Board Stiff (Xanth) (27 page)

“Too bad,” a man said. “I’d like to have at that one while she’s unconscious.”

“And I’d like to have that dress,” the woman said.

Just so.

“No,” Giles said firmly. “Now put them in the oubliette. We’ll hold their trial two days hence.”

“Why have a trial?” a man asked. “We know they’re guilty. Everyone heard them defending puns.”

“The forms must be followed,” Giles said. “We don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Like feeding a princess to the dragon,” the woman said, laughing.

“It’s no laughing matter. Princesses have power. Some are Sorceresses.”

A dragon? This did not look good. But if they were awake for the trial they would have a chance to step into the next Event, leaving this dangerous village behind.

The villagers lifted the Quest members one by one and put them on a wagon. Then they hauled the wagon across the village to what looked like the ruins of an ancient castle. Kandy realized that Xanth must have had quite a history before the current day, because this was not the first evocative ruin they had encountered.

They rolled down a ramp and into a subterranean dungeon. There they put Mitch on a pallet suspended by a rope and pulley and lowered him into a dark hole in the floor. They played out a considerable length of rope; that was one deep hole. But eventually there was the sound of the pallet touching the bottom. They waited a moment, then reversed the pulley and hauled the pallet back up, empty.

They put Pewter on next, and levered him down into the deep hole. At least he would be able to help Mitch, out of sight of the villagers.

The third one was Astrid. “Are you sure I can’t--” the man started.

“No! She’s probably infected with puns.”

Again, Giles had save them mischief. The man was not without honor, meager as it was.

They lowered Astrid down. Then Tiara. Then Ease. “That’s a pretty feeble club he carries,” the man said. “It’s just a dumb board.”

And how would he like to have that board smack him upside the head? Kandy was indeed dumb, in the sense that she could not speak, but she was hardly stupid.

They descended into the hole. Kandy began to see the outline of a huge nether chamber: the oubliette, with that faintly glowing moss on its rounded wall.

Hands took hold of Ease and lifted him off the pallet. “This is the last one, I think,” a male voice said. “I heard them talking, above.”

“Yes,” a female voice said. “Too bad for them.”

The pallet was pulled up, and the bright disk of the hole went dark: the access had been covered over. They were locked in the oubliette.

“Let them be,” the man said. “They will revive soon. That dope they put in the food doesn’t last long.” He was modestly handsome, with curly black hair, wearing traveling clothes. Obviously another visitor to the village.

“Long enough to do the job,” the woman said. “It got us down here.” She was modestly pretty, also with curly black hair, probably his sister.

“We’re doomed, but at least we can make these other victims more comfortable, and answer their questions,” the man said.

Mitch stirred, the first to recover. Kandy knew why: he had distrusted the Mayor, as it turned out with good reason, and had not eaten heavily.

The man and woman went to him and helped him sit up. “Easy, stranger,” the man said. “You’re among friends, though we can’t help you much.”

“We were drugged,” Mitch said groggily.

“Yes. And lowered into the oubliette for safekeeping until the kangaroo trial.”

“Kangaroo?” Mitch asked. “Isn’t that a pun?”

“Not here,” the man said. “It means a mock trial whose outcome is fixed, done only for show. They want the semblance of legality, in case there are questions later.”

Pewter stirred, playing the role. He of course had picked up on everything Kandy had, but pretended ignorance. The man and woman went to him and helped him similarly. Then Astrid, Tiara, and Ease, who had eaten most heartily.

“We are all victims of PLO,” the man said. “That’s Pun Liberation Organization, dedicated to liberating Xanth from puns. They welcome the virus. They dispose of anybody they don’t like or trust.”

“We’re on a Quest to save the puns,” Mitch said. “And it seems they truly hate puns.”

“They truly do,” the man agreed. “Let’s introduce ourselves. I’m Pastor, and this is my twin sister Futura. Our names relate to our talents, and those are what got us into trouble.”

The Quest members introduced themselves candidly, as deception seemed pointless here. “I am Mitch, and my talent is fetching and sending ideas.”

“I am Tiara, and my talent is my wild hair, which actually floats.”

“I am Com Pewter, a machine. My talent is changing reality in my immediate vicinity, but I can’t practice it now because I am busy maintaining a firewall to keep the pun virus from destroying me.”

“I am Ease. My talent is to make complicated things easy.”

“I am Astrid Basilisk-Cockatrice, transformed to human form. My talent is killing folk with my stare, which is why I wear these dark glasses. But I do not mean you any harm.”

“And you hope to save the puns?” Pastor asked. “That’s a curious Quest.”

“Xanth is largely made of puns,” Mitch said. “Without puns, this would be a bleak land. That’s apart from folk like Pewter, who deserve to retain their existence. Now you two: what are your talents? We may need to pool our assorted talents to manage to escape this unkind confinement.”

Kandy knew what was on his mind: they could escape at any time by using a sequin. But other folk would not necessarily understand, or care to find themselves in a complete shift of venue, a new event. It might be that such a shift would do them more harm than good.

“If you wish,” Pastor said. “Our two talents complement each other. Mine is to reinvent the past, though it operates indirectly. Hence my name, Past-or. I can’t just change the past by fiat. But I can describe it to others, and the more people who believe it, the more real it is. So I am a storyteller, in a way, because what is a story but His Story? Whatever most people accept becomes official.”

“I don’t follow that,” Mitch said. “Many folk believe lies, but that doesn’t make the lies truth.”

“If it is a lie I spread, it can become the truth,” Pastor said. “That’s my magic.”

Mitch nodded. “That is potent magic! But can you use it to get the two of you and the five of us to have avoided being drugged and imprisoned?”

“No, because it’s not our belief that lends force to our plight,” Pastor said. “It’s the belief of the villagers. If I were with them, and able to spread a story that there had been no drugging or imprisonment, and enough of them came to believe it, then it would become reality. But as it is, the most who could unbelieve our captivity are seven, while there are dozens of villagers who believe it. Only if I could escape, and talk to them, without their realizing who I am, could I change it. And of course if I could escape, I would not need to change it.”

Mitch nodded. “So it’s like stepping in a hole you can’t step out of.”

“Pretty much,” Pastor agreed. “Now my sister’s talent is to reinvent the future, hence her name, Futura. We named ourselves once we discovered our talents. She can dream and tell stories of far off lands and kingdoms and fair princesses in danger by ugly trolls and fire breathing dragons, and before you know it there will be a far-off kingdom with exactly those things. Provided enough people believe it.”

“So can she tell a tale of our miraculous escape from this dungeon and make it come true?”

“Again, no,” Futura replied. “You know the nature of her talent, and that what she says is just a story. If you did not know, then it could happen.”

“Like Princess Ida,” Mitch said. “She can make something true by agreeing with a person who believes it.”

“Yes,” Futura agreed. “She is my idol. But my agreement alone isn’t effective. My whole audience has to believe. So Pastor and I could not free ourselves, in the past or the future, and neither could you. But if I told a persuasive story to the villagers, and enough of them came to believe, then it could be true.”

“Again, you need to get free in order to accomplish your freedom,” Mitch said.

“It’s a paradox,” she agreed sadly.

“But if there were a way for you to get out of here, into the village, unrecognized, then the two of you could tell stories of the past and future that would eliminate this whole captivity.”

“And we would no longer need to,” she said. “That’s another aspect of the paradox.”

“Not necessarily,” Mitch said. “We just might have a way out. But it has its own paradox, in that we would probably be nowhere near the village.”

“Is there any other way out?” Astrid asked, not eager to discuss the mechanism of her dress.

“No, the oubliette is completely walled in,” Pastor said. “The only access is via the hole in the top. Every few hours they lower food and drink so we won’t starve. There’s a bit of a trench at the edge that we use for refuse.”

Meanwhile a wasp flew up and landed on Kandy’s board. It seemed to sniff the wood, then took a bite.

OFF! Kandy thought at it.

Startled, the wasp flew off. But it was joined in another moment by several more wasps, all quite interested in the wood.

Now Astrid noticed them. “Paper wasps,” she said. Then she reconsidered. “Except they can’t be, because that’s a pun.”

Mitch smiled. “You’re used to wasps made of folded paper,” he said. “Those are a pun. But there are also real wasps who make paper from wood. These are that type. No pun.”

“They come and go,” Pastor said. “They leave us alone and we leave them alone. They mostly feed on the lichen on the wall. But they do seem attracted to that wooden board.”

“Do they live here?” Tiara asked.

“No, we have not seen any hive. They just feed here.”

“Then they must have an access.”

“I suppose so. But it would be a wasp-sized hole. Nothing we could use.”

“I wonder,” Mitch said. “The air here is reasonably fresh. There may be more of an access than we see.”

“We have had nothing to do for two days,” Futura said. “We inspected every stone of the wall. None are missing.”

“I wonder,” Mitch repeated. “Let’s track the wasps.”

Pastor shrugged. “Why not.”

They watched the wasps as they flew toward and away from the enticing board. Meanwhile other wasps lifted from the wall and flew to a particular stone, where they disappeared.

“Look at that,” Mitch said. “They fly right into the stone without crashing. It’s illusion!”

“Illusion!” Astrid repeated. “And big enough for a person to fit through.”

Now they were all really interested. But the stone was too high for any of them to reach.

“Maybe I can do it,” Tiara said. “Boost me up, Mitch.”

Mitch lifted her up to his shoulders. Then her hair flared out and drew on up into the air. She was floating! She managed to reach the wall and put her hand to the key stone. And her hand passed through it to the elbow.

Tiara put her other hand to the stone, and through it. She caught on to something beyond it. “There’s a passage!” she gasped. “I can feel its rough walls, and the air coming down through it.” Then she lost her grip and fell slowly until Mitch caught her.

“Well, now,” Mitch said.

“This is amazing,” Pastor said. “We never thought of this, and certainly did not invent it. It was there all along.”

“All along,” Futura agreed. “Maybe we can escape after all.”

“Maybe we can,” Astrid agreed.

“But now I am wondering whether we really should escape,” Mitch said.

The others looked at him. “You prefer to be fed to the dragon?” Pastor asked.

“No, it’s more complicated. Our quest had taken us to a number of odd aspects of Xanth, and in each there turns out to have been some reason for it. At first it was to recruit the remaining members of the party. Then it was to glean information that should help us when we come to the finale. We have not yet discovered the point of this imprisonment. It may be that we need to go through their trial in order to discover it.”

Pastor shook his head. “You have rare dedication. I would be extremely wary of the risk.”

“Well, I’m thinking that you and Futura can escape, and talk to the villagers anonymously, and perhaps persuade them that they are not against puns or strangers. Then we would not face much risk.”

“We could try,” Pastor said. “But it can take time for a consensus to develop. With only two days remaining before the trial, its chancy.”

“Focus on just one thing,” Mitch said. “That puns are not enemies but friends, and should be preserved. If they accept that, the case against us will fade.”

“It may,” Pastor said. “But probably not all the way, in that brief time. We can’t guarantee your acquittal.”

“Well, we have other means, if necessary,” Mitch said, glancing at Astrid.

“Oh, the basilisk,” Pastor said. “Who can kill with a stare. But that would be ugly.”

Kandy suspected that Mitch had been thinking of the dress and sequins Astrid wore. But he handled it with aplomb. “Yes, so we prefer an amicable settlement. Let’s help you on your way, so that you will have as much time as possible to change village history.”

“I should check it first,” Astrid said. “To be sure there are no dangers in the tunnel.”

“Thank you,” Futura said. “I never thought I would say that to a basilisk.”

“She’s a nice person,” Tiara said. “She’ll make some man an excellent wife, someday.”

Pastor’s sentiment seemed mixed. “I can see that she has a very nice form. But how could there be love, if she can’t directly look at any man eye to eye without killing him?”

“There’s a way,” Tiara said. “We will find it.”

Pastor did not argue the case, but it was evident that he was not persuaded.

They made a human pyramid with Mitch and Ease at the base with the board resting on their shoulders. Then Tiara stood on it, her hair making her light and stabilizing her. Then Astrid joined her on the board. She put her foot in Tiara’s linked hands and reached up to the invisible hole. She found it, got a hold, and drew herself up, in the process showing a good deal of her legs. Then she disappeared into the hole, first her head and upper section, then her mid-section, then her legs.