But Pewter lived far away, south across the Gap Chasm, not actually all that far from her home in the Black Village. How could she get there quickly?
Well, maybe the same way she had gotten here. But first she had to prepare. Could Pewter’s activities possibly be construed as censorship? In Mundania that was the suppression of certain political, ribald, or otherwise objectionable speaking or writing, and it happened a lot. No matter how innocent or well meaning the expression, there was bound to be somebody who found it offensive and wanted to abolish it, dictating that only that particular person’s beliefs and expressions were truly free. In Xanth it was brought by the Censor Ship, a dread craft whose docking meant awful mischief for those in the vicinity. She recalled when the Black Wave had suffered some of its effect. They had managed to escape it, fortunately, but all of them remembered. That was why they had made it a point to get on good terms with the De Censor Ship. Wherever that went, it abolished the evil suppression of the other ship, and even nulled the dread Adult Conspiracy of silence. So the DC Ship wasn’t welcome in most quarters, because the Adult Conspiracy was almost universal in Xanth; even dragons and ogres honored it. But because the Black Wave had emigrated from Mundania six years ago, its elder children mostly knew the secrets, and weren’t affected. Breanna herself understood perfectly how to summon the stork. She just didn’t much care to do it yet, and not ever until she found someone really worthwhile. Meanwhile it was convenient to pretend that she was as innocent as a regular Xanth juvenile. The words “I’m only fifteen” scared off just about any pushy male. Except, unfortunately, one whose brain was rotten, like a zombie king. So she had no fear of the De Censor Ship, and in fact it could be useful on occasion. It was just a matter of proper management.
She concluded that Pewter’s habit of revising reality could indeed be called censorship, because he didn’t allow opposing folk to have their say. Therefore his activity should be of interest to the Ship. And that was all she needed.
She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Fee Fo Fi Fip—I smell Censorship!” she called.
Immediately the lights of a ship hove into view. It was magic, and could sail through land rather than water. That was because it was the opposite of the Censor Ship, which sailed on water.
“Hello there, Breanna,” a girl in a sailor hat called.
“Hello, Tsunami,” Breanna replied. Tsunami’s magic talent was liquidation, which was why she was a vital crew member. She could turn any solid to water, and back again. Without that, the ship would become landbound in a hurry.
“What have you found?” Tsunami asked as the ship sloshed to a stop beside Breanna. She felt the land making little waves; it was weird.
“I just realized that Com Pewter is guilty of censorship,” Breanna said. “I want to go there and remonstrate with him.”
“Then get aboard,” Tsunami said, rolling down the gangplank.
Breanna went aboard. The ship turned and picked up speed. It did this by using Nots: if it was Not here, it must be There, and so it moved there. But if the skipper said Not again, it had to move on to another there. It was said that a speed of thirty Nots could get it just about anywhere in a hurry.
Indeed, it was soon Not in northern Xanth, and was crossing the Gap Chasm. This was interesting, because it couldn’t cruse in air, so had to sail down the chasm wall, across the bottom, and up the far wall. “Not here, Not here,” Tsunami kept saying, and the ship kept gaining velocity in its hurry to obey.
Breanna spied a line extending across the chasm. “Why not use that as a guide to cross more quickly?” she asked.
Tsunami looked. “Oh, no, that’s a time line. Follow that, and it takes you back in time.”
Breanna nodded. “I guess we don’t need that right now.”
Tsunami looked ahead. “Ah, there’s Clappy. His reports are always useful.”
Breanna saw a nondescript man standing near the ship. “Reports?”
“Yes.” Tsunami called out to the man. “Hey, make us a report!”
The man clapped his hands together. Instead of a clapping sound, they made a report: “The weather is fair on this day.” He clapped them again and made another report: “The Gap Dragon is foraging at the far end of the chasm at this hour.” He clapped a third time: “Three kings are traveling to Castle Zombie to inquire what is stirring up the zombies.”
“I could tell them that!” Breanna exclaimed.
“Thank you!” Tsunami called, throwing Clappy a kiss. He caught it and bowed.
They sailed on up the far side of the chasm, then resumed normal travel across the land. “Oh, there’s a lady bug,” Tsunami said, pleased.
In a moment the lady flew low and landed on the deck. She folded her bug wings and her glossy shawl covered them. It was brightly colored, with spots. “May I ride with you a while?” she inquired.
“Certainly,” Tsunami said. “I love lady bugs. You are all so pretty.”
“Thank you. I have never sailed on a ship before. This is fun.” She looked around. “I am Lady Chelle.” But soon she tired of the novelty, lifted her shawl clear, spread her insect wings, and flew away.
“They never stay long,” Tsunami said, a trifle sadly. “Sometimes whole flocks of bird-winged humans pass by, but they don’t have much interest in sailing when they can fly. They can change into birds when they want to.”
Soon they were approaching Com Pewter’s cave. “Not beyond the cave,” Tsunami said, and the De Censor Ship sloshed to a sudden stop, making the land ahead of it form into a wave.
Breanna stepped off. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you’d care to wait while I deal with this?” She was concerned about getting back to Com Passion.
“I’m afraid we can’t,” Tsunami said with regret. “We just got another call, and must tend to it immediately. Nothing is more important than opposing the Censor Ship.”
“I understand.” She would just have to figure out another way, when the time came.
The ship turned and sailed back north, leaving a wake that caused the land on which Breanna stood to rise and fall gently. As the ship disappeared, the effect subsided, until the land was as solid and steady as it had ever been.
Then the ground shook in another fashion. Trees crashed in the distance, and monstrous footprints appeared, coming this way. Breanna remembered that there was an invisible giant who herded visitors into Com Pewter’s cave.
“It’s okay,” she called. “I’m going in to see Com Pewter anyway.”
The shaking stopped. “Oooga,” the invisible giant called, sounding like a fog horn. Indeed, a bit of fog drifted down.
“Right,” she said.
A hugely toothed creature loomed up before her. It wore a vest on which the word MEGA was printed. It roared and opened its mouth, ready to take a big bite from her tender flesh. Several similar creatures were beyond it, guarding the cave entrance. How could she get inside?
Then she caught on. “You’re mega bites!” she exclaimed. “For Com Pewter!”
Abashed at being fathomed, the creatures retreated. Breanna walked quickly by them, and entered the cave. She knew it might be hard to leave again, but if her mission were successful, Pewter would be glad to let her go. She hoped.
The cave was quite dark, and she liked that. She proceeded confidently until she came to the motley collection of junk that was the body of the machine. “Hello!” she called.
The screen lighted. PRETTY BLACK GIRL FAILS TO SCREAM AND FLEE, it printed.
“You don’t need to change my reality,” Breanna told it. “I’m here on business.”
This surprised Pewter. She could tell, because his screen blinked and went fuzzy for three quarters of an instant. BUSINESS?
“I think you are guilty of censorship, and I want you to stop it.”
The machine seemed to be set back. I HAVE NEVER BEEN ON A SHIP.
“I mean that you change reality, so that others don’t get their fair say. That’s what they try to do in Mundania. I wa
nt you to stop it at once.”
GIRL CHANGES SUBJECT.
That was exactly what she meant, but now she couldn’t say it. However, she wasn’t annoyed, because that was only her pretext for getting a ride on the De Censor Ship. She had made an honest attempt, and now could get on with her main business. “I have come to teach you a great new game.”
The screen formed an eye. The eye ran over her form in much the way Smart Alec’s eye had. I AM UNABLE TO PLAY SUCH GAMES, TO MY REGRET.
“Why do you males have only one thought in your head?” she demanded rhetorically. She had mixed feelings about such looks. On the one hand she resented being sexually appraised, as if her body was the only reason for her existence. On the other hand, she was pleased to be noticed. So her protest was a matter of form as much as substance. “I’m going to teach you a card game. It’s from Mundania, so you haven’t encountered it before. Do you have a mouse?”
A mouse appeared by her feet. “Eeeek!” Breanna screamed, stepping back. She couldn’t help it; surprise appearances of mice always set her off. She knew it was ridiculous, and that the mouse wouldn’t hurt her. In fact she had once had a pet mouse that contentedly walked and pooped on her hand. But her reaction was hard-wired. “Change form!”
The mouse was replaced by a troll. “That’s worse!” she cried, now more sensibly alarmed. “Trolls eat girls. Or worse.”
“Please, you misunderstand,” the troll said. “I am Tristan Troll, doing service as Pewter’s mouse. I never ate girls. In fact I got into trouble with my village for letting a girl go.”
His voice was very cultured and reassuring. Breanna decided to trust him, for now. It wasn’t as if she had much choice, if she wanted to accomplish her mission. “I’ll need you to deal the cards.” She glanced at Pewter’s screen. “Make the semblance of a table, and fifty two cards with symbols on them.” She described the deck, and soon Tristan was holding it.
In due course she had demonstrated the three types of solitaire, but of course succeeded in losing all the games badly. “I wish I could win one for you, so you know how it’s done,” she said. “But for now you’ll have to take my word that it can be done.”
“Of course it can be done,” Tristan said. “I didn’t realize that that is what you were trying to do.”
“You can play one through to victory yourself?” Breanna asked, amazed. “I thought your lack of originality prevented you.”
“It might prevent Pewter, but I have an intellect capable of original thought.” The troll smiled, and the expression no longer seemed as horrible as it might have. “In fact it used to get me into serious trouble.”
“I know how that is,” Breanna said ruefully. “I get in trouble all the time.”
Tristan dealt out the cards for Free Cell on his own, and played quickly and accurately, making it look easy, and soon had won the game.
“You really are smart!” Breanna said. “I could never do that.”
“I am not that smart,” Tristan said. “But my creativity, buttressed by Pewter’s logic, makes this feasible. This is a straightforward exercise of alignment.”
This was a great break. “Okay. Now I am here at the behest of Com Passion, who needs a partner to play these games through to victory.”
WHO? the screen asked.
“She’s a computer, like you, only female,” Breanna explained. “And she’s bored and lonely.”
“I know how that feels,” Tristan said.
She was actually developing some sympathy for the ugly male creature. “Nothing wrong with you that a girlfriend couldn’t cure.”
“No female of my kind will associate with me. That is one reason I accepted this position.”
I CAN MAKE THIS FEMALE ASSOCIATE WITH YOU, Com Pewter Offered.
“No!” Breanna cried, suddenly really truly awfully alarmed. “I’m only fifteen! I’m only fifteen!”
I CAN STORE HER IN THE BACK OF THE CAVE FOR THREE YEARS UNTIL SHE COMES OF AGE. THERE IS PLENTY OF GRUEL AND WATER TO FEED HER.
“No!” Breanna screamed. “You can’t—”
FEMALE IS SILENT.
She was unable to speak. What an awful turn this had taken! She was escaping the zombie only to be caught by a troll.
“Let her go,” Tristan said. “If I believed in abusing children, I would never have gotten in trouble with my kind. She has come on legitimate business, and should be allowed to complete it.”
The screen made a flicker of resignation, FEMALE RESUMES DIALOG.
Breanna was free to talk again. She wanted to protest that she was no child, but thought the better of it. She really appreciated the troll’s decency. “So Com Passion needs a partner to play cards with. I thought you might like to do that.” She hoped.
“This is interesting,” Tristan said. “We did not know of this entity. Perhaps we can set up a data link.”
“I guess. I’m not exactly sure how you do that.”
“By changing reality,” the troll said. “I can work it out in theory, and Pewter can implement it.”
GET THE GUI, Pewter’s screen printed.
Tristan went to the back of the cave, and came back with a double handful of goo. He lifted it high, letting it stretch down in a gooey sheet along the wall. “This is a graphical user interface,” he explained. “It helps show what you are dealing with.”
“Uh, sure,” Breanna agreed faintly as the goo covered the entire stone surface, making it glisten.
Tristan stepped back, wiping his hands. “The GUI is in place,” he reported.
Suddenly the wall of the cave became a huge window. There were Com Passion and Mouse Terian, glancing across in surprise.
“I have found you a solitaire partner who can play to victory,” Breanna said, not letting the moment escape. “This is Com Pewter, and his troll-mouse Tristan.”
Way how nice, Passion’s screen printed.
“Tristan, if you would demonstrate a Free Cell win for Com Passion …”
The cards appeared, and the troll swiftly dealt and played and won.
Terian assumed girl form and clapped her hands. “How thrilling!” she exclaimed. “Now we can do it too.”
Tristan gazed at her, his eyes traveling down in an hourglass pattern. It was true: Passion’s mouse did have that type of figure, in her nymphly aspect. The germ of a notion wiggled into Breanna’s mind.
Soon Terian was dealing and playing, buttressed by Passion, and won.
“That’s very nice,” Tristan said, still gazing at Terian.
Terian smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Breanna realized two things: one was that there might be a future in the interaction of the two mice, because though they were of different origin species, they had similar positions and would surely understand each other. If the one was lonely, surely the other was lonely too. The other realization was that the two computers would have no further reason to associate, once both knew how to win all the types of card games. So they would separate, that being the logical unimaginative course, and Com Passion would be lonely again. Her nice mouse would be lonely too. Breanna decided that she ought to do something about that. She had a romantic nature. After all, Tristan was smart and decent, and Terian was lovely in her human image; what more was required?
“Solitaire can be interactive,” Breanna said, remembering. “For example, Klondike: deal two decks opposite each other, and either player can play on the other’s ace piles. Whoever finishes first wins, and you can’t be sure who that will be.”
The two tables merged at the interface, with Tristan at one, and Terian at the other, facing each other. Terian’s decolletage seemed to be lower than before, especially when she leaned forward, and Tristan seemed to be standing taller. They dealt out their hands of Klondike and played rapidly. Soon they were playing on each other’s aces. The cards had no trouble crossing the barrier of the screen, as they were mere images themselves.
Both games blocked up. That was the thing about Klondike: much of it was th
e luck of the draw, so that no amount of skill or strategy could prevail. But Breanna seemed to remember that Double Klondike was more winnable than Single Klondike.
They played again, and this time it was evident that there was going to be a victory. Tristan was leading.
Breanna thought of something. She squatted down by Pewter’s screen. “It might be more interesting if you arrange to lose,” she murmured.
A question mark appeared on the screen.
“Trust me,” she said.
Tristan had surged ahead, and was about to place his final card on a pile. But he hesitated, and Terian was able to place her last card first.
“Oh, you let me win,” Terian said, blushing. “How romantic!” She threw a kiss at him. The kiss passed right through the interface and landed on his mouth.
Tristan stepped back, looking stunned. Pewter’s screen became a series of exploding spirals intermixed with hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs.
“Of course you know that was really Com Passion kissing you,” Breanna murmured to the machine. “In her fashion. She’s very romantic. If you want more of that sort of thing, you have a notion how to behave.”
The screen slowly coalesced into a single large heart. Pewter was definitely interested. Meanwhile the two mice were staring at each other in wild surmise. His mouth was open in awe, and her bosom was gently heaving. They might have wildly different origins, but they were indeed well matched in the context. If the machines wanted to find out what love was like, they had only to give their helpers leeway.
Breanna looked across to Com Passion. “I think I’ll go now. I think I have fulfilled my commitment.”
More than fulfilled it, dear girl, Passion’s screen scripted. If you ever need a favor, come to me.
“Thank you,” Breanna said, gratified. She caught Terian’s glance and winked, and was pleased to see the lady mouse blush. Yes, this was definitely working out.
She walked out of the cave. She didn’t care if there were zombies in the vicinity, because she knew she was now much closer to the Good Magician’s castle than she had been, and could reach it before dawn, and the zombies wouldn’t even know she was there.
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