If I Pay Thee Not in Gold

by Piers Anthony

  Then it was the turn of the rest. Walking stiffly in their swathings, each of them picked a tentacle beast and moved carefully into its groping embrace. The only exceptions were the three or four men who confessed to being too terrified of the tentacle beasts to remain awake. Those, Ware led in as he had the horse. He got them sitting and then entranced. He left them lying on their sides and snoring happily, oblivious to the tentacles waving over their heads. Xylina was sweating, and not from the heat of her wrappings, as she inched her way toward her chosen beast. She was afraid, too-but she felt that she could not confess it and retain the respect of the men. This was, perhaps, the hardest thing she had ever done. Not even facing Faro in the arena had taken this much nerve.

  She paused, just inside the reach of the beast, and waited for it to kill her. But the tentacles passed over her, touching her with surprising gentleness, and finally leaving her alone. She remained where she was for a moment, gathering her nerve, but every heartbeat that passed with the beast leaving her in peace gave her a little more of her courage back. At length she made her way as far in as she could, finally finding a place where the tentacles seemed to meet. She lowered herself stiffly down on the ground beside the base of the beast, with her legs stuck out in front of her, like a doll. She was weary beyond words, and she knew that the men must be just as exhausted. Now they must wait and see if their guess was correct-that the spiders would avoid these beasts, and so leave the party unmolested.

  She found that she could see through thin sections of the fabric. She maneuvered to get the best view.

  The sunset was glorious, a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges, with swaths of purple near the zenith. The light, fresh breeze that sprang up as it vanished cooled her under all her coverings. She wondered when the first of the spiders would appear. Perversely, she did not want to wait. She would rather know if they were going to be safe, and know it immediately.

  Movement at her side made her turn, expecting an attack of some other animal. But it was nothing of the kind.

  One of the little golden-furred lemurs approached her cautiously, pushing aside the tentacles with its furred palms. She sensed that if she made any kind of sudden movement, she would frighten it, so she remained completely quiet. It seemed fascinated by her; its huge green eyes were fixed on hers, and the careful grace with which it moved rather surprised her. She had not expected the creatures to be so lithe.

  It sidled up to her, and reached out to touch her wrappings, then snatched its hand back quickly, all the while watching her face. When she did not move, and only reacted by making soothing and encouraging nonsense sounds, it ventured another touch. Finally it came to squat beside her, examining her wrappings minutely, but taking extraordinary care not to dislodge them. She was impressed by its intelligence, for obviously it had made the connection between the wrappings and the fact that the tentacles had not harmed her.

  “Yes,” she told it softly. “Yes, that’s right, little creature. I want only to share your home for the night, if you do not mind. I do not want to hurt you, or frighten you. If you will let me stay, I will do nothing to make you unhappy.”

  The lemur seemed encouraged by this, and settled down at her side, blinking sleepily as the stars came out. After a few moments, she watched it tuck its head down between its knees, and wrap its long arms around its ankles-then the faint sound of snoring told her that it had, without a doubt, gone to sleep, curled in a cat-like ball of fur.

  She continued to watch for the spiders, but the confidence the lemur had shown gave her a great deal more heart. She could not imagine the shy and delicate creature dozing off like that, unless it knew it was completely safe.

  The mystery of the floating lights was solved, at least; once the sun set, the lights began to appear, but soon descended to within a few cubits of the ground. The owners of the lights were, indeed, a nocturnal cousin of the floating beasts of the day. These were, perhaps, more fantastic in form; they had huge mouths, many of them, or no mouths at all, and long, trailing tendrils beneath them. Some did not even seem to have a head, for they had no mouths or eyes. In fact they looked like a more tenuous version of the tentacle-beasts, with a glowing spot in the very center of them.

  Finally, after watching until her eyes ached, she saw the first of the spiders appear, clambering out to hunt beneath the light of the full moon.

  It climbed out of the heart of one of the spinach-like plants-and she shuddered as she realized just how close they had been to the horrid monsters all along. And yet- there had been none of the spiders in the heart of the spinach-forest. Did they live only here? Or did competition within the forest preclude their reaching this fantastic size? There was no way of knowing, really. She was just grateful that none of her party had ever disturbed one of the plants during the day.

  The spider stalked directly to one of the tentacle-beasts, the one, she thought, that held Faro, and stood just outside of the reach of the tentacles, its mandibles clacking together angrily. It seemed to know that he was there, and it wanted him. But it would not brave the tentacles to get him. At that, her heart rose. She had been right! The spiders were afraid of the tentacle-beasts.

  It was joined by another-then more-but they would not venture near enough to the tentacle-beasts to come within reach of the deadly caresses. For now, they seemed to be concentrating on Faro’s beast. It occurred to her that perhaps he was moving about, taunting and testing them, taking the danger on himself to prove whether the tentacle-beasts were the safe harbor they hoped.

  “Fah! You’d just love to eat me, wouldn’t you, ugly!” Faro’s voice said cheerfully from somewhere near the center of the beast. “Well, why don’t you come in and get me? I’ve even got a couple of friends here for your dessert!” He made a rude noise, and the spiders danced in rage.

  “Faro?” she called, and the spiders swung their attention away, looking for the source of her voice. “Are you doing all right? Don’t tease them too much! If you get them too angry, they might rush you!”

  “I’m right and tight, little mistress!” he called back, with a laugh. “I don’t think you need to worry; I don’t think there’s anything that could tempt the ugly things into coming within reach of these beasts-you should see the tentacles on this side, waving as if there’s a high wind. I think the beasts can sense when there’s a spider around, and they are hungry for spider!”

  Well,that was certainly comforting! She relaxed a bit more.

  “There’s a couple of those lemur creatures in here with me,” Faro continued. “Cute little things, and they keep trying to offer me fruit or something.”

  “Don’t take it, Faro,” Ware said, from somewhere off to Xylina’s right. “You don’t know what it is. What is fine for them might poison you; we know nothing about this land and what is in it.”

  “I’d figured that,” Faro replied. “I just take it for a minute, then give it back, and that makes them happy.” He raised his voice. “Men! I think we’ve proved we dare to sleep tonight! How about a roll-call before we do?”

  One by one the men called out their names, all but the ones already sleeping. All of them were fine, and more than Faro and Xylina seemed to be sharing their accommodations with lemurs. They seemed to be charmed by the golden-furred animals, who had not molested them or interfered with them in any way. Now Xylina was glad that she had discouraged killing or capturing the gentle beasts.

  She turned her attention to the weird wilderness about them, and was gladder than ever that they had found this strange sort of shelter. More creatures than just the spiders were appearing to prowl the night under the full moon. There were long things with too many legs to count, covered in jointed armor that shone under the moonlight. There were some things like giant scorpions the size of ponies in faceted shells that glittered like gemstones. Beetles even bigger than the spiders scuttled across the sand like huge moving hills. But all of these alarming monsters avoided the proximity of the tentacle-beasts, and at last even the spiders gave up
waiting for the humans to emerge.

  The floating animals descended again, and now she saw the reason for the trailing tentacles and huge mouths. Many a battle took place under the moon, as the tentacles snared a giant insect and the floating creature carried its prey up into the sky. Many a beetle was attracted to the light on the nose of a beast, only to be snatched by the huge, toothy mouth. Even the spiders were not immune; Xylina silently cheered on the floating animals as they seized unwary or too-slow spiders and carried them off.

  When the last of the arachnids had prowled away, their claw-tips making that dragging sound she had noticed last night, she looked over at her lemur-companion. It was still sound asleep, and her eyelids were getting so heavy she thought that she might as well follow its example.

  “Good night, little one,” she said, reaching out to stroke its fur as it had stroked her wrappings. Then, curling up in a ball in the sand, and covering her eyes to protect them from groping tentacles, she let her exhaustion overcome her.

  She woke at dawn, as the huge insects of the night before were retreating into their hiding places. And this was when she saw how the lemurs earned their safe homes.

  Her companion of the night was already awake, and looking alertly about. It was watching the insects, measuringly, although she could not for a moment imagine why.

  Then, after a moment, a much smaller spider came ambling by; a spider just a little larger than her mule in the body, although with the legs added it seemed much bigger. The lemur suddenly darted out of cover, before she could do more than cry out in alarm. Why was it doing this? It had no weapons-the spider could move incredibly quickly, as she had learned only too well yesterday. The poor lemur would be devoured before her very eyes!

  The spider spotted the potential prey immediately; mandibles clicking in excitement, it turned and ran straight for the lemur. The golden-furred beast paused a moment while Xylina caught her breath; then, at the last possible instant, turned and ran for the safety of the tentacle-beast.

  It stayed just barely out of reach of the spider, which redoubled its efforts to catch this tantalizing prey, scuttling across the sand as fast as it could run. And after a few moments, Xylina realized that the lemur wasdeliberatelylagging, to stay out of reach, but onlyjust out of reach, of the spider.

  The lemur ran straight back to the shelter of its home. The spider, so intent on the prey that was soverynear, ignored its danger until it was too late.

  The lemur made a strange, shrilling sound-and the tentacle beast was galvanized.

  Xylina ducked as the tentacles lashed out over her head like so many whips. They extended farther than she had guessed, and struck the spider in hundreds of places. The armor protected it everywhere but its eyes and die vulnerable joints, but with so many tentacles lashing out at it, there was no way it could avoid being struck in those places, again and again.

  The lemur cowered within the shelter of the beast; the tentacles receded, quieted, and went back to their normal aimless waving. On the sand outside, the spider writhed in its death-throes, mandibles clashing, mouth drooling, legs waving in the air uncontrollably. The tentacle-beast had struck with good effect.

  Finally the spider made its last shudder, and lay still.

  The lemur got up, cautiously, and sidled up to the dead spider. It tossed a pebble or two at it-perhaps to see if it was really dead-but when it failed to react, the lemur rose and loped boldly over to it.

  Then, while Xylina watched in astonishment, the lemur seized one leg and began tugging the dead spider towards its chosen beast.

  But the spider was too heavy for the lemur. It gave up after a moment, and looked directly at her.

  It couldn’t want her to help-could it?

  Evidently that was exactly what the lemur wanted, for when she did not move, it came over to her, reached down for her hand, and tugged at her, impatiently.

  Well-why not? The lemur had accepted her as a friend with surprising readiness, perhaps on the assumption that she was merely another species of tentacle-beast residents. All of them would have this in common, earning their keep. It behooved her to play the expected role.

  She obediently rose and took one leg while the lemur took another. It was not easy, moving in the stiff bundle of wrappings, but it could be done. And after all, she had shared the shelter; it only seemed right that she pay for that shelter. Together, she and the lemur brought the spider within tentacle-touching distance.

  It took a moment for one of the aimlessly groping tentacles to connect with the dead spider, but the moment the beast had done so, every tentacle on that side of the beast lashed out, seized on the spider and began dragging it in towards the center of the beast. At that point, the lemur let go, and so did Xylina. The tentacle-beast quickly conveyed the dead spider to its hidden mouth.

  Content now, the lemur turned its back on Xylina and retreated into the waving arms on the other side of the beast, and was soon lost to sight.

  And she, in her turn, moved out of the reach of the beast to gather her men together. It had been a surprisingly good night.

  They spent four more nights this way, sharing the shelter of the tentacle-beasts with the gentle lemurs. Two or three of the boldest men even imitated the lemurs, luring spiders and other predators into reach of the tentacle beasts. The men could not imitate the lemurs’ shrill warning to their hosts that “dinner was coming,” but they didn’t need to; the lemurs themselves saw what they were doing and galvanized their hosts into the appropriate action. Xylina marveled over their reckless courage; they treated it as a game, as if they could not believe in their own vulnerability. Faro pointed out to her that it was all the younger men, and not the ones with any real experience. “They haven’t yet learned they aren’t immortal,” he said wryly. “No matter what they’ve seen, the fact that they’ve survived so far makes them certain that the fates and luck are with them.”

  The more time Xylina spent with her men, learning all about them and their lives, the less able she was to justify her position as “mistress” over her “slaves.” What had she done to deserve it, after all? She’d had no more training or schooling than they had; in Faro’s case, she’d had less. She was younger than most of them. And what had they done to deservetheir fate? That they were not female and full citizens was only an accident of birth. It was not fair….

  She spent the next long night, alone but for a drowsing beast, thinking about these things before she fell asleep. There was nothing she had done on this quest that any of the men could not have done, save only a bit of conjuration. How could something like that give her the right to life and death over, not only these men, but any man in Mazonite hands? The word of a single citizen could send any man to the arena unless his mistress protested. Men could not hold property, carry weapons without a permit, defend themselves, or contradict the will of a citizen. Except, of course, within the Freedman’s Quarter, and among other men. She could not speak for all men, of course; surely there were lazy slaves, and stupid, and men who needed the firm hand of a mistress to rule them, lest they get themselves into trouble. But the men of this mission deserved better.

  She would free them if she could, she thought, as she looked back over her shoulder at them, marching stolidly into the unknown. But these men were not hers to free.

  They belonged to the Queen, and several of them felt a very powerful sense of loyalty to their royal mistress. So, in a sense, did Xylina. She “belonged” to Adria, at least until the mission had been fulfilled, and her loyalty had been ensured by her own oaths. And by her honor. That above all must drive her forward. She could afford to indulge her doubts only after the mission was fulfilled.

  There seemed no end to this particular realm; no mist-wall appeared on the horizon, and Xylina wondered if they were ever going find their way across this perilous place. But land began to change a little on the third night, the plants and creatures becoming larger and fewer; the third night in this realm, the tentacle-beasts no longer outnumbered t
he party. They had to share the protection of the house-sized creatures, and somehow Xylina wound up paired with the mules, Ware, and his stallion.

  As night fell, she found that she was not in the least sleepy. The inevitable lemurs snored quietly nearby, but the continuing silence between herself and Ware began to feel very strained. Finally she decided to break it.

  “Have you ever seen anything like the creatures here before, Ware?” she asked into the darkness.

  “Both yes and no,” the incubus replied, softly. “Yes, because Ihave seen beasts with these powers, and of this nature, but no, because the creatures I saw were no larger than the palm of your hand at best. And there was nothing magical about them, nor were they as deadly, except to things their own size.”

  She made a noncommittal sound, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation. Ware found one for her.

  “It is very strange, how magic works across the many realms,” he said, as the nocturnal versions of the floating beasts drifted into view. She wondered how the lights were made. It was quite remarkable how often the land-creatures were lured into striking range by those fascinating lights. “I have seen a number of realms, over the years. Including my own, for I am not a native of Mazonia, you know.”

  “No,” she replied. “No, I had no idea-arethere demons who are native to my kingdom?” The idea of a demon calling himself a “native” seemed absurd, but where else would they have come from? Had she ever heard where demons came from? If she had, she could not recall; they had simply been part of Mazonia, to be dealt with, but carefully, for they were dangerous. They were allowed most of the freedoms and privileges of a citizen, in exchange for the oaths they swore to the Queen, and that summed up all she had ever known about them, until crossing wits with Ware.