Key to Chroma

by Piers Anthony

  Gale touched her hammer dulcimer. “I am a songstress. I will sing a ballad of thwarted love. You can be the dumb lover."

  "Are you remarking on my ‘no offense'?"

  She laughed, for it was humor. They were reading each other's minds, and he knew that she meant for him to be silent—dumb—while she sang the tale. Any third party might indeed take him for stupid, for passing up the chance to possess her no fault. They might yet relate that way together, if it became necessary to establish their identity as a couple, to spare them from uncomfortable sexual interactions elsewhere. Ennui was not a jealous woman, and would understand, but sex between them was really not advisable. They both truly preferred simply to be companions and friends.

  "Affirmation,” he said, answering her thought. “I must say that awkward as it was to learn, mind reading has become an advantage for me. It was this that enabled me to relate to Ennui, and she to me, both knowing our true minds. And it is similarly comfortable with you."

  "You appreciate my personal and sexual appeal, without needing to take advantage of either,” she agreed. “And I do value your thought that I could take you at any time I wished, if I wished. Fortunately you know that I do not wish, as Havoc is my only love. But your interactions with those Air Chroma girls are still swirling in your mind, and that narration will wile away some dull time."

  "One made note of the fact she was my daughter's age, as she seduced me, telling me I reminded her of her father."

  "Delightful girl!"

  "Yes, actually. Teasing can heighten reaction."

  "Are you familiar with ‘Barbary Ellen'?"

  "Thread's favorite.” Thread was his seamstress daughter, two years older than Gale.

  "Then you should have no trouble with the role."

  "All I have to do is die."

  "So you can speak your dying lines."

  "Affirmation."

  They were at the staging area for caravans, but there was no caravan at the moment. So they approached the keeper. “We would like swift passage across your zone,” Throe said. “How may this be arranged?"

  The blue man eyed Gale. “What is your offer?"

  Gale showed her dulcimer. “A sad song."

  "Insufficient."

  "Wager."

  He was interested. “Terms?"

  "Let two men and their families hear my song as we travel, then vote. If they find it insufficient, I will make myself available no fault to two of the men, to cover my passage and that of my companion."

  He smiled. “Four men."

  "Three."

  "Done."

  She nodded. She had proffered her willing body as collateral, but this was academic, as she would not have to pay it. The blue man did not know that she was a professional songstress whose performance would dazzle all but the dullest listeners.

  The blue man snapped his fingers. Four blue birds flew to perch on his lifted hands and head. He chirped, and they flew off. “Use the facilities while you wait,” he suggested.

  They did so. Soon the ground shook as a giant blue creature stomped toward the station. It was a sphinx, with nine massive legs and a globular body on which perched a little tower. The creature entered the clearing, then slowly settled to the ground, gazing in the blue man's direction. Its head was vaguely human, though this was a coincidence; its kind had existed on this planet long before any humans colonized it. “At your serrrvice,” it said slowly.

  "Company of fourteen to cross the zone,” the blue man told it.

  "May I waaatch?"

  "As you please."

  The sphinx nodded. Then one of its eyes fixed on Gale. I know you, Gale.

  Startled, Gale returned its gaze. She had for the moment forgotten how advanced Blue Chroma animals could be. She had encountered truth-sniffing, talking dogs, and a telepathic blue dragon, but had not been thinking along such lines at the moment. How do you know me?

  You carry Mentor Blue Dragon's seed.

  So she did. You know Mentor?

  And Yellow Spider. You are a good human female.

  Yellow! How is he? For that was the tiny seven-legged spider she had rescued and protected until it grew large and protected her. When it killed a man who tried to rape her, it had had to flee to the wilderness.

  Aged. But you need fear no evil of his kind, in any Chroma. They value their own.

  How do you know so much?

  I am a sphinx. And that of course was answer enough. Sphinxes never forgot anything; they were natural repositories of information. Any creature with knowledge of interest shared it with any sphinx it encountered. This was not generally known by human beings, who regarded them as convenient beasts of burden, but Gale had learned it from Mentor.

  I thank you, Sphinx.

  Pleasure.

  Do you wish information of me?

  Affirmation.

  Can you take it from my mind as we travel, respecting my privacies?

  If you allow it.

  It understood that she could shield her mind. I do. She opened her mind to it. Further direct communication was not necessary; it would slowly absorb her memories without disturbing them or requiring her attention, and it would not embarrass or endanger her by sharing them frivolously. She had not encountered a sphinx before, but trusted Mentor's judgment in this respect. Mentor was her oath friend, and Havoc's, and they both owed their physical and mental competence to the blue dragon's training. The two dragon seeds had been infallible personal guides, and the failure of hers to buzz warning was another factor in her trust of the sphinx. The Sphinx of course knew this.

  "That was some exchange,” Throe murmured.

  "Havoc and I value our animal contacts,” she said. “They are in some respects superior to human contacts."

  "Agreement. Havoc showed me this."

  Meanwhile other blue people were appearing. They lifted a ramp to the base of the tower. “This way,” a man said to Gale and Throe. Evidently all of them understood the deal. It was impressive what Blue Chroma folk could do with animals; the birds must have given them all the information they needed.

  They mounted the ramp. The tower was surprisingly spacious inside, with a small central stage and a ring of seats facing it. It was a miniature theater.

  Soon there were three men, three women, and six children of mixed ages and genders watching the stage. There was a slight sensation of motion as the sphinx stood and walked. One huge eye appeared at a tower portal: the sphinx was watching. Gale knew it could proceed safely at speed at the same time; it had several other eyes. It didn't really need to watch physically as it could pick up the whole scene from her mind, but she was not the only one it was watching.

  She and Throe took the stage. “I am Nonesuch Songstress, but you may think of me as Barbary Ellen, and this is my travel companion Sweet William.” She smiled at Throe, who put on a morose expression, bringing a small laugh, as he hardly looked sweet. Several of the adults nodded, recognizing the names; Gale's repertoire was of course familiar, by design, for folk loved to see the old classics done by new singers.

  Throe lay on the floor and closed his eyes. Gale stood facing away from him, adjusted her hair and mien, played a preamble on her dulcimer, and sang:

  In the village where I was born

  There was a fair maid dwellin'

  Made every youth cry “Well-a-day!"

  Her name was Barbary Ellen.

  This dated a thousand years back to the original home world from which the human kind had come, and perhaps a thousand years beyond that. The old songs had perpetual lives, because people valued their forgotten origins. It was traditionally sung by an older person, a minstrel, with a young and pretty actress playing the part. But Gale was as pretty as any woman, when she put her mind to it, and could sing as well as any, so could handle it alone. She could tell by the sudden coalescing of attention that this small audience had caught on to her competence. The men were smiling ruefully; they knew already that they would not be sharing her physical favo
rs. She had abruptly become the woman of the song, and all them were now in the scene.

  All in the merry month of May

  The green buds they were swellin'

  Sweet William on his death bed lay

  For love of Barbary Ellen.

  And there he was, looking twice her age, suffering. It was early in the ballad, but already some of the children in the audience were crying.

  Gale turned around and looked down at the still man. She played her music in a minor key, changing the mood, and sang in a different mode:

  And death is printed on his face

  And o'er his heart is stealin'

  Then haste away to comfort him

  O lovely Barbary Ellen.

  Then she turned back to address the audience. In the song she described how Sweet William sent his servant to her house. “O miss, O miss, O come you quick, if your name be Barbary Ellen.” Gale spoke in the tones of the servant, a different voice.

  "What do you want of me?” Barbary Ellen demanded imperiously. No music here; this was a contrast scene, supposed reality.

  "My master Sweet William is fading. You must come to him."

  "What business is that of mine? Let someone else go to that ingrate."

  "O miss, O miss, he loves only you. You must come."

  "Expletive! He cares nothing for me."

  But the servant would not desist until she agreed to go. So, with extreme reluctance, Barbary Ellen complied.

  O slowly, slowly, got she up

  And slowly come she nigh him

  She drew the curtain to one side

  And said, “Young man, you're dyin'."

  Now Sweet William opened his eyes and gazed at her. He agreed that he was very sick and grieved, and would not recover unless he could have her love.

  Now she turned on him a look of sheer fury. She shook her head so that her hair flared out in visible anger.

  "Do you remember the other night

  When you were at the tavern?

  You drank a health to the ladies all

  But slighted Barbary Ellen!"

  Sweet William answered her, the only words Throe actually spoke so far, but his voice was faint and cracked, and she was now facing away, refusing to listen.

  "Yes, I remember the other night

  When I was at the tavern.

  I gave a health to the ladies all

  And my heart to Barbary Ellen."

  There was a murmur from the children in the audience, catching on to the nature of the misunderstanding. The proud woman had taken the ultimate compliment for a slight. But Barbary Ellen would not have it. It appeared that her imperious nature could not admit of a mistake. She was out of the house almost before he finished speaking.

  Sweet William turned his pale face to the wall and shuddered as he came nigh death. “Goodbye, goodbye, my dear friends all. Be kind to Barbary Ellen.” Now all the children and the three women were quietly crying, appreciating the tragedy of it, and the generosity of the man despite the unfairness of the woman he loved.

  As she was walking toward her home

  She heard the death-bell knellin'

  At every stroke it seemed to say

  "Cold hearted Barbary Ellen!"

  But it was too late to change her mind. She went to the funeral, and looked at the corpse. Now at last her tears flowed. But what could she do? She could have saved him, but instead had held on to her grudge.

  She went home, but found no solace there.

  "O mother, mother, make my bed

  O make it long and narrow

  Sweet William died for me today

  I'll die for him tomorrow."

  But neither could she find escape in sleep. The vision of Sweet William haunted her dreams. How could she have been so cruel to the man she loved?

  "O father, father, dig my grave

  O dig it long and narrow

  Sweet William died for love of me

  And I will die for sorrow."

  Barbary Ellen died, and they buried her beside Sweet William. Gale sank to the floor to sit beside the man, but continued singing as narrator: From his heart grew a red red rose, and from her heart a briar.

  They grew and grew to the steeple top

  Till they could grow no higher

  And there they tied in a true love knot

  The rose clung round the briar.

  As she sang the last verse, Gale set aside her dulcimer and got the rest of the way down on the floor, wrapping her arms around Sweet William's body. In a moment the children in the audience were there too, hugging them both as they cried. The first time was always the most effective, for a listener. But the adults were comfortably sad as they applauded. They were Blue Chroma, and had magic, but an artistic performance was beyond magic.

  No more was said about Gale's body. Sometimes travelers pretended to be entertainers to get free passage, so the Chroma representatives were cautious, but Gale had proved herself. The Sphinx delivered them to the rendezvous on the far side of the zone, and let them off.

  One of the women approached Gale. “If you pass this way again—"

  "I will sing again,” Gale agreed.

  "Here is food and drink for your journey, with our appreciation."

  "Gratitude."

  You are special, the Sphinx thought. May we meet again.

  May we, Gale agreed.

  The boundary between the Blue Chroma and adjacent Red Chroma zones was purple. Rather than being a region without magic, it was an overlapping that had both kinds of magic. Blue was the so called Animal Chroma, and Red the Demon Chroma. Gale had had more than enough of Red on her prior mission, but this time she was just passing through.

  The scenery was odd. There seemed to be purple plants of types not seen elsewhere, and probably there were animals too. The path was wide, which was just as well, because some of the plants looked dangerous. One shot purple tentacles across to block their way, and was readying more. Throe's ready staff knocked them clear. Gale had paid their way across the Blue zone; he was doing his part here.

  They reached the rendezvous point where the Red Chroma zone became dominant. They approached the Red Chroma man on duty there. “We would like rapid passage across this zone,” Gale said. “I am a songstress, and can—"

  "We have an alternate program, if you qualify."

  Gale exchanged a look with Throe. They did not quite trust this. “Question?"

  "We need objective jurors for a trial. The two of you may serve."

  Gale shook her head. “We prefer not to involve ourselves in the business of others. We are in a hurry. We merely wish to travel across your Chroma and go our way. I'm sure I can entertain you sufficiently to satisfy you."

  "If you do not qualify as jurors, we will transport you free of any service. But if you do, this is the service we require."

  Gale was getting angry, but Throe, more experienced with balky situations, intervened diplomatically. “It is not wise to make any decision on ignorance. Please tell us more of this trial, and we can judge whether we are competent for such a service. We would not want to attempt it if we knew ourselves to be incompetent."

  "We will judge whether you are competent,” the Red man said arrogantly. “We do not care to advertise the nature of the trial to outsiders."

  Again Gale's rage rose, but Throe assumed the role of a father and smoothed it over. The mere fact of his intervention helped; it took away some of the need for her reaction. “I do not wish to affront anyone, but if we turn out to be unsuitable, then we will indeed be outsiders with knowledge of your private business. So some hint might be in order."

  "It is a trial for interChroma treason."

  "Then we are likely incompetent, being nonChroma. The nuances of Chroma affairs are surely beyond us."

  "Contrary: you are objective in a way we are not. You will decide on the basis of your values rather than ours."

  "This risks an unfair decision. We prefer to avoid—"

  "You become rep
etitive. This is our requirement for your passage: that you undergo the qualification, which need take only brief time, and if approved, serve as jurors, this process taking perhaps a day."

  Gale was becoming rather curious, despite her common sense. She tried to read the Red Chroma man's mind, but he was just outside her range and was focused on making them do his will rather than the essence of the trial. Mental communication with Throe was easy, because they knew each other, and they could facilitate it by touch. Strangers were harder, and Chroma folk harder yet. If she could put a hand on the man she could probably get what she needed, but she lacked a pretext to touch him. Resignation she thought.

  "In that case, we shall be glad to attempt qualification,” Throe said gracefully.

  "Step through this portal.” Gale saw a red doorway she had not noticed before; in fact she suspected it had not been there until this moment.

  She stepped through, and found herself in a red chamber with several exits. Before each stood a naked person or an animal. Not comfortable with this, she turned back, but found only a solid red wall behind her. Throe had not followed.

  Throe! Where are you?

  His answer was faint. In a chamber with several bare folk of varied Chroma. I followed you, but must have been transported to another chamber.

  They compared notes, and found that their two chambers were identical, each with Red man and Blue woman and others. It must be the qualification test, she thought.

  Agreement.

  Probably best to read no minds here, so that we come across as normal nonChromas.

  Endorsement.

  She approached the nude woman. She was a fine specimen with a lovely face, figure reminiscent of Gale's own, and beautiful long blue hair. “Introduction: I am Nonesuch Songstress. Perhaps I have strayed into the wrong chamber. I was to attempt qualification as juror for a trial."

  "My name is irrelevant,” the woman replied. “This is the qualification chamber, and I am part of the process. To depart this chamber you must select an exit and satisfy its guardian."

  "Confusion. What does any person here require of me?"

  "Your body in no fault passion."

  Gale was taken aback. “This is not what I anticipated."