“Wow!” a nearby stone said. “She must have nymphly ancestry. I haven’t seen boobies like that since that flock of dodos waddled by.”
“That’s boobs, you boob!” another stone said. “You got rocks in your head?”
“Whatever,” the first said stonily.
Meanwhile, Dolph stared. He was still young enough to really appreciate such a sight. “Maybe not as full or firm, for a zombie,” he said. His eyeballs were beginning to glaze.
“I should hope not. How about this?” She tugged at her skirt.
Dor knew he should do something, but his own eyeballs were locked, and he knew that Bink’s were too. It wasn’t possible for a man to look away from such a sight voluntarily. The effect was similar to that of the hypnogourd. And if she showed her panties—
“This is really getting interesting,” a piece of deadwood said. “What does she have under there?”
Then a bug happened to fly by just at eyeball height, interrupting Dor’s view. He clamped his eyes closed and turned his head away, so as not to get caught again.
“That’s fine,” Dor said quickly, before she could freak anyone out and have her will of him. He stepped between Bink and the sight, freeing him. Then he did the same for Dolph, and took the young man by the shoulders, turning him around. “No zombie can match any of you, I’m sure,” he said over his own shoulder. “We are sorry we can’t marry you, but we must be on our way. We have pressing business elsewhere.”
“I knew there was a catch,” Miss Givings said. “There always is.”
“Yes, they are surely a great catch,” Miss Interpret agreed.
“But you haven’t seen what else,” Miss Conception cried. “You can’t conceive what—”
“We’re looking, we’re looking!” several stones said.
Dor bustled Dolph away. “Don’t look back,” he warned. “You have no business being amazed by anything not offered by your wife.”
“Oh, yes,” Dolph agreed, remembering.
“Now take us to Castle Zombie.”
Dolph changed to roc form, and in a moment they were up, up, and away, winging toward the Zombie Master’s edifice.
“Squawk,” Dolph remarked sadly, glancing down at the three forlorn figures below.
“Yes, I know,” Dor agreed. “But we were really not eligible. I’m sure they will find three other men, in due course, and make them very comfortable, after their glazed eyeballs heal.”
“I wonder if their dialogue is entirely innocent?” Bink asked. “It is almost as if Miss Conception acted only when their words were not enough.”
“She may indeed have had a concept,” Dor agreed. “As it was, only an unlikely coincidence enabled us to escape.” As he spoke, he realized that it had been exactly the kind of coincidence that happened around his father. Could there be a connection? He wasn’t sure. In fact the frustrating thing about his father was that he had never been able to be sure.
Now Castle Zombie hove into view. It was rather battered and worn looking, as if chunks of corroded blocks were falling off. The moat was a puddle of slime. This could not be from inattention, because a zombie gardener was working there. He was carefully raking more dirt into the water, to be sure it was properly foul.
They landed just beyond the decrepit drawbridge. Dor hesitated to cross it, lest the worm-eaten planks give way and dump him into the muck below.
Bink considered. “I suspect that magic makes this look worse than it is,” he remarked.
“No doubt,” Dor agreed. “Maybe some illusion, or some debilitating spells. Either way, I wouldn’t care to chance it without testing it.”
“I’ll test it.” Bink, with the carelessness of his new youth, went right ahead and crossed without trouble. So Dor and Dolph followed, now assured that the planks would hold. But Dor made a mental note: he would have to watch to make sure his father didn’t do something more foolish than risking a mere dunking in slime. Youth had its liabilities.
They came to the inner portcullis, which was badly rusted. A zombie guard challenged them with a corroded spear. “Halsh!”
“Hey, who you talking to, wormface?” a paving stone demanded.
“We three kings have come to speak with the Zombie Master,” Dor said.
“Heesh nough inn.”
Dor was getting the hang of zombie speech. “He’s not in? Then may we talk with Millie the Ghost?” Actually she hadn’t been a ghost for fifty five years—the same as Dor’s age, coincidentally—but for about 807 years she had been a ghost, so her friends still thought of her that way.
“Ghoo onn inn.”
“Thank you.” They walked on into the castle proper.
The interior was a good deal nicer than the exterior, because this was Millie’s domain, and she was no zombie. The floors were clean, and there were curtains on the portals. Even the air was fresher. Castle Zombie showed the fallacy of judging a thing by its exterior; it was actually a nice residence.
“Get a load of this,” a stone lintel remarked appreciatively. A woman was approaching them.
“Oh, hello!” Millie exclaimed. “How nice to see you again, King Dor and Prince Dolph and—” She paused.
“Bink,” Bink said.
“Oh, you’ve been youthened!” she exclaimed, delighted. “Chameleon too?”
“Chameleon too,” Bink agreed. “She will be lovely, in about two weeks.”
“Come in and have some tee and crumples,” Millie said, ever the gracious hostess. She was now in her early seventies, in terms of active living time, and in her eight hundreds chronologically. Like Electra, she had taken a number of centuries out, remaining her then-age of seventeen. She was still a lovely woman. Her talent was sex appeal, and age had masked but not abolished it. Dor remembered how she had been his baby-sitter when he was twelve, and how her beauty and talent had affected him then. He was still a little bit in love with her, but he had it well under control. Her present physical age helped.
Her tee and crumples were delicious, of course. The tee was in cups shaped like the letter T, and the crumples were twisted and crunched bits of pastry that looked like failed efforts but weren’t. They were appropriate for a place in which zombies thronged. “And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” she inquired.
“Actually, we came to see your husband,” Dor said. “But perhaps you can help us.”
“Jonathan is away right now. What is your need?”
“We wish to know why the zombies are stirred up and walking all over Xanth.”
“Oh, are they? I didn’t realize. I haven’t been out recently, because we don’t like to leave the castle unattended. What are they doing?”
“Just walking everywhere. They don’t seem to be doing any harm, but ordinary folk are bothered, you understand.”
She smiled, and Dor felt the lure of her again. What a creature she had been, in her physical twenties, when he was in his impressionable childhood! “I understand. I do love Jonathan, but somehow I never quite became accustomed to his business of making zombies. Of course it’s not the zombies’ fault that they are rotten; some of my best friend are zombies. But they do lack social grace.”
That was a substantial understatement. “Yes. We would like to ascertain what is rousing them, so as perhaps to put it to rest.”
“Quickly,” Dolph said.
“Of course,” Millie agreed. “But I really can’t think what the matter might be. The zombies have been doing well recently. They even elected a king from their own number, so as to form their own kingdom. He is Xeth—Zora and Xavier’s son.”
“Xeth!” Dolph exclaimed. “That’s what that zombie was trying to say.”
“He is a fine figure of a man now; you would hardly know he is part zombie. But he’s a responsible person; he would not try to stir things up in the living world. Not without considerable reason.”
“A zombie king,” Dor said thoughtfully. “He could stir them up, if he did have reason. Perhaps we should talk with him.”
“I don’t know where he is. Jonathan knows where all the zombies are; that’s part of his talent. But he is away, in a manner of speaking, and I don’t know how soon he will be back.”
“We have an important wedding to attend to in a week,” Dor said. “We really need to get this straightened out soon.”
“Oh, I see.” Women related well to weddings. “But it would be very difficult to find Jonathan right now.”
“Exactly where is he?” Bink asked.
“That’s complicated to explain.”
“We will try our best to understand,” Dor said firmly.
“I will try, then. Of course you know about Princess Ida’s moon.”
“Ptero,” Dor said.
“Last year we learned that it is more sophisticated than we supposed. It is actually the manifestation of her talent of the Idea. All the folk who ever lived on Xanth, or ever will live, or ever might exist, are there, in their soul forms.”
Dor was startled. “All the folk? But what about those of us who are here, now?”
“You are there too, only with the current year of your lives absent there. And time is different there; time is geography. But that’s only part of it. There is an aspect of Ida herself there, and she has her own moon. And on that moon is another Ida, with—”
“Please,” Dor said. “My comprehension is being strained. What has this to do with your husband?”
“Each little moon is different,” she explained. “With different magic. Jonathan thought there might even be a zombie world. If so—”
“I see. That would be the perfect place for the zombies to be. Especially if they had a kingdom. Their own world!”
“Exactly. So Jonathan is exploring to see if he can find such a world. He does what he can for his flock.”
“Maybe the zombies are looking for it too, in regular Xanth,” Bink suggested.
“No, I don’t think so. They were supposed to wait.”
“How long will it be before the Zombie Master returns?” Dor asked.
“I don’t know. He said to wake him up if he is gone more than three days, and it’s only been one day.”
All three of them did a quick reassessment. “He is sleepwalking?” Bink asked.
“No, just sleeping. In our bedroom. I check on him often, just in case.”
“But then how can he be exploring worlds?”
“He made an arrangement with Princess Ida and the Night Stallion to explore them in the dream realm,” she explained. “It’s more convenient that way, and safer, because he can’t truly be lost or hurt, and he can search more efficiently.”
Dor was having trouble with comprehension again. “But if he’s only dreaming, it isn’t real. So whatever he finds won’t actually be there.”
“Oh, no, it’s real. He’s not real, while there, but the worlds are exactly as they are. I think. It is a controlled dream, relating to reality. He just won’t be able to take anything from there, except information.”
“He’s like a ghost,” Dolph said. “You must have thought of that.”
“Why yes, I did,” she agreed. “I have had experience. He seems real while there, and can talk with the people, but can’t stay. If he gets chomped by a dragon, he’ll be gone, though, and will wake on his own, and maybe unable to return. So I’m sure he’s being very careful. I understand that there are remarkable sights there.”
“There are some here in Xanth too,” Dolph murmured, rubbing a bit of glaze off an eyelash.
“I don’t think we can wait two days,” Dor said. “We need to get the zombies settled well before the big wedding. Could you wake him early?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that!” Millie said, horrified. “He said not to disturb him for anything short of an emergency, because he might not be able to find his way back to a choice site if he doesn’t have time to mark the way.”
“Mark the way?” Bink asked. “How can a dream be marked?”
“It’s part of the magic the Night Stallion lent him. He can draw a glowing chalk line around something, that will stay in place after he leaves. So he can return later and make sure it’s what the zombies want. But he can mark only one place at a time, so he has to be careful.”
“Could we go after him?” Dolph asked. “So we can find him, and ask him, without interrupting his search?”
“Why, I hadn’t thought of that,” Millie said. “I suppose if you sniffed the sleep spell, you could.”
This, weird as it was, seemed to be a way. “Is there enough of that spell for all three of us?”
“Oh, yes, we have plenty of it.”
“But how would we find him, in that dream realm?” Dor asked.
“Oh, that wouldn’t be hard. He leaves glowing footprints. That’s so I can find him, if I need to.”
“Then why couldn’t he follow his own footprints, on another visit?” Dolph asked.
“They won’t stay after he goes. So he has to remember the way, and mark his place.”
“Then perhaps that is our best course,” Dor said. “We can find him, ask him, and return in time to get the zombies settled.”
Millie had no problem with that. “You can use a guest chamber,” she said. “I will bake more crumples for your return.”
That seemed like an excellent arrangement.
3
SOLITAIRE FOR TWO
Breanna woke at dusk, refreshed. It was time to go see the Good Magician, since she was now satisfied, for no reason she knew, that this was her only feasible escape from the zombies. So she quickly ate some hasty pudding she found, and set her face toward the darkest east.
“There is an enchanted path leading to Magician Humfrey’s castle,” Mare Imbri said. “But the zombies seem to be able to walk those paths, so that’s not safe for you. However, I know of another path that is privately enchanted, that should do about as well.”
“What’s a private enchantment?”
“One that’s not officially sanctioned by King Dor. This one was set up by Com Passion, and—”
“Is this a dragon or tangle tree?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Com Passion won’t hurt you. In fact Forrest Faun and I are her friends; we visit her sometimes to play dreams vs. realities. But you won’t have to enter her cave; just keep on going toward the castle. You should be there by dawn.”
“Okay.” Breanna started walking.
Imbri trotted along beside her. “It’s right this way, beyond the Jackpot there.”
Breanna saw a man sitting on a big glowing pot. She paused. “I know the centaurs are open about natural functions, and maybe some other folk are too, but I’d prefer to wait until he gets off the pot.”
Imbri made a laughing neigh. “He’s not having a function! He’s giving away money. Everyone who passes him has to take some, to get on the path.”
Sure enough, as they approached Jack reached down under himself, into the depth of the pot, and pulled out a handful of grubby coins. Imbri took one in her mouth, and Breanna took another in her hand.
“But what’s the point?” she asked as they stepped onto the path.
“Jackpots just like to give away lots of money.” Imbri still held the coin; she wasn’t speaking with her mouth, but with a dreamlet.
“I can see that. I mean, what’s the money for? No one buys anything in Xanth, does she?”
Imbri considered. “Well, you might encounter a slot machine some time. They eat coins.”
Breanna nodded, and put the soiled coin in her purse. She didn’t like dirty money, but perhaps it would be useful sometime.
Imbri’s ears perked up. “Oops, I’m being summoned. I have to go see about a daydream; I still do a few of them for my friends.”
“You did some good ones for me, I think,” Breanna agreed. “Thanks for everything.” She waved as the mare faded out.
The path was clear enough, and Breanna walked swiftly along it. Soon she came to a sign marking an offshoot: COM PASSION. That was the maker of the path, who evi
dently lived in a cave. But it wasn’t necessary to go into the cave, so she walked on by.
But then she saw a ragged shape ahead. It was a zombie! They had found her again.
Breanna hardly took time to think. She turned about and ran back along the path. But soon she saw another zombie coming from the other direction. She was trapped between them.
She turned at the sign and ran into the cave. At least it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, and maybe it would provide a place to hide from the zombies. It was dark, but of course that was no problem for her. She saw several jars of currant jelly, and realized that there must be something electrical nearby.
She saw a box of some sort on a pedestal of some sort. A screen on the box lighted. Words appeared:Well, now.
What was this? There didn’t seem to be any danger, but she didn’t feel exactly at ease either. This cave was spooky. But with the zombies outside, she would have to bear with it. That meant dealing with this Com Passion character. “I’m looking for—”
Of course, dear, the screen printed. Did you bring me a little gift?
Breanna suffered a flash of realization that illuminated the cave for half a split second. This was Com Passion herself! A screen machine. And she expected a little gift. It would be best to oblige her. But what did she have? Only one thing she could spare.
“It’s very small, and somewhat dirty,” she said apologetically. She fished out the coin.
Why thank you. Blackwave girl. I love it. There followed a row of little hearts. ♥♥♥♥♥♥
Breanna looked for a place to set the coin, Give it to my mouse, Com Passion printed.
Breanna looked around nervously. There was a mouse in this cave?
Then the cave shimmered, and became a regular room. A door opened, and a young brown woman walked in. “I am Mouse Terian,” she said. “I normally sleep in my mouse pad.”
Oh. Breanna handed her the coin. Terian took it and set it on a shelf. Then she turned again. “What is it that you wish of my mistress?”
“I—I don’t understand.”
Terian frowned. “What word do you not understand?”
“It’s not that. I mean, I didn’t come here to ask for anything. I just—well, it gets complicated to explain.”
Zombie Lover Page 5
