She snapped awake, shaking and sweating. Esta was writhing beside her, making little strangled moans. It was Esta’s dream she had shared!
Colene caught the girl’s hand. “It’s gone,” she said, trying to project the thought to Esta’s mind. “It’s over. Never again. He can’t touch you any more. It’s just a bad memory, and it will fade. You’ll have a normal life.”
Esta slowly relaxed. Colene continued to hold her hand and project calming thoughts. She knew that the victims of abuse could suffer post-traumatic stress, much the way soldiers and the victims of torture did. In fact Esta was a victim of torture. She had suffered all three forms of abuse: physical, sexual, and emotional. Systematically. Before she was ten years old, and continuing thereafter. She had massive horror to work out of her system. Could just going away with her uncle be enough? Colene herself had suffered much less, yet remained somewhat fouled up; how much worse it was for Esta!
Yet what else could they do? Slick would try his best to make a good life for them both. That would have to be enough.
Colene relaxed herself, still holding Esta’s hand, and drifted back to sleep.
Only to have her own bad dream. She saw a wedding, and heard the Bridal Chorus, a piece of music she had always loved; pursuing its origin she had learned of the German composer Richard Wagner, and become a passing devotee of his music. There was something about it that fascinated her, and not merely its beauty. But this was not an ordinary wedding; she knew it. She strained to see the bride, but the heads of everyone else were in the way and she caught only snatches until she was past. Then she watched the bride’s rear, noting how beautiful she was, how elegantly slender yet full, her brown/black hair spreading down across her back.
The bride came to the front, and Colene saw the groom. It was Darius! He was so sternly handsome it was almost unbearable. Her love for him suffused her heart and burst beyond it, rising up to her stunned brain and forging down to her genital region, infusing both with longing. She wanted him in every way possible, as much as possible, as long as possible.
Then the bride lifted her veil, and Colene finally saw her face, so beautiful that there was a murmur of awe throughout the congregation. She was absolutely perfect, and so was he, and they made the most wonderful couple. They kissed, and it was the fulfillment of the lifelong dream of every man and every woman who had ever lived.
But Colene watched with horror shading into grief. Because the bride was not herself. She was Nona.
“Oh, Colene,” Esta said as Colene struggled awake, shaking. She had shared the dream, because of their linkage. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve got to get back to the Julia universe,” Colene said. “Before it happens for real.” But she was afraid it was already too late, because she was so hopelessly outclassed. Nona had everything: beauty, maturity, innocence, and terrific magic. How could anyone compete? “If I could even only play an instrument the way she does,” she added wistfully. “But her hammered dulcimer is like the music of heaven, while my guitar is like strictly amateur.” She sighed, experiencing a whiff of suicidal inclination. Maybe it had been too late the moment the anchors changed and Nona had appeared. Maybe this was her punishment for getting them out of their prior predicament by practicing deceit. Darius had come to accept what she had done, but did she accept it herself?
“You’re such a good person,” Esta said.
“I wish,” Colene said, echoing the girl’s own expression.
CHAPTER 14—DEAL
DARIUS watched Nona neatly cage the pseudo-Darius, winning her duel. “So now we are free,” she “All of us have won our duels.”
“Until tomorrow,” the rabble man said.
Then it was clear: this was not a duel to eliminate their obligation to breed, it was only for the first of a thousand required breedings. They had won the day—and only the day. Nona looked chagrined: a feeling Darius understood. What were they to do?
He looked at the woman he had tied, who now exactly resembled Colene. But she was not, and that made the difference. He had won his own match—but had to endure the rest of the day and night, assuming that they had night here, before being done. He looked across at Stave, who had Keli similarly tied. And at Seqiro, who was now ignoring his dragon. All of them had won—but what difference did it make, with years of similar contests to follow? They couldn’t even get free of their four separate daises unless they agreed to breed; only a breeding finished a duel.
If they were to do anything, they would have to do it together. They would have to consult and organize. But they could not get physically together, or have privacy.
But they didn’t need to. Seqiro’s mind-magic sufficed. All they needed was someone to take the initiative.
“Stave,” he murmured subvocally. “Nona. Seqiro. We must consider our options.”
“What options?” Stave asked. “We are confined here whether we fight or breed, a thousand days.”
“We do not have a thousand days!” Nona protested. “Colene and Provos will return in just a few days, and if we are not there to join them, what will happen?”
“Seqiro can tell them where we are,” Darius suggested.
Only if I am close to the anchor, the horse thought. I can not reach that far from here.
“I could conjure you to the spot where we entered this realm,” Darius said. “But I fear that would not be wise. The despots may have a trap set there, awaiting our return.”
“I might verify that,” Nona said. “If I could tame a familiar there. But I don’t think my magic reaches beyond this place. There is some sort of barrier that prevents the surface folk from seeing into this realm, and surely I will not be able to see out.”
“Then we must find some other way out,” Darius said. “We must escape the rabble and emerge where the despots are not watching. At exactly the right time.”
“But we can not even leave our daises,” Stave said. “We will forfeit our duels when we do.”
“That is why we need to consult and plan strategy,” Darius said. “We must decide exactly what we are going to do, then do it swiftly, so that the rabble can not stop us.”
“And with wonderful Seqiro, we can consult without moving,” Nona said, momentarily pleased.
“Yes. I think we had better settle down for the day and night, waiting out our victories. We can ask for food, and use the pots.” This reminded Darius of his time in Colene’s shack, keeping out of sight. He had had to use a pot there and let her empty it. It had been a somewhat humiliating necessity. But she had taken good care of him, and taught him her language, and he had come to love her.
They do not know that we can commune mentally, Seqiro thought. Keli does not suspect, and so the others do not.
“And that is our strength,” Darius agreed. “They now know of our other powers, but must think they have us isolated, so that in time we must do their bidding.”
Yes.
“But even if we can plan, what can we do?” Nona asked. “It is too soon to return to the surface, and we can not hide from the rabble while we remain in their realm.”
“Could we hide farther inside the world?” Stave asked.
“Is there any space there? Isn’t it solid to the core?”
“Not according to our legend,” Stave said. “There should be caves below each rad, extending ultimately to the center. If you can conjure us through the wall, as you did to get us into this chamber.”