.

"I shall have to carry you across. It can't harm me."

"But then you would be only half as efficient. I would be hindering you instead of helping you."

He nodded. "That may be. I will have to let you watch from a safe place in cool ashes."

"Distress."

"Needless." He picked her up and walked to the line of fire. It was thin, efficiently reducing whatever it encountered to inert ashes behind it. Still, she winced as he strode through it.

He set her down in cool ashes, then got to work. He rapidly scooped ashes into a loose bundle, then dumped them in the brush before the fire. The flames reached that point and halted, seeming nonplussed. They shifted to the sides, trying to find away around it, and in a moment succeeded.

Meanwhile Havoc was gathering more ashes. But the fire was already beyond his first deposit, leaving an island of unburned brush. He had merely slowed it, not stopped it.

"Insight," she called. "This is a two-person project." She ran toward him.

"Caution!" he called back, alarmed.

She stooped to gather an armful of ashes. They came up in an airy mass, sifting past her arms and drifting to the ground. Somehow he had a touch with them that she lacked. Maybe he was using magic. So she took hold of her skirt and used it to scoop ashes in quantity "I must put mine beside yours, while you gather more. Going around the circle."

"Do not let the fire touch you!"

She walked to the fire and tried to dump her ashes beyond it, but instead they came down right on it. And damped it out.

They both stared. "On it," Havoc said. "So it can't circle the ashes. You are a genius."

"Negation," she said, blushing.

"Close enough." He fetched more ashes and dumped them beside hers, extending the damped section.

She ran to fetch more, putting them beside his. There was now a gap in the fire through which she could walk if she chose. She did not; she stayed with the ashes.

Thereafter they worked together, alternating loads of ashes, extending the line. Steadily they doused the fire, and there seemed to be nothing it could do about it. It was no longer pursuing them; they were pursuing it.

At last they completed the outer circle. The inner circle, that had at first surrounded them, had long since closed to a point in the center, run out of fuel, and expired.

Opaline dumped the next to last load, and Havoc dumped the last. The fire was out, leaving only the large patch of destruction in the center.

Wordlessly, they stepped into each other and embraced. They kissed. It was gritty. That was when she realized that they were both almost completely clothed in ashes. "Oh, I'm a sight!" she wailed.

"You are lovely."

"Appreciation," she said, giggling.

"Serious. You found the way that worked, and you did it without stinting. Your appearance of the moment is irrelevant; you are lovely."

"Appreciation," she repeated, this time taking it seriously. To have won his honest favor—that bordered on the ultimate thrill.

"We must wash," he said. "A village would not want us to use its guest house in this state."

"I can't think why!" She was giggling again. She was tired, now that the urgency was gone, and reacting foolishly.

They found a stream and stripped to wash. It was not deep enough for full immersion, so they sat in it and splashed water on each other. "I hate my oath," he said as he doused her bare breasts.

"That's the nicest thing you have said to me."

"Question?"

"Because this time you mean it."

He kissed her again. "This is as far as I can go. Never doubt that you are a complete woman."

"Delight."

Soon their bare skin was clean, but their hair was more difficult. They took turns putting their heads down in the water while the other splashed, rinsed, and scrubbed to get the clinging ashes out. They had to do their pubic regions similarly. They could have done their own, but by mutual consent did each other's. She loved feeling his hands brushing her cleft, and loved making him helplessly erect as she rubbed the base of his penis. It was as close as they could legitimately get to actual sex.

Or was it? "Question: you said that a fifth must satisfy her partner before herself. How is this possible? I mean, could you not stroke me until I—" She paused, blushing. "Climaxed, while you did not?"

"It appears to be partly psychological, partly physical," he said. "You would be unwilling to let me do that."

"But I teased you!"

"And never climaxed yourself. That is the line you can't cross. Men like to be teased to a degree, so you can do that much."

She nodded, seeing it. "Psychological," she agreed. "But how physical?"

"Permission to touch you," he said. She knew he was not referring to the intimate washing. "Granted."

"When you have sex, you will not be able to climax until you feel his ejaculation within you. Mere penetration will not be sufficient, no matter how deep or forceful." He poked his longest finger into her vagina. "You feel me within you."

"I do," she agreed, her vagina involuntarily clenching on his flesh. "Try to climax."

"But I don't want to! Not without your pleasure first."

"Try anyway. I am making a point."

"But—"

"My pleasure is in making this demonstration," he said. "Accept that as given."

Reluctantly she overrode her inclination and focused on the contact. "If you would—would move it," she said.

He thrust with the finger, making it feel like a penis. Her pleasure increased. It reached a certain level, then leveled. It would not go farther. She remained quite turned on, eager for the finish, but unable to achieve it.

"You must feel it spout," he said. "Then you will climax immediately. You are capable of instant vaginal orgasm in a way few women are. But you must feel that liquid first, and know it for seminal fluid."

"Maybe if you—" She couldn't finish, embarrassed.

He read her mind, and used his other hand to stroke her clitoris. Her response accelerated, but again it leveled.

"I can't bring you to orgasm before me," he said.

She continued to try, but he was right. She could not get there without that trigger. "Expletive!"

He withdrew his linger and hand, leaving her pantingly eager for culmination, but he had made his point.

"Physical," he repeated. "I used my finger because I could not have held my penis back, and would have ruined the demonstration."

"Physical," she agreed. It was surely a useful lesson, but she would have given anything to have him lose control and spout into her, releasing her frustrated urgency. Even if it did ruin the demonstration.

"Apology," he murmured.

"Needless. I asked for it." Indeed she had.

"Repetition: I am perhaps as frustrated as you are. I want very much to complete sex with you. But I must not."

"Understanding," she said wryly.

Then they tackled their clothing, rinsing it out as well as they could. "But it will take time to dry," he said. "We will have to use our presentation outfits."

"But that will spoil them for the show."

"Alternative?"

"It is not cold. We can walk bare."

"Acquiescence."

They walked, carrying their wet clothing hanging from scavenged sticks. Before they knew it, they were at the next village.

"We fought a fire," Havoc said easily as the village children stared at their nudity. "Ashes all over."

Soon there were clusters of village girls staring at Havoc's marvelous body. But Opaline was pleased to see that the boys—and men—were looking at her. The past few days of exercise had worn down some fat and improved her posture, so she was better in this respect than she had been. Also, she realized, her close association with Havoc had simply brought out whatever womanly qualities she possessed.

The Village Elder was not distracted. "That was a magic fire. We could not touch it, and feared for our village.

How did you handle it?" The question was a challenge.

"My little sister fathomed the way," Havoc said, gesturing to Opaline. "I knew that its ashes would stop it, but it was circling them. She realized that the ashes could stifle the flames themselves, and that we could extend the suppression by working in tandem. One fetched while the other dumped. Slowly we circled it and got it out. She was practical, and saved the day."

Suddenly even the female eyes were on Opaline. She blushed, unable to help it.

"Then she has not only saved the day, but perhaps our village, and shown us how to stop the next such fire," the Elder said. "Request: may we know your names?"

"I am Hayseed the minstrel. My sister is Opaline."

"Hayseed and Opaline, we shall in due course erect a marker in your honor. You shall have our best guest house for as long as you require. We are in your debt."

"Negation," Havoc said. "We did what any traveler would do. The fire threatened us and we had to stop it. We will entertain you for our lodging."

"This is generous indeed," the Elder said.

Opaline was tired, but refused to let Havoc carry the brunt alone. She joined him on the stage, appropriately clothed, and they charmed the villagers as usual. They both fended off several no fault offers, pleading fatigue. It was exhilarating being the object of such praise and desire. But she was very glad when it was done, and she could collapse on the bed.

Havoc, who seemed utterly tireless, massaged her back and legs as she lay there. "You did well today, Opaline."

She knew it. "Appreciation."

"Welcome."

"How many more days travel?"

"One or two."

"Regret."

His strong hands tweaked her buttocks humorously. "You can put up with me that long."

"Read my mind. I want it never to end."

"All things must end."

"Havoc, why are you doing this? I mean, really? You're the king. You could have assigned a minion to conduct me, or just transported me there instantly There is no need to take a week of your time shepherding a back-village girl."

"I need your company"

"Negation. You've got the two most beautiful women in existence to cater to your whim, and you could have had anything you wanted of my body from the outset. I am eager to give it to you, just for the joy of being possessed by you, and I don't even care any more that you are the king. Why waste your time, when you have to prepare to stop an invasion?"

"Opaline," he said seriously. "I am not wasting my time. I am training you to do what you need to do, and that takes time."

"To cater to a man. That comes naturally to a woman."

"This is not an ordinary man. He is simple, and he is our secret weapon. You must fascinate him and cause him to focus on his talent, while others, including perhaps his parents, will think you are a mere opportunist. This is not easy."

"I haven't even committed to do it, really, only for a month, so that then I can have a month of bliss in your arms. You may be investing all this tedious energy for nothing."

"Negation."

"How can you know? I'm just a silly girl!"

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her over. He came down on her, deliciously smothering her with a kiss. "It is not tedious, Opaline. I like being with you, and will truly enjoy you if you invoke that month. My wife and mistress will be jealous."

"Disbelief."

"Justified."

She stared at him, dismayed. "Havoc, I did not mean to call you a liar. It was rhetorical. I love you! But I know better than to believe that you could have any long-term interest in me."

"Clarification: your disbelief that Gale and Monochrome will be jealous of you is justified. You are unlikely to invoke that aspect of the deal, though it will be honored if you do."

"But that would mean that I will stay with the simple man. I promise to give him a chance, but I just don't believe that he will ever turn me on enough to make it permanent. Especially after I have come to know you. I don't think any man could win me, after you."

"Nevertheless."

"How can you know?" she demanded again, her emotion threatening to erupt in tears or fury.

"I do know. Close enough."

"What are you not telling me now? Tell me!"

"One of my powers is the ability to see the near future paths. I am not nearly as good at it as my children are, but I can do it well enough for my own purposes. I can't see clearly beyond the first hour, let alone the month, but I can faintly see the beginning of it, and you are coming to love that man."

Opaline couldn't accept that idea, so she focused on another aspect. "You can see the future! You mentioned that before. That means that things like the brigands—"

"I saw them coming," he agreed.

"And the fire! You knew how to put it out! You did not need to credit me."

"I saw that you would figure it out," he agreed. "So I allowed you to do it. That does not make your insight invalid. You deserve credit."

"But why? It is all so unnecessary. Why should my feelings even matter?"

"Because my daughter Voila, whose perception is vastly greater than mine, told me that this was the way it has to be. I have to escort you personally the full time, teaching you certain things, impressing on you the importance of the mission. This is our most likely key to victory against the machines."

"So you are doing it because you have to do it."

"Affirmation. But I am enjoying doing it. I almost hope my daughter is wrong, and that you come to me for that month. I would so very much like to do this for real." He stroked her bare breast with his fingers, then kissed her again, lingeringly. "There is a quality in your innocent love that truly turns me on."

"Appreciation," she said wryly. "Is there much more for me to learn?"

"Affirmation. You must learn to take charge, especially with a man. You must learn to sing in public."

She shook her head ruefully. "I am not good at either of these things."

"Tomorrow you must do both. I will be called away suddenly, and you will have to carry on with the show for an hour. This is not something I planned for you; I just now fathomed it, as my thorough range is not much more than a few minutes. My daughter, working with an associate who can see the intermediate future, just advised me telepathically. Apology for putting you in such a spot."

"Havoc, I can't do those things! I'm not equipped. We must shift the time of the show."

"Regret. My daughter says no."

"But I will foul it up abysmally! I know it! I'd rather be burned by that fire."

"You might foul up. But not if you prepare."

"How can I prepare for what I can't do?"

"I will help you." He took her hand. "Sing."

She opened her mouth to protest, but then felt the encompassing support of his mind. "Oh, no John!" she sang. Then paused, astonished. "I sang it!"

"You know the song. You know them all, after doing them so many times with me. You are no minstrel, but your voice is passable and we shall make sure you look pretty. If a girl shows enough breast and leg, most boys won't notice how well she sings."

"Havoc!" she exclaimed, flustered.

"Truth. I am a man. Trust me in this. Just take the courage I have lent you, and maintain a good stage presence, and it will work."

She remained highly uncertain, but tackled the other aspect. "How can I manage a man?"

"You have seen me managing the girls. This is the mirror of that. Put yourself in my place, emotionally, and do it. It will work."

"There is no alternative?"

"Not if we are to save our worlds."

She started to protest. But he took her hand again, and shared his mind with her, and suddenly she believed.

The future of mankind really did depend on her.