"You must," she said firmly. "I love you, but I am mortal. I will die in a reasonable time. I will help train in my replacement so as not to leave you lurching."
"Ennui!"
"Havoc, don't do that!" she protested. For the tears were streaming down his face. She drew out a handkerchief and mopped his cheeks.
"If you go, so will I."
She smiled in motherly fashion. "You can't, Havoc. You're the king. Now go be kingly. I'm sure you can handle it. It's hardly the magnitude of crisis that the war with the machines was." She turned and walked away.
He gazed after her. Then he made a decision. He rejoined the three Glamors, his mind closed.
"Did she hit you on the head with a two by four?" Gale inquired. "You look stunned."
"Worse. She's retiring."
"Oh Havoc; I'm so sorry! She is special to all of us. But she has the right."
"She does," he agreed morosely. They walked on to the dais.
Idyll appeared before him, in her human guise, which she could form without vacating her larger environment. She was after all a Glamor. She kissed him, which was entirely in order; she had interacted with him socially and sexually many times. "I too expect to retire," she said.
"Expletive!" Havoc swore. But he remembered that she had remained in existence for centuries for a purpose.
Now that purpose had been expiated. "And I can't talk you out of it."
"Negation," she agreed. "I would like to possess you one more time, after this day is done. Then I will be satisfied to dissipate." For she meant to let her identity fade, being tired of existence as a separate entity.
Havoc looked at Gale, Monochrome, and Shee. They shrugged in unison. The ifrit had the right, and had never concealed her intention.
Then he got an idea. "Vila," he said.
His young daughter joined him. "Yes, daddy."
"How long before you are mature?"
"Eleven years, daddy."
Gale coughed. "Make that thirteen years." That would put her at 18. Of course Vila had not misspoken. She expected to be mature at sixteen, and surely would be.
"And what is the best possible training for that you can receive?"
"Idyll will teach me, as she taught Voila."
"Expletive!" Idyll said, laughing. "You have trumped me, Havoc; I can't disappoint a child. I will remain for another generation."
"Appreciation," Havoc said, suppressing a smirk of victory.
The other three Glamors closed in on Idyll, hugging her. None of them smirked either. They all wanted her to stay. They had known that Havoc would find a way.
Havoc took center stage. Shee sat on the chair directly behind him. Ennui sat on another, taking notes. "Greeting, all," he said.
"Greeting, Havoc!" the people responded. They were all there: Ennui's husband and Havoc's erstwhile bodyguard Throe, the Red and Blue Chroma friends and helpers Augur and Aura, the Air Chroma sorceress Ine making herself beautifully visible for this occasion, his former mistress Symbol with her husband and family, the several human and animal Glamors: Red, Black, Green, Blue, Air, Yellow, Translucent, White, Brown, Silver, Gray, Orange, Filia of Filament, huge potted Glamor plants from several worlds, buzzing Bee-chines, and all the others with whom he had significantly interacted. Ennui had made sure to fetch them all. All his friends of the past quarter century, helping him to cope as king.
"We are gathered here to—" He paused glancing back at Shee as if not remembering.
"Marry several couples," Shee murmured, smiling.
"Marry several couples," he echoed. "As King I will conduct the services. Then I will put us all to sleep with a concluding speech before it gets interesting again with the dance. But first a word on the recent campaign."
The people dutifully focused their full attention on him. They all knew what had happened, but part of the purpose of this ceremony was to officially acknowledge it.
"We have had three crises in recent years," Havoc said. "The first was when we tackled Mino, the big mining machine. This was our first episode in the war against the machine culture. We were able to nullify and convert Mino to our side. Take a bow, Mino."
The machines scoutship appeared in the sky above them, bobbing before departing.
"The second was Earth's effort to reclaim her colony. We were able to nullify and convert Earth, and now Earth's Mistress of Mistresses, Monochrome, is my mistress. Show your stuff, Chrome."
Monochrome rose and stepped forward. She turned around in place, her clothing disappearing, then reappearing as her turn was complete.
"The third was our direct encounter with the machines. Again we prevailed. From it I gleaned another mistress and several bath girls. Meet the public, girls."
Shee stood, and the five bath girls walked around the dais. All were strikingly beautiful, in outfits designed to show off their assets. After all, the king was expected to have the best.
"Now the machines serve us," Havoc continued. "There will be no more destruction of living cultures. Instead the machines will assist in ways we direct, including as partners for those who would otherwise be alone. They will not serve everyone, because this is an avenue to species regression, but they will help as required."
There was polite applause.
"We have nine couples to marry, so this will not be fancy Those of you who wish to have fancier ceremonies may do so on your own at another time." He paused. "Oak and Opaline."
Opaline stepped forward, leading Oak by the hand. She was in a simple wedding dress, and he was in a neat suit.
His parents, Pot and Kettle, and her parents, Copper and Silver, stood nearby, smiling. They made a handsome couple. "Oak has a unique talent that enabled him to change the Prime Directive of the machines, ending the war,"
Havoc said. "Opaline was his trainer, working diligently to perfect his ability. We owe them our survival."
There was much stronger applause. But Oak looked troubled. Opaline glanced at him, concerned. "You don't want this?" she whispered.
"I—must talk to—Havoc," Oak said.
"Welcome," Havoc said.
"Alone."
This was a surprise. Havoc glanced at Opaline, and she spread her hands. This was something new.
Oak of course was simple. He had to be guided carefully through the protocols. It was best to humor him.
"Come to me," Havoc said.
Oak mounted the dais and approached. Havoc gestured. "Here is a sphere of privacy," he said, and the sphere shimmered around them. "You may tell me what is on your mind. No one else will hear."
"I—you said I changed the—ended the war."
"Agreement. You were our secret weapon for victory."
"I—I didn't do it."
Something was wrong. "May I read your mind?"
"Read," Oak said.
Havoc did—and was amazed. Oak had reached out to the Prime Directive and touched its keys, as directed specifically by Opaline, emulated by Weft. But the keys had not responded. In fact it was a dummy keyboard. The machines had had the wit to hide the real access elsewhere.
Oak had not changed the Prime Directive.
"Thank you for telling me this," Havoc said. "You did your part, and deserve applause. I will think about this matter. You need have no further concern."
"Appreciation," Oak said, vastly relieved. With Havoc handling it, he no longer had to worry.
But Havoc did. Weft, he thought. Who verified the keyboard?
Question?
Read my mind.
She did, and was appalled. Dad, there was so much going on, I never thought to check that simple little detail. I just assumed—embarrassment. Needless. None of us did.