Jumper Cable (20 page)

He had a point. Except that the tombstone asked “What’s the point?”

Maybe that was the real question.

“Why should we bring you your will to live, if you hate your job so much you don’t want to live?” Phanta asked.

“I don’t know. It’s this job, this curse, that’s destroying me. Each time I kill a loyal sheep, I die a little myself.”

“We have to get you out of that job,” Jumper said.

“But the curse—”

“F**k the curse!” Phanta exclaimed. “Oops, I’m imitating Haughty.”

But Jumper was getting a glimmer. “You are bound by the curse. What are the sheep bound by?”

“They go where I guide them,” Shepherd repeated with forced patience. “They trust me.”

“Suppose you told them the truth?”

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“The curse prevents me.”

“Suppose someone else told them?”

“They wouldn’t listen. They don’t trust strangers.”

“Maybe they would, if we did it correctly.”

“Are you daft? The language doesn’t matter. They heed only me.”

“I think Jumper is on to something,” Phanta said. “I could tell them.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? They won’t heed you. They’re sheep. ”

“Let’s give it a try anyway.”

“No, this won’t—”

She stepped into him and kissed him hard on the mouth. He fell back, three-quarters stunned. “You don’t object, do you?” she inquired. Shepherd opened his mouth. Phanta opened her blouse. That increased the dose of stun, and he couldn’t speak. There was a certain private satisfaction watching a woman herd a man, when Jumper himself was not the victim.

“This way,” Jumper said, moving to the corral outside. Phanta took Shepherd by the hand and led him out. He tried again to protest, but she used her free hand to flick up her skirt for half a flash, and he was silenced. She did know how to use what she had. There were the sheep, milling about. “Hey, ewes,” Phanta called loudly. “Shepherd has an announcement to make.”

They continued to mill, ignoring her.

“This is important,” she said, annoyed. “In fact it’s a matter of life and death. Yours.”

Not one sheep paid attention.

They were getting nowhere. Shepherd was right: the sheep paid attention only to him, and he was mute, thanks to Phanta’s kiss and underwear.

“Do you have a stupid death wish?” Phanta demanded, beginning to get angry.

Then a really bright bulb flashed over Jumper’s head. “The tombstone,” he said. “Try it on them.”

“But it’s for him.”

“Yes. But maybe not directly. Heave it into their midst.”

“I think you’re crazy,” she muttered. But she lifted the tombstone and hurled it into the center of the flock.

It puffed into dark vapor and settled among the sheep. Immediately their attitude changed. They stopped milling and gazed at Shepherd as if seeking his guidance.

“Now tell the sheep,” Jumper said. “Speaking for him. Keep him quiet.”

“Now I get ewe,” she said with two-fifths of a smile. Then she stood directly in front of Shepherd, facing the sheep. “Listen, ewes,”

she said. “I have a message for you from Shepherd. He has an indisposition at the moment and can’t speak for himself, but you can see he agrees.”

Shepherd opened his mouth again. Without even looking, Phanta twitched her skirt up, flashing more panty, and he was instantly stifled.

“Shepherd is a good man,” she continued, “but he is under a curse. He must kill you, ten by ten, every day. He hates it, because he loves you, but he has no choice.”

The sheep listened. They looked at Shepherd, who struggled again to speak, but only succeeded in seeming to agree. Phanta had him under control.

“So what does he want you to do about it?” Phanta asked rhetorically. Then she looked blank. She had run out of ideas.

“Revolt,” Jumper said. “Break out. Then he can’t kill them.”

“He wants you to revolt,” Phanta said. “To break out of here. So he can’t kill you.”

Their expressions changed. Understanding was coming. But they still didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll show them,” Jumper said.

“My friend Jumper will show you how,” Phanta said. “Follow him.”

The sheep looked again at Shepherd. He tried yet again to protest, compelled by the curse, but once more was stifled by a flash of panty. Panty magic might not be stronger than the curse, overall, but Phanta was close while the curse was general, so she was able to block it long enough.

Jumper went out. He gazed at the wall of the corral. Then he nerved himself and charged headfirst into it.

The impact was stunning in a way that pan ties weren’t, and the fence held after denting only a little.

But the sheep understood. They might be innocent ewes, but they knew how to butt. They charged at the fence, heads down. The fence might have held against a single sheep, or several sheep. But it was battered by a hundred sheep. It was stretched and fractured, and in moments it fell flat and the sheep charged over its supine boards. They had done it!

But then they milled about again, not knowing what to do next. They needed new guidance.

“Or ga nize them,” Jumper told Phanta as he got back to his feet.

“You need to or ga nize,” Phanta cried. “Elect a leader. Follow him.”

She paused. “I mean, her. She’ll tell you what to think, what to do. The ewe tube.”

But the sheep didn’t understand about elections. They just looked at Phanta and Shepherd.

In desperation, Phanta turned to Shepherd. “We’ve done it. The sheep revolted and broke out. You can’t kill them outside of the corral, can you?”

“No,” he said, surprised. “The curse doesn’t reach out here.”

“Tell them how to hold an election. To or ga nize,” she said.

“Yes, I can do that, now.”

“Nothing can stop you,” Phanta said.

A woman appeared, running from the broken corral. “Shepherd!”

she cried. “What are you doing?”

“It’s my sister Sharon,” he said. “She’s cursed too. She’ll stop me.”

“This is my job,” Jumper said. He jumped out to intercept the woman.

“Get out of my way,” she exclaimed. “I have to stop my brother from—”

Jumper silenced her with a firm kiss. Turnabout was fair play, he had heard somewhere. Now he was taking her out of the scene, so that Phanta could complete her mission. Because it would not be finished until Shepherd had thoroughly broken the curse. Sharon jerked her head back. “You don’t understand! I have to—”

This time not only did he kiss her, he took two handfuls of her filled panty.

She pulled back again, less violently. “Are you going to keep doing this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re such a fetching creature I just can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Bleep!”

“Of course. But first we must get private.”

She laughed. “How can I resist such a sweet invitation?”

Soon they were in the building, on a bed of straw, nonsummoning the stork.

“You’re a good learner,” she remarked.

“You’re a perfect accomplice.”

“I meant about how to foil a curse.”

“That too,” he agreed.

“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t like you,” she said, doing it enthusiastically.

“Of course. How else can you corrupt me?”

“Maybe too good a learner,” she muttered.

In due course they returned to the field outside the corral. The sheep appeared to have been or ga nized.

“They are holding their election,” Phanta said. “Once they have their chosen leader to follow, he can lead them away from here, and our job will be done.”

“The curse will have nothing to enforce,” Shepherd agreed. “I will be out of a job. I won’t be sorry to see the slaughter stop, but I will miss the sheep. They’re nice folk.”

“Who will no longer be ewesed,” Phanta said with a smile.

“I will be alone.”

“You will surely manage.”

He considered. Then a faint bulb flashed. “I will have nothing to do except court you.”

“What?” she asked, surprised.

“Your underwear fascinates me. I want to get closer to it. And you. I love your kisses.”

“But I was just distracting you from the curse so that we could save the sheep.”

“You did a most effective job. I hope you will continue distracting me forever.”

Phanta looked at Jumper. “What do I do now?”

Sharon answered instead. “You made your bed. Now lie in it.”

“Yes!” Shepherd agreed.

“I don’t know.”

Then Shepherd took hold of her and kissed her. Little hearts swirled.

“Well, maybe,” she said breathlessly.

The sheep alleviated their huddle. A ewe approached Shepherd.

“You have chosen?” he asked.

“Ewe,” she bleated.

“Yes, you are all ewes,” he agreed. “You’re a selected flock. But who did you choose to lead you far from here?”

“Ewe,” she repeated.

“We’ve just been over that. I know your nature. I just want to know your new leader.”

Then Jumper caught on. “This is how she says ‘you.’ They have chosen you to be their leader.”

Shepherd’s jaw dropped half a mea sure. “But I betrayed you! I was killing you! You don’t want to have anything more to do with me.”

“Ewe.”

Shepherd shook his head, dismayed. “But why?”

The sheep formed part of a smile. “E we’re cute.”

“I’m a murderer!”

“E we’ve changed. We want ewe.”

“It seems you have a job after all,” Phanta said. “You can lead them to perpetual safety.”

“But I’m a cursed depressive!”

“We gave your will to live to the sheep,” Phanta said. “Now they want to live. If you are with their flock, you’ll share it. You won’t be depressive any more.”

He considered. “That may be. But now I realize that there must be more to life than just leading sheep around. I need a woman to fulfill me. You.”

“But—”

He kissed her again. This time there was a small explosion of hearts. Phanta turned to Jumper. “Excuse us, please. Why don’t you two go back to the barn for a while?”

“But—”

“This way,” Sharon said, leading him there.

Jumper realized that once more the man of the scene had impressed the woman of the scene. It was, after all, the dream realm. He allowed himself to be led. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to go. After another ellipsis-battering bout in the stall, Jumper became reflective. “In time we’ll complete our mission. Then you won’t need to distract me anymore. Will I ever see you again?”

“Do you feel ewesed?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“In time, when you fail to complete your mission, and you admit your defeat, will you want anything to do with me?”

“Well, I’m a spider. So I will have no reason to remain here.”

“None?”

“Oh, Sharon, I know you’re the enemy. But I wish—”

She kissed him. “So do I. But of course our relationship is doomed.”

“Of course,” he agreed sadly.

They returned to the field. Shepherd and Phanta seemed to have worked things out. “He gave me an amulet, so I can visit him,” she said, holding up a miniature shepherd’s crook.

“Do it soon,” Shepherd said. Then he went to lead the sheep to salvation, and Sammy led Jumper and Phanta back to the Found Cabin. The others knew the situation at a glance. “Yew, too,” Wenda said.

“I mean, ewe. Yew dew look sheepish.”

“I, too,” Phanta agreed, showing her little crook.

“Sooner or later, one of you will be corrupted,” Haughty said.

“Then we’ll lose the mission.”

“But those men are so handsome,” Maeve said.

“And they make us feel so beautiful,” Olive agreed.

“And Jumper’s no better,” Haughty said. “Someone really worked him over this time.”

“Let’s get on with the next scene,” Jumper said.

“My turn,” Eve said, picking up the Hand of Honor. “Sammy?”

The cat was on the way again, and they chased after him through the usual array of settings. This time they wended south, all the way to Centaur Isle, to an enormous edifice. It might be Xanth’s fanciest stall. Sammy settled on a small bed of straw.

There was a handsome male centaur, pondering a pile of papers. He looked up as they arrived. “Ah, you must be the human assistants I summoned. Are you good at paperwork?”

“No,” Eve said. “I’m nobody’s assistant. I came to return your lost honor.”

“What would I want with that? It took me years to scheme my way to the top, and honor had nothing to do with it.”

“Then you really need this.” She pushed the hand at him. He raised a hand to ward it off. That was his mistake. The two hands met, and the symbol sank into the living one. “Oh, no!”

“Mission accomplished,” Eve said, satisfied.

“The bleep it is,” the centaur snapped. “You have dumped me into an awful mess. You’ll have to stay and help me get out of it.”

“You don’t know who you’re talking to, horse foot,” Eve said. “You can’t tell me to do anything.”

“And you don’t know whom you are addressing, hominid wench,”

the centaur said. “I will tell you exactly what to do.”

Eve glared at him, sparks flashing from her eyes. “Really?”

He glared back, his own eyes sparking. “Really.”

“I am Princess Eve, the Sorceress of the inanimate.”

“I am King Clark Centaur, whose talent is to compel others to do my will.”

“Impossible. That talent has been used before.”

“Not in a centaur.”

“Centaurs don’t have talents.”

“We do. We just did not admit it before.”

They glared at each other, the imperious human princess and the imperious centaur king, more sparks coruscating halfway between them where the glares collided.

Jumper realized that he would have to mediate. But he had no idea how. Then he got an idea. “Sharon,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Who calls me?” her voice came. Then she stepped into view. She was a lovely female centaur.

Jumper took a flying guess about her identity in this scene. “Your brother has a quarrel with Princess Eve. I may be able to calm her if you can calm him.”

She nodded. “Clark, she doesn’t know any better. She’s human. ”

“Eve, we need to see this through and wrap it up,” Jumper reminded her.