Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 03 - Chicks 'N Chained Males

Chicks 'n Chained Males

Table of Contents

Introduction

Myth Manners' Guide to

Greek Missology #1:

Andromeda and Persueus

Chain, Link, Fence

Fool's Gold

In for Pound

Death Becomes Him

Straight Arrow

Bad Heir Day

Why Do You Think They

Call It Middle Earth?

(or how I slew a dragon

and found myself a mate)

Leg Irons, the Bitch,

and the Wardrobe

Shiftless

May/December at the Mall

Yo, Baby!

Don't Break the Chain!

Cross CHILDREN Walk

. . . But Comedy is Hard

Baubles, Bangles and Beads

Hallah Iron-Thighs and the Five Unseemly Sorrows

Miss Underwood and

the Mermaid

Chicks 'n Chained Males

edited by Esther Friesner

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any

resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

A Baen Books Original

Baen Publishing Enterprises

P.O. Box 1403

Riverdale, NY 10471

www.baen.com

ISBN: 0-671-57814-6

Cover art by Larry Elmore

First printing, May 1999

Distributed by Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Typeset by Windhaven Press, Auburn, NH

Printed in the United States of America

ALSO IN THIS SERIES

Chicks in Chainmail,

Edited by Esther Friesner

Did You Say Chicks?!,

edited by Esther Friesner

Mathemagics

by Margaret Ball

BAEN BOOKS by ESTHER FRIESNER

Child of the Eagle

The Sherwood Game

Winning Season

Introduction

I know what you're thinking and I want you to stop itright this minute .

Don't try denying it. We both know the first thing that popped into your mind when you read the title of

this book. I'd tell you that you really ought to be ashamed of yourself, but Who Am I To Judge? Besides,

for all I know, you've already got a career in politics and my mama didn't raise any kids who like to

pound sand down rat-holes.

Perhaps I should explain what this book isreally about: It's about women rescuing men. There. Perfectly

innocent. Wholesome and admirable, even. When I first came up with the title/concept for the Chicks in

Chainmail series, one of my noble goals was to give the doughty Woman Warrior of fantasy fiction

somethingdifferent to do, a nice change from stomping around the landscape with a permanent grouch

on, slaughtering any who dared oppose her (or worse, tried telling her to "Lighten up!"), and using her

days off to go to the local tavern, get drunk, and have some out-of-work sailor tattoo the phrase All Men

Are Worthless Scum Except For Breeding Purposes somewhere on her body guaranteed to upset her

mother. (Unless, of course, she'd learned the whole stomp, slaughter 'n' swill routine from Mom herself.)

Here I must admit that when I was told that lo, the title of this book was to beChicks and Chained

Males , initially I reacted in much the same way as you did. (Yes, you did so too! 'Fess up and be done

with it.) But how much greater was my startlement when I learned whence came the aforementioned title!

As those of you already familiar with these modest volumes may recall, the title of the first Chicks in

Chainmail anthology (still available; buy many copies) caused a momentary access of trepidation on the

part of Our Revered Publisher. This was understandable since, as he himself stated in the Disclaimer on

the back of said book, he is a Sensitive, Nineties Kind of Guy.

Well, guess what? The Nineties are almost over. Maybe it's the approaching millenium, maybe it's

ascribable to the ripple effect of the dreaded Y2K Bug, but for whatever reason,he is the one who came

up with the title for the book you are presently holding in your dainty hands.

I think this is laudable, commendable, praiseworthy, and the rest of the synonyms in my on-line thesaurus

for, as you may also recall from my introduction to the originalChicks in Chainmail , it was my desire to

show the world that women can be strong and still be able to take a joke. (In fact, laughter when the

joke's on you is a pretty good gauge of just how secure in your strength you are. Ever notice what

happens to a whole lot of political humorists under certain military dictatorships? Ow.)

By giving us this title, Our Revered Publisher has demonstrated that Sensitive Nineties Guys can also

own up to a sense of humor without relinquishing one inch of the moral high ground. Has the shining

example of favorable public reaction toChicks in Chainmail been instrumental in this epiphany? Have I,

in some miniscule manner, been responsible for facilitating this cognitive evolution? Might we not interpret

this consequence to signify that we have, in some fashion, rescued yet another man from the meshes of a

misleading-if-well-intentioned ideology? (Oooh, I justlove my on-line thesaurus!) I like to think so. It

makes me quietly proud. In fact, there is one aspect above all others connected with this book and all

associated therewith for which I am deeply, truly, and warmly grateful:

This time,I get the Disclaimer. It's mine, do you hear? Mine! Minemineminemine . . .mine !

Enjoy.

Harry Turtledove studied Greek in college and has a doctorate in Byzantine history. He's been

selling fiction for over twenty years, won a Hugo, and has been a Nebula finalist. None of this has

stopped him from "applying" the aforementioned knowledge and experience to creating the story

that follows, for which I will be deeply grateful once I can stop laughing.

Myth Manners' Guide to

Greek Missology #1:

Andromeda and Persueus

by Harry Turtledove

Andromeda was feeling the strain. "Whyme ?" she demanded. She'd figured Zeus wanted something

from her when he invited her up to good old Mount Olympus for the weekend, but she'd thought it would

be something else. She'd been ready to play along, too—how did you go about saying no to the king of

the gods? You didn't, not unless you were looking for a role in a tragedy. But . . . this?

"Why you?" Zeus eyed her as if he'd had something else in mind, too. But then he looked over at Hera,

his wife, and got back to the business at hand. "Because you're the right man—uh, the right person—for

the job."

"Yeah, right," Andromeda said. "Don't you think you'd do better having a man go out and fight the

Gorgons? Isn't that what men are for?—fighting, I mean." She knew what else men were for, but she

didn't want to mention that to Zeus, not with Hera listening.

And Herawas listening. She said, "Men are useless—for fighting the Gorgons, I mean." She sounded as

if she meant a lot of other things, too. She was looking straight at Zeus.

No matter how she sounded, the king of the gods dipped his head in agreement. "My wife's right." By

the sour look on his face, that sentence didn't pass his lips every eternity. "The three Gorgons are

fearsome foes. Whenever a man spies Cindy, Claudia, or Tyra, be it only for an instant, he turns to

stone."

"Partof him turns to stone, anyway," Hera said acidly.

"And, so, you not being a man, you being a woman . . ." Zeus went on.

"Wait a minute. Wait just a linen-picking minute," Andromeda broke in. "You're not a man, either, or not

exactly a man. You're a god. Why don't you go and take care of these Gorgons with the funny names

your own self?"

Zeus coughed, then brightened. "Well, my dear, since you put it that way, maybe I ought to—"

"Not on your immortal life, Bubba," Hera said. "You lay a hand on those hussies and you're mythology."

"You see how it is," Zeus said to Andromeda. "My wife doesn't understand me at all."

Getting in the middle of an argument between god and goddess didn't strike Andromeda as Phi Beta

Kappa—or any other three letters of the Greek alphabet, either. Telling Zeus to find himself another

boy—or girl—wouldn't be the brightest thing since Phoebus Apollo, either. With a sigh, she said, "Okay.

You've got me." Zeus' eyes lit up. Hera planted an elbow in his divine ribs. Hastily, Andromeda went on,

"Now what do I have to do?"

"Here you are, my dear." From behind his gold-and-ivory throne, Zeus produced a sword belt. He was

about to buckle it on Andromeda—and probably let his fingers do a little extra walking while he was

taking care of that—when Hera let out a sudden sharp cough. Sulkily, the king of the gods handed

Andromeda the belt and let her put it on herself.

From behind her throne, Hera pulled out a brightly polished shield. "Here," she said. "You may find this

more useful against Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra than any blade. Phallic symbols, for some reason or other,

don't much frighten them."

"Hey, sometimes a sword is just a sword," Zeus protested.

"And sometimes it'snot , Mr. Swan, Mr. Shower-of-Gold, Mr. Bull—plenty of bull for all the girls from

here to Nineveh, and I'm damned Tyred of it," Hera said. Zeus fumed. Hera turned back to Andromeda.

"If you look in the shield, you'll get some idea of what I mean."

"Is it safe?" Andromeda asked. As Zeus had, Hera dipped her head. Her divine husband was still

sulking, and didn't answer one way or the other. Andromeda cautiously looked. "I can see myself!" she

exclaimed—not a claim she was likely to be able to make after washing earthenware plates, no matter

the well from which the house slaves brought back the dishwashing liquid. A moment later, her hands

flew to her hair. "Eeuw! I'm not so sure I want to."

"It isn't you, dearie—it's the magic in the shield," Hera said, not unkindly. "If you really looked like that,

loverboy here wouldn't be interested in feeling your pain . . . or anything else he could get his hands on."

She gave Zeus a cold and speculative stare. "At least, I don'tthink he would. He's not always fussy."

A thunderbolt appeared in Zeus' right hand. He tossed it up and down, hefting it and eyeing Hera.

"Some of them—most of them, even—keep their mouths shut except when I want them to be open," he

said meaningfully.

Hera stood up to her full height, which was whatever she chose to make it. Andromeda didn't quite

come up to the goddess' dimpled knee. "Well, I'd better be going," she said hastily. If Zeus and Hera

started at it hammer and tongs, they might not even notice charbroiling a more or less innocent mortal

bystander by mistake.

* * *

Just finding Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra didn't prove easy. Minor gods and goddesses weren't allowed to

set up shop on Olympus; they lowered surreal-estate values. Andromeda had to go through almost all of

Midas' Golden Pages before getting so much as a clue about where she ought to be looking.

Even then, she was puzzled. "Why on earth—or off it, for that matter—would they hang around with a

no-account Roman goddess?" she asked.

"What, you think I hear everything?" Midas' long, hairy, donkeyish ears twitched. "And why should I

give a Phryg if I do hear things?" His ears twitched again, this time, Andromeda judged, in contempt.

"You know about the Greek goddess of victory, don't you?"

"Oh, everybody knows abouther ." Andromeda sounded scornful, too. Since the Greeks had pretty

much stopped winning victories, the goddess formerly in charge of them had gone into the running-shoe

business, presumably to mitigate the agony of defeat on de feet. Nike had done a gangbanger business,

too, till wing-footed Hermes hit her with a copyright-infringement suit that showed every sign of being as

eternal as the gods.

"So there you are, then," Midas said. "I don't know what Victoria's secret is, and I don't give a darn."

"That's my shortstop," Andromeda said absently, and let out a long, heartfelt sigh. "I'll just have to go

and find out for myself, won't I?"

Thinking of Hermes and his winged sandals gave her an idea. Back to the

high-rent district of Mount Olympus she went. The god raised his eyebrows. He had a winged cap, too,

one that fluttered off his head in surprise. "You wantmy shoes?" he said.

"I can't very well walk across the Adriatic," Andromeda said.

"No, that's a different myth altogether," Hermes agreed.

"And then up to Rome, to see if the gods are in," Andromeda went on.

"They won't be, not when the mercury rises," Hermes said, "They'll be out in the country, or else at the

beach. Pompeii is very pretty this time of year."

"Such alovely view of the volcano," Andromeda murmured. She cast Hermes a melting look. "May I

please borrow your sandals?"

"Oh, all right," he said crossly. "The story would bog down if I told you no at this point."

"You'd better not be reading ahead," Andromeda warned him. Hermes just snickered. Gods had more

powers than mortals, and that was all there was to it. When Andromeda put on the winged sandals and

hopped into the air, she stayed up. "Gotta be the shoes," she said.

"Oh, it is," Hermes assured her. "Have fun in Italy."

As she started to fly away, Andromeda called back, "Do you know what Victoria's secret is?"

The god dipped his head to show he did. "Good camera angles," he replied.

* * *

Good camera angles. A quiet hostel. A nice view of the beach. And, dammit, a lovely view of the

volcano, too. Vesuviuswas picturesque. And so were Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra, dressed in lacy, colorful,

overpriced wisps of not very much. As soon as Andromeda set eyes on them, she started hoping the

mountain would blow up and bury those three in lava. Molten lava. Red-hot molten lava. The rest of

Pompeii? So what? Herculaneum? So what? Naples, up the coast? Who needed it, really?

But Vesuvius stayed quiet. Of course it did. Hephaestus or Vulcan or whatever name he checked into

motels with locally was probably up at the top of the spectacular cone, peering down, leering down, at

some other spectacular cones. "Men," Andromeda muttered. No wonder they'd given her this job. And

they wouldn't thank her for it once she did it, either.

As Andromeda flew down toward the Gorgons with the spectacularly un-Hellenic names, Victoria flew

up to meet her, saying, "Whoever you are, go away. We're just about to shoot."

Shooting struck Andromeda as altogether too good for them. "Some victory you're the goddess of," she

sneered, "unless you mean the one inLysistrata ."

"You're just jealous because you can't cut the liquamen, sweetheart," Victoria retorted.

Andromeda smiled a hemlock-filled smile. "Doesn't matter whether I am or not," she answered. "I'm on

assignment from Zeus and Hera, so you can go take a flying leap at Selene."

"Uppity mortal! You can't talk to me like that." Victoria drew back a suddenly very brawny right arm for

a haymaker that would have knocked the feathers right off of Hermes' sandals.

"Oh, yes, I can," Andromeda said, and held up the shield Hera had given her.

She didn't know whether it could have done a decent job of stopping the goddess' fist. That didn't

matter. Victoria took one brief look at her reflection and cried, "Vae! Malae comae! Vae!" She fled so

fast, she might have gone into business with her Greek cousin Nike.

A grim smile on her face, Andromeda descended on Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra. They were lined up on

the beach like three tenpins—except not so heavy in the bottom, Andromeda thought resentfully. Had

they been lined up any better, she'd have bet she could've looked into the left ear of the one on the left

and seen out the right ear of the one on the right.

They turned on her in unison when she alighted on the sand. "Ooh, I like those sandals," one of them

crooned fiercely. "Gucci? Louis Vuitton?"

"No, Hermes'," Andromeda answered. She fought panic as they advanced on her, swaying with

menace—or something.

"I wonder what she's doing here," one of the Gorgons said. She waved at the gorgeous scenery, of

which she and her comrades were the most gorgeous parts. "I mean, she's so plain."

"Mousy," agreed another.

"Nondescript. Utterly nondescript," said the third, proving she did have room in her head for a

three-syllable word: two of them, even.

And the words flayed like fire. Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra weren't even contemptuous. It was as if

Andromeda didn't rate contempt. That was their power; just by existing, they made everyone around

them feel inadequate.Zeus wanted me , Andromeda thought, trying to stay strong. But what did that

prove? Zeus wanted anything that moved, and, if it didn't move, he'd give it an experimental shake.

Andromeda felt like curling up on the beach and dying right there. If she put the shield up over her,

maybe it would keep her from hearing any more of the Gorgons' cruel words. The shield . . . !

With a fierce cry of her own, Andromeda held it up to them. Instead of continuing their sinuous advance,

they fell back with cries of horror. Peering down over the edge of the shield, Andromeda got a quick

glimpse of their reflections. The shield had given her and Victoria bad hair. It was far more pitiless to

Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra, perhaps because they had further to fall from the heights ofhaute couture .

Whatever the reason, the three Gorgons' hair might as well have turned to snakes once the shield had its

way with them.

"Plain," Andromeda murmured. "Mousy. Nondescript. Utterly nondescript."

How the Gorgons howled! They fell to their knees in the sand and bowed their heads, trying to drive out

those images of imperfection.

Still holding the shield on high, Andromeda drew her sword. She could have taken their heads at a

stroke, but something stayed her hand. It wasn't quite mercy: more the reflection that they'd probably

already given a good deal of head to get where they were.

Roughly, she said, "Stay away from Olympus from now on, if you know what's good for you. You ever

come near there again, worse'll be waiting for you." She didn't know if that was true, but it would be if

Hera could make it so.

"But where shall we go?" one of them asked in a small, broken voice. "What shall we do?"

"TrySports Illustrated ," Andromeda suggested, "though gods only know what sport you'd be

illustrating."

"Been there," one said. Andromeda had no idea which was which, and didn't care to find out. The other

two chorused, "Done that."

"Find something else, then," Andromeda said impatiently. "I don't care what, as long as it's not in Zeus'

back yard."And mine , she thought. Thinking that, she started to turn the terrible shield on them again and

added, "Or else."

Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra cringed. If they weren't convinced now, they never would be, Andromeda

judged. She jumped into the air and flew off. That way, she didn't have to look at them any more, didn't

have to be reminded that they didn't really look the way Hera's shield made them seem to. Plain. Mousy.

Nondescript. Utterly nondescript. Her hand went to the hilt of the sword.Maybe I should have done a

little slaughtering after all . But she kept flying.

* * *

She took the scenic route home—after all, when would she be able to talk Hermes out of his sandals

again? She saw Scylla and Charybdis, there by the toe of the Italian boot, and they were as horrible as

advertised. She flew over the Pyramids of Egypt. Next door, the Sphinx tried his riddle on her. "Oh,

everybody knowsthat one," Andromeda said, and listened to him gnash his stone teeth.

She admired the lighthouse at Alexandria. It would be very impressive when they got around to building

it—and when there was an Alexandria. Then she started north across the wine-dark sea toward Greece.

When she got to the coast near Argos, she saw a naked man chained to the rocks just above the waves.

He was a lot more interesting than anything else she'd seen for a while—and the closer she got, the more

interesting he looked. By the time she was hovering a few feet in front of him, he looked mighty damn fine

indeed, you betcha. "I know it's the obvious question," she said, "but what are you doing here?"

"Waiting to be eaten," he answered.

"Listen, garbagemouth, has it occurred to you that if I slap you silly, you can't do thing one about it?"

Andromeda said indignantly. "Has it?"

"No, by a sea serpent," he explained.

"Oh. Well, no accounting for taste, I suppose," she said, thinking of Pasiphaë and the bull. Then she

realized he meant it literally. "How did that happen?" Another obvious question. "And who are you,

anyway?"

"I'm Perseus," he said. "My grandfather, Acrisius, is King of Argos. There's a prophecy that if my

mother had a son, he'd end up killing Gramps. So Mom was grounded for life, but Zeus visited her in a

shower of gold, and here I am."

"And on display, too," Andromeda remarked. Zeus had been catching Hades from Hera ever since,

too—Andromeda remembered the snideMr. Shower-of-Gold . But that was neither here nor there, and

Perseus was definitely here. "The sea serpent will take your granddad off the hook for doing you in?"

"You got it," Perseus agreed.

"Ah . . . what about the chains? Doesn't he think those might have something to do with him?"

Perseus shrugged. Andromeda admired pecs and abs. The chains clanked. "He's notreal long on ethics,

Acrisius isn't."

"If you get loose, you'll do your best to make the prophecy come true?" Andromeda asked.

Another shrug. More clanks. More admiration from Andromeda. Perseus said, "Well, I've sure got a

motive now, and I didn't before. But I'm not in a hurry about it. Omens have a way of working out, you

know? I mean, would you be here to set me free if I weren't fated to do Gramps in one of these years?"

"I'm not here to set you free," Andromeda said. "I just stopped by for a minute to enjoy the scenery,

and—"

Perseus pointed. He didn't do it very well—he was chained, after all—but he managed. "Excuse me for

interrupting," he said, "but the sea serpent's coming."

Andromeda whirled in the air. "Eep!" she said. Perseus hadn't been wrong. The monster was huge. It

was fast. It was hideous. It was wet (which made sense, it being a sea serpent). It had an alarmingly big

mouth full of a frighteningly large number of terrifyingly sharp teeth. Andromeda could have rearranged

those adverbs any which way and they still would have added up to the same thing. Trouble. Big trouble.

She could also have flown away. She glanced back at Perseus and shook her head. That would have

been a waste of a great natural resource. And, no matter what Hera had to say about it, Zeus wouldn't

be overjoyed if she left his bastard son out for sea-serpent fast food.

She drew her sword—Zeus' sword—and flew toward the monster. One way or another, this story was

going to get some blood in it. Or maybe not. She held up Hera's mirrored shield, right in the sea serpent's

face. It might figure it was having a bad scales day and go away.

But no such luck. Maybe the shield didn't work because the sea serpent had no hair. Maybe the serpent

had already maxed out its ugly account. Or maybe it was too stupid to notice anything had changed.

Andromeda shook her head again. If Cindy, Claudia, and Tyra had noticed, the sea serpent would have

to.

No help for it. Sometimes, as Zeus had said, a sword was just a sword. Andromeda swung this one. It

turned out to cut sea serpent a lot better than her very best kitchen knife cut roast goose. Chunk after

reptilian chunk fell away from the main mass of the monster. The Aegean turned red. The sea serpent

really might have been dumber than the Gorgons, because it took a very long time to realize it was dead.

Eventually, though, enough of the head end was missing that it forgot to go on living and sank beneath the

waves. If the sharks and the dolphins didn't have a food fight with the scraps, they missed a hell of a

chance.

Chlamys soaked with seawater and sea-serpent gore, Andromeda flew back toward Perseus. "I would

applaud," he said, "but under the circumstances . . ." He rattled his chains to show what he meant. "That

was very exciting."

Andromeda looked him over. He meant it literally. She could tell. She giggled. Greek statues always

underestimated things. Quite a bit, here. She giggled again. Sometimes a sword wasn't just a sword.

She looked up toward the top of the rocks. Nobody was watching; maybe Acrisius' conscience,

however vestigial, bothered him too much for that. She could do whatever she pleased. Perseus couldn't

do anything about it, that was plain enough. Andromeda giggled once more. She flew a little lower and a

lot closer.

Perseus gasped. Andromeda pulled back a bit and glanced up at him, eyes full of mischief. "You said

you were here to be eaten," she pointed out.

"By asea serpent !"

"If you don't think this is more fun . . ." Her shrug was petulant. But, when you got down to the bottom

of things, what Perseus thought didn't matter a bit. She went back to what she'd been doing. After a little

while, she decided to do something else. She hiked up the clammy chlamys and did it. Though she hadn't

suspected it till now, there were times when the general draftiness of Greek clothes and lack of an

underwear department at the Athens K-Mart came in kind of handy. Up against the side of a cliff,

winged sandals didn't hurt, either. A good time was had by all.

Afterwards, still panting, Perseus said, "Now that you've ravished me, you realize you'll have to marry

me."

Andromeda stretched languorously. Avery good time had been had by all, or at least by her. She

wished for a cigarette, and wished even more she knew what one was. "That can probably be arranged,"

she purred.

Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 03 - Chicks 'N Chained Males

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