Air Apparent (12 page)

“I have the same impression,” Debra said. “It’s as if there is more to this illusion than you made real.”

Wira spread her awareness out—and discovered people. They were all around, watching the walking party. They were not friendly or unfriendly, just there. They were—

“The folk of the air plain!” she said aloud.

“Folk?” Ilene asked. “Are they illusory?”

“No, they’re real. So I think you can’t make them real. They are merely invisible.” Wira paused, working it out. “Not just that. Undetectable, unless you look for them, and know how to relate. No one has, before, I think.”

“I suppose it makes sense that if there is a plain, it can be inhabited,” Debra said. “By invisible people. Or whatever.”

“I wonder whether they know anything we need?” Wira asked. “Such as the location of my—my vision.” Because they were no longer alone, and the continued privacy of the real mission seemed best.

“Can we ask?” Debra asked, honoring that privacy.

“I’ll try.” Wira concentrated, attuning to the folk around them as living entities. People! I see you! May we talk?

There was surprise. The folk of the air were not used to people being aware of them, let alone trying to talk with them. They weren’t sure how to respond.

Please! I am Wira, in search of my lost husband Hugo. Somehow she knew this was not the occasion for the false mission. I must find him. Can you help me?

They considered. Then one came close. We were trying to help the boy, but did not know how, because he is of the solid folk. We know not how to help you either.

They were answering! If we can just talk, that may be all we need.

The air folk considered. No one has asked before. We will talk with you. First we must take form so your friends can relate to us. But there is a problem.

This was real progress. Is it something we can fix?

The Air person nodded. If you wish to. The centaur is unclothed.

Wira smiled. Centaurs wear no clothing.

That is the problem. We regard such exposure as objectionable, particularly for our children.

Wira suppressed her faint amusement. She knew solid folk with a similar attitude. “Debra, the folk of the air prefer that you don some clothing.”

“But centaurs don’t—”

“Can we humor them?”

“I suppose,” Debra agreed, nonplussed. “But I have no clothing.”

Do you have clothing for her? Wira asked.

Ours would not relate to her.

Can you make illusion clothing?

Yes.

“Oh there’s a bra,” Ilene said. “And a blouse. Just hanging in midair.”

“They are illusions,” Wira explained. It seemed it was only the human portion of the centaur that needed to be covered. “Now if you will—”

“Done,” the girl said. “Now they’re real.”

“And Debra, if you will don them—”

“Done,” Debra agreed after a bit more than a moment. “They fit perfectly.”

“She called you Debra,” the boy said. “I want to—”

“No!” Debra snapped.

“What are you talking about?” Ilene asked.

Wira sighed. “Better explain, Debra.”

“When men—or boys—hear my name, they want to steal my undergarment,” Debra said tightly. “It’s my curse. I thought it was gone as long as I’m a centaur, but it seems not.”

“I’m sorry,” Ilene said. “I didn’t know.” She spoke to the boy. “Hands off. It’s the Adult Conspiracy. I’m bound by it too.”

“Aww,” the boy said. But he obeyed. It seemed that his mother had inculcated some manners after all.

Then centaur, girl, and boy all took note; Wira could feel them reacting. “People!” Nimbus exclaimed.

“They are the folk of the air, making themselves visible,” Wira explained. “It’s not exactly optical, because I can see them too.” And she could. It was probably what was called mind illusion, where the pictures were projected into the minds of the recipients. Whatever it was, it was a delight, for now she could see the entire scene: people and geography. She seldom had such a chance.

“A whole landscape,” Debra said. “Trees, lakes, houses, and people. Amazing!”

“I will take you to Castle Air,” a man said. “I am Higgs, the bosun.” He indicated his boat. “You can define me if you can spell my name.”

“I am Wira,” Wira said. “And these are Ilene, Glow, and Debra Centaur.”

“Debra,” he said, looking at her. “De-bra. Suddenly I have this overwhelming urge to make that literal.” He stepped toward her.

“B-O-A-T-S-W-A-I-N,” Debra spelled.

“Oh, you got me,” Higgs said. “I can’t touch you. Bleep.”

“I didn’t know you could spell that well,” Wira said.

“I couldn’t, until I had to,” Debra said.

They got on his boat, discovering that there was room for them all including the centaur. Higgs saw to the rigging and got it in motion. It set sail across the lake toward the castle.

“Now if you had spelled it B-O-S-O-N,” Higgs said conversationally, “it would really have been interesting. No one has ever perceived me in that guise. I don’t just sail my ship, I hold the universe together.”

“How can you do that, if no one can see you?” Debra asked.

“They don’t need to perceive me. My power is there regardless. I bring mass to everything that exists.”

Wira did not believe that, but decided not to challenge it. Folk were entitled to their harmless delusions. She was more interested in reaching the castle and learning what the air folk had to say to her.

The motor sputtered. “Oops, I’m low on petrol,” Higgs said. “I’ll summon the bird.” He poked a finger into the air.

“A bird?” Wira asked.

“A petrel.”

In a moment a large aquatic bird swooped low. It had a nose shaped like a tube. It put this tube to the boat’s motor and regurgitated a bellyful of liquid. Then it flew away.

The motor resumed full power. Its petrol had been restored.

“I thought this was a sailboat,” Debra said.

“It was, until it ran out of petrol.”

The centaur let that pass. It seemed they did not properly understand this airy realm.

Higgs brought the boat to dock at the castle. There was a welcoming party there consisting of three drummers. They had no drums; they merely beat the air, and the booming of the drums sounded. “Air drumming,” Higgs explained. “We have a whole air orchestra, but the others couldn’t make it on such short notice.”

They got off the boat and followed the winding path to the castle. “I’m feeling faint,” Ilene said. “Things are too strange here for me.”

“I’ll summon a medic,” Higgs said. “Though normally they are reserved for older citizens.” He put his hand up, and in a moment a man in a hospital uniform flew in with a balloon. He brought this to the girl.

“Whatever this is, I don’t need it,” Ilene said quickly.

But the medic put the stem of the balloon to her mouth and let it go. Hot air whooshed out of the balloon and into Ilene, inflating her. Then the medic flew away, his job done.

“Are you all right?” Wira asked, alarmed.

Ilene looked surprised as she deflated. “Yes, I’m fine. That medic air took good care of me.”

“Ouch!” Debra exclaimed.

Ilene glanced at her. “Something is wrong?”

“I am discovering that centaurs don’t much like egregious puns.”

“Was there a pun?”

“Never mind. You’d have to be Mundane.”

“Ugh!”

“Exactly.”

Higgs opened a door at the end of the path. “This is as far as I go. Enter; someone will guide you inside.”

They passed through the doorway. Inside was a young man. “Hello, travelers. I am Airon. I can change into the wind.”

“You must be a blowhard,” Nimbus said brightly.

“Glow!” Ilene said, appalled.

“He means you must be very effective when ships are becalmed,” Wira said. “They would really need your help.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Airon agreed, deciding to be complimented.

Wira introduced herself and the others. Unfortunately she forgot to fudge Debra’s name, and the man eyed her bosom suggestively.

“We need to see the king,” Wira said. “We must not keep him waiting.”

“Oh,” Airon said, as if he had lost track of that. “I suppose not.”

Wira was coming to appreciate how annoying Debra’s curse could be. Would the man actually have tried to remove her bra by hand, if not intercepted?

Then Airon showed them to the royal assembly room. There were the King and Queen of Air awaiting them. They looked quite royal in their robes and crowns.

Airon introduced them to the king. And of course the Air King eyed Debra’s well-filled blouse. “I believe centaurs normally don’t wear clothing,” he remarked. “We should not enforce our customs on you. Suppose I help you remove—”

“By no means,” the Air Queen snapped. “Our customs are inviolate.”

The Air King looked disappointed, but dared not argue with his wife on a social matter. She was the arbiter of custom.

Then Wira summarized their situation, concluding with the discovery of the air plain, thanks to Ilene’s talent, and their ascent to the realm of the air folk. “We may be bothering you for nothing,” she concluded. “It was just a feeling by the words ‘air plain’ whose relevance I don’t know. We found the plain, but I still don’t know how it relates to my quest for my lost husband.”

“Fortunately we do have a vague notion,” the Air King said. “Things do tend to be somewhat diffuse for us, because of our nature, but this is certain: your mystery relates to the air in some manner.”

“Or perhaps an heir,” the Air Queen said. “The detail is obscure, but the relevance is plain: you must deal with one or the other.”

“Or both,” the Air King said. “Only then will you achieve your purpose.”

“Thank you your majesties,” Wira said, thinking of Nimbus, the heir to the Demon’s realm. It did seem to be falling into place, though she did not understand how.

“We’re sorry to be so foggy,” the Air Queen said.

“Now for the fun,” the Air King said. “We’ll have a feast and a ball.”

The Air Queen rolled her eyes. “He does love parties,” she murmured. “This will run late; you will need accommodations for the night.”

“But we have to move on,” Wira protested.

“Tomorrow,” the Air King said decisively. “You can’t leave tonight; the bosun has departed and won’t return until morning.”

“We shouldn’t argue with a king,” Debra murmured. Evidently she liked the idea of a big meal and party. So did Ilene and Nimbus.

Actually so did Wira herself. She had not ever attended a ball, and here, where she could actually see things, seemed ideal. She could enjoy the life of sighted folk, for one evening.

The banquet was fabulous. The Royal Chef brought forth every imaginable dish and several unimaginable ones. Ilene and Nimbus took turns swallowing huge gulps of boot rear, seeing who could get the biggest kick, and gorging on patty cake and eye scream. They were soon patting and screaming with gusto. Wira and Debra, more cautious, nevertheless ate more than was probably good for them.

Then Debra finished with some tap water—and broke into a four-footed tap dance routine. “Oops—I missed the pun,” she said, embarrassed.

“But you do a very nice dance,” Wira reassured her. Indeed, Ilene and Nimbus paused to watch, then sipped some tap water themselves, joining her.

In the evening was the ball, which was of course held in a room shaped like a huge ball. The royal personnel helped garb them all in elaborate gowns, even the boy: his resembled the king’s robe, and he plainly loved it. The Queen took in upon herself to teach him ballroom dancing, and she was a good teacher and he a good learner. Soon they where whirling around the ballroom in style.

The King danced first with Wira. In his arms she discovered that she never made a misstep, though she had seldom danced before; he guided her perfectly. “I know your nature,” he murmured. “Only those perfectly pure of heart can see us or our realm.”

“I thought it was because you folk made yourselves apparent,” Wira said, foolishly flattered.

“We are doing so. But you saw us first. Then we knew we wanted to get to know you better. We facilitated it for you and your associates. You are surely Xanth’s nicest person.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she protested, blushing.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it is nevertheless true.” He glanced around. “And the boy glows. That is significant. He must be protected.”

“You recognize him?”

“You don’t?”

“I feel he is safer anonymous.”

“Surely so,” the King agreed, giving her a friendly squeeze. He was a most personable man.

Then he danced with Ilene, who was utterly thrilled. And finally Debra, embracing her human portion carefully. Wira suspected he still wanted to remove her bra, but the Queen was alert and all he could do was touch its back strap through the material of her gown. She had never imagined a man dancing with a centaur, but it turned out to be possible and even graceful in its fashion.

All too soon the evening was over and they were conducted to their suite. “Oh, that was wonderful!” Ilene exclaimed. “I never thought I’d get to dance with a king! Not until I was grown up, anyway.” She seemed to be careening between girl and woman, neither fitting perfectly. When she was with Nimbus she was more like a girl, but when she danced with the king she had been much like a woman.

“I danced with the Queen,” Nimbus said proudly.

They took turns disrobing, washing, and donning the fancy pajamas the castle provided. “I think I could get to like the royal life,” Debra confessed. “I was almost tempted to let the King take off my—” She saw the boy and stifled it. “He was so nice.”

They were ready for sleep, but it turned out that none of them were able to relax yet. The events of the day had been too exciting. What were they to do?

“Have you suffered any more of that—awareness?” Wira asked Debra privately.

“On and off. Sometimes my—front—positively itches. There’s somewhere I should go, something I should do. But I don’t know what. Then it passes. It seems to be random.”

“It’s almost as if your curse wants you to put on your bra, so as to make men want to take it off.”

“Almost,” Debra agreed. “One man, anyway.”

“Your prospective boyfriend?”