Air Apparent (29 page)

Debra didn’t like the sound of that. “Should?”

“They did not arrive there by any normal route. That might complicate their return.”

“There has to be a way,” Wira said.

Princess Ida did not comment. That did not ease Debra’s misgivings.

They lay on assorted couches, and Debra settled on the floor. Then Ida brought each a small vial to sniff as she opened it. Each person settled down, unconscious. So far this seemed to be mostly imagination.

Then it was Debra’s turn to sniff. She did—and found herself rising out of her body. This was weird! But soon she formed into her centaur shape, albeit diffuse, and saw the others resuming their shapes, only on a miniature scale. Princess Ida was the size of a mountain.

Wira beckoned, then set off flying toward the little moon orbiting Ida’s head. The others followed. The closer they got to it, the larger the world became. Debra realized that they were getting smaller, reducing to the scale of the world. As they approached it, it seemed as if they were coming toward a full-sized world.

They accelerated, until it seemed they were going to crash into the ground. But then they swerved to zoom along just above the surface, the six of them flying in a line with Debra at the end, going to—

Castle Roogna! And into it, like spirits flying through matter, and up to the room of Princess Ida. And there she was, with her tiny pyramidal moon with its colored faces. They oriented on that, and soon it was expanding the same way Ptero had, becoming the world it was.

There was the Ida on its blue face, on an isle in a lake, with her donut moon. They oriented on that, and found that Ida, and there was her moon, shaped like a cone. That was the one!

They zoomed in on the cone world, and came to rest at last on its outside surface. This was girt by fields and jungles and other routine features.

But where were the men?

Debra focused. “That way,” she said, pointing toward the distant rim of the cone. “I think. My sense is a bit fuzzy, but that may be because we’re on a different world.”

“Are you sure?” Wira asked. “Has the Factor transferred recently?”

“No, I’m not sure at all. He hasn’t transferred. So I must be imagining it. My feeling is gone now.”

“I may have an idea,” Sim said.

“Aren’t you Xanth’s smartest young bird?” Ilene asked admiringly. “Your idea is surely great.”

Sim paused, evidently taken aback by this compliment. A few feathers turned pinkish. “That is irrelevant.”

“I doubt it,” Wira said. “Let’s hear your idea.”

“It occurred to me that we might craft a device to indicate the proper direction. Nimbus’s talent is to make mixed metaphors real. Suppose we mixed some for him?”

“That might be entertaining,” Wira said. “But what we need is a direction.”

“Precisely. One metaphor is Time’s Arrow. Another is factoring a human equation. Time isn’t really an arrow, and factoring is a mathematical process, but as metaphors they can facilitate understanding.”

Where was he going on this? But Debra kept her mouth shut.

“True,” Wira said. “The key would be in the mix, if that’s not metaphorical itself.”

“Suppose we mixed them and came up with the Factor’s Arrow?”

Wira frowned. “I’m not sure I—”

“There,” Nimbus said, glowing more brightly.

There was an arrow in the air, pointing toward the narrow tip of the cone. A literal mixed metaphor.

“That’s where Random is!” Debra exclaimed jubilantly.

A glance circulated somewhat haphazardly. Could this really make sense?

Wira shrugged. “Let’s try it.”

Debra fixed the direction in her mind, and they started off. They couldn’t go in a straight line, because there was a hill and forest in the way, and the forest looked rather ominous. So they allowed the terrain to guide them, and followed the curve of the hill beside the forest.

And came to a smoldering ruin. It looked as if someone had piled up a mountain of cardboard and set it afire. People were working around it, using insulated hooks to catch and pull the pieces clear of the main mound. This would be the start of the rebuilding effort.

The people spotted them. Three forged toward them.

All of them stared in astonishment. Instead of heads, the people had name tags! The tags said JAMES, MARY, and ROBERT. They were, respectively, sturdy, shapely, and neutral. “Who are you?” James demanded, the tag vibrating.

“We are visitors from Xanth, just passing through,” Wira said.

“From Xanth!” Mary said.

“Yes. We’re looking for two men, also from Xanth. Have you seen them?”

“Oh, yes,” James said grimly. “They burned down our castle.”

Oops. Debra glanced nervously around. These angry people might have a grudge.

Wira had evidently come to a similar apprehension. “Thank you,” she said. “We’ll be moving on now.”

“I think not,” Robert said grimly. Then, to the others: “Tag them!”

Mary stepped forward and tagged Wira. Robert tagged Sim. Robert tagged Ilene. The three who were tagged went still, standing without speaking.

Debra acted immediately. She leaped with all four feet to the side, avoiding getting tagged. Nimbus and Fray, the youngest members of the party, were on her back; they had the sense to hang on. She was able to outrun the two-footed folk.

“Something has happened to them,” Debra said tersely. “Do either of you have any idea what?”

“Maybe,” Nimbus said. “I think they’re nametaggers. I heard about them once. Whatever they tag is null until it finds a new name. But I think it just stuns outsiders.”

“We have to rescue them,” Debra said.

“You can’t escape us, centaur,” James called angrily. “We’re sending the flamma-bull after you. You can’t outrun him!”

That sounded bad. They needed to get well away—but if they did, what would happen to the three who had been tagged?

The bull appeared. He was a fine-looking bull the color of intense flame. In fact, flames were rising from him. Now she got it: flamma-bull, the flaming bull.

“I can help!” Fray cried. “In a little time.”

“Then do it,” Debra said grimly. “I’ll try to distract him meanwhile.” She drew her bra from her pack, glad she had forgotten to leave it behind. She wasn’t sure the curse would work on a bull, but it was worth trying. After all, it seemed to have affected the Python.

Fray vaporized. She became a cloud, expanding rapidly.

“I need some color,” Debra said. She spied a patch of redberries growing between greenberries and blueberries. She scooped some up in her bra, then swished them in it so that the red stained the cloth. Now she had a bright red double flag.

The bull charged, his flames brightening. Debra held the bra out to the side and waved it tauntingly. The bull caught it with one horn and jerked his head. That yanked it out of her hands and set fire to it. Now she was weaponless.

But Fray had gained altitude and wind. She made a small rumble of thunder and squeezed out some rain. It dropped on the bull, making his flames sizzle. He made a bellowing moo of outrage and tried to charge the cloud.

Fray was still gathering force. She dumped more rain on the bull, wetting on his head. More flames sizzled, and his head went up in steam. That made him realize he was getting doused. He got sensible and charged away before losing the rest of his flames.

“Get the others!” Debra called to the cloud.

Fray went to it with a will and a half. She expanded until she covered the nametaggers, who were in the process of carrying away the three they had tagged. She wet on them voluminously, though Debra suspected she didn’t know what the word meant. That dampened their enthusiasm. They dropped the three and sought shelter in the forest. Fray encouraged them by sending a few small bolts of lightning after them.

Debra galloped back to where the three were lying. Now the rain was pouring down, soaking them all. Small sparks scattered, and the three stirred. The spell had been shorted out!

“Follow me!” Debra called, leading the way. Wira, Ilene, and Sim, dazed, obeyed, staggering after her. Sim seemed to be better able to repel the water, while Ilene was stronger on her feet; the two got together and helped each other move. Debra led them out of the storm and away from the nametaggers, to safety.

In time Fray recondensed, becoming her apparent air form again. “That was great!” Nimbus exclaimed, hugging her. “Wonderful talent!” She looked surprised but pleased.

“I agree,” Wira said. She was bedraggled, with matted hair and clothing, but still the most mature member of their party. “And you handled the problem very well, Debra.”

Now it was Debra’s turn to be surprised but pleased. “I just did what I had to do. Fray really was the one.”

“I regret I did not anticipate the nametaggers’ ploy,” Sim said, fluffing out his feathers. “I’m supposed to be smart.”

“Nobody could have known,” Ilene said.

He nodded, appreciating her defense of him. The two were of similar age, and seemed to be drawing closer to each other.

“Everyone behaved appropriately,” Wira said. “Now let’s get dried out.”

The others were glad to agree. They located a spring and took turns washing themselves and their clothing. Debra found some brush to make a lean-to, and Ilene harvested some fresh berries from the colored berry patches. They were all glad to have come through their adventure without harm.

Next day they walked and flew south to the top of the cone, where the arrow had pointed. Debra carried Wira, Ilene, and Nimbus, suitably lightened, while Sim flew alone, generating a powerful wake that towed Fray Cloud along behind.

“He’s such a smart, handsome bird,” Ilene murmured.

“He has to be, to be the Simurgh’s heir apparent,” Wira said. “Che Centaur tutored him for years.”

But when they reached the tip, there was no one there. It was a barren hump. “How could the arrow be wrong?” Wira asked, flustrated.

“That’s an interesting mood,” Sim remarked. “A mergence of flustered and frustrated, fit for the demoness Metria. But there is surely an explanation. Perhaps tonight will be appropriate for one of your communal dreams.”

They set about making camp again, and Sim and Debra flew back to fetch some pies from the nearest pie tree. “If you don’t mind,” Sim said when they were alone. “I have a private question.”

“Ilene is a nice girl,” Debra said immediately. “She does like you; it is apparent.”

“But I am a bird.”

“Xanth’s most beautiful bird,” she agreed. “And smartest. Women are drawn to such qualities. Remember, all the creatures of this world are crossbreeds. Romance across the species is the social norm.”

“But she’s only eleven years old.”

“And you are twelve.”

“I’m an heir apparent.”

“She’s the heir to fairly illustrious folk herself, being the daughter of a former king and queen.”

“So—?”

“So it’s a feasible match, if the two of you agree. There is no suitable female of your species, so you have to look elsewhere. You do have several years to study the situation before any adult commitment would be expected.”

“And if it should become love?”

“More power to you both. Love has happened to stranger couples. I’m in a position to know.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

That night Wira used some of the dream-share elixir, and Debra joined her in a dream that sought the menfolk. Debra remained in centaur form in her dream; it seemed she had to focus to avoid mirroring her physical body. Well, this would do for this purpose.

The men were in a pleasant cottage, in contrast to the crude shelter of the women and children. At least they were safe. They were, it turned out, inside the tip of the cone, instead of outside; the arrow had pointed true, but a detail had been missed.

Wira rushed to kiss the Random Factor. Debra was startled, until she remembered that now Hugo had the Factor’s body. So she went to kiss Hugo’s body. It was safe to do that now, with or without her bra.

“It’s good to see you again,” Random said, his hands unable to stay away from where her bra would have been. The curse made any man who knew her name want to touch her bra, and this was as close to it as he could safely get. “This may be the only way; we fear our bodies were burned up on Xanth.”

“No they weren’t,” she reassured him. “We found the beer cellar intact, and your bodies there.”

“That’s a relief. It gives us faint hope. Now if we could just nullify your curse.”

“Would you still love me then?” she asked teasingly.

“Oh, yes! My love may have been inspired by the curse, but I know it’s eternal.”

“That’s nice.” That seemed inadequate, but this whole situation was unusual, with her in the winged centaur form making out with the body of her friend’s husband. As she had told Sim, love could be strange.

All too soon Wira drew the dream to a close. They agreed to meet next day at the brink of the Hypotho-sea.

But before the night was over, Debra woke with a start. She had received the signal. The men had transferred out of this world!

“Something must have forced the issue,” Wira said when Debra told her. “We shall simply have to orient on their next stop. It is merely a delay.” But there were tears in her eyes.

Debra understood completely. They had come so close to reunion. Now they had to start over.

MOTES

The Factor looked around. They were on a small rocky irregular world. Around it were other little worlds, floating to the sides and above. In fact this was a swarm of fragments, each big enough to hold a village but not much more. Some were barren, some had turf and trees, and some did seem to have human houses. “What is this?” he asked, perplexed.

“This would be Motes,” Hugo said. “Magicians Bink, Dor, and Dolph visited it once in a dream, and the Zombie Master. It was a most interesting report; the Good Magician made a long note on it.”

“A collection of fragments?”

“Orbiting the head of the Ida on the world of Tangle,” Hugo said. “Each world is different, and some are pretty strange. I don’t remember them all, but know that one is Zombie World, with all zombies, and another is Dragon World, in the shape of a giant dragon, and all the imaginable varieties of dragons exist there. Motes is just along the way.”

“Like islands in a sea,” the Factor said. “Do you suppose the women would like to live on one of them?”

Hugo considered. “Maybe if it were a nice one. We can look around and see what’s available.”

“It is interesting that we are able to breathe here. This tiny planetoid should not have enough gravity to retain an atmosphere.”

Hugo laughed without humor. “How fortunate that this realm is magic, rather than Mundanian science. There is light without a sun, and air without atmosphere.”

“They should be along in another day or so. Debra knows when my transfer magic is invoked. We can use that time to explore and locate a suitable island.”

Hugo shrugged. “Might as well.” He looked at the mote they stood on. “I wonder what we exchanged with this time?”

“A couple of small plants,” the Factor said. “That’s why the ground is bare where we stand.”

“I wonder whether we have bodies there also, as it seems we do on Xanth proper? All the soul stuff left over when we went to this infinitely smaller world.”

The Factor considered. “I suspect they simply dissolved into background material.”

They jumped to the nearest other mote. Science might not be operative here, but gravity was not strong, and they were able to do it readily enough. This one was completely barren, and they didn’t linger.

The next was a larger fragment, with several houses on it, and men working in small fields. They approached a man who was loading a wagon, in his fashion. He had a stout short-legged goat, on which he piled a bale of hay. Then the goat levered itself up until it stood higher than the wagon. The man then rolled the bale from the goat’s back to the floor of the wagon. The goat’s legs shortened, bringing it down for the next load.

“That’s a remarkable goat,” Hugo said. He was by far the more social of the two of them, and knew how to talk to people. The Factor had never much cared about people, before falling in love.

“He’s Billy Jack,” the man said proudly. “There’s no load he can’t lift.”

“We’re new visitors to this realm,” Hugo said. “We’re looking for a fragment where a few people might live in comfort. Can you direct us to any prospects?”

The man hesitated. “You don’t want to stay here long. Best to move on soon.”

“That’s not convenient,” the Factor said. “Why should we move on?”

The man’s lips tightened. “It’s your decision.”

“Where should we look?” Hugo asked. “We don’t want to impinge on anyone else’s territory.”

“Try the Tell-A-Path.”

“Telepath? Where is he?”

“Tell-A-Path,” the man repeated. “Over there. Tell it where you want to go, and it will go there.”

They looked. Not far away was a passing path. It looked ordinary, but so did many magic things. “Thank you,” Hugo said.

“But you don’t want to stay,” the man repeated.

What was his problem? Were the decent territories limited, so that they were trying to discourage new settlers? Yet the man did not seem unfriendly. It was more as if he were simply offering good advice. Curious business.

They walked to the path. “We want to find a nice planetoid suitable for four people,” the Factor said. “Two men and two women.”

The path glowed briefly, acknowledging. They got on it and stood, perplexed. “Which direction?” Hugo asked.

“Either way,” the man called.

Maybe that made sense. There was bound to be more than one route to wherever they wanted to go.

They picked a direction and walked. The path went to a hillock and stopped at the top. But there was a faint glow in the air beyond, pointing to another planetoid. So they jumped, and landed where the path resumed on the adjacent mote. This was another small barren one, and the path soon moved to another. They seemed to be moving toward the outside edge of the cluster of motes. Was it just meandering, or did it really have somewhere to go?

They paused at a mote where a number of people were busy fashioning assorted nets. “What’s this?” the Factor asked.

“We’re networking,” the closest worker answered. “Making every type of net: fishing, magic, inter, whatever.”

“I always wondered where nets came from,” Hugo remarked. “Now I know: from the networks.” Then he spied a woman who was painstakingly weaving an extremely fine net. “What’s that?”

The woman looked up at him and smiled. “I’m Ruby. It is my talent to make a net that will stop wiggles.”

“But nothing stops wiggles!”

“That’s why this net is needed. But the work is slow; it will require decades to complete it.”

“Let’s move on,” the Factor said, bored.

At the base of a hill they met a woman walking the other way. She was looking to the side and didn’t seem to see them. “Hey, watch where you’re go—ooof!” the Factor said. For the girl had just collided with him.

That started a small chain reaction. The Factor fell back into Hugo, and all three of them fell into the brush bordering the path. They wound up in a heap, the girl plastered rather indelicately across the two men.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, scrambling up and tucking her clothing back together so that no bra or panty showed. On one level the Factor regretted that. “I didn’t see—” Then she broke off, because a cart was zooming down the hill. It was loaded with bricks, and was surely quite solid. It whistled by them and on out of sight.

“That cart would have wiped us out,” Hugo said. “If you hadn’t pushed us off the path.”

“Yes, I think so,” she said. “That’s my talent.”

Both men stared at her. “Your talent?” the Factor asked.

“I’m Tovi. I’m a small-scale klutz. I’m forever bungling things. But often my mistakes lead to larger scale benefits, purely by coincidence.”

“I’m Hugo, and this is the Factor,” Hugo said. “Your mistake just saved us from getting squashed.”

“Yes, that’s the way it works. But I should have looked where I was going.”

“We’re glad you didn’t,” Hugo said. “Thank you for saving us.”

“As long as you’re not mad,” she said.

“We’re not mad,” Hugo said. “As a matter of fact, maybe you can tell us what life is like, here on Motes. Why wouldn’t we want to stay?”

“I’d better be moving on before I klutz again,” she said nervously. She did so, leaving them halfway bemused.

Then they came to a planetoid that seemed ideal. It bore a sign saying oasis—vacancy. It had a nice spring-fed pond with quacks swimming on it, several handsome shade trees, and a fair number of pie bushes. It looked like exactly the kind of mote the women would like.

“Thank you, Path,” Hugo said. He was odd that way, treating even inanimate things like people. But his courtesy was wasted; the path was gone. It had done its job.

“We can build a house,” the Factor said. “Everything’s here.”

“Two houses,” Hugo said. “I have to keep your body away from Debra.”

“Two houses,” the Factor agreed. He was quite satisfied to have his body avoid the curse. This Hugo-body might be forty-three years old and not handsome, but with it he could do anything he wanted with Debra, and he wanted to do everything. Until such time as they thwarted the curse and exchanged bodies back, this was a satisfactory alternative.

They got to work. On the far side of the mote was a brick mine with many fine bricks. This must have been where the self-propelled cart came from. They cleared places on either side of the duck pond and started moving bricks there. It turned out to be a larger job than they had realized, and long before they were done night closed. So they lay down beside their separate piles of bricks and slept.

It was funny, the Factor thought, how he now was interested in things that had never occurred to him before. All he had wanted was freedom to do his own thing, randomly. That had included fine times with nymphs or demonesses, or even a vila, had the timing been right. Now he wanted to please Debra, and that meant trying to anticipate her needs and desires and accommodate them. She would want a nice house. He wasn’t sure what else she would want, but he would try to find out and do whatever it was.

Yet somehow he felt a deep foreboding. Not because of the danger Debra represented for him; they understood that and were on guard against it. This was something else, and it was slowly intensifying. It stopped him from sleeping.

“Do you feel it too?” Hugo asked from the darkness.

“Yes. What is it?”

“I don’t know. But I am wondering what that man with the goat meant when he said we wouldn’t want to stay here. And why such an ideal little world as this is vacant. There is something we don’t know, and now I think we ought to find out before we go further with our preparations.”

“How can we find out?”

“There should be an Ida here. There’s one on every world. She seems most likely to know.”

That did make sense. “Can that trip wait until morning?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I agree,” the Factor said grimly. “Whatever it is, it’s coming closer. I don’t want it to find us unprepared.”

“What can we do in the dark?”

“Hide!”

So they made their way to the trees, and climbed, hiding in the upper foliage. But the foreboding remained. Whatever was coming seemed to be orienting on them, and it seemed to know exactly where they were. They could not stay here.

They studied the night sky, but could not see anything other than faintly glowing motes.

“I dread traveling at night,” Hugo said. “We might jump and miss a mote, and float helplessly in space.”

“Nonsense. I could simply conjure one of your fruits and throw it, and the reaction would push me the other way, assuming that principle is not too scientific for this realm. We can get where we are going.”

“But suppose the menace we fear is lurking in the dark spaces between motes?”

That made the Factor pause. Then a bulb flashed over his head. “The Tell-A-Path! We can tell it to show us a safe route to Ida.”

“Great. But where is the path?”

“Over there.” For the path had appeared when named, and now wandered past the trees they were in. It seemed not only to go where told, but to start where needed. It was an obliging path.

They climbed down and approached the path, which glowed brightly enough to make everything on it visible. “Take us to—” Hugo started, and paused. Someone was already on it.

It was a young woman with long red hair and blue-green eyes. She jumped when she saw them, rather prettily, because her hair and skirt flared, showing nice bare shoulders and nice nude knees. “Oh! I didn’t see you two handsome men out there in the darkness. I was just walking along this wonderfully obliging path on my way to harvest a peach for a midnight snack.” The path glowed for a moment, evidently appreciating the compliment.

“We were just about to ask the path to take us to Princess Ida,” Hugo said.

“What a smart idea! She can surely help you, though I don’t see why two such competent men should need any help.”

The Factor exchanged half a glance with Hugo. There was something winning about this girl.

“Hello,” Hugo said, waxing social. “I am Hugo, and this is the Random Factor.” He didn’t bother to try to explain about their exchanged bodies. “My—his talent is conjuring fruit. I’m sure he has a nice peach for you.”

The Factor took the hint and conjured the loveliest ripest juiciest possible peach. He held it out to the girl.

“Oh thank you!” she exclaimed, accepting the fruit. “You are so thoughtful. I am Besanii. My talent is flattering people and things.”

They might almost have guessed, the Factor thought.

“The path may have known that we could provide your peach,” Hugo said. “So it led you to us.”

“Yes, it usually takes the most direct route. But why are you seeking Princess Ida, if I may ask, at this late hour? It must be fantastically important.”

The two men exchanged the other half of their glance. “We fear some undefined nemesis,” Hugo explained. “We hope that Ida can explain it.”

“Oh, no,” Besanii murmured.

“There is a problem?” the Factor asked.

“No, not at all, no problem at all,” Besanii said quickly. “Thank you so much again for the peach and I’ll go now.” She turned so swiftly that her hair and skirt flared again, showing more than bare shoulders and knees, and hurried away.

There was definitely something odd here. “I think she knows about the nemesis,” Hugo said, when his eyes recovered from the momentary flash of panty.

“And won’t or can’t tell us,” the Factor agreed, as his eyes recovered from the flash of bra. “Just as that farmer and the klutz girl didn’t tell us.”

“Maybe there are others on this path,” Hugo said.

“Who may also refuse to clarify the danger. I suspect we’re best off going directly to Ida.”

“I could use some shoes,” Hugo said, looking at his bare feet. “I lost mine in the tree.”

“Ask the path.”

“Good idea. Path, I—” He broke off, and the Factor saw why. There was a pair of sandals growing next to the path that surely had not been there a moment ago, and certainly not two moments ago.

Hugo picked them, shook them, set them down, and put his feet into them. And flipped forward so hard he landed on his back.

“There’s no need to do stunts,” the Factor said, concerned about such treatment of his body.