If I Pay Thee Not in Gold

by Piers Anthony

  So, hopeless as the situation looked, she might as well go on. It was certainly no more hopeless than going back.

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “Let us go on.”

  As they crossed the misty border, the land changed abruptly, as it nearly always did. This time the sea remained, but instead of a land as flat as the back of her hand, hot, and oppressively humid, the countryside became mountainous, washed with a brisk, cool breeze, and with high cliffs facing the sea. The drop in temperature and humidity made her spirits rise, and the clouds of stinging flies that had bitten them and their horses with blithe impartiality deserted them. The tired horses raised their heads, and exhibited a little more energy. Faro looked less dour. Even the air, scented with pine, seemed livelier.

  The horses were on another road: this time, a kind of well-defined track through the mountains. By the time they were ready to stop for the night, Ware looked about and told her that they were within striking distance of the shard-for once again, a realm had changed since a member of their party had last visited it. This time, the border between the realms had moved closer to the area where the shard was being kept.

  Thesius located a cave for them to use as a shelter, rather than having Xylina conjure tents. He and Ware both seemed anxious that she not perform her conjurations so near the shard, and she was inclined to go along with that. It might well be that the inhabitants of this realm had some way of knowing when magic was being practiced, and there was no point in warning them. She hoped that prohibition would not be needed when actually taking the shard, or she would be in serious trouble.

  All of them retained some of their journey-food; Xylina had suggested that they divide it up among all the men rather than keeping it together with Horn, and now she was glad she had done so. If Horn had kept the food, they would be now be spending a very hungry night.

  So they built a conventional fire, with wood that Faro and Thesius gathered, and settled down to eat and confer. A vent at the back of the cave drew off the smoke from their fire, and the cave screened it from outside eyes, so they were relatively safe and quite cozy.

  “Now,” Ware said, after their initial hunger-pangs had been satisfied. “Here is what I know. The people who guard the crystal are quite well aware of its nature, and they also know that eventually the Mazonites will desire it. They are determined to guard it, for they fear correctly that possession of the shard will make the Mazonites more powerful. They fear that if your Queen has it, she will use its powers to enlarge the borders of Mazonia, by extending the area in which the magics that prevail are Mazonite conjuration and those used by demons.”

  Xylina nodded; Thesius did, too. That made her wonder if the young man understood more of her language than he had let on. Still, that did not matter at the moment-

  Except that she was very glad that she had notsaidmany of the things that had been on the tip of her tongue. At best, he would have formed a very unflattering opinion of her. At worst, she would have looked like a jealous fool.

  “They keep it under heavy guard in a cave-not too surprising, since the folk this realm live in caves, and their philosophy is to make as little mark on the land as may be.” Ware shrugged as she gave him an incredulous look. “This is their way; I do not pick quarrels with other folks’ philosophies. Here is the problem: I can not take the shard, for it can only be handled by a mortal. Thesius and Faro may not touch it, for it will kill a man-recall that it ‘wants’ to be taken to the great crystal in Mazonia, and the only way for it to get there is to be taken by a woman.”

  Xylina nodded. “I remember that. So this magic has a kind of intelligence. Well, that means that I am the only person who can actually retrieve it. But since these people must know this, I would assume that they will be specifically watching for a woman, which will make it very hard for me to approach it.”

  Ware and Thesius both indicated agreement; Thesius looked pleased. “We can do reconnaissance, though, we men,” Faro spoke up from the other side of the fire where he was arranging a pallet made of pine boughs for himself, “As men, we would be under no suspicion.”

  “That was my thought exactly,” Ware said. “Two of us should go-two should remain. Xylina will have to remain, of course-”

  “And I will stay with her,” Faro replied. But Ware shook his head.

  “No, for Thesius has been here before, and they might recognize him,” Ware said, by way of explanation. “You are a stranger, and if they recognize me as a demon, they willknow that I am no threat to the shard. And, to be brutally frank, Faro, you are a much better fighter than Thesius. If there is some kind of incident, you are more likely to be able to fight your way free than Thesius will.”

  Xylina cast a startled glance at the young man, who grimaced, then shrugged. Apparently this was true.

  Now that she thought about it, she realized that she never had seen him use that sword he carried. “If that is the case, then I am afraid Ware is right,” she said to Faro. “You are one of the best fighters I have ever seen, and I rather doubt that I am likely to get into any great trouble, hidden away in a cave while you two go off to scout the territory.”

  Faro flushed with pleasure at her praise. “If that is your will,” was all he said, but she felt that he thought she had made the right decision.

  “How long will this take?” she asked, assuming that it would be less than a day.

  “A week, perhaps a little more,” Ware replied with an offhand gesture. “Less than nothing compared to all the time it took to get here.”

  A week? More? Xylina hid her dismay, since she had already agreed to the plan, but she was considerably less than pleased. A week all alone with this-this man. A weekwithout Ware.

  On the other hand, if she was to be without Ware’s company, so was he. Suddenly the prospect was not totally without its charms.

  “Very well,” she said. Then, with a meaningful look at Ware, she added, “In that case, we had best go to bed-and get some rest.”

  Faro rolled his eyes up heavenward, and Thesius did not-quite-hide a smirk. Ware only sighed.

  It was quite a lively night.

  As birds first greeted die dawn light, Faro and Ware set off on their journey. Thesius and Xylina watched them go, side by side, yet quite, quite separate. Finally, long after they were out of sight, she turned back into the cave. She was not looking forward to a week spent in this man’s company: asilentweek, since he could not even converse with her.

  But then Thesius surprised her. “I have-” he began from behind her, and she whirled to face him, eyes wide with shock. He stood silhouetted against the light for a moment, then came down to the cave floor beside her.

  “You can speak my-?” she asked, not completely pleased with this development.

  “I have,” he said carefully, “been learning. Your tongue, with the help of Wara.”

  I’ll just bet you have, she thought cynically, and yet she could not help but be a little curious about him. After all, they were both Ware’s lovers-and they knew nothing about each other. They had both made a lifelong commitment to their beloved, which meant to each other as well. It would be too much-far too much!-to say they were friends; still-

  “I suppose we really ought to start talking,” she said aloud, with a lifted brow. “Since I am going to have you around for the rest of my life.”

  He stiffened a little at her slightly imperious tone. “The opposite, I would have said. That I must learn to tolerate you. Not easy, that.”

  It was her turn to stiffen with resentment. Not easy to tolerateher ? How dared he?

  But the next moment, she realized precisely how he dared. He was not a slave. He was under no rules of behavior. They were complete equals.

  And she did not like it at all.

  But she was going to have to get used to it.

  She sighed and shook her head. “Then we can begin by sharing the chores,” she said aloud. “You know this place, and I do not.You find things to eat.I find wood.”

&nb
sp; He frowned. “Stronger, I-” he objected.

  “You are physically stronger; I am magically stronger,” she countered. “Since when does that have anything to do with collecting wood for a fire? There’s no point in dragging entire trees in here!”

  He looked rebellious, but nodded, grudgingly. She picked up a strap to carry the wood with, and left, without waiting to see what he would do.

  When she returned, he was not there-which meant, she supposed, that he must be out looking for edibles or hunting. She made several trips-by now she had a good idea of how much wood a fire could burn over the course of a day and a night, and she was not minded to give him an opportunity to scoff if the wood ran out before daybreak. It was a pity that she could not risk conjuring wood-but it was far better to be safe. At least this was giving her conjuration an extended rest, which was a relief after the extremely heavy use of her magic during their journey.

  When she thought she had gathered enough and a little to spare, she paused for a drink of clear water from the stream outside the cave, and to take a rest. She had pushed herself considerably, physically, working much harder at the wood-gathering than she really had needed to.

  Because she was, by the fates, going to impress that independent, imperious creature, she realized. Against his will, if she had to! Huh. He would probably return with a handful of inedible mushrooms and a mess of weeds, and think he should be praised.

  But when he did come back, shortly after noon, it was with the saddlebags from both their horses bulging at the seams. When he disgorged their contents, she had to admit to being impressed.

  He had found edible tree-seeds, a double-handful of hard, tart berries, fresh watercress, some shelf-like fungi that smelled so delicious that her mouth watered, and four fat, ugly roots that he promised-via a few words and pantomime-would be very tasty when roasted in the ashes of the fire. She was almost ashamed to hand him the last of the hard journey-bread for lunch, although he did raise a surprised eyebrow at the amount of wood she had collected.

  “Horses now,” he said firmly, when they had gnawed their way through the rock-like biscuits. She sighed, but agreed.

  They had stabled the horses in the rear of the cave, and that meant that the horses had left what horses always produced. Faro had gone to the trouble of dumping dry leaves and pine needles back there, which at least would make it easier to clean up. But still…

  “Share horses?” she asked, more than half expecting an argument, and an insistence that she should be the one to do the cleaning. But, with a shrug of resignation, he nodded.

  Together they cleaned the stabling area and left more of the bedding material for the horses to stand in. She started to haul the used bedding just out of smelling-range, but he shook his head, and gestured her to follow him. Admittedly curious, she did so-and found that he was dumping it all in another, smaller cave nearby. After a moment of thought, she saw that this made sense; if they threw the used bedding down the cave mouth, it would not be out in the open to attract insects and advertise their presence.

  He indicated that he wished to water the horses while she pulled up grass to feed them. And while the former task seemed a great deal easier than the latter-

  She didn’t know anything-about the stupid beasts, she admitted to herself. He did. If they over-gorged themselves on water or tried to drown themselves, she wouldn’t know what to do. So she agreed without an argument, which seemed to surprise him.

  After that, they had nothing to do except improve their rather primitive beds and cook their dinner. Since he seemed to know what to do about food, she let him deal with the latter while she made up the former with something a bit softer than branches.

  But long before true night fell, the tasks ran out and they found themselves facing each other over the fire, with no idea of what to say.

  By now, Xylina’s initial resentment had become a certain grudging fascination. One thing was sure: Thesius was a handsome young man, and on looks alone, she could see why Ware-Wara-had chosen him. But his actions this day had proven that there was something more there than mere looks, and now she was curious. She knew that the demon would not have chosen an ordinary man, any more than he had chosen an ordinary woman. Appearance was only part of it.

  “What are you?” she asked. And at his puzzled frown, she elaborated. “What do you do in your home? What is your family?”

  His expression of confusion faded, and he actually smiled slightly. “My family rulers are,” he said-which confirmed her suspicion. He was a prince, or something similar. She nodded, and encouraged him to go on.

  By the time they were both tired and ready to sleep, she had learned a hundred times as much about him as she had already known-which, admittedly, was not a great deal. His family was of some land of nobility or landowners; they were certainly very wealthy, and commanded what must have been a small kingdom of traders. This, of course, was how Ware had come to know him, since the demons were great traders themselves. Thesius was, however, a very junior child-she was a little confused as to how junior, but got the impression that there were more than a dozen siblings ahead of him, and a half-dozen younger than he. As a result, his “share” of the family wealth was fairly small, and his aspirations to power minimal. She gathered that he had welcomed Wara’s proposition, because he truly loved Ware as a friend, so it was easy to make that love into something physical for Wara. Also because this would give him an opportunity to escape a stultifying and increasingly boring life at home. The fourteen horses he had brought with him were, in fact, his “dowry.” He was used to wealth, but it was nothis wealth.

  She let him know (feeling a little cynical) that if they did make it back to Mazonia, he would not lack for wealth, since Ware was quite rich in his own right. But somewhat to her surprise, he made it quite clear that it did not matter. That he would have been perfectly willing to share a cave with Wara.

  She thought that she surprised him a time or two, as he in his turn questioned her. For one thing, he was startled to learn that her origins, at least, were in a family almost as privileged as his own. For another, he was amazed to find out how well educated she was. She got the impression that he had thought she was little better than a peasant, and that Ware had chosen her mainly because she was so physically beautiful and intelligent, though unlettered.

  He expressed sympathy, which seemed to be quite genuine, when she revealed that her mother was dead. She expressed envy, whichwas genuine, when he told her about his parents, and that the family was very much like the ideal of Mazonite families, save only that authority and responsibility were shared between father and mother.

  By then, they were both exhausted, and ready for sleep; it seemed a positive note to end on, and Xylina, at least, retired to her much-more-comfortable bed feeling as if she might actually be able to live with this man without wanting to kill him once a day.

  By the second day, she began to see some of what Ware saw in the man; by the third, she had acknowledged that their similarities went more than skin-deep. They were not only similar in looks and intelligence, they were similar in status and attitude. By the time she went to sleep on the night of the third day, she and Thesius were friends.

  So things remained on the succeeding days; Thesius’ command of the Mazonite tongue improved out of all recognition, and she actually began to learn his odd language. That opened the way to further communications, and she picked up something about his land as she taught him about Mazonia. Both of them assumed that Mazonia would be the end of their journey; it was, after all, Ware’s home. It made sense to go there, rather than somewhere else.

  She could certainly see why Thesius had been so eager to leave his home. The passions that drove his family, for increased trade and increased territory, were things she had seen in successful Mazonites and had never understood. And the customs! The Mazonites had at least one positive thing going for them, even Thesius agreed: they tried to keep pomp and senseless, ancient customs to a minimum. But Thesius’
people made a fetish of ceremony.

  He had confessed to a feeling of profound relief when he rode out of the tiny kingdom of Copera, and she could not blame him. Every moment of his time had been hedged about with some custom or other-most of which had no real meaning any more.

  When he woke, he must immediately rise and go to the window to recite a child’s rhyme to the rising sun. Then he would be given a “breakfast” consisting of a single slice of bread, a spoonful of jam, and a sprig of herb. He must fold the bread in half, crosswise, and eat it from one of the two longer points, then take the herb sprig and leave it precisely in the middle of the plate. Then recite yet another verse.

  For every action of the day, there was a verse. For putting on clothing, for taking it off. For eating and for drinking. For greeting and departing. For seeing sunny weather or clouds. Food must be eaten in a certain order, clothing donned in a certain order, the body bathed in a certain order. Floors must always be swept from right to left. And so on, until the verses of retirement and sleep.

  The customs of the court were even worse.

  “I could never live there,” she declared. He nodded in complete agreement.

  “We are more slaves to our customs than you women have ever made your men,” he replied, and she had to agree with him.

  Finally, she made him a pledge: one that she had never expected to make to any man. That there would be neither mistress nor slave within the walls of their home. They would have to play the game for the sake of peace outside those walls, but it would be a game. And never, outside those walls, would she use the game to hurt or humiliateany man, much less the men that she knew and cared for.

  She had changed; she knew that now. Men had never been faceless automata to her, but now she could see them as human and as equal as she herself was. She would never be able to go back to thinking of them as something less.