Key to Chroma

by Piers Anthony

  "Oh, you know, it's so big and bright, and there's so much magic. I like it."

  Gale had not meant to, but found herself looking into the girl's mind—and was shocked. This innocent-seeming child was lying, deliberately and without concern. She hardly cared about the cone; she had another interest. It was a boyfriend who lived near the cone. Her shortcut was so that no one would see her going there so often.

  The girl was seven years old. The boyfriend was twenty three and married. It was consensual, and it was complete. He was a pedophile, and she liked the attention. She didn't even mistake sex for love; they had been honest with each other throughout, if not to others. They understood each other perfectly. She was happy to hold his interest, and had discovered how to do it. She went to him every chance she could. He accommodated her every chance he could. It was their secret, and it brightened both their lives. It enabled him to maintain appearances despite having little sexual interest in his wife, and her to have the full ardent fascination of a handsome man. It was their private realm, which each would deny if challenged.

  Gale wished she hadn't peeped. Now she was stuck with an ugly decision: should she tell the parents, whom she knew from the girl's thoughts had no idea? That would generate a firestorm not of the volcano's making, and probably finish with the girl placed in forced adoption elsewhere. Misery for all three of them. Or should she keep her mouth shut?

  She hated it, but she knew what it had to be. She had to keep silent, because it really wasn't her business, and more damage would be done by the revelation than by the secret. Maybe in time the girl would tire of the game and break it off with no outside party the wiser. Or more likely she would mature, physically, and the man would lose interest. With luck that, too, would end quietly, as the girl sought attention elsewhere.

  This was the second time Gale had had to make a hard decision about another person's welfare. She hoped she had saved the lives of Auger and Aura. Now she hoped that her silence would enable something to end without hurting innocent parties. For the parents were innocent; it was the child who was not. What irony!

  They approached the apparent lava flow. “That looks awful hot,” Smidgen said. “Are you sure it's not there?"

  "I am sure. We crossed this bridge coming in."

  They marched on into the apparent river of fire. “Amazement!” the girl cried. “I see it, but I can't feel it. It's a secret fire."

  "An apparent fire,” Gale said. “Its secret is that it doesn't exist."

  "Weird! An inside-out secret."

  And the girl did know about the regular kind of secret: a situation that existed without being known. She was already planning to tell her lover about the lava that wasn't there. She liked the idea of knowing something he didn't; usually it was the other way around.

  Satisfied, they walked on out of the lava flow and back to the house. The rain of rocks had abated; this aspect of the eruption was done, for now.

  "It's true!” Smidgen cried. “It's illusion!"

  "We believe it,” Awry said. They had been talking with Throe, who must have been persuasive.

  Smidgen gladly showed them the shortcut. It was a winding path through wilderness brush that intersected no houses or yards—except one. That house was now empty; the family had evacuated. The girl stared at it a moment, soberly, then turned to go back. She had to rejoin her family so they could all get to safety before real lava came.

  "Gratitude, Smidgen,” Gale called.

  The girl paused, turning back. “And to you, too, for not blabbing.” Then she spun about and ran off.

  "She knew!” Gale breathed, chagrined.

  "Question?"

  Was she obliged to keep the secret from him? She thought not. “That little gamine is having an affair with a pedophile. I read it in her mind. Since there would be more mischief in revealing it than in letting it be, I decided to keep her secret. She must have a little mind reading ability of her own, so knew I knew and would not tell."

  "She lives close-in to the cone, where magic is strong. Any magic ability is possible, if a person takes the trouble to learn it and perfect it. She could have some mind reading ability. It would help her to keep secrets."

  "Surely so! But is it right for me to keep that secret?"

  "I think so. What the girl is doing is advanced Tickle & Peek. That is her business."

  "With an adult man!"

  "He does not force her?"

  "No force."

  "Then it is their business."

  "Suppose your daughter—"

  "I would prefer not to know."

  Which was another argument for secrecy. Gale remembered her early relationship with Havoc, when she had offered to give him all the Peeks he wanted, with no obligation. She had not told her parents. She would have given him full sex then, if he had wanted it, if she had known how. And not told any adult. “Maybe so,” she said reluctantly. Somehow it looked different from an adult perspective.

  They moved on past the house to the slope of the fire mountain. The magic was intense, almost palpable. They were on the wrong side; the coordinates were about a quarter of the way around it. That would take them to the end of the day—assuming there were no further eruptions.

  As if responding to that thought, the cone rumbled. A cloud emerged. Instead of sailing into the sky, it bobbled just above the cone, then spilled over and rolled down the slope. “What is that?” Gale demanded, astounded.

  "Pyroclastic flow,” Throe said grimly. “With magic. I have read of it.” Then he got practical. “It's coming this way. We've got to get out of here!"

  "What is pyro—pyro—"

  "Come on! This is deadly!"

  They ran to the side, trying to get out of the rolling cloud's path. As they ran, Throe described it mentally. Ball of gas, ash, air, water, vaporized lava, superheated, can kill you any which way.

  They came to a crack in the mountain. In terms of the volcano, it was trifling, but for them it was a crevasse.

  "Can you make it?” Throe asked as they ran toward it.

  "Yes."

  They reached the brink and leaped together. Gale remembered that this was the way King Deal had died, caught by a changeling vulnerability as he jumped, so that he fell to his death in a seeming accident. It was murder, as Havoc had verified. Changelings were different from regular people in some sublet ways, not all of them positive. But Havoc, Gale, and Symbol had gotten that particular liability fixed. Havoc was not one to let a known weakness remain.

  They landed or the far side and slowed. They stopped and gazed back.

  The yellow pyroclastic cloud was not far behind. It was bouncing down the mountain, spreading out. It was intensely magic; Gale felt that as much as the heat. It reached the crevasse and tried to spread across. It sagged down into the gap, unable to float. Then its rolling motion carried it on, with only a fragment dropping into the crack.

  "That is a fearsome thing,” Throe remarked. “I think it was trying to get at us."

  "But it's inanimate."

  "That's what makes it scary."

  "When I was at the Red Chroma cone, the demons seemed to be trying to balk us. They don't have our intelligence, but they do seem to have some will of their own."

  "And these would be fresh demons from the depths. I wonder whether we will ever understand them."

  "We'd better get on with the mission,” she said. “I don't want to be caught by the darkness, and of course we don't know when the next solid eruption will come."

  "At any time,” he agreed. “The faster we can fetch the ikon and get out of here, the better."

  "Emphatic agreement."

  They walked toward the crack, then ran, and leaped. They landed neatly on the other side.

  "Oh!” Gale cried. “It's hot!"

  "Burning,” he agreed. “Will take hours to cool. Here.” He stepped toward her and put one hand across her back, the other against her thighs. In a moment he lifted her up, clear of the hot stone.

  "Bu
t your feet will burn!” she protested. “And you can't carry me far this way; the terrain's too uneven. We must go back.” But as she spoke, her dragon seed buzzed.

  "I felt that buzz in your mind,” he said. “We have to go forward. Anyway, my boots are better protection than your slippers. I can make it."

  He was right. “At least carry me on your back, so your arms are free."

  "Agreement.” He set her down. Immediately her shoes started heating.

  She jumped onto his back, her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. He lumbered onward.

  But she felt his pain, radiating from his mind. His feet were being destroyed! But what could she do?

  Then from the depths of her something came. It was a healing power she had never known she had. She projected it from her whole body into his, sending it down into his legs.

  It worked. His pace became strong, and he moved faster. He made rapid progress toward the coordinate site.

  There was a cave. “Go in!” Throe gasped, setting her down. “Get it!” He dropped to the stone, which was no longer hot; he had crossed the section the pyroclastic ball had heated.

  "Throe! You're hurt!"

  "Just my feet. You somehow stopped the pain, but they're gone. Go get that ikon."

  "I can't leave you here!” She dropped to her knees, looking at his boots. But as she did so, she saw the scorch marks on the soles, and smelled the burned flesh. “Oh, Throe!"

  "Get it!” he cried. “It's our mission!"

  He was right again. She got up and forged into the cave. Because the rock was bright yellow, she could see some distance inside. In fact there were small flames along the walls, lighting it.

  She came to the key chamber. There was an altar—and it was on fire. In fact it seemed to be made of fire. How was she going to handle this?

  Then she realized that it was illusion. She refocused her eyes, and perceived the true altar beneath it, similar to the one she had seen in the Red Chroma zone, and not burning. She approached it.

  There was a rumble, and the chamber shook. Was it a tremor—or an eruption?

  Did it matter? She dived for the altar and started checking the pockets. The last was empty, as was the one next to it.

  The whole mountain vibrated. Gale felt a wash of sheer magic. She knew it immediately: the eruption!

  They were too late. They could not survive a full eruption while on or in the cone itself.

  Still she scrambled for the ikon—and found it in the first pocket. A yellow star, seemingly burning, but that was merely its color and shape. She scooped it up and popped it into her mouth. Then she ran for the exit, boosted by the growing force of the eruption, which was shoving the entire chamber outward. She envisioned the magma, gas, smoke, ash, and pyroclastic cloud jamming up the throat of the cone, like a monstrous male emission, forcing it to expand. In a moment it would blow off the top of the mountain and vent into the sky, blasting everything in the vicinity. She felt both its awesome physical and magic power. She was but a fly on the surface of the bomb as it detonated.

  Still she ran, determined to get as far as she could before it blew her to oblivion. She came to the cave entrance. There was Throe. She had almost forgotten him. He couldn't walk. Even if she could get free of the cone, by some miracle, how could she save him too?

  "Throe!” she cried, kneeling beside him.

  "Did you get it?"

  "Yes. A yellow star. In my mouth.” She touched her cheek.

  "Then get out of here! The thing's erupting."

  "I can't leave you!"

  "Don't get womanish on me! You have maybe half a chance. I'm done for anyway. Get going!"

  "You brought me here. I can't desert you like this."

  "The mission, idiot! Remember the mission. Go!"

  He was right. Whatever chance she had lay in moving out and hoping that somehow the hell of the eruption missed her. It was a small chance, a tiny chance, a mere theoretical chance, but all there was. “Parting!” she said, and kissed him.

  "Tell Ennui—"

  "I will!” She stood and took a step away from him.

  The cone fragmented. Gale felt the overwhelming force of it shoving everything ferociously away.

  She whirled and threw herself down on Throe, clasping him, trying to protect him from the dreadful power of the blast. She knew it was a pitiful gesture, but it was all she could do at this stage. Neither of them had any chance of survival.

  The eruption picked them up and hurled them outward. They flew through the air, locked together, surrounded by the roiling golden smoke of it. The entire Fire Chroma was passing beneath them, spread out like a yellow map.

  Was she dreaming? How could she be seeing this, when she was dead in the eruption? Had she merely imagined their journey to the cone? She doubted it. Therefore she must be dead, and it was her soul watching, and Throe's soul with her. Where were they going?

  They dropped toward the ground, their bodies following an arc from the volcano. Why here? Surely the repository for spirits was on Planet Mystery if it was anywhere. And why drop? They should no longer have any solid substance.

  They landed on a yellow field, bounced, and plowed to a stop. Gale did not move, uncertain what the protocol was for the afterlife. Would there be some guidance?

  "What did you do?” Throe asked.

  That jolted her out of her stasis. “I died, I think. As did you. What are we doing here?"

  "If I'm dead, why are my feet still hurting?"

  "We can't be alive! We were caught in the eruption!"

  "Affirmation. You threw yourself on me, and then we both got thrown to the edge of the Chroma zone. We seem to be alive. I have no idea why."

  "We're really alive?"

  "Want me to spank your bottom to prove it?"

  She had to laugh. “I guess we are. But I can't explain it. It doesn't seem possible."

  "Maybe we'll figure it out sometime. Right now there's the mission to complete. I still can't walk, so you'd better get moving alone. Not much has changed."

  "You're coming too. I'm not going to tell Ennui I left you here alone.” She considered. “Maybe I can heal your feet, at least enough to enable you to walk."

  "Don't try. They're gone."

  She feared he was right. “Then I'll get you home some other way. I won't leave you."

  He sighed. “I suppose you can sing us home. Let's see if I can fashion a cart for my feet so that I can propel myself with my arms.” Then he looked at her. “The ikon! It's magical!"

  "Of course it is,” she agreed. “They all are."

  "I mean potent magic. It must have protected you—and me too, because you were covering me. It made us invulnerable."

  Gale stared at him. “That must be it! They come from the heart of their Chroma zones, where the magic is strongest. Whatever they are designed to do, they can do with enormous power."

  "I think the mystery of the changelings must involve potent forces indeed."

  She nodded, agreeing. “Yet I think if I took time to consider the matter properly, I would freak out. I really thought we died."

  "Agreement.” After a pause, he said: “This experience has caused my respect for you to grow. We have been associates. Can we be friends?"

  "We're already friends."

  "We work together. We've been nominal friends. I mean real friends."

  She was suddenly overwhelmed. “Oh, Throe, you sacrificed your feet for me! And almost your life. That's not nominal. Of course we should be friends."

  "My feet were line of duty. But the way you threw yourself on me as the eruption occurred—you did save my life by that act."

  "Line of duty,” she said, smiling. Then, suddenly, she was overwhelmed. “Oh, Throe—we almost died! I can't face it."

  "What choice do we have?"

  "Just comfort me a moment. As a friend."

  Then she was sprawled across him again, being held by his strong arms. She sobbed, letting the burgeoning emotion out. It
might be stupid, but it helped.

  After a time, she straightened up and reassembled herself, physically and emotionally. “I don't think I'm through, but the rest can wait. Now we have to get us home."

  "Home,” he agreed. “With the ikon."

  "With the ikon,” she agreed grimly. “It cost us so much; we aren't going to let it go."

  A shimmer appeared. Gale put out a hand. “Swale."

  What happened?

  "Throe carried me across burning rock, and destroyed his feet. Now he can't walk. But we got the ikon, and will return to Triumph. How's Havoc?"

  She seduced him. He has taken her as his mistress.

  "Good for her.” But Gale felt a pang. Others thought her generous, but she did not feel so. “As long as they're both all right."

  She's his mistress, but you're his love. I know.

  And that was reassuring, but not enough. Still, there was no point in struggling with it. She had other huge concepts to digest, such as near death. “Tell them we're on our way."

  I will. The succubus faded.

  "We'll be all right,” Throe said.

  With his lost feet and her broken heart? “I hope so."

  "We'll solve the mystery of the changelings, and then it will be all right."

  "I hope so,” she repeated dully.

  Chapter 7—Avian

  Havoc looked at Throe. “You can't walk?"

  "Apparently not,” Throe replied. “The medics say that my feet are literally cooked. They will have to amputate."

  "I did not wish this on you."

  "It was necessary. We got the ikon."

  Gale produced the yellow star. “It has phenomenal power. It protected us from a full-fledged eruption. It's my guess that all the ikons have similar power."

  "We'll find out,” Havoc said. “But first I have to get the seventh ikon."

  "We all do,” Gale said. “Except for Throe."

  Havoc frowned. “It's my understanding that we were to send four to fetch the first four, and two parties of two for the next two, and one party of four for the last. It may not count, without Throe. He's worth any four others."

  "Then let's take four others."

  "But the privacy of our mission would be compromised."