Secret of Spring

by Piers Anthony

  “Oh!” Spring said, tumbling through and out into the other side. A hidden room. Herb entered, followed by Cling Ling. They stood holding their breath as the heavy footsteps of the guard stomped outside. More footsteps joined his. More guards? They did not notice the slit in the wall, so far. Because they were so large, it probably didn’t occur to them that anyone could fit through it. After a bit of grumbling around, they heard the giants retreating in the opposite direction. They had bought time.

  Cling Ling crept around the walls feeling for secret doors as another exit. His wound was not serious. He had lost leaves and tendrils before and they would grow back. It only hurt a little and the sap had already ceased to ooze out.

  “I can’t find another way out,” he reported. “It would appear our respite is only temporary. Perhaps the guards will conclude we doubled back. While they search elsewhere we could attempt to slip back into the castle.” But from his tone, it didn’t sound as if he had much conviction of it working.

  “It’s worth a try,” Herb agreed. They couldn’t give up hope. He guided Spring toward the dim slit of light in the other room where they had dropped the torch, but stopped short as more footsteps pounded toward them across the dungeon, stopping outside the wall. The pursuers had posted a guard. Then they heard lighter footfalls. It was Zygote!

  “I don’t know where you are hiding, but it’s only a matter of time until we find you,” the chillingly familiar voice called. “You may elude us for now, but consider. You have no food or drink, and are weakened from the exertion of this futile escape attempt. I know your gifted friend has overpowered my guards on two separate occasions, but he is wounded. Even if he were not, I seriously doubt he could handle two or three. Think it over. Oh, and Spring, I promise you this. I will be as gentle with you as I would with my own love.” With that, he departed. The guards did not.

  “Gentle!” Spring scoffed, leaning against Herb’s chest. His hand touched her face, finding wetness.

  “It will be all right,” he said softly, enclosing her in his arms, offering whatever small comfort they could afford.

  “I’m sorry to be a crybaby,” she sniffed.

  “Shhh,” Herb whispered, burying his face in her hair. She had been so brave throughout her ordeal, but emotions could not be blocked forever. Herb didn’t want her to cry, but it felt good to have an excuse to hold her. She seemed to melt inside his arms naturally, as if she were where she truly belonged.

  “Spring, this is impossible,” he whispered. “If we give up now, he may keep his word. He may treat you kindly. Perhaps even release Lily. There’s no way to prevent it now. You know I would give my life if I could.” He released her and moved to the opening to call out for the guards.

  “No!” Spring hissed, grasping him. “We can’t let him have the secret! I know that now. Even Lily was willing to sacrifice herself to prevent it, and she was right. It isn’t just me. If he gets that secret, everyone will lose.”

  Herb took her gently by the shoulders. “Spring, you know I despise the thought of him touching you, that way, but—”

  “It’s not that. If it would appease him and free the rest of you, I’d do anything with him he wanted. Only, I can’t because there’s the secret to protect. He can’t get it Herb, he just can’t!”

  “There’s no other way, Spring,” Herb said in despair.

  “No, you’re wrong. There is one.”

  He was horrified. “You mean death? Oh, Spring, I could never—”

  She smiled, somewhat quizzically; he could tell the expression by the tone of her voice. “A fate said by some to be worse.”

  “Worse? But that’s what Zygote means to—”

  “With you, Herb. I know it’s a gross imposition, considering your relationship with Lily, but perhaps she would understand. I want you to have my knowledge.”

  “To—?” He stared at the place her face should be. “Surely you can’t mean—”

  “That is exactly what I mean. So as to make it impossible for Zygote to get it. Since it seems I shall have to give it to someone very soon, I want it to be to a good man, and you are that man.”

  “But you and I aren’t—”

  “We aren’t a couple,” she agreed. “But we are united in our desire to keep Zygote from getting this power. Herb, I don’t think you would abuse it. I think my father would have approved of you, of your having it, in the circumstances. So, perhaps, if you could just think of me as a—a passing fancy, then we can stop Zygote. I wouldn’t suggest this if there were any other reasonable alternative, and I apologize for imposing on you like this, but desperate straits require desperate remedies. So if you can force yourself to—”

  “Stop talking as if you’re a loathsome creature!” he cried. “You’re not. You’re a lovely person, in spirit and in body. It would be easy to—in fact, too easy to—if things were otherwise. But—”

  “Pretend they are otherwise,” she said. “Please.”

  “But I have no desire to become a superbeing. I want no power.”

  “That is precisely why I feel I should release it to you,” she explained. “It would be safe with you, though for your sake, I wish there were some other way. There isn’t.”

  He realized that she was right: this was the best way out of their dilemma. He had to do it. “I will pretend you are—Holly, my playmate on Avocado. My only interest in her was—this.”

  “Your only interest,” she agreed. “And mine is to stop Zygote.” She moved in close to him, and kissed him.

  Suddenly he was very much aware of what he had tried to ignore: she was a beautiful creature and a desirable one, in more than one respect. In more than several respects. She was, in a sense it wasn’t proper to dwell upon, his ideal woman. But he had to tune that out, and focus only on her purely physical presence. To pretend that the marvelously sexy creature he had discovered one day emerging from his shower was an Avocado playmate fresh from an invigorating victory in ten nets, to be enjoyed and let go.

  But that didn’t quite work. It was not his way to dally with a mere body; he had to know the whole person. He had mentioned Holly, who had been but a passing dalliance—but she had also been a complete person of her type, enthusiastic about netball, in fact enthusiastic about everything. But Spring was not Holly, and his effort to pretend she was fell flat. In more than one respect, perhaps appropriately.

  “Herb, I don’t want to rush you, but we haven’t much time,” she whispered in his ear. “Is there anything I can do to encourage your interest? I—I am not experienced in this.”

  “The fault is not yours, it’s mine,” he said. “I was trying to pretend that you are Holly, and it just isn’t—”

  “I know. Maybe—Lily?”

  He tried to pretend she was Lily, with no better success. Meanwhile he heard the sounds of the pursuit-search coming closer. She was right: they had very little time.

  “I wish I could help you,” Spring said, “You’re such a decent person, you don’t like doing this, and I understand that, but—”

  “You’re decent, too,” he said quickly. “And you are you, no matter what I try to imagine. That’s the problem.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her tears beginning to flow. “It was a bad idea.”

  “It’s a great idea. And you’re great, too. I’m the one who is fouling up.”

  “Maybe—I hate to ask this—maybe if you just, well, pretend it’s me. I mean, that you and I really care for each other, as we would if we were a couple.”

  “I’ll try.” She had given him leave to involve her directly in his pretense. He thought about how it would be to truly love her, without having to pretend he didn’t.

  Suddenly everything was there, including a passion so great it was as if it had been damned for weeks. He kissed her, and paradise was on her lips. The oddest thing was that there seemed to be just as much emotion on her part, as if she felt exactly the same about him. She was saying and doing all the right things, with the ring of conviction,
just as if they stemmed from wildly overflowing love. Then the dam burst around her and within her, making a tremendous flow that wasn’t merely emotional, and it was done.

  26

  Secrets

  Herb released Spring and moved away, his face flushed from exertion and shame. Under other circumstances he would have rejoiced, but this—this was an abomination.

  He could hear Spring breathing beside him in the darkness. He put out a hand to brush away the locks of hair that had tumbled over her face during their encounter.

  “Thank you, Herb,” Spring said primly as she reassembled her clothing. “Do you—feel anything yet? What’s it like?”

  What was it like? The greatest experience of his life! But that was the wrong aspect. “I don’t know. I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel anything.” That was true enough; his senses seemed numbed at the moment. “Except for my overwhelming wish that it could have been—” But he could not continue, because it was no proper thing to say to her.

  “I, too, wish that, well, that it could have been for love instead of for business. Your pretense was most convincing. But you’re right; that’s not what we’re looking for at the moment. There’s nothing else?”

  Perhaps he was afraid to let himself feel for fear of what it would be. “It might take a few minutes to start?” he suggested.

  If the information was as powerful as everyone thought, they could use it somehow to escape and bring Zygote to a well deserved justice for his crimes. It had been the only reasonable solution to their problem. Spring knew that Herb was a good man, and would never abuse the power, whatever it might be. She knew it was the right choice, so why did it feel so wrong?

  Cling Ling had made himself as scarce as possible under the conditions of their confinement. He had squeezed back into the thin crevice as far as he could to give them privacy, his body blocking the opening to leave them in a blanket of darkness. It was a courtesy.

  Even if Zygote destroyed them, the secret would die with Herb. He had gone through the motions of lovemaking as quickly as he could to accomplish the deed before they were discovered. What had gone on in his mind wasn’t relevant. Already the guards were banging on the walls, possibly looking for secret panels or hollow spots at Zygote’s command.

  Now Herb lay awaiting the revelations of the secret, whatever it was. And he felt nothing of that nature. That was not strictly true. He felt an abject emptiness. Was it because of the way they had approached it? Sex without love was nothing new to him. How many times had he raised his stalk with a strange flower? Could he ever find pleasure in such an act again? He had changed, but not in the way either of them expected.

  Spring sat up in frustration. “I don’t understand it. My father said the transfer would happen the first time I made love. You should be bursting with knowledge. I know my father wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this.”

  “Stand back,” cried the Vinese, thrusting himself inside just as the outer wall crumbled.

  The giants had finally discovered their hiding place and battered down the wall. They stood huddled at the back as one giant threw the light of his torch upon them. There was no escape. Resigned, they crawled over the rubble and were marched back upstairs to face Zygote. Lily stood beside him in the comfortable sitting room.

  “Lily. Are you well?” asked Herb, referring to more than the state of her health.

  She averted her eyes. “I grow stronger,” she answered.

  Herb wondered what Zygote had done to her. Perhaps she had given in to his lusts willingly, assuming it would help the rest of them if she appeased him. She had volunteered to do as much before with Elton. There was no shame in such sacrifice.

  If anyone should be ashamed, Herb realized it was himself. He had vacillated for months about his commitment to Lily, finally admitting he simply did not love her the way he should. It was a hard truth to swallow.

  Zygote turned to Spring. “I would not have you harmed, but there is no other way to obtain the secret. Give me your word you will cooperate, and afterward you may leave with your friends in safety.”

  “It’s too late,” Spring blurted. “Please forgive me, Lily, but Herb and I, we—I am no longer a virgin.”

  Lily’s eyes widened with understanding. Zygote looked from Spring to Herb, and back to Spring. “I can test you. I can tell if you’re lying. You forgot, I’m a physician as well,” he said coldly.

  “I’m not lying. We were together. Downstairs, while you searched for us.”

  “I believe her, Zygote,” Lily said. “Spring would not lie about something like that. Not to me.” Her eyes met Spring’s, now red from tears.

  “Lily—” Spring said.

  Lily moved forward to hold Spring in her arms, like a comforting mother, though in age they were not that far apart.

  “Your eyes. Let me see your eyes,” Zygote interrupted, his voice betraying his fear that it was true. He whipped an instrument from his robe and approached Herb, peering through the glass. “You seem normal.”

  “You’re a good physician. I am normal. There is no secret,” Herb said.

  “Impossible!” Zygote exclaimed. He looked at Spring. “Unless you were lying after all.”

  “Then examine me, if you wish,” Spring said evenly. “There was no time to—” she blushed, thinking of the blood that must still stain her garments. They had not even had time to properly disrobe. At the time she had been aware of none of those complications; there had been only love unfettered.

  Zygote turned away in consternation. It would be easy enough to check; even the girl knew that. No, she was telling the truth.

  “Perhaps there never was a secret,” Lily said.

  “My father wouldn’t lie to me,” Spring objected.

  “Well, no, but have you considered that his process may not have been complete? Or simply not worked? He may indeed have programmed some information, but—”

  “I think I see what you mean,” Herb said. “You are saying there was only one way to test it, so no one could be sure about it.”

  “Yes,” Lily said, warming to her hypothesis. “It was surely a desperate move. He must have felt that Zygote or someone else would discover his normal records before he could perfect it. If it was completed, he would have implemented it himself. Why bother to pass on information another could obtain? He could not have expected you to remain celibate throughout your life, Spring.”

  “No, he wanted me to marry. To have someone to love,” Spring said, more confused than ever.

  “So—the information you were given was probably preliminary,” Herb said. “Yet, in the wrong hands, could have led to the true breakthrough, given time, and luck, and knowhow. In other words, information that would be useful only to your father and perhaps some other trusted person, such as your chosen lover and yourself. His family.”

  “I suppose. But, in that case, why didn’t he just tell that to Zygote when he was being attacked? That the information would be useless without him?” Spring asked.

  Lily pondered. “I think he was protecting you then, not his secret. After all, he had not expected Zygote or anyone else to know you had any knowledge at that time, consciously or otherwise.”

  Zygote turned. “Of course. What a fool I’ve been! I didn’t think he was hurt that badly. Your father must have deliberately—” He paused, remembering. “The choking, the medicine he asked for. It was poison.”

  “He committed suicide,” Lily said. “But not for any great secret. For you, Spring. He must have known that even if Zygote found you, the information would do him no good, yet he was determined not to put you through that. Zygote wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told him. He would have—tested for the truth.”

  “So he died rather than reveal where you were,” Zygote breathed. “He knew I could make him talk through magical means, if necessary. That’s always dangerous with another magician. He would put up blockades. It could have destroyed his mind, but in the end, I would have won.” He turned to Spr
ing.

  “Well, my dear. It appears your sacrifice was also in vain, since the information you possessed, if it had taken, would be of no use to me without your father. I have lost. You are all free to leave, of course.” He seemed to forget they were there then, and went away to the window where he stood gazing out, his dreams of glory dashed forever. Zygote’s shoulders sagged, and he looked all of his age. Herb almost felt sorry for him.

  Spring gave a small cry of anguish. “Then I betrayed you for nothing.” She looked miserably to Lily and Herb. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Lily shook her head slowly and looked from Spring to Herb. “Forgive you?”

  Herb intervened. “Lily, please don’t be hard on Spring. It was as much my doing as hers.”

  “Indeed?” Lily said, an amused smiled crossing her face.

  Herb colored. “You know what I mean. We only did it because it was the only way. Or so we thought.”

  Lily placed her fingertip over his lips for silence. “I cannot defer to you this time, Herb. I cannot forgive what needs no forgiveness. It is obvious to me that you two were meant for each other from the moment you met. I was jealous on Paradise, but now I have had time to reflect. You love each other.”

  Spring looked dismayed, but did not speak. Herb looked to Spring, but could no longer truthfully deny the depths of his feelings for her, even to spare Lily. His pretense of loving Spring—had been no pretense. Now he could admit that, to himself and others.

  “Lily, I never meant to hurt you,” he said lamely.

  She smiled patiently. “And so you haven’t.”

  Both Herb and Spring registered confusion now.

  “Herb, you don’t understand even now, do you? I insisted we begin seeing each other again. You were my only love ever since we were saplings. I was certain you cared for me.”

  “I did. That is, I still do, but—” Herb said.

  “But not as lovers,” Lily finished. “I mistook those feelings for romance. In reality, we have a special friendship, akin to a brotherly and sisterly love. That’s only natural since we grew up together, I suppose. And I believe that is the true reason that I could never bring myself to—to give myself to you, Herb.”