“I—it’s awkward to explain.” Especially if he was lying.
“Make the effort.”
“Well, for one thing, where I come from, women aren’t slaves.”
“Where do you come from?”
“I don’t know whether you’d understand. It’s—it’s beyond Fartingale.”
“Try me.”
“It’s called America. It—”
“America!”
“It’s like this, only with less, uh, farts. Not much magic at all.”
“I know. I’m from America.”
He stared at her veil. “You’re from home!”
“I was abducted and brought here, with my son.”
“Son?”
“You didn’t know?”
Chance was stirring, so she went to the crib, picked him up, and started nursing him. If this turned Micro off, that was something she needed to know.
“My son Chance is three months old. So obviously I’m not a maiden in the archaic sense. I can’t think why the beasts who run this ongoing lottery selected me to be their prize of the week. Maybe they didn’t realize I wasn’t alone, and then it was too late to find another. Is that a problem for you?”
“I, uh, I’m just surprised. I assumed—”
“That the Maiden in the Tower was a true maiden,” she finished for him.
“Normally I’m sure she is. If you’re looking for a virgin, I’m not the one.”
“I—I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“I can and will fulfill my obligation to be your sex slave, if you are the one I choose. Chance is well behaved, and sleeps more than he wakes. Any delays will be of short duration.”
“No, I mean I guess you’re the one, with or without a baby. It just takes some adjusting.”
“The one for what?”
“Well, I was told my—my ideal woman was captive, and I had only a week to rescue her. So I got on it immediately.”
This was curious.
“Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I believed it.”
He was being evasive.
“Who?”
“A—a succubus. A magical creature who—”
“I am familiar with the term. You had relations with a female demon, before you came to Fartingale?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, staring at his feet.
“Obviously you do not have a regular woman in your life.”
“Yes, I don’t.”
“So you thought you’d like to have a sex slave for a year.”
“No! I mean, sure, I’d like that, but that’s not—”
“Not why you came here,” she finished. “I believe we have already covered that territory. So the succubus told you where there was better sex to be had, and you decided on a rescue mission.”
“I guess it does sound sort of stupid. Maybe it’s a cruel hoax I fell for. I just thought—if it really was my ideal woman, how could I not try to save her, somehow?”
He seemed sincere. She softened.
“At least you had to investigate the situation.”
“Yeah.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“So am I your ideal woman?”
“Well, I don’t know. In appearance, sure.”
“You can’t even see my face.”
He blushed. “Apart from that, I mean. And I don’t know your personality. So probably I shouldn’t have come here.”
He seemed to be an ordinary, fallible man, with some exceptions. He was from her homeland, which counted for a lot. But that raised a serious question.
“How is it you have the ability of magical farting?”
“I—can’t explain that.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Curiouser and curiouser.
“You mean you could explain it, but you won’t.”
“Yes.”
“How do you expect to win my favor if you aren’t candid with me?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m not the brightest bulb on the chandelier.”
She smiled again, though the expression was wasted.
“Somehow you got hold of a magical ability and used it to get you here. Now you want to take me home with you.”
“Yes, if you want to come.” He shrugged. “I know there’s not much chance.”
“We could be totally incompatible.”
“Yes, I suppose the succubus would really laugh if she got me hooked to the wrong woman. But I guess it’s a gamble I’m ready to make.”
“Because I have a good figure?”
“That, too.”
Yet he was from her homeland. If she went with him, she could go home immediately. That truly tempted her.
“Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a file clerk.”
“You expect to maintain a family on that level of pay?”
His eyes had strayed upward. Now they fell to the floor again.
“I guess not.”
“You know there’s no market for magic farts where you live.”
“No more farting,” he agreed.
“Were I to choose you, we might be better off remaining here in Fartingale, where you seem to have some renown as a farter.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“But back in America, I would have to support you.”
He flushed.
“I guess I see the joke. Maybe you’re my ideal woman, but I’m not your ideal man. I guess I’ve made a real fool of myself.”
He had, yet there was something endearing about it. There were worse things than being with a man she could manage. As a sex slave, she would have to support whatever man she selected, at least for a year. In that sense, Micro was no worse than the others.
Veil suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to follow up on her riddle challenge. None of the other contestants had mentioned it, and this one might not even know of it. Perhaps now it would help her make her decision.
“Where can you walk south a mile, east a mile, north a mile, and be back where you started?”
Micro smiled. “I’ve heard that one. The north pole.”
“Agreed.” Now she sprang the second riddle.
“Where else?”
“That one really stumped me when I heard it. I talked it over with my friends, and we finally figured it out: draw a one mile circle around the south pole, then start from a mile north of that. That will do it. Or draw a half mile circle, and walk twice around it, and back.” He glanced at her hood. “Is this supposed to be a test? Because if it is, I flunked it. I know the answer only because my friends figured it out, and I remember.”
So much for selection. Yet his candor appealed.
“Tell me a story that will make me laugh.”
If a demoness could be won over by a man who made her laugh, maybe it would be true for a captive Maiden.
“You like storytelling?”
“Sometimes.”
He pondered a moment, then obliged.
“There was this famous, arrogant bachelor celebrity. A friend came to him and said ‘Hey, Hal, I’ve set up the perfect date for you.’”
Veil listened as Chance nursed, letting her mind get into the story so it seemed she was seeing it first hand. She pictured herself as the date, mentally substituting her own name for the one in the story.
Hal was interested. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s called Veil. She’s really a great girl.’
Hal was suspicious, because his so-called friends were always trying to fix him up with stray women whose faces and figures were not their fortunes. For some reason they thought that the best women for him were intellectual types.
‘So how did this great date get set up?’
‘Well, that doesn’t really matter. You’ll like her, believe me.’
‘It matters. What brings her here?’