"But you can never have a baby." Opaline knew she was being unkind, but she was too flustered to have her mariners in order.
"Error. I can conceive and birth a human baby. I have a store of eggs similar to those of living human women, and when the man's seed merges with one, it will take. It will be the man's child. The distinction is that my eggs are not of my lineage, as I have none; they are laboratory crafted, just as the ones that generate the fifths. I am in that sense like a laboratory for artificial insemination. But I am also in that sense like a living woman."
Opaline struggled with the concept. "Then you are a woman. But—are you conscious? Feeling?"
"I am conscious and feeling. My circuits are not alive, but they have a similar configuration. My feedback loops make me aware and emotional."
Then it came out. "Do you love Havoc?"
"I do."
"But you represent the machines."
"Clarification: I was crafted by the machine culture. I was sent here by the machines. I perform the mission required by the machines. I am a machine. But I do not serve them, and my loyalty is not with them. My loyalty is to Havoc."
"But you are here to help them conquer us."
"No more than you are, Opaline. Once the machines release us, we become our own women. We both love Havoc."
"Then have you renounced your mission?"
"Negation."
"Question?"
"The machines can not be defeated by the human culture, or any other living culture, or any combination of living cultures in the galaxy. They are too powerful. The only way any culture can survive is by making a deal with the machines, to provide something they want. In this case, it is Voila."
"Voila," Opaline repeated. "Havoc's youngest daughter."
"And the most potent Glamor known. She is the machines' top recruitment target in the galaxy. With her powers added to theirs, they could perceive the entire future, near and far, with no awkward gaps, and more readily conquer the galaxy. She is so valuable that they are prepared to spare her entire human culture in exchange for her loyalty to them."
"A deal," Opaline agreed uncomfortably.
"A good deal. If she refuses, the machines will still conquer the galaxy; it will merely take them more time, and greater expense of resources. They will destroy the human culture so that it can never again oppose them. Because I love Havoc, I want to save him and his culture. The one sure way to do that is for him to persuade his daughter to join the machines. It is best for all concerned."
"What of the other living cultures?"
"Some of them also have things the machines value. Those few will be able to deal. The rest are doomed."
"Suppose Voila agreed to join the machines only if they spared all the remaining living cultures?"
"They would not agree. She can save only her own culture. Perhaps slightly more, as the ifrits are also valuable. Especially Idyll the Ifrit Glamor, who works so closely with Voila and can see the intermediate future. But she will not enlist unless Voila does."
"But Havoc has a secret weapon." Oops—she had blabbed the secret.
"Oak," Shee agreed. "I doubt that he could actually stop the machines, but the interactions of the future paths are complex, and the outcome is murky. So it may be possible. But it would be much safer to let Voila enlist with the machines. They alone can guarantee the survival of the human culture."
Opaline was satisfied that Shee believed that. "So you are the ban shee, warning of a death, but it can be avoided if the humans listen to you."
"Affirmation."
"I am not one to know. But Havoc asked me whether he should love you. I don't know why he should value my opinion, and don't know what to say."
"You are an ordinary girl. His other close associates are Glamors or political functionaries whose opinions are governed by more complicated considerations. Your innocence of outlook is hard to find elsewhere."
"You are not talking about sexual innocence."
"Agreement. You are a village girl. He was once a village boy. It is in his outlook."
They paused at a huge chamber. "Question?"
"This is the main hall, where the king gives occasional speeches. At other times it is an ongoing dance hall frequented by folk during their off shifts. Their need their relaxation and social lives." Now Opaline saw that there were several couples doing odd gyrations. Some of them were naked. "That is dancing?"
Shee smiled. "Triumph is more liberal than the villages, and it shows in their artistic expression."
"Guilty fascination."
"You may dance if you wish to."
"I couldn't! Not like that!"
"I could obtain a partner who knows the village dances," Shee said. "You could ask him for a fourth."
Opaline stared at her. "You know about that?"
"As a general rule, I know what Havoc knows. You need four fourths; you have three."
"Three?"
"Pot, Havoc, Fifth."
"You know more about me than I know!" For she had as yet asked neither Pot nor Fifth.
"Apology. I forgot that the future paths are opaque to you."
"You can see the future?"
"The far future, as I am a machine. I am learning the near future as I become a Glamor. Of course I will never be in Voila's league in that respect, though she and Idyll are helping me learn."
"But you're an enemy agent!"
"So are you."
And Opaline loved Havoc and was committed to saving the human culture. It was indeed an answer. The rulers of the human culture accepted her just as they accepted Opaline, being marvelously egalitarian. "This man—to dance with—why should I want a fourth of him?"
Shee snapped her fingers. "Warp."
A handsome young man appeared. "Hi, metal maiden."
"This is Opaline. She needs a partner for a village dance, and perhaps more."
He turned to Opaline and smiled. "Do me the honor, Opaline." He took her hand.
Before she knew it, she was in his arms on the dance floor, doing a slow and comfortable waltz. His hold on her was sure without being oppressive or sexual, and his steps were perfect. She felt completely secure with him.
"Observation," she said. "You are Havoc's son."
"Agreement. You are his mistress of the moment."
She had to chuckle, somewhat ruefully. "So we know each other. But what Shee said can't be right."
"Question?"
"She said I should—should ask you for a fourth. When the time comes. I'm not even married yet. But Havoc has already promised me one, and I should seek a different lineage for another."
"I am adopted," he reminded her. "There is no blood relation. Havoc is my father, and I honor him above all other men, but I will give you a fourth of a separate line."
She was taken aback. "You agree?"
"It is not a thing a man can decline. Besides, it is important to keep you happy, because of the importance of your mission. You are training Oak how to save our species. And you're a pretty girl."
"Appreciation," she said faintly, blushing yet again. That seemed to be becoming a chronic state.
At that point the music paused, ending the dance. He put a finger under her chin, lifted her face, and gently kissed her. His affectionate touch had much the same potency as Havoc's; it made her pulse race and her mind float.
"It will be a pleasure, when."
Then she was back with Shee and Warp was gone. "Amazement," she breathed.
"The Glamors tend to have that effect."
They did indeed. Shee had just done her a significant favor, one she would never have had the temerity to obtain on her own. She felt a surge of emotion, this time directed toward the robot woman. "About Havoc—whether he should love you," she said. "I will tell him yes."
"Appreciation." And that essentially ended their dialogue, though the tour of Triumph continued.