Cameron To Candy

They didn’t speak until the streets had thinned enough that the nearest voices were well behind them. Even then, Marcus waited another half block, guiding Candy around a cart rut and past a shuttered tailor’s shop before he let his hand fall from the small of her back. The relay chime had faded now, and most of the city had begun settling into the tense, artificial calm that followed any official announcement. Ahead of them, a husband was still hurrying his family home. Behind them, two men in work aprons were arguing in low voices about contracts and east-road tariffs. Then even those sounds drifted away.

Candy slowed her walking. She should have waited until they were home, but she was bursting with questions. She turned on Marcus so fast her skirts twisted around her legs.

“What the hells was that?”

Marcus let out a breath through his nose. “I know. I didn’t see that coming either.”

“No, I mean ...” She lifted both hands, then dropped them again in disgust. The Prince had a harem of people like her, and was about to make it a baker's dozen. “The duke, and, and the harem, the prince just, just, strolling into Gearford with food and taking over. And then that part about him changing sexes when he feels like it.” She stared at him. “Marcus, if he can do that, then do you think he has a potion for me?”

Marcus’s expression shifted. He always looked most careful when he knew he was about to disappoint her.

“Maybe,” he said. “I don’t think he’d ever share it, though.” Candy’s jaw tightened. Marcus went on before she could snap at him. “I mean, Bellefemme was on the list. You know that. When the Ministry sent out the requests for a cure for you, Bellefemme was one of the nations they asked. If reply comes we’ll hear about it eventually.”

Candy looked away. That was the one scrap of light in the whole rotten thing, and even that felt dim. Maybe, just maybe, somewhere inside all of Prince Femminique’s silk-lined depravity, there was an answer she could use. In her heart, though, she already knew better.

She looked back at Marcus. “So why… people like me? Glimvexes, right? It’s one of the Bellefemme words.”

“Uh, yeah but um, that’s not the word they use for that harem. For some reason they use an old Paddlewick word. The common name is-“ Candy’s eyes widened as Marcus explained.

“You know I don’t like that word.”

“Right, uh, anyway, I don’t know. I guess it’s just one of his kinks. His many, many, many kinks. Hells, he’s probably the most depraved, horny bastard in the entire Cone.”

“Why the word?”

He frowned slightly. “What?”

“The word,” she repeated. “Why that word? Bellefemme has, what, two dozen categories for transformed people? And a dozen for people who identify differently, maybe more. So why go with Paddlewick’s term? Why pick the oldest, crassest one?”

Marcus considered that for a moment, then shrugged again. “My guess is the same as before. He’s a psychopath. He probably thinks it is funny to demean them.”¹Marcus was half right Candy’s mouth flattened. That did track.

They started walking again, slower now, the question still pacing inside her head. The street had gone almost quiet around them, just the scrape of shoes on stone, the clatter of some distant wagon, the occasional hush of a night breeze coming down off the slopes.

After a few more steps, she asked, “How long has he been doing this?”

“You really don’t know?” Candy shook her head. “How? I thought everyone knew."

"Well I didn't!"

He sighed. “Im sorry, I would have told you if I knew you didn’t know. Uh, he’s been at it a long time. Ten years at least. Maybe fifteen.” Candy looked over sharply. “He’s been collecting transformed people in different states from all around the Cone,” Marcus continued. “Anyone who was altered by magic like the wimzy hex, fairies, witches or wizards, random freak accidents. If a person’s body was changed by magic, especially changing their sex, he wanted them. People say he abducted them all. People also say they went willingly. No one can prove anything, but I think we all know. He takes them by force. Just disappears them from whatever kingdom they’re in then forces them to make public statements claiming they went willingly or they like it there.”

“And no one’s checked? Like, talked to them privately?”

“Some tried, but the ones in that household are rarely interviewed by anyone outside of Bellefemme, and rarely seen outside the prince’s orbit, and never without layers of handlers, attendants, and public spectators around them. By the time any story leaves Bellefemme, it’s already been “perfumed”, as they say there.”

Candy rubbed her temple.

“The rumor,” Marcus said carefully, “is that he experimented on them. That’s how he got whatever power he has now. He definitely wasn’t born with it. That much we know.”

Candy gave a low, bitter sound that barely counted as a laugh.

“Great. Just great.” She walked another few paces in silence, then said the thing that had been waiting behind everything else. “So I can never leave Paddlewick, can I?”

Marcus looked at her, then ahead again.

Candy answered herself before he could. “I had dreams of escaping to Cleavendale, you know. Not every day. Not like a plan or I’d already packed a bag for it, but...” Her voice thinned a little, more angry than sad. “I don’t know. It was nice, just keeping it in the back of my mind. If this place ever got unbearable enough, I thought maybe I could run south and disappear.”

Marcus sagged ever so slightly and shook his head

“Oh, Candy. I’m, I’m so sorry, but that's just not possible.”

Candy stared at him. “Why not? Cleavendale’s the largest nation in the Cone. You could fit every other kingdom inside it and still have room left over. They have to be able to protect someone.”

“They can protect cities,” Marcus answered. “Districts, trade routes, whole cultural regions, if they have to. But they can’t protect individuals. I mean, maybe if they granted you a private protection, but that’d get pretty, well, invasive.”

Candy gave him a look that could have sanded wood. “More invasive than having to suck your dick?!?”

“Uh… no, I guess not,” he pinked. “But they’d have to stay with you for the rest of your life. Or at least the rest of the Princes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve talked to their soldiers when we did the good will patrols through there.”

“Yeah, local guards probably. Cleavendale doesn’t have a guarded border or keep a standing army the way we do. There’s regional national guards, and local sheriffs, city watchmen, and whatever special forces Queen Carmella has out of sight, but most of the kingdom, just, well, it just runs on its size, and chaos. Large invading forces do very badly there.”

“That still sounds like they could raise one if they wanted.”

“They could,” Marcus conceded with a nod. “Eventually, if they wanted to. Hells, it could be the largest army the cones ever seen. But they won’t.”

Candy scoffed. “Why?”

“Like I said, invaders already tend to get wrecked before they do much damage, and the queen would rather spend money on other things. That part makes a lot of sense actually, if you think about it.”

“That can’t possibly be enough.” Candy pressed, ignoring Marcus’ second-hand cheapness.

Marcus glanced at her. “Did you never hear about the eastern raiders from the Cabt tribe?”

Candy frowned. “Maybe, in pieces.”

“It was, what? A decade ago?” Candy just nodded. That sounded about right. “They went in with around five hundred raiders,” Marcus continued. “Not all at once mind you. They slipped in through the neutral routes between us and OuterCone, a few hundred at a time so they wouldn’t get noticed. Their plan was to skirt around the worst of the roads, slip back down and past Plumpudding’s attention by going through the neutral zone, then come up through the jungle land and hit Brazango; take food and valuables, maybe people, and get out before any real response formed.”

Candy folded her arms.

“Well, they went into the jungle fully armed,” Marcus went on. “When they came out of it they were shaking, babbling, and missing most of their weapons. According to the survivors, living statues disarmed them in the dark. Some said maniquens.”

Candy gave him a flat look. “The rumors about the enclave?”

“According to them, the rumors are true. Even if they’re not, something disarmed them and left them damn rattled, whatever it was.”

She didn’t like that answer at all.

Marcus continued. “It gets weirder. From there, they tried the mountain base towns. The next one they hit was Bergshire.”

“The food-preserving people.”

“Yeah. The giant food-preserving people. The only bastards in the cone bigger than Paddlewick men. There’s not a one of them under seven foot.”

Candy almost smiled despite herself. “Right.”

Marcus nodded. “The raiders thought it would be easy. Instead Bergshire’s people came out with ceremonial spatulas the size of polearms and flipped the fools into the gorge water like badly cooked flap jacks.”

Candy looked over at him. “War spatulas?”

“Yeah.”

“That is the stupidest sentence I’ve heard since that ministry fool said my having a penis didn’t qualify me as a man!” She hissed, lowering her voice in case anyone unseen was nearby.

“I know,” Marcus said. “But it’s also, apparently, true. Plus the spatulas aren’t much different than our war paddles, if you think about it. They have Razor sharp edges on both ends and a flat surface for smacking things. And anyway, they’d come during some ceremonial reenactment. The spatulas were more for show, but the Shire folk didn’t even bother grabbing swords or other weapons. That’s how little they thought of the raiders. They smacked them down and like I said, flipped them like living cakes right into the gorge.”

She made a noise halfway between disbelief and reluctant amusement.

Marcus pressed on. “The water carried the survivors downstream, scattered them, and by the time they regrouped they had already lost more men and I’d bet a lot of their nerves. Then they accidentally hit the Fairy Glade.”

“Candy’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. The less said about that the better, but you know their bodies were left…” Marcus trailed off, thinking of the horror. “Well, no one died at least. Next they made camp on the way toward the twin cities, Lacto-Moorstead, and a hundred of them went missing in the night. The only man who came back babbled about red eyes in the dark and kept screaming the word “geist” until they knocked him out.”

Candy’s face tightened.”Giest? You think some kind of ghost?”

“Yeah, that’s most people’s guess. But we’ll never know. The man never did speak normal again, least not that any of us ever heard. Anyway, then they limped their way into the dairy region,” Marcus explained. “I think they thought that would be easier. A poorly defended rural place that’d be good to rob supplies. It’s pretty much just known for cheese after all.”

“And?”

“And then the hubulls came out.”

Candy actually stopped walking this time. “But, they’re not in charge there, are they?”

Marcus’s shook his head slightly. “No, but they don’t have to be. Some of those men are the size of oxen and meaner when provoked. You know, half Stichari, half bull, they’re all basically three hundred pounds of pure muscle with rock hard hooves for hands. You get hit with one of those you don’t get back up again. The way I hear it, the raiders challenged one of the big ones. The hubull killed their captain with a single strike, and the rest got beaten into the dirt until Captain Stitchwell’s people got there and escorted the survivors back out of Cleavendale in batches, with fresh food and an invitation to return when they had their own money to spend.”

Candy stared at him for a long second, then resumed walking.

“Thats ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“It sounds made up.”

He shrugged. “Almost any conversation about Cleavendale will sound made up.”

She rubbed her forehead. “And your point is what? That Cleavendale is too weird to conquer? I mean, doesn’t that support my point?”

“Kind of. My point,” Marcus corrected, “is that Cleavendale is pretty good at destroying armies, and cheaply, but not especially good at protecting one person from being quietly taken in the night.”

Candy’s steps slowed. Marcus didn’t look at her when he said the next part.

“A large invasion is tripped up by natural defenses, strange magic, regional militias, and locals who think getting attacked is a chance to sell their merchandise. But a small, clever operation is different; a carriage here, a bribe there, a rented room and quiet abduction. Bellefemme wouldn’t send an army after you, you know. They would send three people with great disguises and a very well-laid escape route. In fact, rumor has it three in the harem were from Cleavendale.”

Candy looked down at the street and sighed. “Well shyte. So I’m stuck here forever,” she said, resignation setting in.

Marcus shook his head. “Nnn, not necessarily. Not, exactly.”

She looked up again, annoyed. “What do you mean not necessarily? You just said Cleavendale can’t protect me. Who else is there? Skintara? EverGrim?”

“You can go places, if the Ministry ever lifts your travel ban. You just can't renounce Paddlewick.”

Candy frowned harder. “What are you talking about?”

Marcus was quiet for a step or two, then said, “Do you remember that mission you and Owen ran in the neutral zone?”

Candy’s body tightened before she could help it. She remembered…

A man with a knife held to one of their womens throat. Owen’s arm snapping forward. The blade going through the eye socket with that awful wet sound. Cameron, diving in to catch the hostage as the bandit folded. The smell of mud and sweat and blood and cheap leather. The shock of the woman shaking against him and saying thank you when all Cameron could think was that the knife should not have made that sound…

“Candy? … Hey! Did I lose you?”

Candy swallowed and came back to the road. “Yeah,” she said. “Sorry, yeah I, I remember. More days than not, I wish I didn’t.”

Marcus nodded once and pressed on. “How’d you find her?”

Candy frowned. “Her crystal.”

“Exactly.” He pointed lightly at the bracelet on her wrist. “As long as you wear that Paddlwick will find you. No matter where you go, no matter who tries to take you. No one has ever successfully removed one without setting off the alarm, at least not while the wearer was still alive. And the Prince would want you alive. You know how it works. If its forced off, it triggers and if you disappear while remaining a Paddlewick citizen under official record, Paddlewick will come for you.”

Candy’s eyes drifted down in thought. “Huh,” was all she managed to say.

Marcus met that without flinching. “I mean it. You’re in the ministry’s line of sight for a few reasons, so you know they’d be tracking you extra close. If you went missing and there was so much as a snapped twig in the direction of Bellefemme, King Rodrik would have half the army at their border by the end of the week on principle. Paddlewick takes care of its own,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Even the inconvenient ones.”

Candy looked down at the bracelet again. It sat there on her wrist as it had, since the first day of her transformation. She had hated it for months. Now it felt heavier for a different reason.

“So I could travel,” she said slowly, “but, only as long as I stay tied to here.”

“Yep.”

“And if I ever tried to truly leave, to renounce citizenship and disappear, then I...”

“Would be fair game to the Prince, or anyone else out there.”

Candy let out a breath. “Limited freedom,” she said. “Great.”

Marcus’s tone gentled, just slightly. “Yeah, sorry, but it’s better than none.”

She nodded after a moment. “It’s… something, at least.”

“Yeah.” A moment passed, and he added. “I wonder what the tone will be like at your self-defence class tomorrow.”

“You don’t think they’ll cancel for the week?”

“No, I think if anything they’ll be more insistent than usual that everyone attend.”

Candy nodded absently. That made sense. After that, there was nothing left worth saying right away. They walked the rest of the way home in silence, Candy lost in the thought of a future that had just narrowed again. There was a possible magic change she had yet to discover, a Prince waiting for her outside the kingdom, a huge ministry list of womanly requirements she had yet to check off... she sighed. Despite all that, she had Marcus beside her with his usual quiet steadiness as the kingdom around them settled uneasily back into order.