The clicking applause grew louder.
Fifth was embarrassed, and knew Click-toe was too. "We do not seek this attention," he said.
"We did what we had to do," she said.
Old Tail clicked, and the noise died down. "I am a widower," he clicked. "I thought not to marry again. But your worthiness overwhelms me. I wish to marry you, Click-toe, and provide you some of the status you deserve." He extended his greater pincers.
Now she was really taken aback. She looked again at Fifth. "Do it," he said. "If you like him."
She hesitated, then moved forward and touched his pincers with her own, accepting the offer.
The applause swelled again.
Click-toe would have her marriage, and her leisure, so she could fulfill her ambition to carve soapstone sculptures. It could hardly have happened to a more worthy person.
"Now we must go," Flame said. "We hope we won't have to return, but we will if necessary. Parting."
She touched Fifth, and they were gone.
Chapter 24 Makers
Havoc spread his awareness. There was a town nearby, where living creatures existed. "Curiosity," he said.
"Concurrence," Weft agreed. "Was this planet resettled by another living culture? Why would the machines allow that?"
"Mystery. Maybe we should ask."
They both laughed, then reconsidered. Was that far-fetched? The machines knew they were here, and wanted them to learn their history. "What do you think, Iolo?" Weft asked.
"Ask them for a guide," the ifrit said. "This is a continuation of the tour."
"There must be a front office," Havoc said. He led the way around the warehouse to what appeared to be a lookout tower on the roof. "Ahoy!" he called.
A mounted device swiveled to orient on him. Shutters peeled back to bare a lens. It was looking at them. There was a blare of sound.
"We are human and ifrit tourists, here by invitation of the machines," Havoc said. "Please provide a guide to sights of interest." He was speaking enough to enable the machine to identify the dialect.
There was a whirring. Then the tower located the language. "One has been summoned." The lens was covered and the device turned away, its interest in them finished.
"We are dealing with low-level machines," Weft said.
"Not sapient," Havoc agreed. "Maybe not even sentient. This would seem to be a backwater world."
"The origin planet of the Makers and the machines? Doubt."
"If they wiped out all Makers here and imported servile living workers to maintain the premises on a standby basis, there would be no need for sophistication. It would be a backworld by default. Maybe a warning what will happen to Charm and Earth if we do not cooperate."
"They aren't too keen on human psychology," Weft muttered. She was speaking for machine reception, operating on the assumption that they were being constantly monitored. Of course human beings were far more ornery than such a blunt approach could fathom.
"Or so they prefer us to believe. I think there is some additional message, and that we had better understand it."
He was speaking for the machines too, but at the moment he suspected it was true. Why should the machines go to so much trouble to get them here, unless there was solid reason?
A vehicle with wheels linked by cleated metallic belts rolled up. "Caterpillar!" Weft exclaimed, sharing a memory Red had picked up from the real Weft, concerning a child prodigy.
"I am your tour guide and conveyance," the caterpillar said. "Please position yourselves on my supports."
"Are you sapient?" Havoc asked. "Or sentient?"
"Neither. I am a low level machine answering to my programming and the directives of those I transport."
"Male or female?" Weft asked.
"Neither. Low level machines lack gender."
"Then we shall call you Caterpillar," Weft said. "When one of us speaks that word, we are addressing you."
"Accepted."
They climbed to the elevated seats, and Iolo stood on the level deck in front of them. The vehicle rolled forward.
It carried them to a structure like a temple, with a tall spire and spreading gardens decorated with pleasant fountains. The air here was fragrant with the odor of exotic flowers. In shady alcoves there were soft-looking mats.
"Exclamation!" Havoc said. "Another mating site!"
Weft nodded. "Well..."
"We want the educational tour, not the horny tourist tour," Havoc told the carrier.
The vehicle resumed motion without apology, leaving the romantic temple. It trundled across the landscape. There seemed to be no established roads. Perhaps there had been some in the planet's heyday, but those had long since overgrown.
"Spoilsport," Weft muttered, making a move.
Havoc suppressed a sharp response. Weft remained a phenomenally lovely and sexy creature, but he did have other things on his mind at the moment. Still, there was no sense in aggravating her. "After the tour."
"I suppose it is the occasion for advancing our mission," she agreed. "But this experience reminds me that Glamors are not only magical, but have unusually high libidos, male and female. Not just the human ones; Warp and Voila report it is true for alien Glamors too."
"And for plant Glamors," Havoc agreed. "I had quite a session in a giant flower with all my women except you."
"I chickened out and swapped with Symbol. It was too public."
And this time she had swapped with Red. So Weft was not actually as desperate for sex with him as she liked to suggest. But had she elected to do it herself, she surely would have been much the way Red presented her. Certainly she was a highly sexual woman. As were all the Glamors. "It is true," he said. "Men love sex, whether they are Glamor or mortal. Mortal women usually pretend greater interest than they feel. But Glamor women are almost on a par with men."
"And some are not 'almost,' when with the right men." She gently squeezed his thigh. "But why should this be? Why should Glamors be so much hotter for sex than regular folk? It can't be to spread their kind, because the children of Glamors are normal, unless some few become Glamors."
"Conjecture: the same situation that sponsors Glamor magic enhances libido. The ikons make their bearers become more attractive, capable, and sexy. That enables them to better safeguard the ikons. They can literally seduce the opposition. The Glamors are like the ikons, only more so. They can win the favor of mortals by other means than magical. That is a buttressing advantage."
"Agreement. And when Glamor meets Glamor, the attraction intensifies." She sighed. "Even when there are social restraints."
The caterpillar was approaching the nearby town. There were a number of large walls with many open chambers.
In the chambers were huge, man-sized bugs, giant fat millipedes. Small machines hurried to and from the chambers, carrying what appeared to be food. They were feeding it to the bugs, who ate almost continuously. Their tail ends emitted wastes that other machines on the far side of the walls collected and carried away.
"A hive!" Havoc said. "Grubs serviced by worker machines."
"But what do they do once they are grown?"
"Ignorance." Havoc glanced down. "Caterpillar, can you explain?"
"They do nothing," the machine replied. "They do not depart. These are adults."
"Amazement! Aren't they bored?"
"They are entertained intellectually."
"Curiosity: how?"
"I will show you an unused domicile." The caterpillar rolled to a wall with a number of empty chambers. "You may inspect it."
They did. They got off the machine and peered into the nearest open chamber. It was not large, but long enough for a person to lie in full length. Havoc crawled in, lay on his back—and there just before his face the arching chamber ceiling became seemingly translucent, showing the sky. But there were many sold tiers of the wall above this chamber, so it had to be an image. A built-in screen. At the same time, there was sound, as words were spoken in an alien tongue.