Phil’s eye fell on Breanna. “A black beauty,” he said. “But isn’t she about three years young?”
“Not me, white trash,” Breanna retorted. “Her.” She indicated Tipsy, who was carefully applying lip bomb.
“A troll moll?” Phil demanded incredulously. “I meant a humantype woman.”
“She is half human,” Bink said. “And a nice person with a warm heart.”
“I don’t care about her heart! She’s a troll!”
“At least give her a try,” King Dor suggested. “Kiss her.”
“Why should I kiss a troll? It’s no deal.”
“Then let her kiss you,” Bink said evenly as Tipsy got out of the boat.
Phil did not look pleased, but couldn’t refute the logic because there wasn’t enough to refute. So he stood disdainfully while Tipsy approached him and planted a hot kiss on his lips.
It was something to watch. The man fell back, spun three times around, and fell on the ground, leaving a trail of heart-shaped cloudlets. It would have been comical, if Breanna hadn’t experienced such a kiss herself.
Tipsy went to help him sit up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Okay, you’ll do,” Phil said. Then he glared at King Dor. “But still, she’s a troll. That’s only half a loaf. So I’ll give you half a loaf in exchange: I’ll just tell you who else knows where you live. Go to the king of the werewolves, in the Isle of Wolves.”
King Dor did not look pleased, but Breanna saw that there was a certain logic to Phil Istine’s decision. Tipsy was a nice woman, but she was a troll. With the help of the lip bomb she would surely make Phil about as happy as he deserved to be. Meanwhile, this meant that the three kings would need to visit another interesting place, and that Breanna would be able to enjoy their adventure a while longer.
Breanna went to Tipsy. “Could you spare a little of that lip bomb? I’d like to have it for an emergency.”
“Certainly.” Tipsy found a packet and scraped some of the red stuff into it.
“Thank you.” Breanna put the packet away.
King Dor returned to the boat. “Can you take us to the Isle of Wolves?” he asked with resignation.
“Sure. It’s not far from the Isle of Women.”
“Very well. Please take us there now.”
They got in the boat, and it padded toward the water, ran in, then paddled swiftly north.
Breanna looked back. There was Tipsy troll, waving. Breanna waved back, feeling a lump in her throat. They had gotten Tipsy what she most desperately wanted, a husband, but had they done right by her? The wrong man would be worse than no man at all, as Breanna’s experience with Ralph had shown.
“Suppose Phil mistreats her?” she asked Bink. “I mean, some men are brutes.”
Bink nodded. “I have a similar concern, though her talent of the cold shoulder could set him back if that proved necessary. That’s one reason I decided to fetch the lip bomb. Can you imagine ever mistreating a man who kisses you with that?”
She pondered that. “No, I guess not. When King Dor kissed me, I would have done anything for him.” She glanced in the king’s direction. “Still would,” she murmured.
Bink smiled. “The effect slowly fades. I was first kissed by Sharon Centaur, when we delivered Aurora Winged Mermaid there. I always liked centaurs and have had good relations with them, but I never saw them as romantic objects. That is—” he paused, awkwardly.
“I understand,” Breanna said. “No storks.”
“Yes. But when Sharon kissed me, I just wanted to please her. It wasn’t the same as love elixir; I wasn’t in love with her. But she seemed infinitely desirable, and if she had wanted to summon the stork, I would have found it harder to resist than I did when the Isle of Women tempted me. When I saw her again, I felt a thrill, as if we had been lovers, though we had not. If one kiss had such effect, what would several have? So I think Phil Istine will never mistreat Tipsy.”
Breanna nodded. “You’re a lot older than you look, and married, and Sharon is of a different species, but that bomb got to you. I’m too young and King Dor’s too old, as well as being married, but if it were just the two of us in this boat, I’d be growing up real fast. So you’re right: Tipsy’s safe with Phil. I’m glad of it, because she’s a good woman.”
“Yes. Actually all the women of the Isle are good, just desperate. They treated us fairly by their lights.”
“Just as you treat others fairly,” she agreed. “You know, it’s just chance that I met up with you, but I’m glad I did, and not just because it’s a nice adventure. I’m learning a lot.”
“It may not be just chance,” he said.
“What do you mean? I was trying to escape Xeth Zombie, and you were trying to find your way home. Neither of us knew or cared about the other. I was even asleep when you arrived. So our paths crossed randomly.”
“Let me see if I can explain. My life is less random than it seems, because of my talent.”
“What is your talent, if it’s okay to ask? They call you a king, which means you must have a Magician-caliber magic talent, but I haven’t seen anything, no offense.”
“My talent normally conceals itself from others,” Bink said. “If I am able to tell you about it, it will be because you have some need to know. It is—” he hesitated, as if afraid something was going to stop him. “That I cannot be harmed by magic.” He looked surprised. “And you must indeed have a need to know.”
“I don’t need to know anything. I’m just foolishly curious. Do you mean that if someone hurls a bad spell at you, it won’t land?”
“More than that. No magical creature will do me harm, no magic plant will hurt me, no magic of the inanimate will act against me. But because someone might find a way to circumvent or nullify my talent if its nature were generally known, my talent conceals itself. So it usually acts indirectly.”
“Fascinating,” Justin Tree remarked.
“Suppose a dragon chomps you? That’s pretty direct, and you’d need direct protection.”
“Yes. So the dragon will not try to chomp me, or if it does try, something seemingly coincidental will interfere so that it doesn’t happen. Another dragon might appear on the scene, distracting it, or it might fall in a hole it didn’t see because it was looking at me instead of the ground.”
“But then how can you tell that it is your talent protecting you? That it isn’t all just coincidence?”
He smiled. “It protects me through coincidence. And few folk ever suspect. You can test this. Try harming me nonmagically.”
Breanna was abashed. “Oh, I would never—”
“Not seriously. Just enough to ascertain that you could do it if you wanted to.”
“Okay. I’m going to push you out of the boat.” He was beside her on the seat. She put her hands against his shoulder and pushed. He tilted. She pushed harder. He was in danger of falling over into the water.
She desisted. “I guess I could do it, if you didn’t fight back.”
“Now try to harm me magically.”
“But I don’t have any—” Then she remembered the protection racket. Was it still working? She tried banging her hand against the wooden seat, lightly, then harder, then harder yet.
“Hey!” the boat protested. “You’re going to damage me!”
“Sorry, Para.” The racket was working, because she had suffered no pain. She looked at Bink and raised her fist. “I have this magic protection, so I can hit without being hurt. Are you sure—?”
“Yes. Try to hit me.”
“Okay,” she said dubiously. She aimed a blow at his nose, but pulled her punch without touching him. “Bink, there’s nothing stopping me. I can’t do this to you.”
“Do it,” he said firmly.
So she aimed for his cheek and tried a light blow. It landed. “Bink, I tell you, there’s nothing stopping me. I don’t dare try to really—”
“Let me try it,” Justin said.
“Okay.” She relinquis
hed control of her arm to him.
Her arm lifted, formed a tight fist, and shot directly toward Bink’s nose.
The boat suddenly swerved, causing the fist to miss, and she sprawled halfway across Bink’s lap. “Sorry,” the boat said. “There was a piece of sharp wreckage I didn’t see until the last moment, and I had to swerve. Usually I’m more alert.”
Breanna picked herself up, unconvinced. “That was sheer coincidence.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let me try again.” She addressed Bink, putting her right hand behind his head and lifting her left fist. “I’m going to hate myself in a moment,” she said grimly. “But I’ve got to know.” She shot her fist forward at his nose.
A large soft ball flew between them. Her fist punched into it, and it pressed against Bink’s face, cushioning the blow so that he wasn’t hurt. Where had the ball come from?
A snout poked out of the water. “May we have our ball back, miss?” the sea creature inquired. “Sorry it got in your way.”
“Who or what are you?” Breanna asked it.
“I am a manatee,” it said. “I was just playing a ball game with my family.”
Three more snouts appeared. “I am his wife, the womanatee,” a large one said.
“I’m his son, the boyatee,” a smaller one said.
“I’m his daughter, the girlatee,” the smallest one said.
A fifth snout appeared, rising into an animal head. “And I’m the Seal of Approval,” it said. “Family games are good. You wouldn’t want to interfere, would you?”
“Oh, of course not,” Breanna said, embarrassed. She tossed the ball down to them.
The seal caught it expertly on its nose and flipped it to the nearest tee. The family game resumed as they swam away from the boat.
“Don’t forget what you were doing,” Bink reminded her gently.
Breanna considered. “I don’t see how coincidence could stretch that far. That ball had to be deliberate.”
“Yes. Not by the tees or you. By my talent.”
“Okay, so you can’t be harmed by magic. But that doesn’t change the coincidence of our meeting. I could have come here any other day.”
“On the contrary,” Justin said. “You were traveling because the zombie kissed you. The three kings were traveling because the zombies were stirred up looking for you. The events are connected.”
“I believe that we were required to interact,” Bink said. “There must be some devious magical threat to my well-being, so my talent is acting to turn it aside by seeming coincidence. So it put us together, and is keeping us together. This adventure is clearly not yet finished.”
“So my whole adventure is just to help you avoid some magical threat?”
“Not necessarily. My talent may simply be borrowing from what is most convenient. You were in the vicinity, so it arranged to have you join us. You certainly were helpful in getting us to the Isle, and in shielding us from initial problems with the women of the Isle. There may be more coming.”
“Well, if that’s why I’m here, I like it,” she decided. “But what could threaten three Magicians?”
“It may not be a physical threat,” Bink said. “It could be something that I need to get done, lest I be truly pained by failure to do so. I don’t know what that might be, but perhaps it will be apparent after it has been accomplished.” He paused, thoughtfully. “For one thing, Chameleon and I were youthened by sixty years, and there was surely reason for that. There must be something I can accomplish as a young man that I could not as an old one. I admit it’s nice to be young again, physically, but so far I have seen no real justification for it.”
“It is a good question. Youth is not granted to folk just because they may want it. If it were, every living person would be perpetually young.”
“I don’t know. Being young doesn’t seem all that great to me.”
“It is the nature of life to have unrealistic dreams. You should enjoy your youth while you have it.”
“Maybe so.” But she was unconvinced.
“Land ahoy!” Prince Dolph called from up front.
“That’s the Isle of Wolves,” the boat said. It moved to shore, waddled onto the beach, and stopped. “King Wolverton’s den is down that path.”
“Thank you,” King Dor said as they disembarked. “I hope our trade of conveyances was worthwhile for you.”
“It certainly was,” Para replied. “I loved flying. And it was nice being able to talk aloud. And peering up under girl’s skirts.”
“I kept my skirt close and tight!” Breanna retorted hotly.
“But Tipsy Troll didn’t, and her legs were pretty good, considering.”
“Well, good luck peeking under other skirts,” Breanna said, mollified. She was discovering that this particular game could be fun to play, so her outrage was mostly for show.
They walked down the path, and the boat waddled to the sea and paddled smoothly away. On impulse Breanna turned and waved to it, and saw it rock from side to side, waving back.
“You are becoming more solicitous of others, including the inanimate,” Justin commented.
“So?”
“I favor it.”
Suddenly a wolf appeared. Its fur was metallic. It screeched to a stop when it saw them; the squeal came from its four paws scraping along the ground. Then it became a man. He was furry enough on the body to remain fairly decent. “Who are you, and what do you want here?” he demanded.
“We are three kings and a young woman, come to see King Wolverton.”
“How did you reach this isle? The interface is off.”
“We were conveyed by Para, the web-footed boat, from the Isle of Women.”
“You couldn’t have gotten away from there unmarried.”
“We are married. The woman is beneath the age of marriage.”
“Oh.” The werewolf reconsidered. “I am Wolfram. Follow me.” He resumed wolf form and loped back down the path.
Soon they came to a hill. A sign labeled it Wolverton Mountain. This was evidently the home of the king wolf.
Sure enough, a large wolf emerged from a den as they reached the top of the hill. He became a man. “Why, you are King Dor of Xanth,” he said, surprised. “The one who makes things talk.”
“You bet, bushytail!” the nearest stone called.
“Yes,” King Dor agreed. “We accidentally drank some lethe water, and forgot where our home is. If you would be so kind as to tell us—”
“I’ll be glad to—after you do a service for me.”
“Listen, furface—” Breanna started.
But Justin cut her off. “We are on their Isle. It is best to honor their conventions.”
“Of course,” King Dor said smoothly. “What can we do for you?”
“You can talk my son Jeremy into doing his duty and starting training to assume the kingship when I pass on to that great other hunting ground.”
“He doesn’t want to be king after you?” King Dor asked, surprised.
“He is in a mottled funk, and doesn’t want to do anything.”
“Well, we’ll talk to him,” King Dor agreed.
King Wolverton led them to the mottled funk, which turned out to be a grove of mottled funk trees. “He is in there.”
Breanna smelled a strong, unpleasant odor: the smell of the funk blooms. It made her feel sad. She knew that no funks smelled good, but mottled funks were the worst.
They entered the grove, and soon discovered Jeremy Wolf, in wolf form, asleep on a bed of funk berries. The smell was verging into stench. “Hello,” King Dor said.
“Go away,” the funk bed said.
Prince Dolph assumed the form of a wolf. “Woof!” he said.
Prince Jeremy opened one eye. It was obvious that he was a prince, because there was a small golden crown on his head. “Woof!” he retorted negatively.
So Bink tried. “We’d like to talk to you.”
The face of the wolf became halfway human. “W
hat you would like has no bearing.”
“Let me try,” Breanna said impulsively. She got down and planted a hot kiss on the face.
The eyes widened. The humanity spread from the face through the rest of the body, making him into a large and somewhat clumsy person. He still wore the crown. “Wow!” Jeremy said as a vaguely heart-shaped cloudlet dissipated.
“I think some of the lip balm remained,” Justin remarked.>
“Serves him right.”
Jeremy gazed at Breanna. “How old are you, Black Wave maiden?”
“Fifteen, of course. What’s it to you?”
Jeremy sighed. “Too young.”
“Too young for what?” she demanded, though she had a pretty good idea.
“Too young to be my ideal mate.”
“I’m nobody’s ideal mate, and least of all yours. I’ve already been through all that with one king. What kind of a girl do you think I am?”
Jeremy assumed wolf form and stared at her. Then he returned to human form. “I think you are an assertive runaway from your home village, with the talent of seeing in blackness, and a tree in your mind.”
“He knows!” Justin exclaimed, amazed.
“How do you know that?” Breanna demanded, shaken.
“In my natural form I can read minds,” Jeremy said. “Unfortunately, I can’t do it in manform. I constantly seek a way to have that part of my talent expanded. Do you know a way?”
“No! And I don’t want you poking around in my mind, so kindly remain in manform.”
“You have spirit, and you’re cute. I wish you were the one.”
“Well, I’m not. So why don’t you do what your father wants and go into training for kingship?”
“Because of the curse.”
“What curse?” Nobody else seemed to be talking, so Breanna figured it was up to her.
“It is complicated.”
“Well, maybe we can help.”
“I doubt it. But you might as well know. When I was young I roamed out from the isle, across the continent of Xanth, heedless of anything. I had no fear of monsters, because I could read their minds, and evade them before they could close on me. So I was somewhat reckless, and I fear in retrospect, at times obnoxious.”
Zombie Lover Page 25
