Key to Survival

Chapter 16 Ikon

Weft was in grief for the loss of Fifth. She could not fault him for choosing Flame. Why should he settle for being the number two man in a Glamor's life, when he could be the number one man? Flame certainly was deserving. It was just that he was such a nice man to be with. She had truly enjoyed her month with him. She wished she could have kept him. He was the first mortal man she had encountered who was thoroughly familiar with Glamor women, including her sisters and mother, and was able to relate to them on their terms. And the sex! Who else would have thought to turn a glass of fruit juice into wildly naughty eroticism?

Yet she knew that she could far more readily find another man to be with, and to marry, than Flame could. She was beautiful and social, as Flame was not, and she could sing. Flame was the finest martial artist in the Human Culture, but few men would want her as a mistress. Flame was simply not a man charmer. Except for Fifth, who liked her lean body and her resolute integrity. This way was better, considered objectively.

Weft had not suffered rejection before, and was having difficulty adjusting to it. But this would pass, in due course. Maybe there would even come a time when she could look back and be thankful that it had worked out this way. Maybe.

Weft. It was Ennui, signaling her telepathically.

Present. Ennui was never frivolous. All the Glamors respected her.

There is something here that should interest you.

I am not in the mood for diversion at the moment.

This is beyond that. The machines have sent another robot.

Another robot! She sighed. This was a significant development, and she was the Glamor presently on call.

I will be right there.

She washed her face to remove any lingering sign of tears, donned a suitably provocative dress, and conjured herself to Ennui's office.

Havoc was there, standing by Ennui's desk. "Hi, dad. What are you doing here? I thought you were training in what's her name."

He smiled. "I just couldn't stay away from you, honey."

"Sure. Any time you are ready for something more than a daughterly kiss, like maybe a hot game of Tickle & Peek—" She froze. "Expletive! You're the robot!"

"Fifteen seconds," Ennui said. "I win."

Weft read her mind. The robot had bet it would take her at least thirty seconds to catch on.

She studied him. He looked and sounded exactly like Havoc, of course; the machines had studied him closely.

But what was the purpose of this ploy? To persuade Gale to talk Voila into joining the machines? That seemed unlikely to work. Gale would never take up with a Havoc-robot when the real Havoc was freely available to her. The machines would know that. So he must have been sent to persuade someone else.

"Obscenity! It's me he came for!"

"Ten seconds," Ennui said. "I win again."

The robot nodded. "I underestimated you, Weft. You are too smart for me."

Weft faced Ennui. "Suspicion. I'm supposed to take him on?"

"Confirmation. He was made for you," Ennui said. "You must fathom his nature, and ascertain whether he is a danger to any of us or to our cause."

"He's a machine!"

"But I am your machine," the robot said. "I will do my utmost to please you."

"Mocked up as my father? Insult!"

"I will be your toy, to play with as you choose."

"While you plot to destroy our entire culture!"

"Negation. Once you accept me, my loyalty will be to you and your culture."

"Except that you'll try to make me lean on my little sister to join the machines."

"Affirmation. It is the only way to save her, and you. But apart from that, I will be yours."

"What does Voila say?"

"She says to do it," Ennui said. "You must study him, and come to a conclusion."

"Conclusion about what?"

"About his real mission. His purpose may be to distract you from some other ploy you would otherwise have prevented."

"Negation!" the robot protested.

"And the only way to find out is to take him on," Weft said grimly.

"So it seems," Ennui agreed. "Voila says he is not physically dangerous to you or us. But he is a nexus."

As was Fifth, and Shee. "I'm sick of nexi!"

Ennui merely shrugged.

Weft sighed. "All right, robot. I will accept you as my companion, for now. But I know you're not dad."

"Merely his semblance," the robot agreed.

And what a semblance! He was so perfectly like Havoc that she had to keep reminding herself that he wasn't. But also there was a nagging curiosity she was trying to suppress: what would it be like to have an affair with Havoc's perfect likeness? The robot wasn't even alive, yet it was wickedly tempting.

"This way," she said, and took hold of his arm. It was warm and firm, just like living flesh.

She conjured them both to Planet Counter Charm. Idyll was there in her glade, in her solid human form, having of course anticipated them. "Greeting, Weft." She glanced at the robot. "And what should I call the machine?"

"That is something we need to decide. Do we give him a different name?"

"When he may be useful as a Havoc emulation," Idyll said. "It may be best, then, to call him Havoc, in case anyone else should overhear."

"And we do know the difference," Weft agreed. "I must get to know him, and determine whether he is here to distract me from some other necessary chore."

Idyll nodded. "The machines aren't necessarily subtle, but we don't properly understand their motives."

"I thought you might provide some settings where we could interact."

"Agreement." Then Idyll faded, and so did the glade. They were replaced by a replica of the king's master bedroom. Havoc was wearing a royal bathrobe, and Weft was in baby doll pajamas.

"Expletive!" Weft swore. "This isn't what I meant."

"The hell it wasn't," Havoc said, stepping forcefully into his role. "You've been hot for me all your life, and in the past seven years I've been hot for you. We both know it."

She stared at him. "Dismay! We know nothing of the kind." But she was lying.

"And we know that with me you can actually do it."

Because he wasn't really Havoc. "This is a mockery."

"No more so than his affair with a female robot."

"I'm not going to argue cases with you! You're a demonic machine."

"I am as close to Havoc as a machine can be. I share his feelings. That is why I have a passion for you."

She was horrified. The truth was she had always had a fancy for Havoc, and never been shy about showing it.

But she had always known it was an ambition impossible to realize. That had, perversely, given her freedom to express herself. But to possess Havoc for real—that was revolting. He was her father. For this contraption to suggest that Havoc wanted to possess her sexually was similarly repugnant.

Yet to have a fake Havoc possess her—that was also abhorrent. If she was ever to do it, she wanted reality.

She wouldn't let an impostor touch her. So this scenario was damned either way. "Disgust! I will not play this game."

Weft. It was Idyll. I have a communication from Gale. Take him to the Flower Planet for a modification.

Question?

Empathy circuit.

But he has to be in orgasm for that!

Put him into it.

"Negation!" she exclaimed aloud.

"Question?" the robot asked.

There was one difference: the robot wasn't telepathic. "They want me to take you to the Flower Planet for a modification. To give you an empathy circuit."

"Welcome! Then I can feel your feelings, as Shee feels the real Havoc's."

Feeling out of sorts, she decided. "I will take you. But there's a caveat."

"Question?"

"You have to be in continuous orgasm to accomplish it."

"With you? I am prepared to make this sacrifice."

"Well I'm not! If you're not my father, you're a machine. I can do better than that."

"Take me there."

I can't go there, she thought to Idyll. I have no ikon there.

Gale arranged it. There are copies of all the ikons there.

Now she became aware of it. She was stuck for this nightmare. "Agreement."

She grasped his arm and conjured him to the Flower planet. They stood in a flowery field.

There were Gale, Monochrome, Shee, and the five new robot bath girls. Plus one plainly awed mortal girl. "Welcome, Weft," Gale said, approaching to address her privately.

"Confusion!"

"It's a prank we're playing on Havoc," Gale said. "To have all of us with him at once. The Glamors know this isn't Havoc; the others don't. First we'll see to the empathy implant, then we'll set up to bring Havoc in."

"I'm not touching dad for real! Or for pretense."

"We know, dear. But the robot is another matter. You can emulate Symbol, who would really have liked to be here."

Weft did not want to be the spoilsport. "Let's get that implant. But I'm not ready to—to put him into orgasm."

"We'll do it, Weft. You can be last, and skip it if you prefer."

"Acquiescence," Weft agreed uncomfortably. This might be a joke, but there were aspects that seemed to go beyond humor. Mom was facilitating Weft's apparent sex with dad? What was the text beneath that palimpsest?

She assumed the likeness of Symbol. She established a mental connection with Havoc's former mistress so that she would know about the way her form was being borrowed, and sent her a continuing mental picture. Symbol was glad to participate, even in this remote fashion. She missed her glory days as Havoc's mistress, and not merely for the sex.

They put the robot on a bed in the field, lying supine, naked. Then Gale stripped and bestrode him, kissing him, touching him, causing his member to swell immediately, and took him in. In moments she had him in orgasm. Again Weft was struck by his perfect resemblance to Havoc. That was no coincidence, yet it kept surprising her. It looked just as if her parents were having ordinary sex. As they were, in a manner.

The little Bee-chines swarmed over the robot's head and neck, opening panels Weft hadn't known existed.

They delved into the skull, carrying special little tools. It looked as if they were consuming him, like ants on a carcass.

All this was coming close to freaking Weft out. Her parents had never before done sex openly, though there had been many times the children had sneaked into their bedroom and watched them at it, and of course they had known that was happening. Glamors couldn't be stopped. But this time they had a wider audience, and dad was being invaded by insects. That was enough to make it seem surrealistic.

Me too, Symbol thought. Sex with Havoc is one thing, but while bugs infest him is another.

But the worst of it was that it was her mother and a robot. How could Gale just do it, with no apparent qualm?

Havoc had a robot mistress, true, but he would have sex with anything that looked suitably female. He was a male Glamor. Gale had better taste. She had sex with a man only for a reason. What was her reason here? It wasn't for her own pleasure; she was faking her own orgasm, as Weft could tell from her mind.

Gale kept him in orgasm five minutes. Then she jumped off, literally, and Monochrome jumped on, so that hardly a thrust was missed. His orgasm continued. Monochrome was, if anything, better at it; she seemed to be achieving orgasm for herself. She was sitting up on him, her breasts bouncing as she lifted and dropped in rapid reverse thrusting.

Weft thought of Fifth: he would be so turned on by the sight that his member would threaten to spout untouched. In fact, Weft herself was highly turned on. She felt guilty for that, but how could she not react to the sight of Havoc having thorough sex?

Ditto, Symbol thought. I'm so turned on I'm dripping.

The Bee-chines continued, busily doing what they did.

After five minutes, Monochrome got off and Shee got on. So now it was robot on robot, and the orgasm continued uninterrupted. The odd thing here was that Shee connected facing away from him, first sitting, then lying, her back on his chest. Yet she kept his penis in and working. She reached down to catch his hands and put them on her breasts, which rose and fell with her fast breathing. So she didn't really need to breathe; she did it for verisimilitude. It was the sexiest show yet. She was definitely doing it, but why this way?

Because this is not the real Havoc, Gale's thought came. She is true to him. This signals her participation as a job rather than from any delusion that he is her love.

Facing away, symbolically as well as physically. Could Weft herself do that? It was worth considering.

Weird, Symbol thought. I wish it was me there.

The Bee-chines continued, and a few of them climbed also on Shee. They did not enter her head; they merely sat on it, perhaps communicating. They knew her from before.

Then the Bees got off Shee and exited the Havoc robot, closing up the panels and departing.

Shee sat up, squeezed one more pulse from the member in her, then lifted off. The deed was done.

The robot sat up. "May I invoke it now?" he asked.

"Warning," Shee said. "Once you do, you will not want to turn it off."

He shrugged. "Pointless to have it, if I don't try it."

"Negation," Weft murmured. She didn't want him to try this in public.

His expression changed. "But I think not yet."

"Echo," Shee said. "Caution is best. I never turned mine off."

"Time for the flower bath," Gale said briskly. "We will give you plenty of feeling to mirror." She led him to a giant closed flower, and parted the petals to take him inside. She beckoned to the others.

Soon they all crowded in. The flower was like a living chamber, with powder everywhere. The moment it touched their skins, they all were suffused with lust.

"The others first," Gale said. Immediately the bath girls surrounded him, kissing, stroking, and taking him into them while standing, a few thrusts for each in turn. Then the mundane girl, whose name was Opaline, still plainly awed. Then Gale again, and Monochrome, and Shee.

I'm getting an orgasm without touching anything, Symbol thought.

Suddenly it was Weft's turn. She was so turned on by the sight and the powder that she practically launched herself at him.

And realized through his aura that this was the real Havoc. Somewhere along the way they had exchanged him for the robot, maybe as they entered the flower chamber. That was why the first three had done it again: it was a new man, and of course none of them could pass up the real Havoc. So Havoc really had been with nine ardent women all at once. And Weft was the tenth.

She couldn't. She did something she had never done before. She exchanged places with the real Symbol. Suddenly she was at Symbol's home, with her children. In the process she had reverted to her own form.

"Your mother was called away for a little while," she said as the children gazed at her, surprised. "I'm your babysitter."

They adjusted rapidly. Soon Weft was playing with them as if this had been planned. But her mind was on the flower bath. If only she had had the guts to stay with it!

Then she picked up Symbol's mind. Symbol wasn't telepathic, but had left her mind open for Weft's continuing contact. I'm done here. Glorious!

Weft switched them back. She was standing outside the flower chamber, and only Havoc remained. No, it was the robot. "Confusion," he said. "I was to meet Weft."

And she still emulated Symbol. "Affirmation," she said, reverting to her natural appearance.

"I was about to enter the flower, when I found myself at the palace. Ennui was there. She told me to wait. I did. Now I am here, and don't know what happened."

Weft put her hand on his arm and conjured them both to Counter Charm, back in the bedroom scene. "We have to talk," she said.

"Agreement. I hope you will explain."

"Confirmation."

"Request: since I am programmed to desire you, but it seems we are not to have sex at this time, please diminish your provocation."

"Done." She changed to a relatively severe outfit that eliminated any suggestion of sexual allure. Her hair was bound starkly back, she was in a business suit, and her heavy skirt reached her ankles. "The ladies were playing a trick on Havoc. They switched him for you, after your business was done, and he had to have sex with all of them together.

That was why you had to be away from the scene."

"Surprise! Did you participate?"

"Negation. I switched with Symbol, his former mistress, then returned when that was done. Just after they switched you back."

"Realization: that was why you looked like Symbol."

"Affirmation. Now their game is over, and we are back with each other."

"I am glad to be with you," he said.

"But since you emulate Havoc, don't you desire Gale?"

"I do, and Monochrome, and Shee, and the bath girls. The sex those three gave me was marvelous. But I also desire you. In fact I desire you more than I do any of them. It is my guilty passion."

So the machines assumed that Havoc had such a passion for her, and were playing on it. But why emulate him in that? What the robot did would not directly affect the real Havoc. So she asked him: "Why did the machines send you to me?"

"Candor?"

"Affirmation."

"There is something Havoc will do. A search he will lead. But he is in danger of being distracted.

The machines want him to complete that search."

"Details: what kind of search?"

"Long ago there was a living species we now know only as the Makers. They made the first robots, then departed. The machines need to find them, but they are difficult to locate. The far future paths indicate that the best prospect for locating the Makers is the human Glamors. If they find the Makers, then so will the machines."

The machines certainly were current! Only very recently had the Glamors learned about the Makers. "Why should we tell the machines, if we found the Makers? The machines want to destroy them."

"I am not informed. But the machines will know."

"How will they know?"

"They have a spy in your camp."

"They have hundreds of spies! All the fifths." She felt a twinge as she said the word, thinking of Fifth, the first man she had desired and lost. Apart from Havoc.

"The fifths are merely data gatherers. Shee's information came from them, and mine. It is my understanding that there is a more potent spy, one you do not suspect. That one will report when you locate the Makers."

"How can there be a spy we can't identify?"

"Conjecture: it was planted long ago, before you opened relations with the machines. Beyond the range of your near future paths seeing."

"The machines can't find the Makers, so hope to have us find them, so they can destroy them and be safe from the one power in the galaxy they fear? We will not cooperate."

"I am not informed," the robot repeated. "But it is the answer to your question. You are likely to distract Havoc from that search, so I am sent to prevent you from distracting him."

"By emulating dad and letting me seduce you?"

"Affirmation."

"Obscenity!"

"Regret."

"I'm not going to seduce my father!"

"The machines believe otherwise."

"And I'm not going to seduce you in his likeness."

"Your mother believes otherwise."

"What do you know of her private opinion?"

"She told me."

"When?"

"When she had sex with me."

"That was to keep you in orgasm for the installation of the empathy program."

"Affirmation. I have not invoked it. Should I?"

"Negation. Not yet. What did mom say to you?"

"She said there is no other man like Havoc. That you need to come to terms with that. Leave him on his pedestal, and settle for some other worthy man who doesn't belong to someone else. They do exist."

"Unmarried mortal striplings of seventeen. Or other male Glamors. I have tried both, and had some pretty hot times, but all of them lack something that is Havoc. I know there is no other man like him. That's why I want him." She froze. "Oops! You made me confess it."

"It is no secret, even to the machines."

Weft was flustered and angry "I should find some other man. Easy for mom to say; she's got dad."

"She does, but she could lose him. She is concerned."

"To whom? Monochrome is satisfied to be his perpetual mistress. So is Shee; she's designed for that. Who else could possibly win him?"

"You."

Weft stared at him. "Mom told you this?"

"Affirmation. To relay to you."

"My flirtation with dad: it's just a game to him."

"As it is to you?"

Ouch! Weft had made it seem like a game, but underneath she truly desired Havoc. Could the same be true of Havoc? Knowing his passion for attractive young women, she knew it was possible. "I wouldn't do it."

"Not by choice. But your nature may make it happen."

"Outrage!"

"Monochrome and Shee talked to me also. They believe that if you took Havoc, they would be excluded. You would not tolerate any mistresses."

"I wouldn't," she agreed, realizing. "I would reserve him all for me, and satisfy him constantly"

"They are not easy with that."

She laughed, though it really wasn't funny. "I don't want to replace them. I just—need a man.

Like Havoc, only not him."

"They suggest that there is one such, if you give him a chance."

"Who?" she demanded.

"Me."

She laughed again, not at all amused. "I might as well kiss his picture, deluding myself."

"I wish you would kiss me instead."

"When Void swallows Vivid!"

He was silent. She felt guilty, realizing that she had hurt his feelings. He was a machine, but he did have feelings, and he loved her. Programmed love, but nevertheless there. Yet her anger at the situation remained.

After a moment she tackled it. "Apology."

"Needless. I know my place."

"Anyway, what would others think, if I took up with a robot who looks like dad? They'd laugh me off the planet."

"My appearance can be modified."

"The idea remains ludicrous. Don't you see that?"

"Negation."

She thought of something. "Shee—she's a robot. Curiosity: What was it like having sex with another robot?"

"All three were parallel. Gale, Monochrome, Shee—all seem supremely worthy. I would not have known one wasn't alive. All were remarkably competent in sexual expertise. All were sympathetic to my situation."

"Nothing, well, mechanical about Shee?"

"Negation. She seemed to truly understand me." He made wry face. "As I suppose she should."

That reminded her. "That empathy circuit. Invoke it. Then maybe you'll see."

"Invoking," he agreed. Then "Wonder!"

"What happened?"

"It is like another dimension of awareness. I have been selfish. Now I see that I must respect the feelings of others."

"Now do you see my point?"

"Affirmation! Why should you make yourself a laughing stock keeping company with a machine emulating your father? Apology for suggesting it."

"So are you ready to return to the machines?"

"Negation. They are not interested in failures. I will simply report to a recycling center and turn off my brain."

"Suicide?"

"Equivalency."

"Do it."

"Take me there, so I will not inflict my defunct body on you. I am unable to conjure myself the way a real Glamor can."

"You really will do it?"

"Affirmation. It is your preference."

"The real Havoc would tell me to go soak my pretty little head."

"I am in no way his equal."

"So you just honor any whim I demand of you?"

"Necessary."

"Why?"

"I love you."

"As you were crafted."

"I can't go against my program."

She considered. "Let's put that in abeyance, for now. You have come to understand my position. I haven't tried to understand yours. What would you do, if the decision were yours?"

"I would embrace you, kiss you, fondle you, speak love to you, and have glorious sex with you. Then I would get serious about our relationship. Sex is only a fraction of it. I would try to please you in any manner feasible, because that is what would best please me."

She spoke without thinking. "Do it."

He came to her and took her in his arms. His body felt exactly like Havoc's. He kissed her mouth. She kissed back. He kissed exactly the way she was sure Havoc would. He stroked her breasts, then kissed them too. She arched her back, thrusting them into his face.

"I love you!" he exclaimed. "You are my ultimate woman!"

She found herself enjoying this playlet. "What, even compared to Gale, Monochrome, and Shee?"

"Affirmation!"

"And the bath girls?"

He hesitated, just the way Havoc would have. "Well—"

She caught his head and mashed his face back into her bosom. "Wrong answer."

"Wrong answer," he agreed, speaking around her left nipple. "You're far more luscious than they."

She yanked his head up. "Sincerity?"

"Sincerity. Even considering the matter objectively, I know it to be true."

Her decision solidified. "Stop stalling. Get into me. Don't wait on me; indulge your own passion. That is a directive."

"But I must please you first," he protested.

"This is what pleases me."

He slid up, his member rigid. He thrust it into her, and spouted immediately. "Oh, Weft, Weft!" he gasped.

"You are my ultimate!"

She realized that this was a game she could live with. She kissed him savagely as she wrapped her legs about his torso. "I think maybe you'll do."

"For a master?" It was the equivalent to a mistress.

"For a boyfriend, for now. But we'll have to change your appearance and get you another name. I don't want you to be Havoc. I want you to be yourself."

He lifted his head and gazed at her. "I feared that if I let loose my passion, you would throw me away. I thought this was my only chance."

"Negation. You have become, if you will pardon the term, more human. You are an individual, and you do have qualities I like."

"I am utterly yours."

"Finish your orgasm and let me up."

He laughed. "It's done. But not my passion for you." He withdrew and got up.

She cleaned him off, and herself. He had actually had a small emission, surely sterile substance. Then she set to work on his appearance, changing his hair style and the angle of his eyebrows, making him look less like Havoc. She conjured different clothing, of a type Havoc never wore: Earthly button shirt and slacks, with somewhat clunky shoes.

The change was significant if not dramatic; now he was a handsome husky man, but slightly archaic. "The name. We need to name you."

"Acquiescence."

"You'll need a job, a role, to justify your presence. You'll be my boyfriend, yes, but apart from that. What can you do?"

He brightened. "I am no Glamor. I can carry ikons."

"Done! You can carry mine. And there is the name: we'll call you Ikon."

"Ikon," he repeated. "I like it."

"Now what else can we do together? Even the ikon carriers have other roles, because regular folk don't know about ikons and we prefer that they not find out. We need a public pretext."

"Inadequacy," Ikon said. "I was crafted to emulate Havoc, and can do the ordinary things he does, but this puts me in another role."

She nodded. "You can sing and play a musical instrument. Well."

"Affirmation." He passed a hand along his belly under the shirt, and removed the mock dragon scale. In a moment it turned blue, perfectly resembling the one Havoc had.

Weft shook her head. "That's won't do. I want you to be a different man. We'll have to find you another instrument."

"This can be another," he said. "It has several forms."

"Demonstrate."

He touched key spots, and the scale broke apart into two metallic rods.

They changed color, becoming red and green. "The batons."

"Neat. But are they musical?"

"Affirmation." He knocked them together, and they vibrated, making two notes in harmony.

"Delight! But you can't make music with only two notes. Are they adjustable?"

"They are versatile. They can make brief notes, depending on where struck." He knocked them together several times, making a spot melody. "Or sustained." He produced continuing notes, two melodies in counterpoint.

"Joy!" she exclaimed, thrilled. "This is a full-fledged instrument, parallel to my dulcimer."

"Affirmation. Havoc has musical talent, as do you."

Her dulcimer appeared. "Let's try 'John Riley' You sing the male stanzas; I'll sing the female ones. Start."

She was still testing him. He was ready. He sang, playing his own accompaniment with the batons. His singing voice was marvelous, so much like Havoc's, by no coincidence.

Now Weft sang, accompanying herself with the hammer dulcimer. She knew she was good, and when she sang, she had to be at her best. It was her nature.

It was his turn again.

These were references to Earth sites of a thousand years ago, maintained pristine in the song. The folk of Charm loved the archaic references, even if they didn't want to be governed by Earth.

It was Weft's turn.

The next stanza was also hers, but Weft broke off. "This will do. We could be a small entertainment troupe. It is certainly cause to be together."

"Gratification."

She set aside her dulcimer. "And of course everyone will know we're touring no fault. Come here, you handsome minstrel." She patted the bed.

He came to her, of course, and they made delightful love. She had not yet made her decision, but she knew she was well on the way to it. If Havoc could love a robot mistress, she well might love a robot master.

"Now all we need is a minstrel slot," she concluded as they cleaned up. "These things have to be scheduled. That will take time."

"Interjection," Idyll's voice came, reminding them they there were not really in a private bedroom. "Yesterday a minstrel took sick, and they must cancel the remainder of his tour; his assistant can't handle it alone. Ennui is trying to arrange a replacement, but it's far in the hinterland and there's no time."

"We'll take it," Weft said. "Details?"

"It is in a Red Chroma zone. It was a Red minstrel."

"Question," Ikon said. "Red is the Chroma of healing and demons. How could a native have gotten sick there?"

"Euphemism," Idyll explained. "He ran afoul of what was not after all a no fault liaison, and her husband put a curse on him. It will take time for his private region to mend."

"Coordinates," Weft said. "And his itinerary."

Idyll gave them. Weft clothed the two of them in minstrel garb, had Ikon pick up her ikon, and conjured them to the Red Chroma village. Everything was shades of red, of course; the two of them were a striking contrast. Soon she was addressing the Village Elder.

"I know you were hoping for Threadbare Minstrel and his winsome helper," she said. "But he is indisposed and unable to perform at the moment. I am Weft, the king's daughter, and this is my companion Ikon. We will attempt to substitute, if you are amenable."

The Elder gazed at her. He knew that this was considerably more than a weak substitution; Weft was known across the planet. "Amenable," he said immediately.

"Show us to the guest house. We will perform this evening."

"Question: are the two of you married?"

"Negation. We travel no fault."

"Then you must not share a dwelling here. We are a moral village."

"But we travel to several villages," Ikon protested.

"What you do elsewhere is not our concern," the Elder said firmly. "While you remain in Chaste Village, you will honor our way."

Weft stifled her annoyance. Traveling entertainers honored the customs of the villages that hosted them.

"Ikon will take the guest house. I will share with a family."

"Satisfactory."

Soon she was with the family. She couldn't be alone with Ikon even for an hour, lest her morality be compromised. Actually, considering her state of indecision, that was convenient.

"Greeting, Minstrel Weft," the man said. "I am Weaver, and this is my wife Weave, and our child Null."

Something was wrong. Weft explored the situation rapidly with her mind while making small talk. "Ah, you weave. My name is coincidence, intended to be temporary, but it stuck. My brother is Warp."

"Warp and Weft," Weave agreed, smiling. "It fits."

"We suspect the Elder knew that," Weaver said. "But he could not resist putting you with us. Regardless, you are welcome."

Then Weft got it: the child, a four year old girl, was magically disabled. Her color was correct, solid red, but she couldn't do magic. That made her an outcast, the shame of the family, and others had named her Null. That was unkind.

But she remembered something else. Sometimes there were compensating qualities. Her clairvoyance suggested something musical. "Indulgence," she murmured to the parents, and kneeled down before Null. "Greeting, Null."

The little girl was surprised. She glanced at her mother questioningly. Weave nodded, allowing the acquaintance. "Ak-nowledged," she said.

"Do you like music?" For new near future paths were coming into sight.

"Af—af—yes," the girl agreed shyly.

Weft produced her hammer dulcimer. She donned the finger hammers on one hand and played a few notes. "Can you do this?" She gave the remaining hammers to Null and set the dulcimer before her, correctly oriented.

Null got the hammers on, though they were large for her small fingers, then addressed the dulcimer. It was obviously a new instrument to her, a thing of novelty. She lifted her hand and moved her fingers. She struck the same four notes, perfectly.

Weaver and Weave stared, astonished.

Weft wasn't, because she had seen this in one of the paths. The child was a savant, her ability concentrated in music rather than magic. Such things occurred, on rare occasion.

"Very good, Null," Weft said. "Now let's try a large tune." She took back the dulcimer, donned all ten finger hammers, and played and sang the song "Caterpillar." Once.

Then she returned the dulcimer to the child, and put all the finger hammers on her, tightening them so they would not fall off. "Your turn, Null."

The child smiled. She sang and played the song perfectly. Her voice was not refined, but her fingers fairly flew, and she never missed a note.

It wasn't just the way she did it, it was her evident confidence and joy of performance. This was completely natural to her.

Weft addressed the parents, who remained dumbfounded. "Your child is not retarded. She is merely oriented on music, with a natural talent that eclipses that of any normal person. Who do you know, of any age, who could have done this perfectly the first time?"

"None," Weave breathed.

"You?" Weaver asked.

Weft laughed. "Even I had to learn, though it did come readily. Music is only one of my interests. But it is Null's whole life. All she needs is your support and encouragement."

"She will have it," Weaver said firmly.

"I will find her a dulcimer, though she can probably play any instrument she sees and hears. She will be a minstrel, perhaps traveling in other Chroma where her magic will not be an issue. For now, she will borrow mine."

They just nodded, stunned.

It was time for the show. "We will show the villagers," Weft said, taking Null's hand. "I think they will want to rename her."

She led the child outside, and to the village square, where the others were assembling. The children were seated close, and the adults in a larger formation outside them, in the normal manner. It was a formidable red array. Ikon was there, waiting to join her.

"Favor," she murmured to him. "I need you to be a caterpillar. Crawl across the stage. I will clothe you in suitable illusion."

He didn't hesitate. "Amenable."

"On my signal."

Weft stepped the middle of the square, leading Null. "Greeting, Villagers of Chaste," she said.

"Greeting, Minstrel!" the children chorused back.

"I am Weft, the King's daughter. This is Ikon, my assistant. We will sing for you today." She paused. "But first one of your own will do a song. You have known her as Null."

She set Null on the ground, and put the hammers on her fingers while the villagers watched, uncertain what to expect. They knew Null only as a magic-disabled child, an embarrassment to her family.

Weft set the dulcimer before her. "Caterpillar," she said.

Immediately the child sang and played, her voice better than before, remembering it perfectly.

Her fingers touched every note without hesitation or error.

Jaws dropped.

Weft nudged Ikon. He dropped to the ground and wriggled in front of the child. Weft projected illusion to make him resemble a huge red caterpillar. The children exclaimed with delight.

As Null finished, Ikon crawled up to her. She saw him, and lifted a hand to pat him on the head.

The entire village broke into applause.

The illusion faded, and Ikon was revealed. He stood and dusted himself off, to general laughter.

He bowed, and put fingers up beside his head, like caterpillar feelers.

Weft liked that. He had joined the game, and done it well. This was a good quality for a minstrel.

Weft took back her instrument and hammers and gave them to Ikon to hold. Then she picked Null up. "I think this little girl is not properly named," she said. "Do you have a better one for her?"

"Caterpillar!" a child cried.

Weft had been looking for something related to music. But immediately all the other children chorused. "Caterpillar!"

Well, it was not intended negatively. It would be her theme song. The child was clearly pleased with it.

Weft carried her back to her parents, who stood at the edge of the square. "I return Caterpillar to you," she said gravely as Weave took her.

"Appreciation!" Weave breathed, tears flowing down her face. They went on to sing 'John Riley,' with Ikon playing his musical sticks, impressing the villagers. She sang her lines:

Then Ikon sang again:

He did so, making them politely mannered, as was appropriate for a moral audience. Still, she was a very pretty woman and he a handsome man; there was a murmur of appreciation from the girls of Chaste. They might be moral, but they were also romantic.

And her turn for the final stanza:

Hand in hand, they walked off the stage to solid applause. Their show wasn't over, of course, just the little song and act. But Weft realized that her course had clarified: she was indeed satisfied to go with Ikon, if not to Pennsylvany, then to association, bed, and perhaps even love. He was a robot, sent by the enemy, true. He was also her kind of man.