03. Masters of Flux and Anchor (7 page)

Coydt had brought with him his valuable collection of ancient writings and devices, and the team of experts who deciphered, attempted to interpret, and created practical applications from the vast amount of material in that collection. These were not merely the written works of the Codex, but included small machines that drew their power from unknown sources and provided illustrations and instructions. They did not understand how the devices they made from these sources worked, but they learned how to build them and found that, once built, they worked as advertised.

The initial year of their conquest was one of unremitting brutality, particularly towards women. Massive purges were conducted of the Anchor's indigenous population: the rest were indoctrinated into the new system by all of the new devices and a lot of old methods some of the conquerors had learned the hard way, on the receiving end. They had little Flux power themselves, but as much as they hated it they also coveted it. and were not above trading some gadget or scrap of knowledge useful to a wizard in ex¬change for services. The devices in particular were very clever, such as the small booster of Flux power that could be carried in one's hand or on a belt. Yet any attempt to open it to see how it worked caused it to fuse into a mass of goo; transforming it so it wouldn't do that also rendered it useless. All wore out after a while, and had to be replaced. The Brotherhood had created a marketable niche for itself, limited only by its inability to do more than small-scale manufacturing without wizards to transmute required materials. Anchor Logh had been primarily agricultural.

By the end of five years in power, the Brotherhood felt secure, and had also seen the Empire crumble and its guardians desert it. That time was also well spent in learning the complexities of running a government. The ancient holy books found by Coydt had given them a mission and a justification for it all, but it said little about practical administration.

Men ran the government and the religious institutions, fought wars, protected property, planned, studied, engi¬neered, and administrated. That left women to do the basic work. Seventy percent of Anchor Logh's males had been killed in the takeover or the purges that followed. Those women not taken by party—meaning Brotherhood—leaders or the thirty percent of the men who went along with the new system were, therefore, reindoctrinated and in many cases transformed in Flux into a new underclass of dim, docile women to do that work.

The girls of the Brotherhood, the wives of the party men, were all broken of will and remade in Flux into the sexual fantasies of the men. They were expected to always be these male fantasies, to think of themselves that way, but they also were expected to prepare the meals, make the clothes and jewelry and other luxury items, keep the houses neat and spotless, bear and tend to the children of the conquerors—boys until age five, girls through puberty— and all of the other domestic needs. They also were the hostesses, the planners of parties and receptions; in commu¬nal groups they serviced the workplaces of the men, pre¬pared and served the institutional food and cleaned and kept up the offices and official buildings. This level of organization took a lot of work and required intelligence in planning and execution. They were made safe by law with severe punishments for offenders so that they could walk the streets alone, night and day, without fear. A credit system was developed allowing them to purchase necessi¬ties for home and duties, with the bill going to the husband, of course. Luxuries had to be bought for them by their men. Much of the wives' lives was rather dull and routine, yet intelligence was needed.

Flux had provided the means to keep them where New Eden needed them. The body, which became uniformly attractive and sexy, literally would rule the mind. Emotion would always override reason, and physical needs were absolutely predominant, not something that could be ignored. Their minds were directed inward. Their attention spans were limited, so that thinking or brooding about things beyond their control, or the complexities of politics, finance, the world outside their immediate family and community, technological discoveries, and the like simply bored them after a little bit. They were practical and pragmatic; the things that interested them were the things that applied directly to their day-to-day life, such as housekeeping, sewing and design, clothing and makeup, hairstyles, child care, cooking and cleaning, and sexual techniques, which they sometimes practiced on one another. Beyond this, conversation centered entirely on relationships—husbands, children, friends—whether it was bragging, complaining, comparing, or simply gossiping. Still, the ultimate insur¬ance of power is ignorance on the part of those without. The spell-imposed inability to read, write, or count beyond their fingers and toes guaranteed forever that the women of New Eden would be subordinate, dependent and never a threat.

Polygamy was allowed, even encouraged, primarily be¬cause there were far more women than men. Many of the Judges and top officers had many wives, for the law said you could have as many as you could support, but the Chief Judge, in particular, had always been too busy to even think of it. He confessed, however, to being very lonely at the top, but never before found anyone he could consider marrying. He took marriage far more seriously than most of the others.

In the seventh year, using new weaponry, they attacked their vulnerable neighboring Anchor, Bakha. Knowing what had happened to Anchor Logh, the Bakhans had fought furiously and well, the women alongside the men, but to no avail. The new ray-type weapons, which could be tuned to vaporize human beings while leaving all else untouched, just about wiped out the entire population of over a million. Wizards who had helped the Brotherhood get its men and equipment through Flux were well rewarded, and a new government was set up there, staffed with younger officers, in which polygamy was not only encouraged, but required. Bakha contained vital raw materials, but it was Anchor Nantzee, to the far west, that contained the factories. That was their next logical move, but it took a very long time to consolidate Bakha and get it running again with new personnel.

Cassie was near the center of power and decision, but such things simply didn't interest her anymore. She had returned with Tilghman to the capital, a very different place than it had been in her youth, with only the ancient temple, with its shiny no-maintenance facade and seven towering spires, really recognizable. Much of the old city had been demolished, and in its stead had risen large buildings for research and administration, others for the central market and general services. Most of the workers lived in large, spacious apartment buildings where quarters were as limited or grand as the man's job and social rank, which also determined which building you lived in. For the top, though, there were now a series of grand struc¬tures around Temple Square, luxurious homes which had previously been seen only as dwellings for Fluxlords. The largest and grandest of these, facing the temple entrance itself across the park, was Tilghman's.

She was awed by it even before stepping inside, and once inside she saw that the ornate carpeting, the huge rooms all tastefully furnished, the art and statuary—female nudes, mostly, she noted with some amusement—were all of a kind only a Fluxlord could have. "You are mistress of this place," he told her proudly. "The serving girls are all unmarried daughters of prominent men, and they will ad¬dress you as 'Mistress' or 'Madame.' Other wives must do their turn in the public buildings, but this is your sole responsibility. It will not be easy. There are a lot of official parties and receptions that must be held here." But she was so in awe of the place that she hardly heard him.

The staff included a huge number of young girls, mostly between the ages of ten and fifteen. They would be mar¬ried off, of course, but others would take their places. These girls were, in fact, the new generation that had been born into the system and knew no other. They were igno¬rant that any other way existed; their education had been entirely tailored to the roles they were expected to fill. They knew the skills Cassie had to learn, and she threw herself into the job enthusiastically.

The work was exhausting and time-consuming, and for a place that size it never ended, but Cassie earned the respect of the staff by being willing to try herself any and all tasks she asked of them, and to keep at it no matter how hot or dirty it was until she could do it with the best of them. She found none of it drudgery, and took great pride in the results.

Adam had proven very well endowed, and very, very good, although she was, in fact, virtually a virgin. She quickly learned what he wanted most, and learned new tricks from the other girls. She felt insatiable, as if making up for all those years of deprivation, which, of course, she was.

In a few weeks, Tilghman had held what he called a "diplomatic reception," actually a party for both rewarded party functionaries and for representatives from places, both Flux and Anchor, with which they did business. In truth, it was to show her off.

It was a gala affair, with music and dancing, but later on that evening, while she was over checking on the small pastries and drinks, a young woman approached her. She was a knockout by any standards, short, pert, incredibly cute and very, very sexy, with breasts that had to measure over a hundred and five centimeters. Cassie had always wondered how such women bore the weight, and how they kept from chafing in this braless society. Still, there was something oddly familiar about the girl. . . .

"Cassie?" the stranger asked, in a soft and sexy soprano.

"Yes?" She was somewhat startled to be approached so familiarly by a stranger.

"Don'tcha rec'nize me? Even after all this time I kinda hoped y'might. 'Course, you never seen me lookin' like this," she continued, displaying a pronounced and sexy lisp. "I'm Suzl. Suzl Weiz."

Cassie's mouth opened, and then they were embracing and crying and hugging again. Finally they broke, and Cassie looked at her old friend. "Look at you!"

"Look at you," Suzl retorted. "Oh, Cassie, you are gorgeous!"

She felt warm at the compliment. "You only say that because you know how impossibly beautiful you are! All that was fat is now in your breasts and it looks wonderful there!" They laughed at that.

"Cassie, when I came I didn't know what to 'spect, but it's really not a bad life here. It ain't perfect but it's the best I ever had. I hope it's the same for you, too. You glow with beauty."

"I truly am happy, Suzl," she responded, and realized that it was somewhat true. "The old days, the old times— they happened to someone else. I can hardly even remember them now, except that they were mostly sad, miserable times."

"Suzl unnerstands. If I bring back the bad times, I'll go and stay way aways from you."

"Oh, no! We just must be friends! You have much to teach me about life here. I need a friend bad."

Suzl smiled. "Well, O.K. then. Oh, Cassie. we'll get t'make friends all over again! It's gon' be great! You'n me."

"Do you have any children?"

Suzl smirked. "Ten."

"Ten!" She was filled with envy and admiration.

They were about to continue when one of the young serving girls came up. "Pardon, Mistress, but your hus¬band sends for you."

And that was it; all other thoughts and wants simply fled. Suzl understood; she was subject to the same thing. Cassie hurried across the hall to Adam, approached, dropped to one knee and bowed her head, waiting to hear what he would say to her.

It was a small price to pay for being a wife instead of a drone.

At the end of the evening, when all had gone and the basic cleanup had finished, Adam, tired by a very long day, had gone quickly to sleep. Cassie, however, lay in bed in the dark and thought for a while.

All the ghosts of the past were there, but she shut them out. She had no desire to be a man, to take on that responsibility and those worries. She had gone that route, and it had brought her only misery, deprivation, loneliness, and despair. She wanted it no more, did not desire it in the least. There were compromises to be made in this life, but they were, on reflection, no worse than other compromises everyone had to make.

What had her life been? First an ugly duckling tomboy, then a dugger—property, really—who was used by the major powers of World and saw her lover die in their arguments. One who was then used by those same powers, who convinced her it was her destiny to mount a revolu¬tion and become a saint. Years in which she had deprived herself of everything, while killing those who did not bend to her and overlooking the sins of those who went along, even depriving herself of her own daughter's growing up and exposing the innocent child to evil and a life of savagery. Spirit could have still been here now, normal and married and happy, had she not been corrupted by her own mother's stubborn defiance and chosen savagery over this. And for what? The Reformed Church that mother had built had been false to the core; the Empire she'd founded had crumbled quickly into disarray, leaving most no better off than before, and at the cost of thousands dead to build it.

No collar or spells had converted her, in the end. They had only served to show her how ugly and futile it had all been. No more. She liked being a wife, she liked someone else to do the thinking for a change, she liked being sexy and have men's eyes twinkle as she swayed by, she liked the idea that she might have a second chance to be a mother in every sense of the word. She liked being the center of attention rather than the center of power. To Hell with the past and all its damage! She was going to live in the present now, and that was that.

It was too late to wonder if she had done right, so she dismissed the question from her mind. A binding spell could never be undone, and could be transferred only by the efforts of a wizard more powerful than the accepter. And Coydt van Haas was dead, thank Heaven!

5

SOUL RIDER'S SONG

"We can't just sit here and twiddle our thumbs!" Jeff protested. "We have to do something!"