01. When the Changewinds Blow (11 page)

"Zenchur-one last thing. I have now done the calculations and the clumsy and heavy-handed attempt on this pair by my adversary has triggered the largest and deepest changewind in a decade. I have calculated it will penetrate the Malabar District just beyond the Brothers. It might well proceed a great distance before going Outplane-it's that bad. Sit tight a full day and night more before moving and take its aftermath into account when you go. I go to alert those I can-or care to. Farewell, and may the winds be with you."

The image flickered out, the hold was released, and, as the sorcerer had predicted, both of them fell unconscious to the floor. With Ladai's help he got them apart and to the other tent, where they were laid side by side on silk-covered rugs and silk pillows. Looking down at the pair, Ladai could only shake her head in wonder. "It is incredible. And at such a distance! What power he must have!"

Zenchur nodded. "And that is why we must do as he says even though our hearts are not in it. I
knew
I should never have done that job for him, Jewel of Omak or no Jewel of Omak. It was payment for services rendered but the bastard now owns my soul. He
knew
about this! He
knew
even then! That is why he threw in the spell that allowed me to learn his accursed tongue."

Ladai nodded sadly. "Still, they seem quite nice, if very shy and very frightened girls. In a sense, they are more victimized than we. Their shyness in front of you was actually quite touching. They took me as an equal, yet were embarrassed and frightened by you. It would be well if they continued to fear the Akhbreed and showed no hatred or fear toward the other races. It shows what this world
might
become. See them now. They look so tiny-so helpless. What in the name of the Five Netherworlds would cause two such powers to go to such lengths to have them?"

"Just the one," Zenchur told her. She had understood none of the English conversations and was very curious. "That one. The other is the decoy. I have no idea what this could be about, but I am not certain which I envy least-the one they want or the decoy." He sighed. "At least they won't need the Jewel of Omak with us anymore. Our employer has seen to that."

The pair left them to their dreams, and they were vastly different dreams, many in number and vivid in their realism.
For Sam, the dreams were adventure stories with, for her, an odd perspective. Time and again, through many variations, she was the hero; a small but handsome man in sword and cape, battling various monsters both human and inhuman, saving the innocent and the helpless and rescuing the fair damsel in distress who then threw herself at "him" in gratitude and love. They were a boy's dreams, romantic dreams, of brave knights and muscled warriors vanquished by power and skill and guts.

And through it all ran a thread that somehow her mind; sorted out, and she understood and she believed. You are a man, born heir to a kingdom that only males can rule, but a great sorcerer stole your soul one day to advance the cause of a greedy rival to the throne and placed it far away, in another world, in the body of a girl. Now you are back in the land of your origins but still in that alien female body but your soul rebels. Henceforth you will let your soul guide you; you will look, act, talk, think like a man and all things womanly you must put aside or you will remain trapped in that body forever. None who do not now know your secret must ever know. You must put aside all womanly things and convince everyone, even yourself, that you are male. Only that way is redemption.

But for Charley, the message was quite radically different, as were the dreams.

For Charley, the dreams were exotic and erotic, almost a
1001 Nights
scenario, in which she was the beautiful slave girl coveted by all, or an exotic and mysterious
femme fatale
desired by all men and using her charms to twist them to her will. They were romantic fantasies of the power of beauty, of being so alluring that men would risk their lives and their honor over her and for her while she risked very little. They were curiously mixed, with dreams of power intermingling
with dreams of subjugation and domination, but they were all intensely erotic.

And, deep inside, she knew that this was what she wanted. To be glamorous, sexy, uninhibited, erotic, in all ways totally feminine, totally female.

Charley awoke first to find herself extremely turned on. She had awakened turned on quite a few times since puberty, but never this intense. She just lay there and felt herself up, mentally pretty well switched out. The same girl who was so shy and terrified the night before of even revealing her naked self would at that specific moment have been unable to resist the ugliest nerd who might have walked in.

Charley's active moaning awakened Sam, who for a brief moment had that flash of utter confusion when, opening your eyes and seeing strange surroundings instead of a familiar room, you did not immediately remember where you were.

Then, abruptly, it all came back and she sat up, and as she supported herself on her hands she felt a slight dull hurt on the left palm. She looked at it and saw a tiny, odd-looking cross-shaped cut just below her thumb. It wasn't very much, but it was slightly bruised and not yet quite scabbed over.

She looked down at her body and hated it. It was a prison, a shell that kept her trapped. Still, a rush of hope and possible power went through her. She was a
man,
damn it. She would behave that way and let no one know the secret shame. She heard Charley moaning and chuckled. The new Sam could give her what relief was possible, but somehow the thought was no longer attractive but seemed rather like kissing your sister. Well, time to get her up, anyway. But when Sam turned and looked at her companion all such thoughts drained from her along with some of her color. It wasn't Charley there beside her! It wasn't Charley it was-Sam!

"Wake up!" Sam snapped. "What's going on here, anyway?"

Charley opened her eyes and smiled. "What's the problem?"

"Charley-that
is
you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure. What . . . ?" Sensing that something was definitely very wrong, she jumped to her feet. "What's happened, Sam? What
now?"

"Your face-your hair, your eyes, your build ... We always kinda looked like sisters, but, Charley-you're
me!"

Sam pointed to a scar on Charley's abdomen. "That's even my appendix scar, and my birthmarks. A few of the freckles. Holy shit!"

Charley grabbed her hair, which was uncharacteristically trailing down her back, and brought it forward. It was nice, thick hair but it was straight and black and down almost to her waist-like Sam's had been before she'd cut it and run.

Hearing them, Ladai entered carrying a fairly large but manageable hand mirror. She had anticipated the problem again, as usual. Charley almost grabbed for it and looked at herself in the mirror, then all the way down. She stared in the mirror, then at Sam, back and forth, unable to believe it. Other than hair, they were absolutely identical, twins in every way except that one. Body hair was similarly missing; Charley's underarms were smooth and her legs even smoother, white Sam's underarms were fairly bushy and she had never shaved her legs.

"Well," she sighed at last, "he
said
I was the decoy, didn't he?" She looked at her right palm and saw the small cross-shaped cut similiar to the one on Sam's left hand. Something-. something had been exchanged. Blood or whatever from Sam had gone to Charley and triggered the marching orders. "At least I got your figure, and it's the easiest diet I ever been on. I wonder if it's permanent?"

"Well, at least we still talk different," Sam noted. "You got my voice but you still got your accent."

"And you have yours," she retorted. "But you are talking at your low end normally, in your most male voice. Are you doing that deliberately?"

"No. I hadn't noticed until you said something. But it's- convenient. Charley, once we get some proper clothes and get moving I'm staying a man. You're gonna have to think of me that way, too. From this point on I'm Sam and I'm your brother. Okay?"

"Uh-sure. If I got to look like you I guess one of us ought'a be safe."

"You know you're talkin' high and a little whispery. I never knew it sounded that way. It's still real low but it's kind'a sexy and definitely female. You suddenly got the moves, too. Just standin' there. Jeez-I never knew I could look that sexy in the old days. Well, that's the old days." She shivered. "It's kinda damp in here. I wonder if we're ever gonna get any clothes?"

Zenchur took the cue to enter as Ladai left. He had pants and boots on but no shirt, and did he
ever
have hairy arms and legs! Somehow his presence no longer elicited in them any embarrassment at all. It wasn't that something had changed that they recognized; they simply didn't even give it a thought.

"I see you have found what your sorcerer has done," the mercenary noted. "I will not ask you how you like it because it makes no difference. Charley, you can still be Charley-the enemy knows only the looks, not the name and family history. I received explicit instructions before you had your encounter. Ladai is fixing a light breakfast; while she does, come in to my tent and we will find you suitable clothes and adornments."

They followed him and again were in the larger tent, this time at the two trunks. "The one on the left has typical Akhbreed male garb. The one on the right is similar but female. Select what you like-there is a large mirror over there in the back. Dress comfortably-we cannot leave today."

Sam looked through her trunk and found it an odd assortment. She wasn't sure what she expected-Peter Pan outfits or whatever-but the pants were mostly loose but leather, the shirts very thick wool or cotton with large wooden fasteners, the boots mostly high-top range-type or chukka boot height. Clearly whoever assembled the grouping had in mind disguising the female figure; much of it was stiff and reinforced in the places that would conceal the breasts and blur the body shape while still looking natural. Most if it looked fairly worn, although it all smelled clean and new. An interesting touch, actually-anybody out looking for her would naturally look for brand new-looking outfits. All the stuff had a handmade look.

Several things were immediately obvious when sorting through the pile as well. There was no real mass production of clothes, no big machines to make them, and nobody here had invented zippers, underwear-at least for the men-or opposing shoes. There were no left and right boots, for example. The harder fabrics had some cotton or wool lining in the seat to cushion extremities on leather, but it was still gonna take some getting used to. She picked a cotton outfit and low chukka boots to start-no socks, either, but they had a soft fur lining. It was clear, though, that if she couldn't tolerate the stiff stuff or it wasn't appropriate she was going to have to create a makeshift minimizer to tie around her breasts, and as for pissing-well, she doubted they had stalls around here so it was gonna have to be real circumspect.

Charley's trunk contained a far different assortment. It was , quite a bit tighter, for one thing, and maximized what Sam's assortment minimized. The pullovers were mostly cotton and cleverly stitched to give some breast support, and the lone pair of pants was of similar material and would never be in danger of falling off her hips no matter what she did.

There were a few gorgeous skirts, mostly slit to mid-thigh, made of silk or satin, with tie-on matching halters that supported but stretched just enough that you could see her nipples through them. There was an outfit that looked for all the world like a mink bikini. There were several bottoms with no obvious tops, suggesting that often here, if the weather permitted, women went topless. She knew she couldn't do it on her own, but if
everybody
was doing it, well . . .

They did seem to go in for capes here. There were quite a number of matching capes even for outfits that had no tops. There were no clearcut bras or an equivalent to pantihose or any other sort of underwear. Footware seemed to consist of sandals, sandals with thick heels, and a kind of high-top boot that laced up almost to the knee. As with the male shoes, there was no right or left.

There were also three smaller boxes in the trunk. One, to her surprise, contained cosmetics-recognizable cosmetics in the generic sense at that. The two lipsticks were in copper cylinders, true, but they weren't bad. There was also a kind of rouge, eye shadow, a nail file made out of some dull, heavy metal, even two small baked ceramic jars of what proved to be nail polish. The brushes were independent and not the sort you'd buy in stores, but they were there. She had a sudden urge to really do herself up, to see just how sexy she could make this Sam body and how much she could erase any traces of male-ness from the face and distract the rest with the other parts of the body. But first she decided to see what the other, larger boxes contained. The other contained ceramic jars with a funny kind of writing on each, but they proved to be perfumes, a couple not to her liking but the others seemed great. There was also a pad, powder, and a couple of jars of nice smelling but mysterious paste-like stuff. There was also a brush, a comb, and a small polished surface that made a decent mirror.

The third and final box contained an odd assortment of jewelry. There were bracelets and anklets and necklaces and earrings that hung down as teardrops like quartz almost to or maybe below her jaw line. None of it was fancy, no jewel-encrusted stuff-but it was mostly bronze or yellow-gold and not at all bad.

Sam was comfortably dressed and ready to eat while she was still deciding and trying on several of the outfits. She loved trying on outfits anyway, always had. Finally Sam asked, "You noticed anything odd about this stuff?"

"Huh? No. I think I'm gonna be
dying
for a bra and panties under some of this before too long, and I'd
kill
for some pantihose, but it's not that bad."