Air Apparent (16 page)

Maybe he could trace words in the dust of the tabletop. He started spelling out HELP.

“Asse, Sunny’s got something,” Marmie said.

Asse Sette, evidently a man with resources, came around the table. “That’s a bat,” he said. “It may be rabid.”

“No, it’s slow,” Sunny said.

“He said rabid, not rapid, dummy,” Upp Sette said.

The little girl began to cry. She had been upset, of course.

Marmie sighed. “Ree.”

Then the scene was back to what it had been before. Hugo considered, and concluded that he was unlikely to get anywhere with this family. He flew back to rejoin Dragoman and Brunhilda. “I couldn’t get through,” he said.

“That’s all right,” she said. “I thought of a better way. We’ll fly back to Castle Maidragon, and Dragoman will talk with Becka Dragongirl and tell her about you.”

Hugo’s bat mouth fell open. “This is brilliant!” he said. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

“Because you’re not female,” she replied smugly.

“Because you’re not a dragon,” Dragoman said, as smugly.

It seemed they had him there, though Hugo did not see it quite the same way.

They flew back to the castle. There was no dragon in sight. “She must be in her dull human form,” Dragoman said. “You’ll have to send her out.”

So it was up to Hugo after all. He left them and flew into a turret window. And promptly got lost in the labyrinth of the castle. There were passages, stairs, chambers, and courts galore; where was Becka?

Finally he blundered into what seemed to be a child’s playroom. There was a two-year-old boy there, playing with salamanders and fire. Evidently his parents knew about it, because the room was fireproofed.

Could he talk to the child? He settled down in front of the boy.

“Bat,” the child said. Suddenly Hugo was surrounded by a ring of fire. He lurched back into the air before his wings got scorched. This was no good.

The boy started crying. That brought his mother: a pretty blonde with brown eyes. That would be Becka. “What’s the matter, Ben?” she asked, picking him up.

“Bat gone,” he wailed.

She glanced around. “There was a bat in here? They’re supposed to stay in their cave.”

It was time for Hugo to make an appearance. He flew to the nearest chair and perched on it somewhat clumsily, for his body wasn’t made for it.

“So there is a bat,” Becka said. “Why aren’t you in your cave?”

And how could he explain? He started to trace the first letter of his name: H. He walked up and down on the seat of the chair, then across between the two verticals.

“Brusk!” Becka called. “There’s a sick bat in here.”

Brusk appeared. “Yes, dear. I’ll take it out.”

That wasn’t what he wanted! Hugo tried to protest, but in a moment Brusk had a net and was stalking him.

Hugo took wing and tried to fly around the man, but Brusk reached quickly out and managed to touch a wingtip. Suddenly Hugo was hard and heavy. He dropped to the floor with a clunk.

Brusk put the net over him, then touched him again through it. Now he was very light and soft. That was Brusk’s talent: to make things hard and heavy or soft and light. Hugo was caught.

Brusk carried him outside. He poked the net over a battlement and let it open. “There you are, bat,” he said. “Now go home. You don’t belong in the castle.”

There was nothing for Hugo to do except fly away, defeated.

“So it didn’t work,” Dragoman remarked. “I knew it. As a human you aren’t smart enough.”

“And you are?” Hugo demanded.

“To be sure. Observe and learn, if your puny intellect is capable of it.” He flew down to land by the castle’s front gate.

“He’s such a dynamic creature,” Brunhilda remarked.

Dragoman inhaled hugely, then bellowed out a roar that could surely be heard throughout the castle.

In a moment and a half Becka appeared at the gate. “Is there a problem?” she called.

Dragoman blew three smoke rings. That was evidently a signal.

Becka nodded. Then she transformed into her dragon form. She had purple-tinted bright green scales. She spread her wings, pumped them once, and glided across to meet Dragoman snout to snout. “What’s so urgent, Dragoman?” she asked in dragon talk.

“This bat’s a man. You have to let him out of the dungeon cell.”

“That cell confines the Random Factor,” she said, alarmed. “Anyone who opens that door gets randomized in some distressing way.”

“He says he got switched. Now he’s a man called Hugo.”

“Hugo?”

“The Good Magician’s nonentity of a son.”

She pondered half a moment. “I remember now. He does have a son or two, along with five and a half wives. But what’s your interest in this?”

“I want his girlfriend. If he returns to man form, she’ll be mine.”

“That does seem to be a suitably cynical dragon motive. But how can I believe this isn’t some ploy by the Random Factor to get me into his clutches so he can do something horribly random to me? I don’t believe he’s been near a woman in decades.”

Dragoman nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you had better talk to him yourself.”

“Maybe I’d better. Where is he?”

“Here!” Hugo called.

“What’s that noise?” Becka asked.

“You don’t understand bat talk?” Dragoman asked.

“I’m a dragon, not a bat. You hadn’t noticed?”

“I noticed. A lovely one, too. If you ever are on the prowl for a male dragon—”

“Never mind. You know I’m married.” She changed back into human form, signaling her disinterest in any dragon liaison. “You understand bat talk?”

“I understand all flying monster talk,” Dragoman said proudly. It was clear that Becka understood dragon talk in either form, and Dragoman understood human.

“Then you translate. Tell him I need to ascertain whether he’s really who he says he is.”

“Right,” Hugo agreed.

“He understands you,” Dragoman said. “He knows human; he just can’t speak it now. I’ll just translate his answers.”

“Good enough.” She turned to Hugo. “Who is your wife?”

“Wira. She’s blind.” The dragon translated that, and asked, “Is that a trick question?”

“No. Everybody knows the Good Magician’s sons are married. Who is the Good Magician’s wife?”

“This month, the Gorgon. She’s my mother. He has five and a half wives, who rotate monthly.”

The dragon translated, and added, “I didn’t know that. Your excellent magician must be quite the man. How old is he?”

“Answer that,” Becka told Hugo.

“Physically or chronologically?”

“Both.”

“Physically he keeps himself at about a hundred by using measured doses of youth elixir. Chronologically he is one hundred and seventy-four.”

“Who wrote the Book of Answers?”

“The Good Magician wrote it himself, mostly during his first century. He studied all Xanth, compiling answers. That’s why contemporary things can be missing, until he adds them.”

Becka shook her head. “I don’t think anyone outside his immediate family would know that. He guards his knowledge. You must be who you say you are. Go back to your human body and I’ll let you out.”

Victory, so rapidly! “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

Becka returned to the castle, and Dragoman took off to circle around to the bat cave. “So now you can be mine,” he said to Brunhilda.

“Except for two things,” she said thoughtfully. “First, I want the fresh fruit Hugo can provide me.”

“I can show you where there’s a secret secluded fruit tree grove that no other bat knows about,” Dragoman said.

She considered. “Show me.”

The dragon veered and winged in an unknown direction.

Soon he landed by a secluded grove in a niche offshoot of the Gap Chasm. It was overgrowing with richly flourishing fruit trees of many kinds.

“Hmm,” the dragon said, annoyed. “Someone’s been picking the fruit recently, but there are no tracks or smell.”

“A mystery,” Brunhilda said.

“This must be where I conjure my fruit from!” Hugo exclaimed. “I’ve taken a lot in the past few days, for Bathos. I never knew where it came from.”

“So this is the source,” Brunhilda said, pleased. “So I don’t need you any more.”

“You don’t need me,” Hugo agreed, relieved.

“So you can marry me,” Dragoman said.

“Not quite so fast, fireface,” she said. “There is still the second thing.”

“What is that?” Dragoman asked.

“Bathos Bat. When Hugo trades to get his human body back, Bathos will be a bat again, and will want me. And he is a bat.”

“I’ll chomp him!”

“No, he has a useful talent. I might need it some time.”

“What for?”

“To make out with you, for one thing. Short of a quadruple strength accommodation spell, you and I are never going to make physical love, now are we?”

“I’ll find the accommodation spell!”

“No, it would be easier to exchange minds with Bathos and tryst with me as a bat. I’m sure Bathos would like to be a dragon for a while, too.”

The dragon considered. “How do you like being a bat?” he asked Hugo.

“Actually, it’s all right. It enabled me to contact Becka Dragongirl to arrange my escape from the cell.”

“Could you make out with Brunhilda?”

“I’m married!”

“If you weren’t married, could you make out with her?”

Hugo got the dragon’s drift. “Yes, enthusiastically. She kissed me too, you know. She’s some bat.”

Dragoman nodded. “Good enough. But will Bathos agree to let me have his body for that?”

“He will if I kiss him,” said Brunhilda. “He’ll be my love slave, and will do anything I ask.”

“Then you can keep him. You’re right: he will be useful. Now let’s go make the exchange.”

They flew back to Castle Maidragon and the Bat Cave. Dragoman dropped them off and hovered outside, too big to enter. They made their way to the crevice that opened to the cell.

There was his body, sacked out amidst a pile of half-eaten fruit. It seemed that Bathos had not yet quite conquered his hunger.

Bathos! Hugo called mentally. I’m back.

“Go away,” Bathos said, tossing a ripe pear at the crevice.

It is time to trade back. I have made contact with the proprietress of the castle. She will let me out.

“She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she? Maybe I’ll make time with her. I’m sure this body can do it.”

What was this? You can’t. She’s married.

“Well, there’ll be others. And gobs of fruit. How I love it!”

“What’s happening?” Brunhilda asked. She did not understand human talk, and lacked the mental connection.

“He’s balking about changing back.”

She paused half an instant. “Oh he is, is he? After we have it all arranged? I’ll deal with that.” She squeezed through the crevice and dropped into the cell. She spread her wings and circled the chamber. Then she swooped into the human body and planted a recharged kiss on its mouth.

The body staggered, hearts and planets spiraling wildly around it. She had staggered it with the potency of the kiss.

Hugo pounced, mentally. Trade back now! Brunhilda wishes it.

And he was back in his own body, his belly full to the verge of sickness. But he wasn’t Brunhilda’s love slave; that enchantment had remained with the person rather than the body. That was a relief.

Brunhilda remained in the cell, watching him. “I’m myself, Hugo,” he told her. “Human. Go deal with Bathos.”

She understood his manner if not his words. He waved as she headed for the crevice and squeezed through. She would handle Bathos and Dragoman, making the best of an interesting situation.

He got to work cleaning himself up. His clothing was a loss, but he didn’t want to exit the cell nude. Maybe he would be able to borrow something.

Soon there was a knock at the door. That would be Becka. “Yes,” he called. “I am Hugo. But the bat who used my body made a mess, and I have no clothing. Can I borrow something?”

She was evidently reassured that he wasn’t the Random Factor. “Oh, don’t be concerned,” she said as she unlocked and drew open the door. “I’ve seen it be—” Then she caught a full glimpse of him, perhaps two glimpses. She froze in place, her eyes staring blankly.

She had freaked out. One flash per eyeball had taken both out. Hugo hadn’t realized it happened to women too. Maybe the case had to be truly egregious. Hastily he picked up his sodden bundle of clothing and held it over his soiled midsection. Then he snapped his fingers.

She recovered, unconscious of her time in freakdom. “I’ll fetch some clothing. You’ll want a shower, too.” She beat a swift retreat.

Hugo shook his head ruefully. There was nothing between him and Becka, but he would have preferred to have made a better appearance.

Soon Brusk appeared, carrying an armful of clothing. Evidently Becka was making sure not to be flashed again. “Follow me,” Brusk said, turning around. It seemed he wasn’t that keen on Hugo’s filthy forty-three-year-old body either.

He followed the man to a magical shower stall. Soon he was luxuriously washing. Then he dried and donned the clothing. It didn’t fit him well, probably being some of Brusk’s, but was far better than his own.

Now at last he met formally with Brusk and Becka. “So that’s why the bat was inside,” Becka said. “That was you.”

“That was my identity borrowing the bat’s body,” Hugo agreed. “While the bat used my body to gorge on fruit. He’s a hungry fruit bat, you see.”

“But just how did you get in that cell?” Brusk asked.

“I don’t know. One moment I was in the cellar of the GMC, and the next I was in that cell.”

“GMC?”

“Good Magician’s Castle. I’m so used to it I abbreviate it. Anyway, the conjecture is that somehow the Random Factor managed to exchange places with me.”

“But that means the Random Factor is on the loose,” Becka said, alarmed.

“I fear it does,” Hugo agreed.

“I’d better call the Gorgon,” she decided. She went to the magic mirror hanging on the wall. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall—”

“I heard,” the mirror said. “I’m flashing her now.”

Hugo wished it hadn’t used that word.

The Gorgon’s veiled face appeared in the mirror. “Yes?” Then she saw Hugo. “Hugo!”

“Mother,” he agreed.