Key to Chroma

by Piers Anthony

"Not if they know it already. I can speak for Dour, who knows how to travel and is a doughty fighter."

  "The Cartographer,” he agreed. “Who else?"

  "The one you brought back, the sweet woman—Stevia."

  He nodded. “She has special properties, and I owe her no fault. Who else?"

  Throe spoke. “The one I brought back: Ine. She's a sorceress of illusion."

  "We may be able to use that. One more."

  "Symbol brought back an Amazon,” Gale said. “Lucent."

  "Done!” Havoc glanced at Throe. “You guard the home base with Ennui."

  "I will.” Then, after a pause, he murmured, “But beware: Ine is insatiable, with a certain twisted slant."

  "Question?"

  "Sexually. Sado-masochistically."

  "I'm not going to be having sex with her!"

  Throe smiled ruefully. “You may not be able to avoid it."

  "Parting,” Havoc said with good nature.

  Within hours they were on their way. They used the buddy system, each with another as a traveling companion. It was apparent that the Cartographer and the Amazon liked each other and made a convenient pair. Gale and Symbol associated, neither caring to be with Havoc in the presence of the other. It wasn't rivalry so much as camaraderie; they both loved him and understood that aspect of each other. That left the Gray Chroma woman and the Air Chroma sorceress. “You two can get along?” Havoc asked them.

  "Not so fast, Hayseed,” Stevia said. “You can't travel alone."

  "I'm the odd man out."

  "And the one who can't be risked,” Ine said. “You need a companion, and that must be one of us."

  It was his rule, and he had to honor it. “But if I take one of you, the other will be alone.” Actually he had planned to be with Stevia, but the addition of Ine had complicated it.

  The two women exchanged a glance. Then Stevia spoke. “It's my turn to travel no fault with you. But I can share you. Take us both."

  "Both!"

  "That's very sweet of you,” Ine said. “But you do have a claim I lack. I can strip down and travel invisible. I should be safe enough."

  "And if you get in trouble, who will be able to find you? You need a buddy, and I can be that."

  "If you're sure—"

  "He's young and virile. He can handle us both, especially if we cooperate."

  The Air Chroma woman oriented her veil on Havoc. There was a disturbing suggestiveness in her manner. “Agreement. Appreciation."

  "But I did not agree to this,” Havoc protested.

  The two exchanged another glance. Then they approached him on either side. Stevia took his right hand and passed it inside her shirt, placing it on one fine full breast, thumb on the nipple. Ine took his left hand and passed it under her skirt and behind to her firm full buttock, fingertips pressing into a hot crevice. Then both leaned forward and kissed him on either ear.

  "Submission,” he murmured, half dazed by the input. They knew the power their hidden flesh had on his imagination and desire. If they didn't let him go soon he would embarrass himself by trying to have sex with them simultaneously.

  The others laughed. Symbol turned to Gale. “You and I must keep that ploy in mind."

  "Lets throw for his hands,” Gale said.

  "Unnecessary. You're his right hand girl; I'm left."

  Lucent turned to Dour. “Give me one of yours.” In a moment she had it under her shirt, while the Cartographer blushed. But he did not try to remove it.

  "We have a mission,” Havoc said somewhat desperately.

  "So we do,” Stevia said, twitching her bosom before removing his hand. “We'll have to remember our places."

  "Too bad he doesn't have four hands,” Ine said, flexing her bottom before removing the other. “Alternate completions?"

  "Throw for first one,” Stevia said.

  "I'm odd."

  They threw fingers, and it was even. Stevia smiled. “But the other can address whatever else at the time."

  "Delight."

  "Don't I have any say in this?” Havoc asked, embarrassed by both their banter and his obvious erection.

  "Negation,” they said together, laughing.

  "How do we travel?” Symbol asked.

  "We can make up a troupe,” Gale said. “Havoc and I can sing, Dour and Lucent can guard, and the others can fill in. There should be no trouble."

  Havoc agreed. They quickly selected sample songs and acts as they walked out of the city. They went to the neighboring Translucent Chroma zone. “We are an entertainment troupe,” Havoc said. “We need passage across to the adjacent Yellow Chroma zone."

  "Seven? It will have to be good.” Then the Translucent man spotted Gale. “Aren't you the songstress who passed this way two weeks ago?"

  "Affirmation. I'm with my troupe now."

  "It is of your level?"

  "Affirmation."

  "Transport within the hour. Will you perform in the interim?"

  "Affirmation."

  The Translucent man got to work summoning a transport craft and audience. “You must have made an impression,” Havoc murmured.

  "Dour helped."

  Soon the group of Translucents was assembled in a circle. The group of them took the center for their first performance. They stood in a line, silent.

  First Havoc addressed the audience. “Greeting."

  "Acknowledged!” the children in the front circle exclaimed jubilantly.

  "I am Hayseed, master of this troupe. I am a singer, and so is my partner Nonesuch, whom some of you may have seen before.” Several Translucent heads nodded; that was why they were here.

  "For our first number we need three volunteers,” Havoc continued. “Coachmen, preferably, or wagoneers."

  In a moment they had three Translucent volunteers. It was always fun to be on stage with a troupe; this was a standard device.

  Havoc looked around. “But where will these fine men sit?"

  That was Lucent's cue. She hastened to fetch three chairs, setting them in a triangle facing out, so that no part of the audience was excluded. The volunteers took their seats expectantly. Havoc and Gale took their places inside the triangle, back to back.

  "These are the three jolly coachmen,” Havoc said. “They are deep thinkers, with wisdom for all."

  Havoc glanced over his shoulder at Gale. “Music, please, songstress."

  Gale played a chord on her hammer dulcimer. Then she and Havoc broke into song.

  Three jolly coachmen sat

  In a village tavern

  They repeated that stanza while the audience gazed at the three seated men, who looked smugly satisfied. They knew the song, of course, and liked the role.

  And they decided that

  And they decided that

  And they decided that

  They'd have another flagon.

  There was a wash of laughter. This was the deep thinking these men did? Meanwhile Lucent hastened to bring them empty mugs to gesture with.

  For tonight we'll merry merry be

  For tonight we'll merry merry be

  For tonight we'll merry merry be

  Tomorrow we'll be sober!

  The three waved their mugs around, getting into it. Now Gale sang alone:

  Here's to the man who drinks light ale

  And goes to bed quite sober...

  As Gale repeated the stanza, Ine, garbed as a slender man, walked around with a small mug, from which she took small sips. It was easy for her to emulate such a person, because none of her real flesh showed. Her clothing was all.

  He falls as the leaves do fall...

  So early in October.

  The date was an obscure one that came with the song; it was understood to be near the onset of a cold spell. Ine went to the side and carefully settled down to sleep, her head against the legs of a delighted child. Lucent went to lay a small blanket carefully over her.

  Here's to the man who drinks stout ale

  And goes to bed quite mellow.<
br />
  Dour went out with a large mug, from which he seemed to take huge gulps. With each gulp he staggered worse.

  He lives as he ought to live...

  He'll be a jolly fellow!

  Dour almost lurched into the three coachmen, the singers, and the audience, before falling flat on his back, dead drunk. Gale had mentioned that he had been shy before an audience, but he was evidently getting over that, hamming it up awfully. The audience loved it. So, it seemed, did Dour.

  Now Havoc sang alone:

  Here's to the girl who steals a kiss

  And runs to tell her mother...

  Symbol went out, garbed as an innocent village girl. She spied the drunken man as he sat blearily up, stooped to peck him on the cheek, and ran quickly away to pantomime before an older woman in the audience: her no fault mother.

  She does a very foolish thing...

  She'll never get another!

  The older woman in the audience gestured violently in negation, and Symbol slunk away, ashamed. Lucent gave her a shroud to hide under. The audience chuckled knowingly, and the old woman was pleased to have become part of the show.

  Here's to the girl who steals a kiss

  And lingers for another...

  It was Stevia's turn. She swirled her lengthening gray hair around, walked up to Dour, who was now back on his feet, grabbed him, and kissed him with a loud smacking sound. The children laughed. She kissed him again, her shirt somehow falling open to reveal her very full gray breasts, not quite covered by the descending tresses. She was evidently almost as drunk as he was. The men were watching closely.

  She is a boon to all mankind...

  She'll be a jolly mother!

  Stevia looked at her belly, thrusting it well out, appalled, while the audience laughed and applauded.

  "You were great, Dour,” Lucent said.

  "So were you,” the Cartographer replied, flattered.

  They went on to other songs, a great success. There was nothing any audience enjoyed so much as a reasonably familiar song acted out in a new manner. Most of them dated back a thousand years or more, to the original home world, and were cherished as memories of its ancient culture.

  The boats arrived, and they moved swiftly across the zone. “You know,” Gale remarked, “We do make a good troupe. We could probably travel indefinitely this way."

  "I'd prefer it,” Havoc said seriously. He might have been spoiled by civilization, but he still disliked being king. A troupe like this, in contrast, was fun.

  Several zones later, they stopped at a campsite. They had been fed generously along the way by appreciative audiences, but needed to get some rest and sleep. Dour and Lucent took a cabin, Symbol and Gale another, and Havoc had one with Stevia and Ine.

  "I don't suppose you women want to sleep first?” he asked.

  They didn't answer. They stripped him and washed him in the tub, then did the same themselves. They laid him out on the bed, Stevia on his right, Ine unseen on his left. Ine worked on his head, kissing all over it, while Stevia worked on his nether section similarly. When he was about ready to burst, Stevia spread herself on him and took him, while Ine kissed him ardently on the mouth, tonguing him in the process. Her body was invisible, but eminently tactile; her breasts were quivering against his chest and shoulder. It was weird, knowing that these were two different women addressing him, but also extremely potent. Both of them seemed to be highly experienced.

  After the first completion, they exchanged places, and Stevia worked on his upper section, stroking his face with her breasts, while Ine seemed to be doing something similar below. Stevia's hair flowed out from her head, touching his face like warm water, tickling his ears. Ine's mouth was caressing his member, with just a hint of teeth, tickling it to renewed life. He knew he couldn't see what she was doing even if he looked, but the feel was extraordinary. In a surprisingly short time he found himself entering Ine while clasping Stevia, for another powerful climax. They were truly working him over, cooperatively, and he was only half surprised to find himself loving it.

  "We seem to make a good team,” Ine remarked.

  "Affirmation,” Stevia said. “It's a good job."

  "Don't I have something to do with it?” Havoc asked somewhat plaintively.

  "Of course,” Ine said. “You are the clay we mold."

  "Highly pliable at the moment,” Stevia said, kneading it. “More rigidity would help.” Her hair flowed again, bathing it luxuriously.

  "Let it rest!"

  They both laughed. “Tomorrow we can get into the naughtier variants,” Ine said. It was apparent that she had unusual appetites. Throe had mentioned that, but Havoc had not taken proper warning. Now he wasn't sure whether he regretted it.

  They settled on either side of him, each holding him down with an arm and a leg, and composed themselves for sleep. He had never thought to sleep in such manner with two naked women, but was more than comfortable.

  He woke in darkness. His hands were on two bottoms, and someone was checking his member again for pliability. Fortunately nothing came of it.

  But in the morning they were at him again, forcing another turn for each before they let him get up. Only when both were satisfied did they allow him to visit the toilet unit.

  "Greeting,” someone said at his ear, startling him.

  "Symbol,” he said. She was invisible in the gloom of the interior.

  "Do your business,” she said. “That was some session you had, overnight."

  "It's hard to keep up with those two,” he admitted as he sat.

  "You did well enough. Twice last night, twice this morning."

  "What do you know about it?"

  "Gale peeped."

  "My mind was guarded, and she wouldn't have gotten anything from Stevia either."

  "But Ine doesn't have a mind guard, and she truly loves the action. We got it all from her, play by play. Fascinating technique."

  "I just responded to their efforts."

  "It was their technique to which I referred, not yours. That fellow Air Chroma girl has a wicked imagination, and the Gray Chroma is no slouch."

  All too true. “Nights with you were easier."

  Her teasing stopped. “Oh, Havoc.” She sent a wash of adoration and desire. Then she was gone.

  They shared a community breakfast. Dour and Lucent were already out scouting the terrain ahead. They returned with a sober report: “There is a White Chroma zone ahead, but it's unoccupied,” Lucent said. “It's a boiling lake."

  "Can we go around it?” Havoc asked.

  "Unfeasible. It's a fair sized lake, and the surrounding terrain is rough. It would require several hops and hikes, and delay us several days. Crossing it directly could be done in an hour or so."

  "How?"

  "There's a White Chroma man with a machine. But he has a captive market and knows it; passage will not be cheap."

  "We'll find a way,” Havoc said philosophically. He had to concede that being king had some advantages; as king he could have commanded the machine crossing, instead of having to work for it. But he preferred working.

  They marched to the White Chroma lake. It was as described, with bubbles of steam bursting at the surface. They could not touch it, let alone cross it. Magic would be no good, because none of them were White Chroma; they could not do the science magic of this zone.

  They approached the White man, who stood waiting for them to assess the situation. “We are a traveling entertainment troupe,” Havoc said. “We need to cross the lake. Can we deal with you?"

  "You can try,” the man said with arrogant confidence.

  "Introduction: I am Hayseed the minstrel."

  "I am Track, for my tractor.” He gestured to the large machine at the hot water's edge. It was the size of a small residential hut, made of white metal, with wheels all around and a belt of treads on the outside of the wheels. It was hard to make any sense of it.

  Havoc was reading his mind, trying to ascertain his true desire. That was
why Havoc had approached him alone: so that the thoughts of the other members of the troupe would not interfere with his reading. The problem with mind reading was the normal jangle of overlapping thoughts that made an impenetrable mush; only when a subject was isolated could he be read cleanly. Even then, his thought had to be somewhat organized, because each human mind was its own jungle of impressions, conjectures, and feelings. Usually verbal speech was easier, because it was single-channel. But sometimes a person did not say what was really on his mind. So leading questions could be useful to channel particular thoughts.

  "We are prepared to make some reasonable exchange."

  "I am not a reasonable man."

  "It's good to encounter candor,” Havoc said, smiling. “What is your price?"

  But Track was too canny for that. He wanted to get as much as he could, without aggravating potential clients to the point of refusal. “Make me an offer."

  "We have a shapely woman who will entertain you no fault."

  "For a party of seven?"

  "We have two shapely women, or three. They are talented, and of different Chroma.” How well he remembered the past night—and those were not even the most appealing women in the party.

  "Negation.” Behind the rejection was the reason: the man's White Chroma girlfriend had laid down the law about no fault liaisons: any more of those and she was gone. Anyway, Track had found from experience that with one woman or three women, he could climax only once, and so it was really no more than what his girlfriend provided.

  "We have a couple of strong men who can do some laborsome chore."

  "I do my own.” He did; he was self sufficient.

  "We can entertain you with an animated song."

  "I've heard them galore."

  Havoc was getting no useful leads; he saw that Track normally charged what the market would bear, which was an extortionistic portion of trade goods. Since this was not a trading caravan, they had no goods to yield. So they were not of much interest, and the man did not care whether he took them across. As a matter of principle, he did not sell cheap; he was satisfied to have the word circulate that he was as likely to refuse as to accept. That made the serious travelers more amenable.

  But they needed to cross without delay. They could not force the man; he alone knew how to operate his machine and make it respond to his science magic, and he alone knew the precise safe route across the bottom of the lake. The danger was real; any stranger attempting it was likely to get boiled.