“There are other contests. Farting is out, and I don’t go for defecation. So it will have to be urination.”
“Pissing?”
“There are contests for volume, color, and distance.”
“Well, with the Spire I could—”
“No Spire.”
“But I’m not that good a pisser.”
“Fortunately I have a fairly tight bladder. I should be able to get some distance.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to—”
“We’re not where we came from. Here women can urinate as freely as men.”
Prior looked at her, out of sorts. “But your hood is as much of a giveaway as the Spire. Neither of us can—”
He paused, astonished. “Your hood is gone!”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh!” She sounded oddly dismayed. He peered at her face, but it wasn’t yet light enough to get it clear of shadow.
“Not that it matters. I’m sure I don’t know you anyway.”
“It matters,” she said. “You’ll know soon enough. I’m Tantamount.”
Now his own jaw dropped. “But she doesn’t have a—” He glanced at the baby, on his shoulder. “And Chance is your son. Why did you think I was so angry?”
“But—but I never—”
“You certainly did. You seduced me with the Spire, and deliberately impregnated me. Not to mention burying my house in smegma. I had to give up my practice and hide, lest my reputation be destroyed.”
Now he remembered. He had done that.
“I suppose it’s too late to apologize,” he said.
“Way too late,” she agreed with controlled fury.
Chapter 18—Trap
Well, now it was out, Tantamount thought as she worked her hair into a halter. Now that the secret was gone, she could afford to be comfortable to that extent. Of all the men who might have come to rescue her, this was the worst. But she was stuck with it.
One thing that really bothered her now was that she should have recognized him when she numbed his penis. His artificial member fitted very well, and there was no obvious juncture where it connected to his living body, but she was a doctor specializing in penile malaise. She should have caught on immediately that his member was artificial. She had been distracted by their situation, and had never thought to inspect it. The more fool, she.
“Well, I’ll still do my best to get you out of here,” he said. “Then you’ll be free of me.”
“Not so fast, you jerk. You can’t just kiss off your son. You have legal responsibilities.”
“My son,” he echoed, as if just realizing. “He’s quiet when I’m holding him. Does he realize?”
She shrugged. “You like holding him?”
He considered only briefly.
“Yes.”
That was one point in his favor. She had tested him by having him hold Chance when she did her primal scream. The baby had firm notions about who was all right and who wasn’t.
“There was one thing I couldn’t decipher,” she said, as they ate the remaining roast pig Prior had hauled up through the cave. “Why was I kidnapped? At first I thought it was random, but I did wonder why they took a woman with a baby, surely a drug on the fresh maiden market. Then they arranged to notify you. That didn’t make sense either, as long as you were anonymous. But now it is clear that this was set up from the start. The question is why. My sister evidently caught on, and thought it was a good match, the canine, but she didn’t set it up. Who did that?”
“I don’t know. Someone with a sadistic sense of humor. Putting you together with the man you most despised, and watching the action.”
She nodded. “The ancient Romans had some similar entertainments. On the other hand there’s the analogy of The Magic Flute.”
“The what?”
“It’s a literary reference. Naturally you wouldn’t know.”
She was punishing him with her contempt.
“I’m an ignorant guy,” he agreed, accepting it.
“It is an opera by Mozart, dating from 1791. The Queen of the Night gives a magic flute to a young prince so that he can rescue her daughter from the palace of an evil high priest who has abducted her.”
“I’m the prince,” he agreed, laughing weakly. “You’re the kidnapped daughter.”
He shook his head ruefully. “Some prince!”
“But you were the one with access to the magic fart.”
“The Spire,” he agreed. “But this can’t be an old opera.”
“That depends on the whim of whoever set this up. There does seem to be a certain devious logic.”
Chance woke and began to fuss.
“I guess I’d better give him back to you,” Prior said. “He’s been great.”
He held the baby out.
“He’s hungry,” she agreed, taking Chance and putting him to her breast.
“How does it work out, in the opera?”
“The prince goes to the castle of the high priest, protected from danger by the music of the flute, and discovers to his surprise that the man is not evil, but merely protecting the girl. The prince gets to know the girl, and likes her a lot, and she him. So the prince undergoes the ordeal of the search for truth. This prevents him from speaking to the girl, who thinks he doesn’t love her.”
“So much for the parallel.”
“Parallels can be figurative as well as literal. We met each other anonymously, here in Fartingale, so had our misunderstandings.”
“Like my thinking you could love me,” he said.
“I confess to being severely stressed with respect to that. I was coming to like you, before I discovered your identity.”
“That’s the opposite of the opera.”
“Opposites are parallels too. Here is what I am faced with: you are the father of my son. I don’t love you but I do love Chance. I want what is best for him. So I am obliged to consider you seriously.”
“This is hell for you.”
“Yes. I am trying to fathom who hates me enough to do this to me.”
Prior spread his hands. “I really am sorry. I do like you a lot, love you even. I’ll do anything to make it right, if I can. I just don’t know what that is. So—whatever you decide.”
“Thank you,” she said tightly. “First I want to escape this awful culture and return home. Thereafter I’ll decide.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed. “But maybe you’d better let me use the magic fart.”
“No. I think urine is our best bet, and I’m the one to do it. Now that my hood is gone, I’m essentially anonymous. That will help.”
“Except for Chance,” he said. “They’ll be alert for a woman with a baby.”
She put her hand to her forehead. “Oh! I forgot about that. You’re right.”
“Maybe I can use the magic fart after all. I can made a little cloud that conceals the baby, making him invisible, if I’m carry him. Then we’ll look like an average young couple.”
“That might work. We’ll have to act like it, kissing and such.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she snapped. “It’s a necessary act.”
“Not for me.”
She paused. “You really thought of me during our separation?”
“Yes. You’re such a smart, beautiful, motivated person—all the things I’m not. Now I understand why you took my penis. It was for the benefit of mankind.”
“Don’t praise me for that! I let the ends justify the means. My sister told me that, and now I realize it’s true. I did wrong you.”
“We were pretty mean to each other.”
“We were indeed.”
What was getting to her was that she found herself softening toward him. They had offsetting wrongs, and with that cancellation, what was left was an ignorant but decent guy, and her need for legitimacy. She didn’t want her son to be a bastard.