Phaze Doubt

So she responded guardedly to their overtures. She was courteous to both but paid slightly more attention to Purple, not because she found him more attractive, but because she found him less attractive. Tan, even under the geis, was dangerous; his eyes could work no evil now, but looked as if they could, and sometimes illusion was a significant part of magic. Also, his twin sister Tania, now the wife of the Adept Clef, was quite another matter; had that lovely woman approached Brown with amorous intent, Brown would have been lost in an instant. Tan resembled his sister as closely as was possible without a change of sex; it was easy to picture him clean-shaven, with his hair grown long, as Tania. Therefore she guarded herself from him, and favored Purple, who was fat and ugly and totally devoid of appeal for her.

The equanimity with which Tan accepted this loss of favor confirmed his motive: had his suit been real, he would have been jealous. Given his choice of women, a forty-year-old spinster would have been the very last he would take. Purple, older, seemed more practical: any woman would do in a pinch. He would gladly have an affair with her—and as gladly drop her the moment he was free. She felt far more at ease with that attitude, ironically.

But as the months passed in this subtle game, she came to appreciate another hazard. She was playing coy, as befitted one who was not supposed to be corrupted. But she did not care to overdo it, lest they catch on that there was more to her diffidence than mere duty. In the process of judging her calls, she realized that she might have to choose at some point between actually succumbing to a sexual encounter she did not want, or betraying her secret. Which would it be? If she actually lay with Purple, she would have to school her revulsion not to show, and her secret would be safe, for men could not conceive of a woman preferring anything other than sex with them, once it was tried. But she would feel absolutely filthy and ashamed. Could it be worth it? She was in horrible doubt.

The men were prisoners, and powerless. But if they learned her nature, they would speak of it to others. This she would be unable to prevent, for periodically other Adepts did come to make sure that all was under control here. This was the one nonmagical, nonphysical way they could hurt her—and they surely would do so, if it suited their purpose. Could she bear the shame?

She seemed doomed to shame, either way. The matter pressed on her awareness, day and night. She dreamed of fat Purple coming down on her body, saying, “Do this, bitch-lover, else I tell!” He might tell anyway, if he caught on that she wasn’t enjoying it in the fashion of other women.

At this point in her dilemma Neysa and Flach visited. Brown’s relief at seeing them was immense. All the loneliness of her situation abated—and returned with added force with their departure, thought it was temporary. She needed advice from a friend, desperately.

“And now, if friend thou still dost be,” she concluded, “I lay on thee the burden o’ advice: what needs must be my course?”

Neysa, grazing as if unaffected by the narration, controlled the welter of her emotions. Her friend Brown—a woman’s woman? Desperately lonely, all these years? How could she, Neysa, have missed the signs?

They had to move those prisoners elsewhere! Yet if they did, thus abruptly, Purple and Tan might realize why. Also, where could they be moved? How could Neysa ask for this, without giving reason? She could not give reason, for she had given her oath of secrecy, which she would not abridge. And if she found some other pretext to move them out, what then of Brown, thrown into complete isolation again?

Then she caught a glimmer of a notion. She played a warning note on her horn, to advise Brown to dismount. Then she changed to woman form. “Methinks thou dost need out o’ this mess. An a need come for golems, many golems in a far corner, made from the wood there, thou couldst be called away, and some other put in charge o’ thy Demesnes for the interim.”

“But Neysa—“ Brown protested.

“I would break not mine oath! I would find other way to justify the project.”

“But what I needs must know—“

“No word o’ thy shame! It will be hidden.”

Brown paused. Then she nodded. “I thank thee, Neysa. An thou canst do that, my concern be eased.”

They walked back to the standing golem. Soon they were on their way back to the wooden castle, charging along under the starry sky.

Once Brown was safely home, Neysa set out for the Red Demesnes afoot, where she knew Flach would remain until she rejoined him. She ran well in her natural form, but not as fast as in her youth. Still, it was a pleasure; she had always liked to run. She remembered the old years, with Stile, and her hopeless love for him, never spoken. Later her filly-foal Fleta had done what Neysa had not dared do, and had openly loved a man. In late retrospect, Neysa could not say that was wrong. Sometimes secret love was better in the open.