“I want it too,” Nona said. “But not at the expense of my world.”
She returned to the tent, where Darius and Colene slept beside each other in the night tunics Nona had made for them and for herself. There was no pretense here; they really were asleep, because Seqiro relayed their inchoate unconscious thoughts. The two were holding hands, their fingers loosely interlaced yet suggesting tenderness and trust. They were a couple, for all the difficulties they had relating fully to each other when awake, and she wished them well. Colene thought Darius was too morally rigid, except with respect to other women, where it seemed he had an attitude Nona had not seen. Darius thought Colene was too young, though he desired her body and her love with an intensity that sometimes leaked through despite the way the horse filtered it out. The fact was that Colene was not too young, for experience had matured her rapidly, and Darius’ awareness of other women would fade if he simply recognized Colene as a woman instead of an almost-woman. All either needed was to accept what the other offered.
Nona laughed to herself. How readily she could solve the problems of others, when she could not address her own! Perhaps to the others, Nona’s problem was as readily soluble. In fact, maybe all they needed to do was address each other’s problems and soon there would be no more problems.
Nona lay down on Darius’ other side. She liked them both, and regretted being any part of the dissension between them. She had no romantic designs on Darius, but did like him as a person. If she were ever to marry, she hoped it would be to a man like him, but that did not mean Darius himself. Colene understood that intellectually, but not emotionally. Colene feared that one day Darius would simply be overwhelmed by Nona’s presence and choose to marry her instead of Colene. But Nona would not accept that, for her own very certain reasons, and she wished she could convince Colene of that. Darius, however he felt about women in general, would never take a woman against her will. Nona represented no threat to Colene’s romance. Nor to her horse either; Colene would have to give up Seqiro before Nona took him.
But what kind of a threat did Nona represent to her world? Had she done no more than throw it into chaos? What could she do to redress such an evil?
I will help you sleep.
Nona realized that she did need this help. “Thank you, Seqiro.” Then the horse’s mind pressed her awareness gently down, and she slept.
IN the morning the others were up before Nona. They were ready to strike camp by the time she woke. “Seqiro—did you hold me in sleep late?” she demanded as she scrambled up.
Yes. So we could consider your problem.
“But I didn’t ask anyone to do that!” She tore off her night tunic and dropped a red day tunic over her head.
True. This is why it was better for you to sleep.
“The rest of you don’t have any responsibility for me! This is something I have to do myself.” She was now making her way to their designated latrine area, and was conscious of a possible double entendre.
Colene appeared. “When the mind predator came after me, did you decide it was something I had to handle myself?”
“No, of course not! We had to get you away from—” Nona broke off, grasping the point. She regrouped her thoughts. “What did you decide?”
“Seqiro says he thinks you can solve my problem, so maybe I should solve yours.”
So the horse had not told the specific nature of Nona’s private thoughts. She was thankful for that. “If you could solve mine, I would certainly try to solve yours. But I fear no one can solve mine.”
“So let me try to solve yours first, and then if I succeed, you’ll tackle mine,” Colene said.
Nona finished her private business and went to the stream to wash. She was not at all sure this was wise. She knew that Seqiro wanted her, Nona, to remain with them on the Virtual Mode, but that was no necessary concern for Colene.
Colene followed her, and put out her hand. “Deal?”
Why should Colene even want to get involved? Nona was not at all sure that this made sense. But the girl was waiting, and finally Nona took her hand. “Agreed.”
“Anyway, I might get attacked by that mind predator again,” Colene said. “They tell me that your magic made the difference, getting me here in time.”
“We all made the difference,” Nona clarified. “We worked together.” She smiled. “As a hive.”
“Well, I’m not ready to break up the hive yet.”
“What is your solution to my problem?”
“I’m working on it. This will take more than a minute or three to figure out. So you just relax, and let me stew on it.”
“It may take more than a generation to resolve!” Nona exclaimed, laughing. Now it occurred to her that Colene was simply trying to help her to relax, on the assumption that someone else was taking the burden of worry.
“Now we need you to get a familiar,” Colene said. “So we can spot a place for Darius to conjure us to.”
Seqiro stunned a passing bird, and Nona held the bird and tamed it with her mind. Then she directed it to fly to a distant village, while she had her morning meal.
In due course, using the bird’s eyes, she spied a suitable site. It was near a village that looked peaceful.
They got together, and Darius performed a mass conjuration. He had made icons representing each of them, including Burgess, and touched each with the solid, liquid, and air of the one it represented. The solid was a hair or in Burgess’ case a tiny chip from his canopy; the liquid was spittle or the equivalent; the air was breath. He activated these with a thought. Then he moved the group from the region he had designated “here” to the region designated “there.”
There was a stomach-turning lurch. They landed in a sloppy pile at the far site. The others were used to it, but this was the first experience for Burgess, and he looked a bit green around the trunk and sunken of eye stalk. Nona and Colene put hands on his contact points, and Seqiro enhanced their power of communication, so they could reassure him.
Then Nona expanded their equipment and they repaired to the village. There were no barricades here, and no sign of despots. But neither were there any glad or curious throngs of children.
Seqiro, garbed as a show horse, let Darius guide him, his mind tuned to the minds of the villagers. It always took the horse a little while to orient on new minds. Their guise as a traveling troupe gave him time to do this before they came to a stop.
But this time they were surprised. Keep walking. Do not stop.
They kept moving, passing right on out of the village without pausing, as if they had always been destined for elsewhere. As they did so, Seqiro clarified what he had discovered. This was a peaceful hamlet only in appearance; it was actually an armed and hostile camp. Men were watching from the windows, ready to emerge and stone any suspicious visitors. Any people in despot cloaks, male or female, would be killed on sight; others were let be if they seemed harmless. So Seqiro had projected emanations of harmlessness, and the troupe had been allowed to depart in peace.
Safely beyond the deadly village, they paused to assess the implications. The revolution had come here, too, and worse than the other village. The despots had been abolished.
“But there was not supposed to be killing,” Nona said, horrified. “Just a change of authority.”
“It seems that without a powerful force to keep the peace, it will not be kept,” Darius said grimly. “I suspect that even your magic, Nona, will not suffice to bring order here. The people have tasted blood.”