In fact, they had had a relationship for several years before the event. What Choice had taken for the natural cooling of male ardor of middle age turned out to be the diversion of his sexual energy to the ever-grinding belly of Flagrante. How could she have missed it? It seemed that Choice had so trusted her husband that she had never even peeked into his mind. Naiveté!
However, now she lay in ambush along his route and did peek, specifically on his sexual life. What she read revolted her; the man had perverted tendencies which it seemed he had concealed from her, but that the other woman obliged in full measure. In fact she reveled in it. No wonder Choice had stayed clear of that; any normal woman would. But it seemed that the lure of that other type of experience finally caused him to plot to abolish his legitimate wife so he could take in the other. Since Choice had given him no pretext, he had cheated by having her secretly mind wiped and given the recent memories of her dead namesake. Thus she had gone to the wrong house, and made an ass of herself. While the real culprit escaped.
Now she knew what had happened, and why. She no longer remembered her true family life; that had been obliterated by the mind wash. Certainly she no longer loved her former husband. She no longer had legitimate identity; she was legally dead. Worse, after three years she would be unable to prove any of it. Chore had gotten away with it. That irked her something awful.
Actually she had a tolerably good life now, as an Amazon. She met interesting people, and was somewhat more liberal sexually than she had been before. In fact, this most recent trip had liberalized her rather more than she liked. So there was no reason to want to return to what she had once had. But the irk remained. She did not like letting Chore get away with ruining her life. She wanted vengeance.
"And that is what you can do for me,” Lucent continued. “With your powers of illusion. You can enable me to do it back to the bad man, at least to some degree. To give him a taste of his own potion."
"That I can do,” Symbol agreed. She found Flagrante rather interesting, by the description; the creature had sexual notions Symbol had hardly thought of. But the way she had encouraged a married man to betray his long-term wife was a shame, and of course Symbol owed Lucent for finding their way past the wasp.
They set about planning it, as they completed the cart trip to the Translucent Chroma zone. They did not have a lot of time, but much could be done briefly with the right illusion. First they would arrange some hints of impropriety; then they would get blatant. Chore and Flagrante were finished, though they did not yet know it.
They reached the Chroma zone midday, for they had traveled part of the way by night. Everything was translucent, of course, with no colors: colorless monochrome. They went to Chore's house. Chore was away at work at this hour, but the woman and one child should be home.
Symbol doffed her clothing, becoming virtually invisible physically, and damped down her thoughts, becoming invisible mentally. Lucent hid outside while Symbol quietly entered the shimmering water walls of the house. There was the youngest boy, exactly as anticipated, studying from a water-paper text. He was totally bored; Symbol was no mind reader, but didn't need to be to see it in his attitude. He was about thirteen.
Symbol checked through the house, familiarizing herself with it. Then she emerged and located Lucent, who was in a shed, damping down her own thoughts. With all members of a Chroma zone able to read minds, naturally they knew how to suppress their thoughts, so as not to be constantly clamoring to others. Symbol was unusual in having learned this art without being either Translucent or a mind reader; Havoc had helped her there. Ah, Havoc—he had conquered her. But this was not the time to ponder that.
She whispered the situation to Lucent.
"That's Chum, my youngest—my fourth. A good kid, but impatient, though now I know him only by research."
"Problem: what we have in mind for Chore and Flagrante may be unsuitable for Chum to witness."
"He is bound to go to the park once Flagrante comes home, and not return until after Chore does. He doesn't like her. There should not be a problem."
"So we'll wait a bit, then catch Chore and Flagrante alone. Chum has no need to see the illusion."
"Acquiescence."
Soon the woman arrived. Symbol followed her into the house, invisibly.
The boy approached the woman immediately. “I've read it. Can I go now?"
"You know better than that,” Flagrante said. “First you do your duty by me; then you go."
"Awwww.” But he reluctantly approached her.
Then Symbol's mind control almost slipped. The woman was not checking the boy for dirt behind the ears, she was opening his clothing. Under her direction he was also opening hers. She took out his member and manipulated it into hardness. Chum was obviously ill at ease about this, but afraid to resist her imperative.
"I can't do it,” he mumbled. Indeed, his member was not fully firm.
"Then open your mind to mine. Closed channel; no one else must read."
"Awwww."
"Or else."
He sighed, and evidently let her into his mind. Flagrante concentrated, and in a moment the boy flushed and his member became fully erect. Whatever she was thinking at him was ugly but brutally effective.
Then she made him lie on the couch, and she lay on top of him, taking him in. He did not need to thrust, nor did she allow it; she controlled the motions, and drew from him in precisely the manner she chose. When she was ready, she finished it, forcing his climax. But she did not let him go yet; she remained on him a while longer, savoring it, while he squirmed uncomfortably. Then at last she kissed him and got off, letting him up. “You're a good boy,” she said. “Now you can go. But remember, this never happened."
"It always never happens,” he said, putting himself back together. “If Dad knew—"
"He would throw you out."
By his reaction, it was clear she was right. Chum went out, leaving Flagrante to clean up.
Awed by the blatant nature of it, Symbol followed him out, then turned to go to Lucent. “It's worse than you thought,” she said. “She's forcing the boy into incestuous sex."
"She's what?"
"Apparently her filthy passions are not satisfied by her husband. My guess is that she has a number of sex stations, taking it where she finds it, including home."
"The utter bitch!"
"You knew that already."
"My son!"
"He didn't want to do it, but she used threats and dirty thoughts to incite him, then more or less raped him. I watched it all."
"I'll slaughter her!"
"Negation,” Symbol cautioned her. “This is like the wasp. We don't need to frame Chore after all, just to reveal to him what she is into. That will torture him sufficiently."
Lucent considered. “Perhaps you are right. But the idea of having my boy hostage to that—!"
"Justified outrage,” Symbol agreed. “Now let's handle it."
When Chore came home, Flagrante met him at the door with an open-bosomed hug. “Wait till you see what I have planned for tonight,” she breathed.
He looked around. “Where's Chum?"
"He left for the park, as usual. We'll be done before he returns, as usual."
He entered the living room. There on the couch were two items of apparel: a boy's undershorts. “What's this?” Chore asked, surprised.
Flagrante was just as surprised. “He must have left them there. He usually cleans up.” She quickly picked up the shorts. Under them was a pair of woman's panties.
"And this?” Chore demanded, grabbing the panties. They were somewhat damp, as were the shorts. Symbol had taken pains to wet both down before leaving them, after collecting them from their proper drawers.
"Maybe some laundry spilled, and I didn't notice."
Chore held out the panties, which were stained a darker translucent in the crotch. “Some laundry!"
"I'll be more careful in the future,” Flagrante said, snatching the panties and taking
them away.
"Of course.” He let it go, but the seed of doubt had been planted. How could Chum's shorts and her panties have gotten there in such condition?
Now they prepared for serious sex. But as he looked at her, Chore saw what appeared to be something sticky in her hair. There seemed to be a tear in her skirt. And stains on her bra. “Suspicion!"
"Denial!” she flared back.
The ensuing argument ruined their planned tryst. By the time the dust settled, Chum was coming home. With apparent stains on the front of his trousers.
Symbol and Lucent called it a night. They retired to the Amazon's quarters for a good meal and sleep.
"What do you think will happen when he finds her bra in the boy's bed, and his undershirt under her pillow?” Symbol asked rhetorically. “Plus the other little hints scattered around the house?"
"He'll collar Chum and make him confess,” Lucent said. “And Chum will be halfway glad to finger Flagrante."
"Then Chore will require her to open her mind to him,” Symbol said. “And that will reveal more than merely the boy, I suspect."
"There must be a long line of men in her mind. What a hussy she is! And he thought it was all for him, when all she wanted was a safe base to operate from."
"And the best of it is that it's true,” Symbol said. “The illusion and planted things only point the way. That relationship is finished."
"And they'll never know how it happened,” Lucent said. “I'm sorry my boy has to be involved, but it will be better than it was for him."
Indeed, the job was done. “I will check with you on my way back. If more is needed, I will do it."
"Satisfaction.” Then the Amazon reconsidered. “If you are approaching the cone, you will need help. I will go with you."
"But your obligation is done. You got me safely here."
"This is voluntary. You helped me arrive back early, and have been a worthwhile companion. I can do this much to facilitate your mission, as a gesture of friendship."
"Gratitude,” Symbol said, feeling an unfamiliar rush of emotion. She was not much used to friendship, having been hard nosed most of her life.
They set out for the cone. This was a huge translucent mass that looked liquid, though it was not. It was an earthen rather than a water volcano, and its emissions were solids and gases. But because of its nature, it looked wet.
"Warning,” Lucent said. “The cone defends itself with mind effects. It is seldom physically threatening, but can be quite uncomfortable to approach."
"This seems similar to illusion."
"Perhaps. But it is feeling rather than appearance. If you are not accustomed to it, you will find it difficult."
"I have no choice. There is something I must fetch."
"Understanding. Just be prepared. If you feel fear, it will not signal cowardice, but cone-demon-generated emotion. You must ignore it to the extent you can, or at least not be governed by it."
The cone was not far from the town. Soon the translucent forest thinned and they mounted the broad slope of the base. They were close to the coordinates.
Then the emotion came. Symbol felt enormous revulsion. She wanted to turn away from the disgusting scene and get far away, as quickly as possible. But the forewarning had indeed forearmed her, and she girded her loin, as it were, and marched on.
"First siege,” the Amazon murmured.
"I can handle it because I must.” But her stomach was roiling.
"Keep walking.” The Amazon looked somewhat green herself, but did not pause. “Faster we go, faster we get through it."
"Acquiesc—” But Symbol couldn't get the whole word out, because it seemed to facilitate her gag reflex. “Right."
They forged on. It was like wading through muddy diseased excrement. There was no sight or smell, fortunately, but the feeling remained.
Then her stomach erupted. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but the vomit surged up through her nose, and she had to let it out. She spewed what remained of her last meal onto the ground, and continued heaving until the heaves were dry. “P-Pology,” she gasped.
Lucent didn't answer, and in a moment Symbol understood why: she dared not open her mouth. As an Amazon she had good control of her emotions, but this emotion was there regardless, generated directly in her mind. Her disgust was as deep as Lucent's.
Then at last it passed. Symbol fetched out a handkerchief and wiped her soiled mouth. She had never before reacted to revulsion that strongly—but of course she had never felt it that strongly. As defenses went, this was a good one; had her presence here been incidental, she would have gotten away from it at the first twinge.
"Brace for second siege,” Lucent said tightly.
"Braced,” Symbol agreed as tightly. She knew now what she faced, and know it would not be faintly comfortable. But she had made it through the first siege, even if her breakfast hadn't.
It came. Suddenly she was afraid. In fact she was terrified. There wasn't anything in sight to be afraid of; it was ordinary Translucent zone terrain. But her fear was overwhelming.
She started to turn, to flee. A hand caught her arm. “Do not yield,” Lucent said. Her eyes were wild, and she spoke through clenched teeth, and her hand was shaking; she was afraid too. But she had the courage to brave it.
Symbol gathered all the nerve she had and forced herself to turn back toward the cone. She stepped forward. She screamed, for no reason other than sheer terror. But she would not be shamed before the Amazon; she staggered onward.
It was like walking a tightrope across a bottomless gorge; every step panicked her anew. She thought she was going to faint, but the grip of the Amazon on her elbow kept her steady, and she advanced toward the cone. Somehow.
At last it abated, and Symbol was able to step screaming. She saw her hair flaring wildly about her head; she had been struggling violently with herself. But she had made it.
"You are doing well,” Lucent said. “Even natives seldom come this far toward the cone."
"How—how many sieges are there?"
"Tradition says five, but not necessarily the same ones, so it's hard to prepare for them. A person needs very good reason to visit the cone."
"I have reason.” She was doing it for Havoc. She would do anything for Havoc. Even this.
"Brace."
Symbol nodded. Then it struck: she became angry, then enraged. She had never been so furious before in her life. She wanted to strike out, to maim, to kill.
And there was the Amazon. Symbol dived for her.
"Negative,” Lucent said.
But Symbol could not help herself. She attacked the Amazon with claws and teeth.
Then she found herself choking. Lucent had caught her in a hold that rendered her helpless and was dragging her on toward the cone. When she struggled, the hold tightened, cutting off her breath, forcing her to desist.
She fought, and choked, and struggled, and gasped, and resisted, and nearly lost consciousness. She could not get free. Meanwhile she was being hauled relentlessly onward. If only she could get her hands on Lucent's throat!
Then it eased. The Amazon let her sink to the ground, her breath rasping. “Apology,” Lucent said.
"Accepted!” For she understood the reason; Lucent had felt the rage also, but had controlled herself and Symbol, nullifying her rather than hurting her, and getting her through the siege. It was probably the only way.
"We can turn back,” Lucent said. It was an offer.
"Negative. I must reach the site."
"Then on. Brace."
They braced. This time the emotion was different. It was warm and encompassing, a pleasure. In fact, it was love.
The Amazon turned to her. “Mischief,” she said. Then she grasped Symbol and drew her in close.
Love—and sex. They were not identical, but were allied, and this siege of emotion was somewhere in that region. Sexual love. Symbol had had wide experience with it, and was rather cynical about it; in fact she had never let herself go
completely, until she had fallen for Havoc. The one person she could never possess. But now, suddenly, she wanted to love her companion—and Lucent wanted the same.
Symbol considered rapidly. This was her area of expertise. Lucent had stopped her from hurting herself or her companion when the rage was on them; now it was Symbol's turn to control this other passion. But she couldn't, because it was not limited to herself. The Amazon wanted to love her, and she was physically stronger than Symbol. Already Lucent was kissing her, seeking further closeness. The woman had little experience of this kind of love, as her married history had shown; she was highly vulnerable to it. She had hold of Symbol, and Symbol could not escape. Nor did she want to. What was there to do?
Well, love could be eternal, but sex tended to abate when exercised. Woman to woman was not normally Symbol's style, but she could do it when she had to. If that enabled them to make it through this siege, why not?
She released her passion, and kissed Lucent back. They clasped each other, and soon were into serious lovemaking. They rolled on the ground, embracing, stroking, squeezing, licking, bypassing clothing, overcome by the passion of the siege. And when the culmination came, they lay for a moment, savoring it.
"Better than a man,” Lucent whispered.
"Better than those brigands, certainly,” Symbol replied. “Now we must get up and run out of here before it gets us again.” For this was their window of opportunity, their spent bodies temporarily nullifying the overlaid passion.
They did so, and in a moment were in the next respite. “What did we do?” Lucent demanded, suddenly appalled.
"We abated the feeling,” Symbol said. “The way it had to be done."
"I never did that before!"
"And never will again. Desperate situations require desperate remedies."
"Perhaps,” the Amazon agreed dubiously.
"You hauled me through when I was overcome by the rage siege. You know how to handle anger. I know how to handle sexual passion. I did what was necessary.” She was taking the blame on herself, if that was what it was.
"Revulsion."
Symbol didn't care to argue the case further. “Brace,” she said, stepping forward.
Key to Chroma Page 28
