Key to Survival

Chapter 9 Oak

Next morning Opaline and Havoc set out again, departing the grateful village. He continued to drill her on individual singing and man management, so that she almost thought she could do it. She did not understand this business of seeing future paths, but she trusted Havoc and did her best to prepare herself for what had to be.

But one thing still nagged her. "I know your daughter Voila, whose vision you respect, told you that you must personally conduct me along this route. But why does it have to be you, instead of some lowly underling? You told me before that you are training me, but you have pretty much done that now, I think. Even if I am valuable, isn't this overkill?"

"Negation."

"Please."

"You will not like the information."

"I must know."

"Our reading of the paths suggests that there is some agency that does not want you to complete this journey. It is strong enough so that only a Glamor can fully protect you."

"Something means to—to kill me?"

"Affirmation."

"So the tree would have poisoned me, without you to tell it no? The brigands would have raped and killed me?

The fire would have burned me to ashes?"

"Affirmation."

"Affirmation," she echoed. "I do not like this information. It terrifies me."

"I would have preferred to spare you the knowledge. We are trying to identify the agency, so we can eliminate it. It is surely an enemy of our kind."

"And if you don't identify it, and I reach my mission, what then?"

"The paths indicate that you will be safe there. It threatens you only before you meet Oak."

"Question?"

"His name is Oak. Our secret weapon."

"But why should this be?"

"We do not as yet know."

"That hour you must leave me—does that relate?"

"Affirmation. That is when I will discover and destroy the agency's power to attack."

"Understanding," she said faintly. "Is that time soon?"

He paused, evidently fathoming the near future, or receiving information from his daughter. "Not soon enough. Another threat comes."

"Each one has been worse," she said. "Oh, Havoc, I am afraid!"

"Reasonable," he said, embracing her. Then he whispered in her ear. "We must leave the trail, soon, by seeming coincidence. Make a demand that we visit the Air Chroma. Be persistent."

"My nature," she said, trying to smile.

"It is a good nature." He kissed her.

He let her go, and they resumed walking. She looked around. On one side was yellow, deepening in the distance. On the other was a sort of fuzzing that seemed to fade into fog. "What is that?" she inquired, gesturing.

"That is an Air Chroma zone. When no inhabitants are in the vicinity to animate illusions, it has no appearance."

"I don't understand. Everything has some appearance."

"Not the Invisible Chroma of Air. No more than air itself does. Only when animated by illusion does it become visible."

"Havoc, are you teasing me? This makes little sense."

"Negation. It is the way it is."

"I want to see for myself."

"Doubt. Chroma natives resent intrusions by nonChroma folk. We had best remain on the path."

"Annoyance."

"Necessity."

"Decision: I will look for myself." She stepped off the trail, into the edge of the fog.

"Danger!" Havoc protested. "Do not go there alone."

She turned on him a determined smile. "Then come with me, Havoc."

"Inconvenience," he muttered as he did so. "Headstrong girl."

Her foot struck something invisible. "Ow!" she exclaimed, abruptly sitting down.

"Explanation," Havoc said, bending to lift her foot for inspection. "Things do exist; they are merely invisible. You stumbled into a rock." He raised her foot higher. "I see nothing ill."

"Suspicion," she said. "Are you looking up my bare leg?"

"And a fine leg it is," he agreed as she jerked it away. Of course he was welcome to look, and to handle too, but this was of the nature of a small play, for the benefit of any entity that might be spying on them.

"How can I walk here, if there are invisible stones?" she demanded unreasonably.

"Return to the regular path."

"Negation!"

Havoc sighed. "Then I will have to carry you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

He picked her up and carried her forward. Her skirt and blouse twisted some as her mid section sagged somewhat between his strong arms. He seemed to have no trouble with the invisible rocks. She clung to him, delighting in this closeness.

She thought of something else. "If I am safe when there, why not simply conjure me there directly, now that I am trained? You could keep me out of sight for a while before delivering me, to better have your will of me before you return to your two beautiful women and countless sultry royal bath girls and other ilk."

He shook his head ruefully. "How many times must I answer before you are satisfied?"

"You have answered with partial truths. I want the whole truth."

"I do not even know the whole truth."

"You know enough to have a notion." She twisted her shoulders slightly to give him a better look into her skew blouse. He was a man: she was learning how to handle him. He did look, and licked his lips. "It is best that the enemy stalker not know that we know its purpose, so we must hew to our schedule."

She remained unsatisfied. She twisted a bit more. "And?"

"And I like your company, you teasing vixen."

Of course she wasn't fooling him, but she held his interest anyway "I don't wish to tease you, Havoc. I wish to possess you."

"Negation. You know my oath prevents that, so you keep dangling your proffered favors before me. That is teasing."

He was right. "Apology. I will stop."

"Negation."

"Don't stop teasing you?" she asked, surprised.

"As you say, I have other women galore, and all will grant me their favors of any nature without limit. You alone will not. That is a special kind of challenge."

She considered that. "You are teasing me, I am teasing you. It is a unique relationship."

"Affirmation."

She squirmed into position to kiss him. "Conjecture: it will do."

"Acquiescence," he agreed, and kissed her back.

The magic intensified; it was almost like a prickling on her skin. She knew that the Chroma zones were formed by the matter and gas from the volcanoes, and the magic was strongest in the center, at the volcano itself. But she had never been inside a Chroma zone before, and would not have dared trespass if not in Havoc's company. Regardless, this was a fine adventure.

Havoc forged through the fog. Then it thinned, and they were at the verge of a picturesque farmstead, with six-legged sheep grazing in a verdant meadow. The neat wooden farmhouse was surrounded by multi-colored flowers.

"Oh, it's gorgeous," she breathed as he set her down. It seemed there were no more invisible rocks here.

"Pretty as a picture—which I gather it is."

"All illusion," he agreed. "It is said that there are no ugly Air Chroma women. That is an understatement; nothing is ugly here."

The nearest sheep heard them. "Ba-a-a-a-ad!" it bleated.

In a moment the farmer appeared. He did not walk up to them from a distance; he simply appeared before them. He was a solid but halfway handsome man, with a neat straw hat and blue jeans. "Question?" he demanded gruffly.

"I am Hayseed the Minstrel, traveling with my little sister Opaline. She insisted on seeing the Air Chroma, where she has never been before."

The farmer's rough countenance softened. "Minstrel?"

"Affirmation."

"Will you entertain at our village?"

"For room and board for the night."

The farmer smiled. "Welcome! One moment." He vanished.

"How did he come, and where did he go?" Opaline asked, not having to pretend surprise.

"This is a Chroma zone. The natives all do magic. Some do a little, some a lot, but all do some."

"It must be fun."

"Routine, for them. They clothe ordinary chores with illusion, but still must do them."

"They can't just conjure food and palaces and lovely obliging women?"

"Those things require practice and effort, and most ordinary folk lack the potential, so they settle for the easiest magic, illusion." He smiled. "Even those skilled in conjuration can't craft a woman from nothing, let alone an obliging one; they must bring her from somewhere. Then illusion can make her lovely. It is easier just to persuade a neighbor to cooperate. Many can't even conjure themselves from place to place."

The farmer reappeared, along with a fairly severe looking older woman. "I am the Elder of Pleasant Village," she said. "You will entertain?"

"Old Earth folk songs, mainly," Hayseed said. "Do Chroma folk like them as nonChroma folk do?" Of course he knew the answer.

"Affirmation. Take my hands."

Hayseed took her left hand, and Opaline her right hand. There was a wrench, and suddenly they were in the center of a lovely village. She realized that the Elder had transported them by magic, assuming they had none. She was right about Opaline, and of course Hayseed had not revealed his nature.

"Here are your quarters," the Elder said. "We will assemble in one hour. Be ready." She vanished.

Opaline realized that entertainers were in strong demand everywhere, even in the Chroma zones. That was why Havoc traveled as a minstrel; he would always be welcome, anywhere.

The house was beautiful, of course, and stocked with all matter of exotic fruits, breads, and drinks. Opaline was thrilled. "I never knew what I was missing," she said as she poured herself a glass of purple juice.

"Negation," Havoc murmured. "That is alcoholic. Not for my kid sister."

"Argument."

"Squelched." He took away the drink and gave her another.

"Big brothers are an irritation in the butt," she muttered. But the alternate juice tasted very good.

"We will get fairly started," Havoc said. "Then I will have to go. I will plead a sudden incapacity.

We must select a transition song."

"Nervousness," she confessed.

"Reassurance." He reached out to touch her hand, and she felt the infusion of reassurance.

Glamors were remarkable people!

He had her dress in a rather short skirt they found in the closet, and in a colorful but somewhat skimpy blouse that tended to stretch tightly when she inhaled. Worse, she saw in the mirror that when it stretched it became translucent. "Havoc—"

"Now you must tease every man the way you have been teasing me," he said. "They can't touch you on-stage; they can only look. Make them slaver."

"And they won't notice the state of my singing," she said, remembering.

He bent to kiss the hollow of her breasts. "Affirmation."

Impulsively she grabbed his head and jammed his face down into that hollow. No other words were needed.

They went out on schedule to perform. The villagers were assembled, an uncommonly handsome lot, with perfectly formed children, handsome men, and lovely girls and women. It certainly was true that in the Air Chroma every person made his or her own appearance, being otherwise invisible, so naturally all were esthetic. Opaline knew she hardly compared, but Havoc had assured her that because the villagers knew her flesh was real, not illusory, they would notice it. It was like the difference between seeing a woman in skin-tight clothing, and seeing her naked. The outline was clear in either case, but the male eye sought the latter.

Havoc sang, impressing the villagers as usual; they were in this respect typical. They might enhance their appearance with illusion, but that did not give them the ability to perform the arts well. Opaline noticed one young man paying close attention, occasionally nodding. "Aspiring singer," Havoc murmured between songs, noting her attention.

Then Havoc addressed the villagers personally. "My little sister does not sing, but I am encouraging her to learn," he said. "Family tradition, you know. I have persuaded her to sing the refrain. Please be kind; she is shy." Indeed, Opaline was already blushing at the reference. Havoc had made her up to be pretty, but that wasn't enough.

He sang:

There was a gentle applause, not so much for her singing, which was marginal, but for her effort. She had done it!

He sang the second stanza, speaking for her:

Havoc kissed her on the cheek. Then she sang her refrain again.

Havoc suddenly looked pained. "I fear I ate something this morning I shouldn't have," he said. "Apology." He hurried offstage, holding one hand to his face as if about to heave. He disappeared into their guest house.

Opaline shook her head. "I told him not to eat that fallen fruit. I told him it looked tainted. But would he listen to his little sister? Oh, no John!"

The villagers laughed, appreciating the situation.

"But the show must go on, until he returns," Opaline continued. "I am no real singer, as you know. Do we have a real singer here? One who might like to practice as a minstrel?" She looked at the man she had observed.

"I can sing," he responded. "But I don't know the words to your songs. Only the tunes. And I have never performed for an audience." Indeed, the other villagers seemed surprised; they had not known of his ability.

"I know them all," she said. "I have heard my brother sing them so many times. I can tell them to you, line by line, if the audience will indulge us." She looked at the Elder.

"Considering the situation, we will," the Elder said.

"But I would be too nervous," the man protested. "I am not a showman."

Opaline remembered Havoc's drilling on how to manage a man. "Entreaty," she said, leaning forward so that the blouse fell open. "I can't do this alone. I need you." She dabbed at her eyes as if becoming tearful.

The man's eyes focused on her décolletage. He stood and approached, though clearly nervous. "I am Bright," he said.

She took both his hands in hers. "Opaline. Let's pick up where my brother left off. Face me from a small distance, as if addressing me, but make sure the audience can hear you."

"That is my fear."

Stage fright. "Reversal," she said quickly. "Address your song only to me. Beyond the stage does not exist."

"Doubt. I know they are there."

She drew him into her close enough so that he could feel her breasts against him, lifted her face, and kissed him quickly on the mouth. "No longer. You are John, and I am your world, this moment."

He gazed at her, clearly taken aback by the kiss. She had stunned him the way Havoc stunned her. "Oh, madame, in your face is beauty," she murmured, squeezing his hands encouragingly as she held his gaze. "Sing to me alone, Bright, lest I kiss you again."

There was a chuckle in the audience. They knew man-management when they saw it.

Immediately he sang it, and well.

As he finished, she spoke the next line. "On your lips red roses grow." He sang it, taking refuge in the immediate task.

"Will you take me for your lover?" She looked down, inhaling, as if surprised and flattered by his proposition, as he sang it. "Madame, answer yes or no."

After he sang that line, she sang her response. She took a deep breath, turning so that a wide swath of the audience could appreciate the taut material of her blouse. "Oh, no John, no John, no John, no!"

The song continued, as the suitor offered her jewels and dresses, only to be turned down. Then he got smart, and rephrased his question.

If I may not be your lover, Madame will you let me go?

This time the children laughed as she sang the refrain, refusing to let him go. And so, in the song, the suitor won the hand and heart of the maiden, by making her required words become an acceptance. At the conclusion she drew him gently in again and kissed him, this time more thoroughly. She reveled in the power the stage gave her; she had become by definition a lovely and compelling woman.

Now there was substantial applause. She had made it work, not by her singing but by her presence and appearance. They had of course observed how she managed Bright throughout, and made him perform.

After that they continued, doing the songs she knew, and the villagers seemed quite satisfied. It almost seemed that they had forgotten the minstrel's sudden exit. Opaline was exhilarated. She was rising to the occasion, making it work.

Then she spied Havoc in the audience. He had returned! Suddenly all the tension she had suppressed sprang forth. "Oh!"

"Continue," Havoc said. "You are doing well without me."

But now, not surprisingly, Bright got nervous. "What am I doing here?"

How to manage men. Opaline took it a step further. "Minstrel Hayseed, come join us. We will conclude with a round."

Havoc nodded. He joined them, and sang:

As he started the second line, Opaline put her arm around his waist and sang the first line. As she started the second, she put her other arm around Bright's waist, squeezing him encouragingly, and he sang the first line, having just heard it. Actually, he surely knew the song; it was popular with children anywhere. It was shyness, rather than ignorance, that restrained him, and in her encouraging presence and the constant prodding of the lines that shyness was at bay. They did the round, and Bright finished with the final hee-haws.

The audience burst into strong applause. Opaline turned and kissed Bright, then turned the other way and kissed Havoc. It was a successful finish.

They were immediately mobbed by the younger villagers. Two pretty girls and a handsome boy, evidently by spot conspiracy, linked with the boy in the center and faced them. "No fault?" they asked together.

"My brother and I wish to retire, for we have a long walk tomorrow," Opaline said quickly. "But I think Bright accepts his offer." She glanced at Bright, who was hesitating, embarrassed. Obviously he was not accustomed to such offers from pretty girls. "She is courting you for your beauty of song," Opaline told him. "Can you tell her no John?"

"Negation," the girl said, stepping in to kiss him. There was general laughter as she hauled him away, managing him exactly as Opaline had.

Soon Opaline and Havoc were alone in the house. Now at last she could relax. She collapsed breathlessly on the bed.

Havoc sat beside her, massaging her tight shoulders. "Compliment: You were wonderful," he said.

"Candor: I was desperate. You prepared me, but when you left, I feared I would collapse. But then I saw that Bright was as nervous as I was, and I had to support him. He's a nice man."

"You applied what I taught you."

"Swim or sink. The tight blouse helped. When I breathed, he lost sight of all else."

"Pride in you."

She sat up and hugged him, overcome. "Oh Havoc, thank you!" Then she remembered. "Did you accomplish your mission?"

"Mostly. I abolished the threat, but did not discover who was behind it."

"Question?"

"It was a swarm of hornets. They would have stung you to death despite my efforts. I was angry, and blasted them with fire. I should have saved a few to question."

"Angry?"

He put his arms around her. "I love you, Opaline, no fault. You are a worthy girl. The thought of such an end to you made me lose my temper."

"Oh, Havoc!" She was overcome with emotion.

In the morning they bid parting to the villagers, including Bright and the girl, who had evidently had a fair night of it. "We are in your debt," the Elder said. "You came upon us randomly, gave us rare entertainment, and demonstrated how we can in future better entertain ourselves." She glanced at Bright. "You, especially, Opaline, made a demonstration we respect. Is there any return favor we can do you?"

Opaline was about to protest, as she did not feel she had done anything special for them, but caught Havoc's warning glance. It was better to accept the credit. Still, there was something. "Hesitancy," she said.

"Speak."

"I have never been in Air before. It's so pretty! Would you—could I see what it is like without the illusion?"

"One moment only," the Elder said, frowning.

Then the loveliness faded and was replaced by a completely dull and generally unesthetic collection of shacks squatting amidst weeds. Bright and the girl were both gawky youths, and her hair was a mess. Only the Elder herself remained prim. It seemed that the Air Chroma folk saw little need to shore up reality when illusion was so much easier.

In a moment the illusion returned. All was lovely again. "Appreciation," Opaline said. "I am impressed."

She did not clarify that her impression was not entirely positive.

They walked back to the nonChroma path, which was now safe. "We all put forth our best face," Havoc remarked. "You and I included. Many folk's minds are much as the Air Chroma reality, being invisible to all except telepaths."

"I'm sure mine is suitably weedy," Opaline agreed ruefully, knowing he could read it.

"Negation. Yours is attractive. You are honest with yourself, and seek only good for others. Your body is only a body, similar to most others, but your mind is naturally pretty."

"It is my mind that attracts your fancy!" she exclaimed, catching on. "Because I will never subsequently be as innocent and positive as I am now."

"Acquiescence," he agreed. "The minds of experienced women are far less idealistic. Apart from Gale and Monochrome, few really turn me on."

Opaline knew she shouldn't feel flattered, but she couldn't help it. She liked being pretty for him.

He paused, brought her in to him, and kissed her. Nothing needed to be said.

Opaline saw the scorched section where Havoc had bombed the hornets, and shuddered. She had done her part, with the songs, but he had done his part too, saving her life. "We approach our destination," he said.

"Remember: the mission is secret. Do not tell anyone, not even Oak. But do keep him developing his ability."

"Intention," she agreed. "One month."

"Deal remains. Come to me when you decide."

She intended to. She would give it her all, for that month, then assess her true mind.

He gave her bottom one squeeze, hinting at the passion he suppressed. She hoped she would not be less appealing, mentally, after that month of what was bound to be sexual and emotional experience.

"One other thing," he said. "I have shown you that you need not fear the male member. It is a tool for a purpose, not fearsome in itself."

"I have no fear of yours," she agreed. "I love holding it, while you are holding me."

"But when having sex with a man who is not knowledgeable, you must take control."

"If I had sex with you, you would be in control," she said. "You have done it countless times; I have no experience. I would not even try to tell you how."

"That is how most men like it. But an ignorant man could crush you under his weight. Do not allow it. Put him on his back, and bestride him, and take him in at your convenience. Never tease him; always indulge him. Let him spout and subside. Kiss him. Then gently withdraw, telling him how wonderful it was."

"Question: Suppose it is too big for me? I think yours would not fit."

"It will fit," he said. "There will be no discomfort. The woman stretches to accommodate. Moisten it, with his preliminary fluid or yours, to be sure it is slippery. Insert it slowly. He will love that foreplay. But neither will you have pleasure of it."

"Question?"

"He will climax. You will not. Not the first time, or the second. In time you will be able to instruct him how to pleasure you, but that must be secondary. He must always want it more than you do. In this manner you will retain control."

"This seems so cynical!"

"Necessary. Sex is the primary way to manage a man, and you must always manage him."

"Already I feel less innocent," she said. "Regret."

But she knew he was telling her for a reason, and took the lesson to heart. She had to maintain sexual control.

And at midday they reached it. It was a farmstead at the edge of a nonChroma village, Nonesuch. An older couple came out to meet them.

"Greeting, Minstrel," the man said.

"Greeting, Pot," Havoc returned. "This is Opaline, who will see to your son for a month, perhaps more."

The woman eyed Opaline appraisingly. "She's a slight thing."

"But competent, Kettle," Havoc assured her. "She will teach him what he needs to know to be socially competent."

"This is not an easy thing," Pot said dubiously.

"Which is why I selected a very special person," Havoc said. "The king directed me to do it right. May she meet Oak now?"

The couple exchanged a glance. It seemed they were still not completely easy with this, understandably

"Our boy has special needs," the mother said.

"As do we all," Havoc said.

"He—awkwardness—has become sexually aware," Pot said. "He is seventeen, and must marry within a year. But the village girls will not touch him."

"I will touch him," Opaline said.

"He is unable to care properly for himself," Kettle said. "He must be directed. Folk grow impatient."

"I am patient," Opaline said.

Finally Pot said it outright: "Oak is simple."

"So are we all, in one respect or another," Havoc said.

"Yet we do not wish his feelings to be hurt," Kettle said. "He is very sensitive."

Here Opaline felt competent. "I will not hurt him."

After another hesitation, the man called "Oak!"

A young man emerged from the house. Opaline was surprised: he was strikingly handsome. She had somehow anticipated a dull looking fellow who scuffled and drooled.

Oak came to stand before them. "A greeting," he said uncertainly.

"Acknowledged, Oak," Opaline said. "I am Opaline. I will be with you for a while."

He gazed at her somewhat too intently. He evidently lacked the ability to be discreet when he saw something interesting. "You are pretty."

"Thank you, Oak. You are handsome."

He was silent, evidently not knowing how to respond. "Say thank you," Opaline said to him.

He smiled, glad for the direction. "Thank you."

The three others stood silent, letting her make the contact.

"Oak, I am new here. Please take me for a walk. Show me what's here."

"A walk," he agreed. He turned to face the house and started walking. It seemed that from and to the house was all he knew, rather than wider explorations. They had to keep him out of trouble.

Opaline hurried to catch up to him, and took his hand. They walked together, leaving the other three standing. Soon they were at the house.

"Show me your room, Oak," Opaline said, realizing what she had to do.

He led her in, and to the attic chamber he had. "Here."

"It is nice."

"You are pretty," he repeated. His trousers were bulging.

She decided to risk an immediate sexual start. "Take off your clothing, Oak." For not only had Havoc instructed her in detail what to do, he had aroused her so that she was eager to do it.

"But it isn't time for bed."

"This is different." She helped him get his clothing off. Immediately his erection sprang out. It was a fine one, she thought, though only the second she had actually seen. He was not simple in his physical manhood.

She quickly doffed her own clothing and took his hand again. "Lie down on your back, Oak."

He obeyed without question.

She bestrode him, just below his hard penis. "This is what I will do for you, Oak, when you please me." She moved up, took his member in her hand, and carefully set it at her moist cleft. She slid the tip of it along her cleft, getting it suitably wet and slippery, as Havoc had advised. She took him in slowly, cautious lest she be stretched too far, this first time, but there was no problem as it sank all the way in. Then she lay full length upon him. She shut her eyes, pretending it was Havoc she embraced.

He bucked once, spurting into her. She felt the coursing fluid, coming in several surges.

It was her first actual sex, but she had had no pleasure of it, other than the feeling of accomplishment. She had managed a man, maintaining control, just as Havoc had told her to. The member had fit, and it hadn't hurt, again as he had predicted. He had evidently known.

"Very good, Oak," she said, and kissed him. She felt almost guilty for the fact that she remained unsatisfied. But perhaps in time she would be able to gain her own pleasure along with his.

"Appreciation!" he gasped. "What was that?"

"That was sex, Oak. It is what a woman gives a man when she likes him."

"I like you!"

"And I will like you, Oak, when you do what I say." She lifted herself off him, found a tissue in her clothing, and wiped off his spent penis, knowing that he lacked the understanding to do it himself. How different it would have been with Havoc!

"I will do what you say!" he agreed.

They had a working understanding.

"Now get dressed."

He dressed, and she dressed. She had to do up his buttons and fasten his belt. She found his comb and put his hair back in order. "Do not speak of this to others," she said. "Unless they ask." She doubted Oak's parents would ask. They would know. "This is our first secret."

"Secret," he agreed.

They went downstairs and back outside. Havoc was gone, but Pot and Kettle stood where they had been. They had evidently been hesitant to enter the house, suspecting.

They approached the couple. "Oak showed me his room," Opaline said. "I will share it with him."

"But he doesn't like us to intrude," Kettle said.

Opaline took Oak's hand. "He will share with me. We like each other. Don't we, Oak?"

"Yes!"

They were silent. They understood that she had already taken over.

Opaline became part of their household. When she wasn't with Oak, she helped Kettle with household chores.

When Pot had work to do outside, such as chopping wood, Opaline brought Oak out and made him carry armfuls to the house. Oak was almost pitifully eager to please her in any way he could.

And she rewarded him for it, frequently, at any time of the day or night. The first few times she bestrode him, but then she explained how there were other ways to do it, and had him clasp her from behind while she fed his member into her cleft. It was the way Havoc had lain with her, only Oak's penis was always inside her, until he spouted. She never teased him; he was not smart enough to understand.

Soon she was sharing a second secret with him, encouraging him to move a marble across a flat surface, a nudge at a time. He thought it was just an idle entertainment, but she expressed delight in seeing him do it. Since her delight thrilled him, even when it wasn't immediately supported by sex, he gladly cooperated. No one had been interested in this before. When he had shown his parents, they thought the movement was because of a dent in the mattress.

In due course Opaline took him into the nearby forest and had him move a chip of wood across a stump. At first he was right near it, but she made him try it from farther away. She made sure they were alone, then drew a line in the dirt and told him she would take off one item of clothing each time he moved it from a farther distance. Then he really tried. When he did it from several paces away, and she was nude, she embraced him. She opened his trousers, bringing out his stiff penis. "Lift me up," she told him. When he did, she used her hands to fit him in, and bestrode him vertically, making his spurt while standing, as it were.

A new challenge was to move two chips at once. That was difficult at first, but once he got it, he improved rapidly, and moved two, then three, then four, then five simultaneously. She had vertical sex with him four times in three hours as he achieved each added chip. He loved this game.

There was a sharp limit on the size of the object he could move, and the distance: about an ounce, half an inch. But no apparent limit on the number he could do, or the range. Both kept increasing as she encouraged him.

"You are doing well with Oak," Kettle remarked one day as Opaline helped her make bread. "He is happy, and more confident, and he looks better."

"He likes one thing."

"He likes you. He would cater to you even without that thing."

"I would never tease him."

"Understanding," the woman said. "You give him what he lacks, as we can not, and so he learns from you. But you may be here only for a month. What then for him?"

"I will be free to leave after a month, if I choose. I don't have to."

"Will you stay?"

"I don't know."

Kettle nodded. "Appreciation for your candor. We were uncertain about bringing in a stranger for such a purpose. Now we would like you to stay, if you choose."

That was an endorsement that had not been given before. She had won over the parents. But she could not commit. "This is not an easy decision."

"Understanding!" Then, after a pause: "He can sing."

This was new. "Question?"

"He has perfect memory for melody, but can't remember many words. If we repeat the lines for him during a song, he can render it beautifully. But we have not cared to risk doing that in public."

This was something Opaline knew how to do. "Request: may I risk it?"

"Granted." Kettle was evidently pleased.

Opaline tackled music with Oak. "Sing for me, Oak."

He just looked at her.

She chose a song at random. "Tell old Bill when he comes home this morning."

Then he sang it. Kettle was right: he had a beautiful voice, with perfect tone.

In a few days the local village had an amateur entertainment night, open to anyone. The teens liked it, and weren't ashamed to make fools of themselves trying to perform. Opaline took Oak to Nonesuch, with Pot and Kettle quietly following, and when there was an opening, led him into the center stage.

The villagers watched. They knew Oak, and knew his mental limit. They would not ridicule him. He was, after all, simple. They were more curious about Opaline, whom they hardly knew. But their side conversations continued; they were not paying full attention.

"Sing," she murmured, and spoke the line.

"Tell old Bill when he comes home" he sang, not questioning her.

"This morning" she sang, doing the refrain, as they had rehearsed it. And so it went:

The villagers were quiet. Now they were paying attention.

When they finished the sad song, the villagers broke into applause. This had not been a poor amateur effort, but a minstrel-quality presentation. Oak surely did not understand its nuances of infidelity and consequence, but he did not need to. All he needed was to listen to the lines she gave him, and sing the tune he knew.

Opaline glanced at Pot and Kettle. They were standing together, holding hands, tears in their eyes. She had shown them and the village how Oak could be a successful entertainer. All he needed was the right encouragement and support. Havoc had taught her how to provide it. She doubted that could be coincidence. He could see the future; he must have known that Bright would be there at Pleasant Village, so that she could enable the shy young man to sing in public. That had seemed worthwhile in itself, but now she was doing it with Oak. The practice with a man of normal intellect had shown her how to do it with the man of subnormal intellect.

Thereafter they went regularly, singing different songs. Once, on invitation, they went to a neighboring village, performing as minstrels from Nonesuch.

Yes, Oak needed direction. But there was no mean streak in him, and he was devoted to her. Things could certainly be worse elsewhere.

The month passed, and Opaline did not leave. She had not made her decision, but meanwhile it was easy to continue.