Phaze Doubt

She sat up. “I can understand your anger, Lysander. But it will pass. I just thought that since our love is inevitable, and thereafter we may be separated, it would be nice to make the most of it in this time we have. It would be a shame to squander the interim by quarreling.”

He had one more objection. “But you are a cyborg! The love potion should not affect you.”

“I am also a harpy, and my brain is living. The potion will affect these. It is not purely chemical; it is a magical ambience that can affect even a metal robot. Indeed, I am already feeling it; that is why I am pleading for detente between us.”

Lysander shrugged. “Whether I will love you I can’t say. But your arguments are persuasive. I want to save your planet too; I just didn’t care to be cynically coerced into it.” That was a half-truth, but it would do. “My anger is fading; let’s give love a try.” That was true; it seemed that the potion was already having its effect.

“I’m glad.” She leaned into him and kissed him. “We are not always free to choose our destinies or our emotions. I think we can make a good couple, and perhaps save the planet. Then neither of us will be sorry that it wasn’t natural.”

“But how can you be sure I don’t just tell you I love you, so that you won’t sick the harpies on me?”

“Unless you are immune to magic, there is no chance of that. Jod’e would have brought you to a similar chamber.”

“Jod’e would not have needed to.”

“When the fate of our world is at stake, the Adepts do not gamble. They chose her for you, and when she was lost, they chose me. I am not as good a choice, but will have to do; there was no one else convenient. Of course Jod’e will betray you to the Hectare, and they will know about the prophecy and the love, and probably that it is me you love. But we shall try to keep you out of their tentacles, until the prophecy is fulfilled.” She paused, gazing at him. “Now you may have the pleasure of using a woman you do not yet love, if you wish, or you may wait until you do. I am amenable to your preference. I have told you all that I know about this matter.”

She was certainly being candid! “What is your own preference?”

“Oh, I was hot for you when I first met you. Harpies are lusty creatures, being chronically male-starved. I loved it when you handled my legs! But you seemed destined for other things, so I resigned myself. I’d like to discover how many times and in how many ways it can be done in three days, with one man.”

“One man?”

“The limitation is male. If I had ten men here—“

“Oh.” He considered. He appreciated both her candor and her cynicism; it relieved him of confusion and conscience. He remembered how feminine even the complete robot Sheen had seemed; Echo was interesting despite what he knew of her. “Then let’s find out.”

She addressed him with a hunger that seemed even more intense than what Alyc had shown, and in a moment they were in the throes of sex, and in another moment beyond them. Her harpy aspect must indeed be hungry for male interaction! She was evidently ready to continue, but his interest faded, so they talked instead. Her attentions to him continued during the dialogue, restoring his interest more rapidly than would otherwise have been the case.

They continued with both sex and history, in stages and bouts and alternations and mixtures, and time passed both rapidly and slowly, simultaneously. It hardly mattered what Echo said; Lysander was increasingly interested merely in listening to her, and in having her listen to him. Their sexmaking became lovemaking, the passion less, the satisfaction more. Being with her was sheer pleasure, of a sort he had not experienced before.

“It is true,” he said at last. “I have not loved before, but I do love you.”

“And I love you,” she said. “It is magical in origin, but I think I could have loved you anyway, had you had any natural interest in me. Soon we can emerge, but let’s not hurry.”

Lysander was enjoying himself, but something was bothering him increasingly. He did not want there to be a lie between the two of them. He wanted their love to be perfect, and feared it could not be.

“There is something I must tell you,” he said.

“That you now believe in love potions? I know it, Lysander.”

“That I love you too much to deceive you,” he said grimly. “I must tell you the truth, though it destroy your love for me.”

“Too late for that. Three days have passed, and I am lost. You can only hurt me, you can not destroy my love.”

The gravity of his situation suddenly tormented him. “I can lie to you only if you ask me to. I would prefer to do that, so as not to hurt you.”

She gazed at him with understanding. “There really is something bad,” she said.

“There really is. Please, tell me to lie. It will spare us both pain.”

“Does it affect our mission to save our world?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must tell me. Maybe the Adepts had this in mind.”