The Crystal Variation (50 page)

Why?

The thought was green and sharp, edged with some base emotion which eluded her naming. She raised herself onto an elbow and considered Rool Tiazan on every level accessible to her.

Physically, he lay yet within his restraints, his hair dark with sweat, his golden skin slick and damp. The dermis glowed, but palely, palely. Soon, it would cease to do so entirely, and the biologics would have won.

Upon the second plane, he was beautiful to behold, a subtle and coherent power, restrained by the chains of biology. Despite those chains, his essence extended well into the third level, half-a-dozen thin, mint-colored rays piercing even unto the fourth.

Returning to her envelope, she cleaned herself, sat up, called a robe, and, at last, met his eyes.

It is necessary in order to complete our bonding
, she answered calmly, for the philosophy teacher had been adamant—one’s submissive must, as soon as its intelligence was recovered, be shown the facts of its new existence. It was then able to grasp the futility of rebellion and realize that its only recourse was submission to she who held dominion over his existence.

I do not wish to be bound.
His eyes were hot.

She lifted a shoulder.
It is not your wish that bears weight here, but mine.

A light ripple of gold and ebon—amusement, she thought. And despair.

I thought the proud Iloheen ruled here.

So they do
, she made answer.
I—and you—exist to do their work.

You, perhaps
, was his reply.
Not I.
He moved his head, insofar as the restraint would allow it, tried one arm against the bonds, then the other.

Release me.

It was not quite an order, not with that silver edging of fear. And, after all, there was no harm in allowing him so small a thing.

Of course.
She took care to thicken the air beneath his head, so that the vessel would not be damaged, then banished the restraints with a thought.

Freed, he lay on the cold tiles, eyes closed, then slowly bent his right elbow, and shifted his right arm, until his palm lay against his naked chest. He stroked his own dermis, and shivered.

Release me from this . . . object.

Your vessel. Your body
, she instructed him.
That is not possible.

His chest rose and fell.

I am limited by this encasement.
His thought was cool once more; detached alike from fear and from pleasure.
If it is power you would command, release me.

As if he would not immediately shift the ley lines and remove himself from her ken. She bowed her head, acknowledging his cleverness, but—

It is not possible
, she sent again.
Observe.

Carefully, in soft, measured units, she downloaded the relevant biologic theory. He resisted her touch at first, until he understood what she offered, then snatched at it greedily.

There was silence while he accessed the information.

Observing him, she saw the brilliant display of his thought as he assimilated the data; caught a flicker of puzzlement—and felt his cool touch within her mind—behind her shields! At the secret core of herself!

Stop!
she commanded.

Obediently, he ceased his rummaging, but did not withdraw.

Those walls can withstand the will of an Iloheen
, she stated, and this time she
tasted
his gold-and-black laughter, so closely were they linked.

The Iloheen are fumblers and fools
, he sent, with no concern that he might be overhead, and, snatching that half-formed thought from her core, made answer—

Even the strongest walls cannot seal self from self. We are one thought, and one shield. Is this not what you wished for, when you forced us to share essence?
He touched something, faded slightly in her unguarded perception—and reformed.

Ah, I see. You had hoped for something less . . . equal. You to enjoy unlimited access to what I am, and I to accept those mites you choose to bestow. These traps, receptors, and inhibitors woven into this . . . body. They are careful and cunning work of their kind. Was all was done in service to the Iloheen?

Yes.

Why?
His thought was not green now, but flame-blue.
Do you not know the purpose you exist to further?

To annihilate those who stand against the Iloheen
, she answered promptly, that being the very first lesson.
To assist in shaping the universe to reflect the glory of the Iloheen.

And what reward shall be yours, for your aid in bringing about this glorious new universe so well-suited to the Iloheen?
Rool Tiazan asked, his thought bearing an edge reminiscent of the biology tutor—and which he had likely picked out of her experience!

She exerted herself, thrust him out of her core, and slammed a wall up.

You are disallowed!
She snapped, and augmented the thought with a bite, so he would remember.

Silence. He moved his head against the tile floor, eyes closed. Then—

Yes, lady
, he answered meekly.

VII

It was a simple exercise,
designed to allow dominant and submissive to become accustomed to working as one. Unfortunately, she thought—taking care to keep that thought well-shielded—it appeared that Rool Tiazan had not yet accepted the new terms of his existence.

While he had not again attempted to breach her walls, nor expressed contempt of the Iloheen, nor sought in any way to prevent their further bonding, he likewise did not allow one opportunity to resist her dominance to pass untried, so that even the simplest exercise became a war of will against will.

As now.

Three times, she had opened a working channel between them, and drawn his power in order to engender a flame in the grate she had brought into being.

The first time, he had withheld himself, resisting even her strongest demand. Rebellion had been costly, however, as she controlled his access to the means of renewing his essence.

The second time, he had not been able to withhold entirely, and a few wisps of smoke drifted weakly from the grate. This, too, had cost him a tithe of strength, so that she was certain of obedience when she drew him the third time.

Too certain, and more fool she, to suppose that his only weapon was resistance.

She focused again upon the grate—and abruptly there
was
power—far too much for the narrow channel she had formed. More than enough to incinerate her envelope, the grate, and Rool Tiazan himself, unless it were controlled, immediately.

For herself and the grate, she had no concern. Rool Tiazan was a different matter, being both bound to the vessel and denied the ability to rejuvenate it at need. If Rool Tiazan burned, not only his vessel, but his whole essence would be destroyed beyond recall.

She opened herself, dropped all of her shielding, and accepted the fireball. There was a brief, dismissible flare of agony as she phased and released the energy harmlessly into the second plane.

From this vantage, Rool Tiazan was a densely structured pattern of deep and cunning color. As she watched, the pink shine of the autonomous system flared—then faded as the vessel began to die. The scintillant essence spread, overflowing the vessel in rippling wings of energy. The core coalesced, as if the
zaliata
would phase to the second plane—and froze, anchored by the biologics to the failing vessel.

She acted then, and shamefully; not from cool calculation but from base emotion.

Brutishly, with neither finesse nor subtlety, she thrust her will through the glorious colors, feinted past the wary intelligence, and seized control of the autonomous system. She slapped the failing vessel into life, spun the bindings, and rode the tumult of the
zaliata’s
energies, forcing it, dominating it, until it collapsed under the double burdens of her will and his body’s demands.

In a flare of rage nearly as searing as the fireball that had consumed her envelope, she threw Rool Tiazan to his knees, constricted his lungs, his heart, multiplying the pain until at last it breached the cool green fortress of his thought and he writhed in her grip, gasping for breath, desperately seeking to ease her hold about his vessel’s core, the tendrils of his power plucking uselessly at her will.

She held him until she judged he had assimilated the lesson, then threw him against the tile wall and withdrew herself.

The ashes of her envelope were still warm. She resurrected it and stepped within, scarcely noticing the small bite of pain. Carefully, she smoothed her robe, put her anger aside, and turned.

Rool Tiazan lay on the floor at the base of the wall against which she had flung him. Blood ran freely from his nose, his ears, his mouth. His eyes were closed.

Behold me on the physical plane
, she commanded.

His eyes opened, blue, fierce, and unrepentant.

I am your dominant
, she told him, her thought cold and controlled.
You will obey me
.

Nothing, saving the fierce blue stare. She inclined her head.

I accept your submission
, she stated, as if he had actually extended it.
Stand
.

He obeyed, though it cost him, for beyond the bruises, there were broken bones and injuries to soft organs which she did not choose just yet to repair. It was well, she judged, that he learned something of pain, and to value its absence. She waited, allowing him to feel the weight of her patience, as he staggered to his feet, the fingers of his unbroken hand clawing the smooth tile wall for support.

When he was erect, she opened the channel for the fourth time and drew his power.

The channel warmed slightly as a spark danced from him to her, touched the grate and flared into soft blue flame.

Explain your action
.

Painfully, he raised his head and met her eyes.
Did you not command me to light the grate?
His thought was green ice.
Lady.

Fortunately for Rool Tiazan, her fury had departed, else she might have struck him again, to his sorrow. Instead, she merely smoothed her robe and questioned him more specifically.

You know that you are inescapably bound to the body. What did you seek to gain by your late escapade?

Freedom
. Cold enough to freeze the aether between them, with a depth she could not identify, and yet still mistrusted.

I thought
, she sent carefully,
that you did not wish to be destroyed. Mark me, if your body dies unrevived, you will be destroyed.

His eyes closed against his will, and he sagged suddenly against the wall, shivering.

I thought to . . . survive
—his sending was ragged, as the body’s damage began to breach his defenses.
To survive . . . diminished.
His thought fragmented; she caught an impression of a free
zaliata
, quite small and very compact, dancing joyous between the stars—and then nothing but green and silver static.

So. He had been willing to abandon some amount of his essence—his power—in order to escape his binding. A desperate plan, indeed.

You would not have survived
, she sent, more gently than she had intended.
The body will not yield you.

Silver and green static was her only answer. Against the stained tile wall, he shivered the harder, lips blue, tears mixing with the blood on his face, as the body’s distress overwhelmed his essence.

She went to him, and took his undamaged hand in hers.

Come,
she said, easing him to the floor.
I will repair your hurts and give you data to study while you sleep.

VIII

HEALED AND CLEANED
and held peaceful by her will, Rool Tiazan slept, his curls tumbled in pleasing disarray across the blanket she had allowed him.

She—she did not sleep, but withdrew to her core, there to meditate upon her actions and her motivations.

Emotion motivated base creatures and was one of the myriad means by which such creatures were subject to manipulation. So taught the philosophy instructor, who had with the biology instructor early set her cohort to studying the effects of emotion upon base biologic systems. The point made, the philosophy tutor had then drilled them in the domination of the emotions which were the legacy of their biologic origin.

Ultimately, you aspire to dominate base creatures of a high order
, she had told them.
How will you accomplish this, if you cannot dominate that which is base within yourselves?

Indeed, the dominion of emotion was deemed so vital to performing the will of the Iloheen that the First Doom had been constructed to test that skill. Those of her cohort who had yielded—to terror, to joy, to despair—those had not emerged from the testing.

That she
had
emerged from not only the First, but from all Three Dooms proved that she was worthy to pursue the work of the Iloheen as the dominant of a full
dramliza
unit.

And, yet—a dominant who allowed terror for her submissive’s life to predicate her action? What was she to make of such a creature? Cool consideration, now that the event was past, indicated that allowing Rool Tiazan to destroy himself was the course of reason.

For herself . . . Reason told her that a dominant who could not assert her dominion, who had lost the Iloheen the use of one of the precious
zaliata
—so flawed a being was unworthy of carrying out the great work, no matter how many Dooms she had evaded.

And it was fear that she felt, there at her core, as she contemplated her own destruction. Contrary to her training, she did not vanquish it, but drew it close and examined it.

Seen thus, it was a thing of many facets; a dark jewel turning beneath the weight of her regard.

One facet was that fear awakened in a base creature at the imminence of its own death. Another facet—and greater—was fear of Rool Tiazan’s destruction.

The very emotion which had motivated her interference in his attempted escape.