I can be close to you, when apart, if you give me of your solid, liquid, and gaseous essence, he clarified.
The hell I will!
She was misunderstanding. A hair of your head. A drop of your saliva. The touch of your breath.
She considered. Then, her curiosity overriding her anger, she quietly plucked a hair from her head, lifted a cloth napkin to her lips, spat into it, and then breathed on it. She wadded it up and passed it to him under the table.
Thank you, Colene. If my magic works here, this will give me great power over you.
She sent him a dark glance. Yet again he seemed to have angered her. But he had the things he needed. This could be very important. He stuffed the napkin into the band of his underwear, and proceeded as if nothing had happened.
Finally the meal ended, and servants guided them back to their chambers. Now the real adventure was about to begin. He wondered what Colene had in mind, since he understood that the male despots could use their magic to incapacitate a woman and make her helpless.
His chamber had a large bed with several covers ranging from a voluminous quilt to a square hardly larger than a towel, and a similar assortment of pillows ranging from huge to tiny. These folk liked freedom of choice! He used the sanitary facilities, stripped, and was in the act of considering pillows when he heard a quiet knock. He got up and went to answer it, holding a medium-sized pillow in front of him.
Sure enough, Queen Glomerula was making her appearance at his door. She was in a sheer white tunic, whose purpose was obviously enhancement rather than concealment, and white veil, evidently intended to indicate anonymity. An officially surreptitious visit.
He stepped back, and she stepped in. She closed the door. Then her cloak and veil faded away, leaving her naked. They had been illusion, and she wore nothing beneath. This woman was all business.
Actually, more of her body could be illusion. He judged her to be about forty years old, and it was an unfortunate fact that few women were outstanding in body at that age, mainly because they didn’t seem to care to work at it. Did her illusion extend to touch as well as sight? If so, did it matter? What a man perceived was what he got, generally.
In this case it was quite a perception. In Darius’ world, women wore thick diapers around their posteriors, under their skirts, whose purpose was to mask the feminine contours. Breasts were normally concealed by loose blouses over sturdy halters. Only married women or mistresses, in the privacy of their homes, allowed themselves to be seen in less. The sight of such body parts was highly suggestive to men, and care was normally taken to prevent accidental exposure. He had had a problem with Colene, who tended to wear clothing that made her feminine contours too evident. She was young, but that did not detract from her physical appeal. Now they were promised to each other, so her apparel could be tolerated; still, he didn’t like it when other men saw her dressed that way. Perhaps that aspect of their relationship was even; she didn’t like the way he reacted to other women.
So the queen’s exposure had an immediate effect on him, and he desired her body despite his resolve. Fortunately he had the discipline of his profession. He would let her believe that he was captivated by her aspect, but in the end it would come to nothing.
He tossed aside the pillow and stepped toward her—and suddenly she was across the room. Magic, of course—except that he understood that the women here did not have true magic, only illusion. So what was going on?
Maybe the horse knew. Seqiro might not be able to get into her mind, but he surely knew where it was.
It is illusion, Seqiro confirmed. She has made an image in one place, and covered her actual body with the image of an empty spot in the room.
An illusion of nothing! That was an aspect he had not anticipated. So she was challenging him to find her. Surely a despot male’s magic could readily cut through such pictures and locate a woman immediately, so she was exploring his magical ability. It was necessary that he demonstrate it, to confirm that he was of the animus and therefore to be respected, along with his women and animal.
Queen Glomerula appeared before him, within reach. “Yes?” she inquired, using one of the few words they had been able to identify.
He did not want to admit that he had no intention of indulging her whim, so he acted. He grabbed for her. And missed; the illusion faded, leaving him embracing air. Her laughter sounded behind him.
But this was not a matter for laughter, for she was testing him. If he could not use his magic to capture her, he would be deemed a theow, and would be killed. In this realm only the men had true magic, and only the despots had strong magic.
Where is she? he asked the horse.
I will mark her place. A glint of light appeared, and then another beside it, at about head height. In fact they were her two eyes, perhaps easiest to fix on because a person’s consciousness tied closely in to sight.
Darius strode toward the glints. They floated quickly to one side. He veered and intercepted them. He reached out and caught her body, drawing it into himself. It was after all only sight the magic affected, at least in this case. Perhaps touch as well, not to make an image tangible, but to make her genuine body seem more appealing. It certainly was that; one of his hands had landed, perhaps by her design, on what seemed to be her invisible right breast, and the other on her left buttock. Both were extremely female.
He oriented and put his lips to the place her mouth should be. He found her lips and kissed her—and she kissed him back. Seqiro had enabled him to prevail. He had proved his magic.
But now what should he do with her? He did not intend to indulge in sex with her; Colene was the one he wanted for that, and only when the time was right. Yet it might not be good form to reject the queen. He needed a legitimate distraction.
Colene, he thought. They might be privately estranged, but they had a common purpose here.
I thought you’d never ask, she replied. The knave is about to arrive, and I want you to see what I do to him.
But I need a pretext to ignore the queen.
What, with one hand on her boob and the other on her ass and your tongue in her mouth?
She is not easy to ignore. Please, a pretext!
You’ve got one: your magic shows you that I am being threatened. Tell the queen you have put a chastity spell on me. Tell her to show you what’s going on here.
How can she do that?
Illusion. These folk are good at it—awful good, Seqiro says. You’ll see. Make her show you. It’ll be a good show.
He cooperated. He paused as if suddenly realizing something, listening. He disengaged his mouth, but not his hands. “Glomerula!” he snapped. “My woman is being approached. Show her chamber.”
But the queen did not understand; there were too few common words. He needed a way to get through to her.
He cast about, and saw the pillows on the bed. He bore the queen back authoritatively and plumped her down on the bed. Her body came into view as he did so, marvelously formed and almost glowing; she was ready for the next event. This was obviously both business and pleasure for her.
But instead of proceeding, he took the smallest pillow and squeezed it into a crude approximation of a human torso. He took the smallest cover and ripped it in half. One half he formed into a wraparound skirt for the pillow; the other half he tore into several shreds, which he tied around the waist and neck and attached in lieu of arms and legs. It was not by any means a great figurine, but he thought it would do for his purpose.