"Negation. I have never paid much attention to insects, except in the case of that wasp, but their presence in your history makes them of interest to me. I am not bored, and regret it if I seemed so."
"You did not seem so. I merely am aware that I can speak too much on this subject, therefore am wary of it. Normally I do not mention it at all.” The face faded, leaving the scene pristine. It shifted to an older girl, Bug at a later age, and Lucent saw that she was indeed rather homely because of her injury. Boys teased her cruelly and girls snubbed her, driving her ever into isolation. But when a boy tried to attack her, apparently just to hurt her to make her feel bad, she flicked something at him, and he cried out and fled. “A stinging bug,” Lucent said. “I had learned to tame them, and always carried some on me. Others learned to leave me alone."
The next scene showed Bug as a young woman, her blue hair covering part of her face. “It was the moment of my blooming,” she said. “My face was plain, but I was able to mask it somewhat with my hair. My breasts developed nicely. I had learned to move carefully so as to minimize my awkwardness. I could pass for a girl. I hoped to achieve a social life. But I knew better than to attempt it in my own village. Instead I set out for a neighboring village the other side of the cone, where they would not know me.” The scene showed the massive blue volcano, wisps of blue smoke rising from its cone. Beside it was a lake. The girl took a boat and paddle and crossed the lake. “I walked and boated to avoid attention. Folk traveling across a Chroma zone normally fly, but a person in the air is far more visible than one below. I could have masked myself with illusion, but I wasn't good at it, and that, too, would have attracted attention. So I avoided the use of magic and used the simplest means of travel."
A head popped from the water surface and gazed at the girl. “Greeting, landlubber!” he said.
"No offense,” Bug replied. “I wish merely to reach the far shore and go my way in peace."
"Why go there, when here is a buoy who can provide what you need?” But as he swam smoothly close he got a better look at her face. “Parting.” He disappeared below. She was not surprised; physical appearance counted for a lot. She would have settled for a buoy, if he had been interested.
Bug reached the shore and resumed foot travel, now skirting the base of the cone. The intense magic made the blue air shimmer. Then three blue men appeared, going the other way. They were upon her before she knew. “Well look at this!” one exclaimed. “A virgin girl."
"I tried to use magic then, to escape,” Lucent said. “I could see that they were brigands. But they countered it and laid hold of me before I could fly. I tried to resist physically, but they bashed my head until I ceased struggling. They did not care at all about my face, only my vulva. I will spare you the details of the rape, unless you really wish to see it."
"Needless,” Symbol said, though she had a certain suppressed curiosity about it. Rape was a kind of sex, therefore fell within her sphere of interest. She also wondered how Lucent had come to accept rape so readily, as a Glamor.
The Glamor caught her thought. The rape sequence appeared. It wasn't elegant. One man caught hold of her hair from in front, pushed her head down against his belly, reached across her back, circled his arms down around her waist from above, and heaved her up so that her legs dangled down in front of him. Another ripped off her skirt and underclothing, bared his member, and rammed it into her body from the rear. She had the wit to scream, but it didn't matter; it merely tensed her body around the invading rod. In two or three thrusts he was done, and backing away. The third man took his turn similarly, and this time she didn't scream, realizing that it merely gave them additional satisfaction. Then the second man took over the hold from the first one, so that the first one could have at her also. She hardly felt him; she had become numb in that region. There was no pretense of interest in her face or breasts, just her bared bottom. It occurred to Symbol that this was probably the way they raped struggling children, heartless brigands that they were, so they had no need of any of the rest of it. Children didn't have developed breasts. She was merely a momentary sheath, of no other significance.
"When all three were done with me, they broke my legs, threw me away and moved on. I wasn't worth enslaving, because of my face, so they crippled me and left me to die. This was a calculated thing; if they had killed me outright, the carrion birds would have sniffed the death, oriented on my body, and flown in to feed, and people might have seen them and investigated. So they arranged for me to die in a day or so, enabling them to be far enough away so that no substantial suspicion would attach to them. They cared nothing for decency or law, but were aware that others did, so they had learned caution. I found myself lying prone under a bush, with dirt in my mouth, the pain of my shattered legs overwhelming all else. I had thought that rape was the worst of it; I had learned otherwise. I was helpless; I knew I couldn't walk, even if I could stand the pain. I couldn't fly; the ravishing had destroyed my concentration, and my broken legs were leaking blood, and in any event I had no great desire to survive. What could I do if I lived? Everyone would know that I had been raped and was therefore worthless. All I could do was cry, and wait for death."
The scene showed the day darkening into night as she lay there unmoving. The ants of the night came foraging, smelling the caked blood, and other bugs converged. Some insects glowed, illuminating the scene. They formed a ring around the girl, but did not attack her body. Symbol wondered whether they could be diffident about consuming live flesh. But that seemed unlikely, unless they were carrion eaters. Also, there was something strange about the way they pressed in around her without getting on her. They seemed to be waiting and watching. Waiting for what?
Then a giant fly came, its body the size of the girl's head. It landed by her head and crept close, its antennae extending forward to touch her forehead. Communication.
Symbol was startled, as was the girl in the image. What was this?
But it was a contact, and she responded automatically. Pain. Horror. Death.
The fly considered a moment. Then it sent again, a healing pulse. The pain diminished, as did the horror, and the desire for death faded. Bug's mind, freed from these distractions, cleared. She was unable to speak, and not just because her mouth was full of dirt; she remained too weak to move. But she could think. Question?
The massed insects seemed to draw closer in, antennae extended. They were receiving. But it was the giant fly who directed the thought. Help.
Help? For whom? Bug could not make sense of this. Confusion.
The fly tried again. You. Us. Deal. The thoughts were not quite these, but rather were allocations of identity, and the need for some resolution.
Freed for the moment of the pain and horror, Bug realized that she did after all want to survive. She did not know how it was possible, but it seemed preferable to extinction in the wilderness. The insects seemed to be offering some kind of assistance, if she would join them. This prospect did not appall her; she had always admired their capabilities and organization. If insects had human intelligence, what a power they could be!
Affirmation! Again, not the word but the acceptance.
Her thought paused. The fly had read it, and emphatically agreed. That insects should have human intelligence? That was impossible; they lacked the size and nervous structure, and were too well adapted to their existing mode of operation. There were also too many types; if they all had human intelligence, they would soon be warring with each other for dominance, doing a hundred times as much damage in the process as before. Human intelligence without human experience and caution would be a disaster.
Affirmation!
She began to understand. You want me to join your cause. You will help me if I do.
Affirmation.
This was becoming interesting. Yet how was it possible? They were insects and she was dying. They could not save her, and she could not do anything for them.
Negation.
They thought a deal was f
easible? There was one way to find out. Agreement. Then she faded out.
When consciousness came again, she seemed to be on some kind of mat, and it was sliding across the ground. The dirt had been cleaned out of her mouth, and her legs still did not hurt. She tried to move her head, and discovered that she could. She looked to the side, and saw thousands of five-legged ants drawing on myriad strings leading into the mat. They were pulling it along, up a slope. Where were they taking her?
The fly came again. Cave.
A cave? Why? But understanding was too much for her, and she lapsed into unconsciousness.
She recovered in the cave. It must be in the Blue cone itself, because she felt the intense magic. No one came this close to the living volcano; it was dangerous. Yet here she seemed to be.
The fly approached, and its antenna touched her forehead. Ascend.
She twisted her neck to look up. There was some kind of altar, and beyond it the back wall of the cave. That was all. No stairs, no ramp, no aperture. In any event, she couldn't walk or even stand. So how could she ascend? Yet the insects had brought her here, with great labor on their part; they had something in mind. Confusion.
The fly tried again. Become.
Become what? She was baffled.
Try!
So she tried. She concentrated, making a sincere effort to become whatever it was she could become.
Then it happened. Some enormous power suffused her, and she became something incalculably greater than herself. Every part of her fairly glowed with magic vitality.
She felt her two legs. They were broken. She concentrated, and they straightened and healed. She turned over and sat up, gazing at them. Not only were her legs mended, they were perfectly formed. All because she had willed it.
She stood, feeling lithe and strong. She needed a mirror, so she made the wall reflective. She gazed at herself. She was naked and so lovely that it almost pained her to look. Every part was exquisite. She was the most beautiful blue woman she had ever seen.
She was hungry, so she conjured food from home. A pot pie landed on the altar. She lifted it and ate, delighting in the sustenance. Never before had her magic been like this! What had been an effort was now easy, and what had been partial now was whole. She was glorious.
She saw something lying on the floor. It was a small statuette of an insect. She bent to pick it up, but her hand would not touch it; some force prevented her. It hardly mattered; she was wonderfully whole, after being broken. What lay ahead?
Then she saw the fly, sitting on the edge of the altar. Oh, yes. This is what you give me? She no longer had to touch its antennae to communicate; she could do so from a distance.
Affirmation.
It was more than good enough. What must I give you?
The fly seemed not to know.
But we made a deal. You did for me; now I must do for you.
You decide.
But it should not be up to her! They had given her a phenomenal gift; she had to return some equivalent favor.
The fly departed. The ants were already gone. She realized that the intense magic was uncomfortable for them, as it had been for her, before her ascension. But still, how could they leave her with her part of the deal undone?
The scene faded. “It took me some time to figure it out,” Lucent said. “They could not tell me what help they needed, because they lacked the intellects for it. I had to provide that. I owed them, and I had to find out how to repay them. And eventually I did. When insects are in trouble, I help them. When they need protection, I guard them. I am the Glamor of Insects; I represent them, and will never betray them. Like your commitment to King Havoc: I may make mistakes, but my dedication is constant."
"Wonder."
"You want to believe, but doubt. I will demonstrate.” Lucent raised her hand.
In a moment there was a faint buzz. Then a huge insect loomed. It circled them, and came to perch on the Blue Glamor's joined lifted hands. It was so heavy that she needed to support her elbows on her knees.
"That's a wasp!” Symbol screamed, scrambling back in fear.
"Indeed. And tame, for me. It came at my beck; it has been tracking us, as we camp, in case of need."
"But what they do—what happened before—"
"We were never in danger,” Lucent said. “True, it was hunting you, but I warned it off. Then I was obliged to find it another egg-host. Fortunately the brigands showed up.” She frowned. “I have no love for brigands."
No doubt of that! The rape had been brutal in itself, and the calculated injuries and dumping had been worse. Those men had not deserved to live. “Those first three—what of them?"
"I did have vengeance in mind. I asked the insects where the brigands were, and they informed me. They were sleeping on the ground, just before dawn. I sent a swarm of bees against them by air, and scorpions by land, and when they dived into the lake, the crabs finished them off."
"Crabs?"
"If it has five legs, it's an insect, and it is mine. They feasted that day. Yet vengeance was not enough; the stain of their rape remained within me, and I have treated any brigands I encounter unkindly.” She leaned forward and kissed the back of the huge wasp. “Go dear, and thank you.” The wasp flew away, to Symbol's relief.
Symbol's mind was still spinning. “The rape—you let the brigands rape you. Us. On the way to the Red Chroma zone. How could you do that, after what you experienced?"
"I am not an ordinary woman. I do have ordinary emotions, but extraordinary power. I realized that I could not afford to be governed by that lingering horror. So I practiced to abolish it. When I spied other brigands I assumed mortal guise and put myself in their way, an attractive woman. When they raped me, I let them. Then I summoned the bees. Sometimes they did not rape me; those I let go. You can never be quite sure, from a man's appearance. But most did. At first it was sheer horror; I had to force myself to accept it without transforming them to goo. But gradually it became commonplace, and finally I no longer cared. I could handle rape, and the legacy of the original brigands was gone. That was the point: to clear the vestiges of them out of me. I had time to do it; I spent a decade clearing the rapes. In the process I cleaned all brigands out of the Blue Chroma zones."
"Realization! I have heard that there are no brigands in Blue zones. No one knows why, but travelers swear it is so. Brigands have learned to stay clear, because those who enter Blue seldom are seen again. That is your doing!"
"Acknowledgment. There are too many brigands on the planet—any man can become one, and some women—but Blue is my Chroma, and I will not tolerate them there."
"Endorsement. But after you cleared the rapes, what then?"
"Mostly scouting around for things insectivorous, keeping aware of the condition of my creatures. I take seriously my commitment to them.” She touched the ground, and in a moment ants swarmed over it. “I am their creature too."
"Even insects in nonChroma zones?” Symbol asked, though she saw that it was so.
"All insects. Blue is merely my power; insects are my commitment. Of course it took me time to grasp the whole of it. I did not realize at first that I was immortal. In fact it took me time to realize that I was a Glamor."
"How did you realize?"
"Insects were in trouble in another Chroma zone, so I conjured myself there—and realized after I did it that I had gone beyond the Blue Chroma zone without faltering. My powers remained! I had never heard of this; I had thought the insects had given me full Blue Chroma magic, limited to Blue. I had been accustomed to flying to the fringe, then walking to the next Blue Chroma zone, a tedious process. Now I knew my magic was far greater than that; it worked in any Chroma, and in nonChroma. So I helped the insects, and explored the range of my powers. And in due course encountered the Black Glamor.” She smiled. “That was our first affair. I was so glad to find another like myself, though he was of another Chroma. We compared notes, and I learned that he represented the saprophytes, the fungi, the organi
sms that break down organic material after it dies. He protects them, and they support him. The things he can do—"
"I saw,” Symbol said appreciatively. “When he came to help Havoc, he dissolved all Havoc's enemies into ashes."
"Into organic dust left by fast-feeding fungi,” Lucent clarified. “When it comes to destruction of organics, he is king. Just as when it comes to destruction by insect stings, I am queen. We do have our specialties."
"Amazement!"
"Black introduced me to Red. In time we were seven, and had pleasure in each other's company. We discovered that we could not amuse ourselves by having sex with mortals; they were unable to handle it. It wasn't our beauty, which we could make real in much the manner you Air Chroma women make illusion. It was the intensity of magic. When there is interpenetration, that magic suffuses the flesh of the mortal and stuns him. But we learned to mute it, assuming mortal identities, so that the mortals never knew."
"But surely the magic was still there, even if they didn't know."
"Apparently the muting diminishes its impact considerably. So that if it seems not to be there, it is not there. I do not understand the whole of the effect."
"Why did you interact sexually with mortals, when you had each other?"
"We are but seven: four men, three women. In a century all possible combinations become passé; we have done it all. Man with woman; woman with woman; pairs of men with woman. All seven together. Simulated seduction. Simulated rape. Sadism, masochism. Boredom sets in. Only with innocent mortals can we experience novelty. So we do, to pass the time. As Red did with Havoc. As Invisible did with Gale. As Black did with your bath girl, though that was only a kiss."
"Bijou. She is now an alternate consort of the king, and a fine young woman."
"And as I did with you, mainly by pairing to handle men."
"I remember. I never suspected. You were the perfect socially-clumsy Amazon."
"I had decades of practice in that role."
"And now I have come to know you as yourself. I think I understand you, and could like you."
Key to Chroma Page 58
