Soon they had met Symbol's husband, Garden, and her two other children. Haven sat on Shee's lap, adoring her.
"That boy always did have an eye for pulchritude," Garden remarked. So, evidently, did Garden; he was trying manfully not to stare. Had Shee known she would be meeting a man, she would have dressed more conservatively.
Symbol turned her direct attention on Shee. "Apology for my jealousy. There was a time when I was Havoc's mistress. I miss those days."
"I am a robot," Shee said. "Sent here by the machines to persuade Havoc to send Voila to them."
Symbol looked blank. "Question?"
"A robot," Warp said. "Like a golem, only self-animated. A machine. She is not alive."
Symbol looked at her son, now nestled against Shee's yielding bosom. "She doesn't look dead to me."
"I am conscious and aware," Shee said. "And I love Havoc. But I was made, not born."
"Havoc is lucky," Symbol said. "But why was it necessary for us to meet?"
"Havoc wants Shee to become a Glamor," Warp explained. "You may have to carry her ikon."
Shee froze with surprise. Not Ennui? Then she remembered: she had suggested this to Ennui, who obviously had efficiently followed up.
The woman's face was a study in contrasts, before it dissolved into formlessness. She was having trouble maintaining her facial illusion. Finally her voice spoke, mouthlessly. "She gets to be a Glamor? Jealousy compounded! But I get her ikon? Gratitude!"
"Complication," Warm said. "Idyll says that Shee can become a Glamor, but there is an obscurity about her ikon. It may be that it is required to go elsewhere. But we need your acquiescence, for when it clarifies."
"Affirmation!"
The rest of the visit was routine. Then Warp hugged Symbol, and Shee gave Haven another hug and kiss. The boy was plainly smitten with her, and that had paved the way for a friendship with his mother.
"Endorsement," she told Warp as they left the garden. "The near future paths are useful. They showed the way to make it work. She would not have welcomed me otherwise."
"Demonstration," he agreed, and conjured them back to Triumph City. "Now we do the presentation."
"Already? But I have done no preparation."
"Needless. Merely decide on a song of hopeless love."
"Oh, that's right. You guide the actors. But I'll still need appropriate clothing. This outfit is designed to impress Havoc. You saw its effect on Symbol's husband."
He made a negligent gesture, and she was clothed in the simple blouse, skirt, and slippers of a village girl, her hair tied back with a worn ribbon. She remained, however, an extraordinarily attractive woman. "Remember: I am Havoc."
"Affirmation." His appearance matched, including, now, the crown.
Already they were walking onto a high stage that overlooked the open center of the city. Tiers upon tiers of seats were there, completely filled. Ennui had set up the presentation while they visited with Symbol.
"Greeting, citizens," the emulated king said.
"Greeting, Sire!" the audience responded.
"I have an important announcement to make. Naturally I'll begin by wasting your time with a story."
"Naturally, Sire," the crowd chorused happily.
Shee stood in the background, admiring the expertise. This was Havoc, through and through, playing to the crowd.
Then he turned to her with an introductory gesture. "This is Sofee, my assistant for this tale." He faced the audience, holding his hand to his face to signal confidentiality. "She's new. I'm breaking her in. She may balk at some parts of the story. Don't let on."
"Negation, Sire!" they chorused. They loved it when they became part of the scene. Naturally they assumed she was a new bath girl, available for personal hygiene, sex, or any other fancy the king might have. Bath girls were invariably lovely, smart, obliging, and young. What did "Havoc" have in mind that might make her balk?
Now he settled down to the story. "Once upon a time, in a village far far away, there lived a simple village teen girl named Sofee. She was pretty enough, and smart enough, and had an obliging nature, but no prospects for marriage with any local lout. This vexed her, for if she didn't marry by the time she was eighteen she would be forced to become the village whore, the plaything of any raunchy old codger who couldn't get enough at home."
He gestured again toward "Sofee," who put on a vexed expression that brought an appreciative murmur. This was evidently a halfway familiar situation for some outlying villages.
"And here was the reason,"
"Havoc" continued. "Sofee was a fifth. Now there are several classes of folk on Charm. Most are ordinary folk. Some are fourths, which is to say the children conceived by men other than their regular fathers. Every family must have at least four children, at least one being a fourth, to keep the species mixed. But of course you know this."
There was a murmur of assent. Most women did not like the requirement of being unfaithful to their husbands for one child, but all had to do it, or adopt.
"Some are changelings. These are babies implanted in the women by the Temple, so that no infidelity occurs.
They are superior in most ways, but can be marginalized by others. He paused. "I was a fourth and a changeling. So was my wife Gale. We were first drawn together because we shared this status. Other children did not really befriend us. We came to love each other, and I think she is still the most beautiful and talented woman on the planet." The audience broke into applause.
"Only later did we learn that some changelings can become Glamors. We adopted three, as you know, before having any of our own. We don't regret it." There was more applause.
"And in the last generation another class has appeared, the fifths. These are synthetic children, made in a laboratory, not born of women. They are genuine in every sense other than their origin. But they are all adopted, and often excluded by normally birthed folk. This is not fair to them, but people have the attitudes they do, and they are wary of anyone who is different. They are not allowed to pick on fourths or fifths, but neither can they be required to befriend them, let alone marry them. This is ironic, because a person could do worse than marrying a fifth." He gestured again to Shee. "Sofee may seem ordinary now, but she would be very good for any man who married her. Not only would she cater endlessly to him, because of the loyalty of her kind, she would oblige him sexually at a formidable rate. Because a fifth can't achieve sexual pleasure until her partner does, and fifths have a high libido." He paused for an aside. "That is, they like sex. Don't tell."
There was some laughter as the audience agreed.
"In addition, they don't age the way others do. It's something about being manufactured instead of birthed. They grow up normally, but then they level off. When Sofee is forty she will look much the way she does now, and be still as eager to oblige her man. She can and will birth his children, but her figure will not suffer. There are men who might appreciate that quality in a woman, and women who might appreciate it in a man."
Now many in the audience looked thoughtful. This was it seemed something they had not known about before.
"So Sofee, foolishly denied, conceived a bold notion: she would travel to Triumph City and become the mistress of the king." He paused, looking startled. "That's me! Suddenly this grows interesting." He turned a sexually appraising gaze on her.
There were chuckles. The king's appetite for obliging maidens was legendary.
"Of course this is just a story. But let's see where it leads. The king learned of this—he has a noble nose for nubility—and decided to investigate. He was wary, as not every girl is as innocent as she seems. But also intrigued, because he didn't have a fifth among his mistresses, and for some reason he liked the idea of having one who would still look like twenty when she was forty and still have a strong sex drive. So he sent his alternate identity, Hayseed the Minstrel, to intercept her and get to know her."