Zombie Lover (14 page)

"What gives with all these animals?" Dor demanded.

"It was just raining cats and dogs," the big mouth answered.

"I think I'm beginning to appreciate why we were warned against the comic strip," Dor muttered.

They managed to get beyond the animals, but were not clear of the strip. Dolph saw a purse lying in the path, so he bent to pick it up— and it exploded, spattering him with dirt. "That's a disperse, dummy." the mouthy figure said, chucking. "So now are you going to try to play the lute?"

Sure enough, there was a stringed musical instrument there. "Let me try it," Bink said, and picked it up.

The strings of the lute snapped free of their moorings and tried to wrap themselves around him. But he happened to be standing beside a wall of colored blocks, and the strings got tangled around the blocks instead. Suddenly the blocks moved, manifesting as a big snake composed of blocky segments. It looped away, dragging the lute.

"Sidewinder captures disso-lute," the figure said gleefully.

"We've got to get out of here!" Dolph cried. "Let's follow that snake."

They charged after the sidewinder, but it swerved back into the center of the strip. They were in danger of losing the footprints, so they stopped and looked for them.

The prints led to the side, but that trail was blocked by a big picture of a collection of pins, labeled TING. "We'll have to move that out of the way," Dor said.

"Uh-uh-iih!" the running figure said. "This is a pain-ting."

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''Just what are you?" Bink demanded of the little creature.

"I thought you'd never ask! I'm a running commentary. If you think I'm bad, you should meet my cousin the running gag. You can get rid of him only by telling lame jokes, so his legs stop working."

"So can you tell us how to get out of this comic strip?" Dolph demanded. But the commentary had already run away.

"There's an open space," Dor said, peering to the side.

They made for it. It turned out to be a square section paved with linoleum. It looked harmless.

Then a wild-eyed woman appeared with wild roses in her hair. Her body was luscious, but there was something dangerous about her. "Hi! I'm Meriel Maenad. Do any of you want to indulge in floor-play with me?"

"No!" Bink said quickly. He knew about the maenads; they were bloodthirsty wild women who loved to tear men apart, literally.

"Just as well," the running commentary remarked, reappearing. "Those who indulge on that floor get trampled by the families of their partners, who don't much like them."

"How do we get out of here?" Dolph demanded, but again the commentary had run off.

Then a large serpentine head loomed over them. ' That looks like a hydra," Dor said nervously. Sure enough, in a moment several more heads appeared.

The first head's mouth opened. Fire shot out, just missing them. "That's a fire hydrant!" Bink cried. "Run!"

They ran so fast their surroundings became a blur. Their feet stepped on egregious puns, getting all pungent. Bink was disgusted.

Suddenly the surroundings cleared. They were out of the comic strip.

They eased to a halt. "Now I know what Gnome Well meant," Dolph said. "I don't want to go through that again."

"At least the regular landscape is relatively clear," Dor agreed. "But have we lost the trail?"

They looked around. Soon Bink saw the footprints emerging from the strip and proceeding west.

Bink, lagging back a bit, heard a faint stirring in the comic strip. Then there came the voice of the running commentary. "And another

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foolish traveler braves the ticklish zone." There was the sound of stifled laughter, as if someone was being unwillingly tickled.

Was that coincidence, or was there really someone or something following them? Bink decided not to say anything until he had more definite evidence.

"This is slow," Dolph said. "Why don't I assume roc form and carry us swiftly along it?"

"And fly over any other comic strips," Dor agreed.

That would get them well ahead of any pursuit. Bink thought with satisfaction. If there was any.

Dor became a roc, and they got onto his huge feet and caught hold. Then he spread his wings and took off, flying low. Bink saw the footprints becoming a streak, because of the speed. They were traversing a great plain. This supposedly tiny world was huge, from this close.

There was a bank of clouds sheltering a storm. They veered around it, and passed a rainbow. Dor pointed: "Look—rainbow trout!"

Sure enough, there were pretty fish swimming in the rainbow.

They passed over another comic strip, and Bink realized that these were the boundaries between regions of Ptero. They were surely effective; no one would cross such strips carelessly.

The footsteps passed through the strip and emerged on the other side, unchanged. The Zombie Master must have had a cast-iron sense of humor.

They crossed a forest, catching glimpses of the prints under the trees. Then something familiar loomed ahead. "Castle Roogna!" Dor exclaimed. "How can it be here?"

"All the creatures who ever were, will be, or might be are here," Bink reminded him. "So I suppose that all their houses and architecture can be here too."

Dolph came to land before the castle. He missed by a little, and almost wound up in the zombie graveyard. "Hey!" a man cried.

"Sorry about that," Bink called.

Dolph managed to clear the graveyard and land safely. They got off his feet, and he resumed manform. "So is this really Castle Roogna?" Dor asked.

"Sure it is," the man answered. "What did you think it was, an outhouse?"

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"We were merely surprised, for we know of a similar castle far away."

The man approached. Then he did a doubletake. "Why you're Consort Dor! I didn't know you were out today."

"Consort Dor?" Dor asked blankly.

"Have you lost your memory? King Irene's husband."

"I suppose I have," Dor said, evidently taken aback. "Irene is here?"

"Of course. If you've lost your memory, I'd better introduce myself. I'm Zafar the zombie lover; I tend their graveyard while they rest."

"That's good," Dor agreed.

"I've got some forget-me-not extract," Zafar said. "It nullifies the effect of a forget spell. Maybe that will help you."

Dor shook his head. "I don't think so. But thanks."

Zafar returned to the graveyard. The three kings exchanged most of a glance. They shrugged.

The footprints led on in. They followed.

A huge head rose out of the moat. It was Souffle Serpent, the moat monster. He looked at the three with surprise, as if also not aware that they had gone out, then nodded and sank back under the surface.

"Why do I think this is about to be strange?" Dor inquired rhetorically.

"Because it is," Bink said. "Even for a dream."

A woman came to meet them at the front gate. She was about twenty seven, and was so lovely that the halls brightened as she passed.

Bink stared. It was Chameleon.

She recognized him at the same time. "Oh, Bink, you fook eleven years younger! How did you do it?" Then she stepped into him, embraced him, and kissed him.

Bink's head orbited another realm, as it did when she did that. But he knew this couldn't really be her. Because she had not entered the dream and gone to Ptero. And she was the wrong age: not her real seventy six or her youthened sixteen. And she was in the wrong phase, at the height of her beauty, instead of ugly or just this side of ordinary. So how could this be?

Dor and Dolph stood motionless and silent, as confused as he was. Chameleon was, after all, their mother and grandmother.

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She drew back half a notch. "Oh, Bink, I've missed you so! I didn't expect you back until tomorrow. Let's go up to the bedroom right now."

And she was in her stupid phase, so didn't have the wit to be discreet. How could he explain, if he figured it out himself?

He glanced at Dor, desperate for guidance. Dor was their son. He should know. But he looked blank.

Meanwhile, Chameleon was tugging him toward a stairway. He tried to hang back, but couldn't. "Oh, go on up," a stair told him. "You're only young twice."

"We'll meet you—after," Dolph called helpfully.

After a few confused moments, Bink found himself in their chamber. Chameleon closed the door, pushed him onto the bed, so that he had to sit, then sat on his lap. Her bottom was marvelously soft. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him in for a welcoming hug. Her divinely firm bosom pressed against his face. She smelled of heaven. His senses melted into one great blissful mass of joy.

But she couldn't be his wife! The real Chameleon was back in Xanth, in Castle Roogna, maybe in this very chamber. But it wasn't the same castle; it couldn't be.

She got up and began removing her clothing. "T can't get over how young you look," she breathed. "Almost the way you were when we were first youthened. You look wonderful." Her dress came off. She was one of those women who looked better with every glance.

If he didn't do something soon, he would lose all control. His twenty one-year-old body was eager to summon a battalion of storks in a quarter of an instant. He loved Chameleon, and desired her, especially when she was like this. But how could it be?

She stood before him in bra and panties, not only unbearably lovely, but excruciatingly sexy. He was in danger of freaking out. Only his real mental age of eighty one enabled him to tide through the sight.

Bit by bit, he worked it out. All the people and creatures who ever existed or might exist were here on Ptero. That included all of the Xanth folk. So Chameleon was here too. She really was his wife.

She took off the underwear. His eyeballs were heating; he had to blink repeatedly to prevent them from frying.

But she was older. No less desirable, but older. Time was supposed

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to be geography here, or vice versa; people could be any age. So she was twenty seven, here in Castle Roogna.

And this wasn't even the real Ptero, but a dream image of it. So this was a dream Chameleon, not the real one of either Ptero or Xanth.

She started to undress him. Her touch was wonderfully gentle yet compelling.

It still felt like adultery.

"Chameleon," he said. 'There's—there's something I must say."

"Can't it wait?" she asked, drawing off his shirt.

"Chameleon. I'm from Xanth."

"We're all on Xanth. in our off year," she said. She started work on his trousers.

"I mean I'm not from Ptero. I'm visiting from Xanth. I'm not— not the Bink who's due back tomorrow."