If I Pay Thee Not in Gold

by Piers Anthony

  The hopperswere convenient, and they seemed easy to catch, but they were very small. It would take a lot of them to make up a meal-and while they seemed easy to catch now, if the group hoped to make a supper of them, it might prove a lot more difficult than it looked to scoop up enough of them. And while they were catching bugs, they would not be making any progress. All things considered, unless they were starting to starve, it would probably take far more time to catch a meal of hoppers than it was worth devoting to catching them.

  She wondered briefly if there were any other resources in this grassland that she had overlooked. She was, after all, a child of the city, and unused to scavenging her own food. There did not appear to be any edible grasses here; no seed-heads, at any rate, and she was relatively certain that if Ware knew some of the plants could be eaten, he would say something. Perhaps they should do some experimenting with boiling the roots of the grasses, or trying the stems of larger plants. On the other hand, she had no idea what was poisonous and what was safe.

  Besides, the time to gather such things would be when they halted for the night.

  Still-Horn’s observation proved to her that this was not a hopeless trek into nowhere. The men were thinking- and more importantly, were standing by her. If they were going to desert her, this would have been the time, because they were no longer amidst the dangerous spiders and tentacles. There was always the possibility that one of these foreign tribes would take them in, and they would be free. But they were still here, still standing by the quest.

  And none of them had made any move to be rid of her- or to suggest that she was not acting as she should. That had always been a fear of hers; she was the one female with authority among the many males, and conjuration alone was not enough against such overwhelming odds. Not when she slept, or when her guard was down. Faro was hers, of course, and Ware, but there could have been dissidents. There might even have been some agents for the Queen among them; it no longer mattered. They were a unit, and they believed in her.

  She nodded at Horn, feeling her spirits rise for the first time since the storm, and turned to the others. “What do you think?” she asked. “Should we stop now and hunt bugs, or go on, and hope we get something larger?”

  “Well,” Tron said slowly, with a hint of a smile beginning on his otherwise stern face, “reckon if a man be hungry enough, he can eat ‘bout anything.” The smile broadened. “Recall eatin’ m’shoes once. Reckon toasted hoppers be better nor that. But I’d rather we waited till a bit Tore sunset afore we tried hoppers or shoes.”

  The rest burst out into relieved laughter, and Xylina joined them. She was right: they were going to stand by her. The quest was still possible to complete. It was going to work. By all the ancestors, it was going to work!

  The fates were with them, and the hunters eventually brought down enough for all. At about sunset, they found another small stream, and there they made a camp. Since before the storm, she had still been the one who conjured materials for tents and fires, things did not look appreciably different, and that in itself made the men feel better.

  They still had Pattée, and that certainly made them feel better. This time, though, she made the tents low, and grass-colored; when the camp was set up, the tents blended somewhat into the landscape. She also made the material thick, so that lights from glowstones would not shine through them. And to compensate for the hardships they were enduring, she took particular pains with their bedding.

  The end result was that the men who were not on watch-duty went to their beds in a reasonably cheerful frame of mind, and that in turn cheered Xylina. When Ware rejoined them, she wished that she could give him some of her own lighter spirits, for although he had found nothing to cause alarm, he was still obviously depressed over his imagined “failure” of last night. He sat with her and Faro in her tent after a dinner of some kind of game-bird-she was secretly relieved they had not needed to resort to hoppers, at least not yet-supposedly to report on what he had found, but in actuality, to sit in unhappy silence.

  Despite what the men thought, he did not actually have to eat human-style food, although he did usually make a polite gesture with conjured food. But tonight he was not even making that much effort.

  Finally Faro, tired of the continued silence, left them to take his own turn on guard-duty. Ware remained sunk in depression, and her heart ached for him; never had he seemed so human as now. As she watched him, waiting for him to speak, he suddenly turned his head so that she was looking straight into his eyes, and she recalled with a shock how warm and firm his body had felt last night, huddled next to her, how gentle and graceful his hands were as they had touched her brow. And at that moment, she became aware that not only was he now a friend, not only was he no longer an alien monster to her, but the stirrings in her body told her that he was the most desirable male she had ever known.

  And that thought did not bring with it the feeling of appalled repulsion that she had expected. In fact, it only made her body ache more in a way that had nothing to do with pity. It occurred to her that he might have entranced her into this very thought-and she dismissed the notion immediately. It was not his way. He was as honorable and honor-bound as she, and his desire for her had been hedged around with some very specific promises. He wanted her of her own free will-and being entranced would mean that her will was not free.

  So what had suddenly made her realize how attractive he was? She knew the answer to that as well. It was simple enough. For the first time since she had met him, he was vulnerable. And he was strong enough and confident enough to show her that vulnerability, and to hope that as a friend she would try to give him the comfort of her friendship. It was his momentary weakness that made her aware of his constant strength.

  It took a brave person to admit to being afraid; it took a strong person to admit weakness. It took both to show these things to someone else.

  Yet, though he might for the moment be vulnerable, he was still in every way her equal: intelligent, clever, erudite. A gentle being, and as bound by honor as she. Every bit a warrior in his way as she was in hers. That, she sensed now, was the reason why she had felt no attraction to any Mazonite man, not even her friend and confidant Faro, nor the handsome and youthful Hazard. She could not respect a man who could only be her inferior and not her equal partner-and every male raised in Mazonia would be, somewhere in the back of his mind, conditioned as a slave. There was no help for it; they were as controlled by their upbringing as she was. Even Faro, for all that he hated other Mazonites, was conditioned to obey them. His protectiveness of her was an outgrowth of that very obedience-“Mistress is unhappy, and I must make her happy.” He was probably not even aware of the fact, but now that Xylina had a chance to get to know a male who wasnot so conditioned, it was obvious to her.

  Her friendship was not cheaply bought-her love was not to be bought at all. Her friendship came only when it was reciprocated, but friendship did not make the demands that love did. Now she knew that she could only love a male whom she could also respect. She could only love a male who would respect her-because of herself, and not from training. And she had come, all unknowing, to love Ware. The knowledge came as a shock, as sudden and as earthshaking as seeing the ground open up beneath her.

  He looked away again, and the expression on his face did not change. So she had not betrayed her sudden insight by a shift in her own expression. Things could go on just as they were-if she chose. He would never know how she felt. She could fulfill the quest, claim the Queen’s reward, and be free of him and his desires. She would have her honor, keep her vow intact.

  For what? a little voice deep within asked her, sarcastically. This mission might never succeed. Even if it did, what would she have earned? A bare existence, for the best that would have happened was that she would have repaid her debt. She would have all the struggle to do over again. Even if she did well, what would she have? A lifetime of continuing to placate the Queen, of trying to soothe her suspicions-and every time
she succeeded in something, the Queen would be certain that she was trying to challenge her. But worst of all, it would be a lifetime spent alone. Any children she had would be conceived in lovelessness, and only for the sake of having a child. She could never bear to marry…

  But if she followed her heart and gave herself to Ware? This would make her unclean, ineligible for leadership. Surely the Queen had spies among the men, perhaps even all of them were spies; such a liaison could not be kept secret forever. She could never challenge the Queen for the position of Mazonite leader. Yet it was a leadership she had never coveted, and still did not want. She had not even enjoyed “leading” these few slaves-and losing so many! Making decisions for every Mazonite would be sheer misery. Better a lifetime with the male she cared for-and who cared as much for her. The male who valued honor-

  Honor. How could she keep her honor and yet pay Ware in the coin he desired most-a payment she now desired ardently to give him?

  The voice returned, but this time without the sarcasm.Wait a moment. What was it he said about the way that demons think? How a vow can be read in many ways, and still be valid? Surely I can use that-

  She turned her head a little to stare into the fire, lest her eyes betray her, and her heavy braid fell over her shoulder to gleam golden in the firelight.

  Golden hair… hair, the symbol among her people of the essence of a person. Hence the superstitions about cursing through a lock of hair-and the custom among some of the women of leaving their hair at the altars of the goddesses, symbolically offering themselves as well. In the marriage ceremony, a lock of hair from the Mazonite and her chosen consort were braided together, and to divorce him, she had simply to unbraid the marriage-lock and cast his hair in the hearth-fire. Xylina’s hair was the same color as-

  She paused, taken by an awesome realization.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and asked herself if this was, truly, what she desired. She searched not only her heart, but her soul and her mind for the answer-her body was already informing her in no uncertain terms whatit wanted, and she was grateful that females did not show their desires as openly as males. For at this moment, Ware was very far from thinking of the reason that had brought him on this quest. If she let the moment pass, there might never be another.

  She would not let it pass.

  Carefully, she gathered her hair in her hands, loosing it from the braid, and draping it across her palms; a heavy golden skein that represented all she was, as golden as the gold she had pledged him. Ware continued to stare into the fire, oblivious to her or anything else around him.

  “Ware-” she said, startling him; the first time she had ever been able to do that! He jumped a little, and turned his gaze upon her, blankly. She held out her double-handful of hair to him.

  “I pay thee in gold,” she said softly.

  His eyes widened as he realized what she was offering: her hair, herself. Just as he had wanted, planned for, schemed to achieve.

  His reaction, however, was not what she had expected.

  “Oh, Xylina-” he said, and made an abortive move toward her. But then, unaccountably, he held himself back. “Xylina-I cannot accept this,” he said, myriad emotions warring on his face. “I cannot-”

  Conflicting emotions beset her as well. Dismay, annoyance, even a touch of anger. What, was she no longer good enough for him? What was wrong with her-or with him? “Why?” she demanded. “What has changed? What has happened that I am no longer what you desire?”

  “Circumstances-oh, Xylina, I desire you, love you still, never, ever doubt that! But-” he laughed weakly, and raised a graceful hand to rub his temple “-this is not precisely the best time-”

  She started to protest; he held up a hand. “Wait, please, let me explain. You have heard that there are two of demon-kind, the incubus which is the male, and the succubus which is the female, correct?”

  She nodded, wondering impatiently what that could have to do with anything.

  He coughed, and his face twisted a little. “There is no delicate way to put this. What if I were to tell you that there is onlyone of demon-kind, that each demon is both incubus and succubus?”

  What? How could that be? It ran right across all the laws of nature! But did the laws of nature apply to a demon, a creature who himself had told her he was born in this realm of wild magic? “I would say that you are insane, except that I know you are not,” she said flatly, beginning to think that she was not going to like what he was about to tell her.

  “That is the nature of demon-kind,” he said gently. “That we are maleand female, incubusand succubus. But never at the same time. And that which triggers-forces-the change from one to the other, is-the act of love.”

  Her eyes widened as she took that in, and realized what he meant. “You mean that if you were to share love with me, you would become a female?” she exclaimed incredulously. This was too strange for horror; she could only gape at him.

  He nodded, sadly. “I would not be able to prevent it. That is what revealed my nature, so long ago. I joined with my lover-and awoke a woman. It was something of a shock to me-and my lover was not exactly pleased, either.”

  She shook her head. There were too many things that she had witnessed already for her to think this was impossible-or even particularly terrible. Except in what it meant for her.

  If he joined with her-but how did he become male again?-oh. Of course.

  “I can imagine that she was not happy,” Xylina said, with wry and sad irony. “But if you were to love a man in your female form-you would go back to being male?”

  “Until I shared love with you again, yes,” Ware said. “But-Xylina, it is not that simple.”

  She sighed. “Somehow, I had the feeling that it would not be. I think I can guess the rest. You must have a mate that you love as a female, even as you have one that you love as a male.” Her mind accepted that as logical although her heart rebelled. “There is a certain unpleasant symmetry to that.”

  He nodded, as unhappy as she. “You understand it exactly, Xylina. My commitment to a male must be as my commitment to you: lifelong. There is no one in this party with whom I would be willing to make that commitment. Not even Faro, who is an admirable fellow, but is not to my taste, I fear. Simple, casual liaisons, which are so common among your kind, are impossible for me. Unless I sought out…” He shook his head. “No, it will not do. We must wait, Xylina. We must wait until we are back in lands that are not so uncanny, and you and I must find a slave who suits our natures, who can fit this pattern that we must have.”

  She was beginning to put all of the pieces together, and she was beginning to reassess the entire situation. Bad enough that she would have to share him once-but it was obvious from what he had been saying that she would have to share himall her life with a man. She would have to send him to that man’s bed every time she shared love with him. Every single time…

  Ware was continuing, even as she was beginning to see the whole of the pattern. “I cannot accept what you have offered here and now, don’t you see? It would be very difficult to explain the sudden appearance of a woman and the sudden disappearance of Ware. Even if I dematerialized and traveled with you in that state, it still would not explain the absence of Ware.” He leaned forward, and took both her hands in his. “This is a great secret, Xylina. Not even the Queen is aware of our double nature. I am trusting you with it, and I am about to trust you with more. Another secret which only the demons know-each demon and two others.”

  Two others. Of course. That long-ago lover he spoke of, and the male lover he did not mention.

  “The man whom I choose must be utterly faithful-as you must, Xylina. There is a terrible price to be paid if either of you is not, and the one who pays it is myself.” He stared deeply into her eyes, and his had gone as dark as the black night outside. “If either of you is unfaithful to me, I will perish. It is that simple. I am immortal-unless and until I am betrayed in love. That is one reason why you made me fall in love
with you, Xylina. Your honor is a part of you. Itis you; I think that you would rather die than break it. I can trust you with my life-and if we share this bond, I will be doing just that.”

  She nodded, slowly. This was the most dangerous secret that anyone had ever trusted to her.

  “The Queen does not know this about our nature either,” he added. “If she did-”

  “It would be a terrible weapon to hold over you, and one I won’t give her,” Xylina told him fiercely. “No matter what happens between us, she will never know this.”

  His eyes warmed, just the slightest bit. “I know, for I know you. There is only one other recently….” His eyes grew thoughtful for a moment, then he shook his head. “Never mind. It does not matter. Xylina, I honor your offer as I honor you, and I will ask you for no commitment. You must make your decision in full knowledge of all that it will mean, because a casual fling will destroy far more than just our relationship.”

  She swallowed with difficulty. “I can see that,” she said awkwardly.

  A heavy silence lay between them. “I had intended to tell you this long before you came to this point,” he said at last, with a shy and painful smile. “I had honestly thought I would be able to tell when you were attracted to me. Evidently I am not as good at reading you as I had thought I was.”

  She hid her confusion by rebraiding her hair, concentrating all her attention on that homely task. “I take it that this is the same quandary you came to when you first discovered your-true nature.”

  She heard him sigh, but kept her attention centered on the thick strands of hair in her hands.