After an interval, he saw Nona returning. “Oh, so they didn’t try it,” he said.
That is not Nona.
Darius looked again. It was Nona! She was identical, and she moved the same way. She had been a perfectly beautiful young woman, and she remained so. In fact she came to sit beside him, and she kissed him on the side of the face, then caught his head to turn his face to hers for a full kiss.
But Seqiro relayed her thoughts to him, and they were impenetrable. They were not the thoughts of the woman he knew, but of an alien. He had been misled by her appearance despite the horse’s warning; without that warning he would have been entirely fooled. Except for his surprise that Nona should act this way. She had kissed him once, when confused after a conjuration, but otherwise been more reserved. Romantic aggression was not her way. In that respect she was quite different from Colene.
Potia got up and left. Would that have tipped him off? He wasn’t sure.
Then Nona’s thoughts came, Darius? But I was about to return to the table. Why are you—oh!
“He’s not Darius,” Darius muttered.
Darius? This isn’t you? It looks exactly like you, but you never tried to touch me like this.
“I’m not your man,” he said without moving his lips. “There’s a woman who looks just like you here with me, and she’s kissing me. What’s he doing with you?”
He must think we are lovers! she thought indignantly. That seemed to be sufficient answer.
“Do we reveal that we know their ploy?” he asked soundlessly. The Nona emulation was now pressing his captured hand against her full bosom. “If we do, they may proceed to something we like less.”
If we don’t, we are going to be lovers by proxy, she responded. I would prefer to be with the real you. She meant because she trusted him, but her thought did not exclude the aspect of love. That startled him for another reason. Her thought carried an added nuance: the legendary Earle, in the story told on Jupiter, had looked like a cross between Angus and Darius. She had recognized this, and suppressed the realization.
“We had better get together,” he said. “But let’s not reveal what we know. Seqiro, guide us.”
Follow my thought. A picture showed a hall leading away.
He disengaged far enough to stand. The emulation stood with him. She did something to her red tunic that enabled him to see down inside its front. He knew she wasn’t the real Nona, and knew that every action of hers was calculated to damp down his logic and fire up his passion, but it remained an effective view. The more so because she did not wear the halter undergarment Colene had arranged for the real Nona.
“A private chamber,” he said aloud. “Maybe we can find one.” He looked around.
Null-Nona looked also, evidently understanding him well enough. She spied the entrance to a chamber, and urged him there.
“Where are you, Nona?” he asked silently.
“Down the passage.” Seqiro renewed the mental map, so that the two of them knew where they were with respect to each other.
“I don’t like this one,” he said aloud. “Let’s find a better one.” He headed down the passage toward the real Nona.
Null-Nona caught his arm, almost turning him into another chamber, but he persisted. “Not good enough. But down here, maybe—” He moved on despite her.
Desperate, Null-Nona pulled off her tunic to reveal her naked body. It was a shock; in Darius’ culture women wore bulky diapers under their exterior clothing to conceal their alluring contours, lest any male who spied them be overcome by lust. Even his encounter with Colene’s quite different attitude had not been enough to reverse a lifetime’s conditioning. Occasional glances down necklines or up skirts were one thing, for they never showed as much as they seemed to; the complete array, without warning, was another. He experienced instant desire.
She embraced him ardently, and sought to draw him into another chamber. The irony was that her passion was surely genuine; she wanted more than anything else to breed with him.
But she was not the woman she seemed to be, and he would be in trouble if he bred with either the emulation or the real one. So he resisted, though in other circumstances he would have been glad to cooperate. It was a considerable challenge.
Meanwhile Nona’s thoughts were coming to him. He is trying to get me into a chamber. I can not resist further without revealing what I know. Yet if I enter that chamber—
“Enter it,” he replied. “But guide me in. Then we shall see what we shall see.”
Don’t take long, she thought urgently.
Now you know what I am experiencing. Stave’s thought came. I, too, would rather be with you, Nona.
Then have your paramour assume my form! she snapped mentally. Darius, you must get here immediately, or I must use my magic on your image.
Which would mean that the rabble would know her power. Darius put aside the irony of her two thoughts involving Stave and himself—in concert they implied that Darius was her lover—and hauled her distractingly exposed image along the hall to that chamber. “This one,” he said. “This one seems right.”
Null-Nona forgot herself to the extent of speaking. “No! No!” Her sentiment would have been evident in any language. She wrapped herself around him, trying to bear him down right in the passage. Anything to gain the breeding before he discovered the truth.
They stumbled into the chamber. There was the real Nona, in a similar state of dishabille except for her underclothing, almost exactly as exciting, with Null-Darius climbing on her.
“Ha!” Darius cried with righteous anger. He threw Null-Nona away from him and clapped a hand on Null-Darius. “Who are you?”
Nona stared at Null-Nona with feigned astonishment. “Who are you?” she echoed.
Darius took a closer look at Null-Darius. He let his mouth drop open, as if just realizing the man’s similarity to himself.
“He looks just like you!” Nona said.
“There are two of you!” Darius said. He hoped that his interest in their deliciously exposed bodies would be taken for surprise. They were like identical twins, one half undressed and the other completely so, and he would have loved to dream of a situation like this. Provided either were truly his to dream of.
The two emulations were not stupid. They affected the same surprise as the real ones, trying to confuse the real ones. But Darius cut through that. “Say something in your own language,” he told the two Nonas.
That separated them more surely than the partial clothing. Only one even understood his words—though it was the mental translation she grasped—and so only she could answer appropriately. “I am Nona,” she declared. Then: “And you must be Darius, because you spoke correctly.” The rabble could not distinguish one language from the other well enough to realize that they were being partly deceived.
Darius and Nona embraced. They were now confirming for the two emulations that they were indeed associating with each other, for this was better than being subject to the breeding program of this realm. Darius felt guilty, knowing how Colene would resent this particular byplay.
Then they turned to face the other two, who were embracing each other, still trying to pretend. But their game was lost; they could breed with each other if they wished, gaining nothing. It was clear that they understood that the visitors had stumbled on part of the truth, and needed an explanation.
“Tell us what this means,” Nona said to them. “Why did you try to deceive us? Had we not happened to see you together, we might have been fooled.” Thus protecting Seqiro’s secret.