"Sounds like Japanese geisha girls," Sam noted. "Still, it's a form of slavery, damn it. Selling your body and mind and soul, doing whatever they ask. . . .It's degrading. It's bad enough with all them damned potions but at least they don't know what they're doing. Charley would."
But when she translated it all for Charley, the girl with the butterfly eyes nodded, lips pulled in, thinking. "Two hundred days," she said, more to herself than to Sam. "Eight months, tops, and we'd have more than enough without starving-if this guy Boolean's in no hurry."
"Charley! Stop thinkin' like that, damn it! You gone completely nuts? Did she give you some of that brain potion anyway?"
Charley stared at Sam. "So what do we do? Hide out in some miserable safe place for two years waiting for your girlfriend there to turn enough new innocent young girls into love slaves so we can go on their blood money?"
"Yeah, if we have to. I mean, they're lost balls anyway."
It was Charley's turn to be appalled. "Listen to you! And you called me hard!" She took a bream and calmed down. "Look, I'm not sure deep down that I like the idea, either, but you got a better one? If it could be done without this Kligos getting involved . . ."
"Charley! Do you know what you're saying? You, the big feminist? Do you know what it'd mean? Are you really thinking about that? You're talkin' 'bout servin' and scrapin' and bowin' and maybe fucking up to sixty different guys! Maybe gettin' gang banged or worse!"
"Yeah, I know. But it's no feminist thing. I mean, it's a service industry and the money I earned would be for me-for us, not for some corporate pimp. And it's not like getting raped or anything. I mean, it's my choice. Maybe I'll hate it. Maybe I'll regret it to the end of my days. Maybe I'll come back and beg for the drug that makes you forget you're even human. But you got a better solution?"
"It's out of the question! It's-indecent!"
"Hah! Look who's talking! You just figured on letting her turn like a couple dozen girls into this against their will and for life! Sam-she's nuts but she'll do anything you say. You can save lives with a word, but if you do-then what?"
That stopped Sam for a moment. Finally she said, "But you don't know how. Or have a place, or a wardrobe, or whatever."
"I have a feeling Boday could mix up potions to do temporarily what the others do permanently, and she can teach me. If it came down to it, you could use that thing to hypnotize me, so I'd be just right, and it'd be willing so there'd be no problems with my head gettin' permanently screwed up. And if ten thousand will buy all that, I bet your two or three hundred would buy all the wardrobe I needed."
"I think your brain's pretty screwed up now. Damn it, do you realize what you're almost begging me to let you do?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "I do. And I can't believe I'm actually arguing it this way. But-what other way is there? You gonna rob a bank with your magic jewel? I bet they have spells you wouldn't believe on those banks, and it's sure a neat way not to draw attention to yourself. What kind of job you gonna get honest? You may look like a real strong boy but you ain't. I know what you can do. Look at me. Look at me! What the hell else can I do in this crazy place? I can't ever play 'respectable' in this burg. Even if one of them robes or dresses or saris covers my body my butterfly eyes and permanent jewelry mark me. I saw the way they looked at me and treated me just in that small town we stopped at. And even if I could somehow mask it, I don't speak the language! I don't speak any language around here. I'm like stuck in ancient times, and the only way I can be a plus and not a minus is like those early ancient women did in the mighty hunter, male-dominated societies. Charge 'em for the only thing I got that has any value."
"I-I can get some kind of job. Anything's better'n that."
"Yeah? What kind of job? We already agree you can't do heavy work, and while you can speak the language you can't read or write it. This may look like a cross between Shakespeare and Robin Hood but it ain't, pal. It's as modern in many ways as where we came from. You don't read or write or have a skill you're up the creek. What's the next idea? Have Boday make up some real strong drugs you can sell to kids?"
"Charley, I-"
"You can go anyplace in this big city. I'm 'beauteous property' wherever I go, and just one look says it. Face it, Sam! We ain't going nowhere without the money and I'm the only one in this group who can get it without exploiting innocent people or stealing it. Maybe I'll be disgusted. Maybe I won't be able to go through with it. I don't know. But right now it's the only thing we got."
Sam, appalled and confused, appealed to Boday for help and alternatives, but she wasn't much good.
"Face it, lover. Why fight it? If she wants to pull in the money then there is more time for us. Boday can manage it. It would be nice to see the complete work, too. But if you say no, then it's no."
Sam didn't know what to do but she was still looking for excuses. "She couldn't work out of here, or even this district! Kligos would be bound to find out!"
"Oh, piss on Kligos. Boday has many friends and an lovers among the merchant and even noble classes. Many of them would love this sort of thing but don't want to be seen down here or are just too scared to come. So we set her up in a nice apartment in a good neighborhood. Boday will decorate it just so. She has often been pressed by people who know her who are upset at enriching the likes of Kligos and his ilk to do something like this but up until now she was not interested in money or business, only art. I will teach her the Short Speech which anyone can learn. It is all they expect a courtesan to know-in speech. Kligos will probably never know, but even if he finds out he will think it is someone at the Palace's doing. And you will stay here with me and we will check on her."
Sam, grudgingly, told all this to Charley, adding, "But you'd be a prisoner in this place. You'd be there, night and day, for months, and I don't think they invented TV here even if you could understand it. And we can check on you and keep you supplied but for safety's sake we'd have to be here, not there. You'd be alone and not even able to call me for help."
"I'll survive," Charley responded. "It's better if we separate. No ideas putting us together. And the time we need should work out, too. Nobody keeps a roadblock and teams of searchers on for months. They'll figure we got out by them somehow and the search will be elsewhere. It's the only way, Sam, considering the circumstances."
Sam sighed. "All right, but I got a bad feeling about all this. Damn it, it's me they want. I feel like it should be me doin' this if anybody does. Go back to bein' a woman and let Boday do her thing on me."
Charley smiled. "You're just jealous. No, Sam, it's because they want you that it's gotta be me. And if I'm ever gonna get home again, or even back to me again, then I got to get to that sorcerer, too. This isn't just for you, Sam. It's my only way out."
The next few days seemed more unreal than real to Sam, although she spent much of it sleeping and regaining strength. The knot on the head went down, until there was only a slight scar from the sapping on the street, and the Jewel of Omak reported that its power was back up to strength, which gave her a real sense of security. Just where it was getting its power from she never thought to ask.
Boday continually attempted to seduce her as well, and she was a pretty easy mark for it considering how she felt. The mad alchemical artist was in fact an artist in all things, including that, although some of the things Boday came up with were more bizarre man anything Sam had imagined. She simply gave up and gave in, partly out of guilt over Charley and partly because she just needed somebody. She was getting to be fairly experienced in sex, though, and she still had never had a man and had no idea what it was like. She wondered if she might be gay, but she reserved judgment until the opportunity arose, if ever, to find out if she was or not. She certainly hadn't met very many sexy or attractive men so far.
Watching Boday work was also fascinating. The range of miracles that she could either lay her hands on or concoct in her lab seemed beyond belief, but it wasn't hard after a while to understand how she could make hair
grow and change color and even self-streak in a matter of hours, or create an environment where the very bone structure could be expertly manipulated and altered-such as she'd done in altering Charley's overbite to make it sexy rather than intrusive.
Sam had instructed Boday specifically to do nothing more to Charley that was irreversible. That is, that couldn't be undone and Charley brought back to her normal old self. Boday noted that all of the commercially available formulas had absolute antidotes; it was only her special blends that conferred permanency by altering the standard formulas. Thus Sam watched, fascinated, as Boday did to Charley exactly what Sam had gone to so much trouble to prevent, only this time with antidotes available. The result was the same, of course; failing those antidotes, Charley would remain Boday's remade creation.
First was the potion that wiped out all memory, anxiety, inhibition, and fear. She became a wide-eyed, staring, baby-like blank, but she was eager to learn and all that she was taught she grasped quickly. Boday began by teaching her the Short Speech, which was actually a soft and very primitive subset of Akhbreed with certain clever alterations and a lack of any tonalities or subtleties. More interesting, it had only the present tense and mostly second person at that, so that one who thought only in it would have an ego that was always the reflection of another. Charley learned what she was taught while under the potion's influence, but exhibited no curiosity to learn any more than she was given. Without a conscious, repetitive effort to teach, she simply did not learn at all no matter how obvious something was.
By the end of three long days it seemed impossible to Sam that Charley would ever become more than a wooden, childlike puppet. Sam couldn't stand it much anymore, and, following Boday's leads and contacts and with Boday's money, she spent some time exploring the city and ultimately finding an apartment in one of the tall downtown towers with a fine view of the palace, Government House, Royal Gardens, and the rest. As a male, she had considerable freedom to roam and see what the place really looked like, and it was impressive.
There were shops, large stores, bazaars, you name it, there, including many specializing in things from the sectors, the "nonhuman" regions of Akahlar. Many were practical items, some were particular kinds of clothing and materials, perfumes, luxury items of all kinds. The shopping district was divided into single product neighborhoods where everyone sold much the same thing in hot competition. Sam bought a great deal of material at Boday's request to form Charley's outfits, and also discovered that there was a whole industry devoted to very sexy and risque woman's fashions-"for home and husband," of course. There was even a small street selling magical things-amulets, charms, potions, you name it. Some magicians advertised that they could weave practical spells "for business and industry alike," or so the pitchmen proclaimed.
Remembering the jewel's caution about the illusion and magical powers, she had shopped for and bought several comfortable but concealing male outfits before venturing onto that street.
By now she was known to the watchmen as "Boday's new sex interest" and had no problems going in or out, even with bundles, although she discovered that men do not help other men who are overburdened with packages like they help women. Men, in fact, treated each other far differently than they had treated her even back home, and she also found by discussions with the guards that men's talk covered a very different range than the sort when women got together, most of it very boring and of no interest to the listener.
Charley had still been mostly a dull-eyed automaton by the end of the third day, so it was a shock to see her near dark at the end of the fourth day. She stood there in the studio, a vision of ethereal beauty, dressed in a flowing blue dress of wispy material that showed her entire perfect body through the gauze. She seemed alive-full of life, and almost supernaturally gorgeous, the eyes lively and attentive, all of the moves so damned sexy it was turning Sam on just to watch her.
Charley gave Sam a sexy smile and bowed slightly, hands in the prayer position. "We greet you, our lord," she said in a soft, seductive whisper. "How may Shari serve?"
Sam dropped the whole bundle of stuff and then heard Boday's joyous cackle. "Darling!" she cried and ran to Sam, hugging and kissing her and picking her up almost off the floor. "Isn't she wonderful? Isn't she just simply marvelous? Boday knew she would be good but even she had no idea how simply stunning it would turn out! Tomorrow she will learn the technical fine points and then she will be ready! Boday took the liberty of giving a decorator her sketches, so the day after tomorrow we can be in business!"
Sam just stared at Charley, all sorts of thoughts and emotions
jumbled up together inside her, many in conflict with each
other. One, however, was very personal and more than a little
jealous. That's my body she did that with! I could look like that!
Still, another part, from the guilt corner, snuck in and snapped her back a bit. She was both fascinated and awed by the process, but there was still a strong part of her deep down that made her feel like a common pimp and degrader of women.
"You're gonna keep her like that? So she don't even remember she's Charley?"
"Oh, darling, but of course! Any other way would be a crime, not only because it would of necessity spoil the creation but also because it would not be a mercy to her. Right now, she will do what she must do willingly, with no guilt, no regrets, no afterthoughts, no reservations. All of her day will be spent preparing for her evenings, and she will get better as she goes along. The more clients, the more perfect she will become, and single-mindedly, to the exclusion of everything else. Look at her now-she barely exists. She exists only through interacting with another. She exists to give pleasure, whatever is required. We will move her in and complete the training there-a few days at best. Then we will look for art lovers."
Sam was feeling pretty queasy about all this, even though Charley had asked for it and she'd argued against it. "You're sure it can be reversed? That we can bring her mind back?"
"But, of course! Do not worry, Boday's sweet Sower! Did you not command it? Did we not discuss it with her? It is arranged. In a month it wears off and she will remember everything. Then she decides. To take the potion some more or to come running back here. Every month after she will decide again. It is a pity if she ruins it, though. She is so perfect. Well, no matter what, Boday owes you even more for kicking her into this. Never before has she also designed the setting as well as the jewel. It is a new challenge!"
Sam just stared at Charley and licked her lips. And will you be sickened when it wears off? she wondered. And will you hate me and yourself for it?
With the year-long apartment lease, the decorating, the clothes for Charley and for Sam, and the supplies, they'd blown all of Boday's two thousand, and most of the change purse as well. If this unpleasant idea did not make money, they were in a hell of a fix. Charley, damn it all, had to start earning their keep.
8
Of Decadence, Demons, and Brassieres
The problem with decadence is that it is based on decay.
The last of the money went to set up a payment mechanism that would distance both Sam and Boday from Charley just in case anybody in the district thought to check on the new competition, and to arrange for various supplies and services- Charley might well be expected to cook for clients (Boday had taught her three meals which she did exceptionally well), which meant food and beverage had to be provided, and there would be the laundry and cleaning bill. The services were easy to arrange but they could only scrape up enough to prepay ten days' worth. If more money wasn't coming in by then, it would be all for nothing.
Boday did manage to use her contacts to start the ball rolling, but there were only three customers the first week, then five the second. As word of mouth spread, though, and Charley gained practice, things picked up. Still, most of the income was plowed back into the services, leaving little for Sam and Boday. Neither of them had any real business sense, and they had underestimated the start-up costs of
even this sort of business and with all the intermediaries doing the work it left them broke and with nothing at all to do for a solid month. Not that they starved, but they wound up buying food that was cheap and easily spiced to disguise its cheapness and they ate a lot of fat and starch.
Sam literally had nothing to do and no place to go. The city offered plenty of diversions but almost none of it was free and Boday was rather limited in the circles she could travel in. With no TV, no radio, no money to go out, no reading material she could read, Sam found herself basically trapped in the loft with Boday who similarly had nothing to do, since Sam, honoring Charley's wishes, had forbade the artist to take any more live commissions and Boday wasn't much interested in the old forms which she dismissed as "dull" and "passe." Not that Boday minded; anything she did was fine so long as it was near Sam. That potion was potent.
By the end of a week Sam was willing to do most anything for a diversion, if only to keep from thinking of Charley over there in that apartment, and Boday had an almost infinite mind for diversions. Sam resisted, though, figuring that if Charley could make this kind of sacrifice she owed it to tough it out for a month after which she was convinced that Charley would be coming back. That left baking and eating the sweet breads and confections that were the easiest to make from their limited grocery budget, and, eventually, letting Boday play out her perversities, which seemed infinite. Boday, after all, was a master teacher of courtesans-and consorts, too-and she knew everything. At first Sam was nervous, then repelled, but eventually she found herself drawn to it by sheer boredom and Boday's persistence.
And, after a while, Sam just didn't have reservations anymore.
It was Boday who'd taken the love potion, but that did nothing to dim her dominant personality or to change any of her ways. In the hands of a love object who was equally strong she could have been curbed, restrained, even radically changed, but in this case her love object was a confused, lost, lonely, bored seventeen-year-old girl with little experience and waning self-confidence while the potion-obsessed lover was strong, domineering, experienced in many ways, including the manipulation of others. It wasn't like the fairy tales where the taker of the potion became the submissive love-slave of another, in this case, the tables were turned as the single-minded lover more and more dominated the object of that artificial love.
When The Changewinds Blow Page 20