Five Portraits

by Piers Anthony

  Astrid was unable to be even that expressive. She dissolved into tears of frustration and hopelessness.

  Kandy immediately came to her, joining her in grief. “And most of all I hate having to argue against you, my friend.” The others, adults and children, watched helplessly. None of them could change anything.

  Squid woke. “Am I better?” she asked, surprised.

  Tiara went to her. “Yes, dear. The Demoness Fornax healed you.”

  “That’s nice.” Squid got up and resumed looking at flowers, unaware of the scene that had transpired or the disaster that her cure had made. She was truly innocent. She would not remain that way long; other would quickly fill her in.

  “I think we had better return to our camp and consider what to do,” Merge said. “Eliminating the remaining pun virus is important, but not as important as this. If I understand it correctly, if Demoness Fornax loses her case, someone’s healing will be canceled and all will be lost.” She did not name Squid, because the child was within hearing.

  “That is the case,” Pewter said.

  “I wonder,” Tiara said. “Maybe the children could go play in the Playground?”

  “Maybe we should,” Firenze said. “At least for a while.” As the eldest, he had the best idea of the problem, and knew why it was better to leave the children out of it, at least for now.

  “Yes,” Astrid agreed gratefully. “But don’t go in the DO NOT ENTER part.”

  They passed the old woman with the Medium Coffee. “Told you,” she said smugly.

  Astrid, enraged, grabbed for her glasses. But Kandy and Firenze boxed her in, half carrying her on past. They were right; there was nothing to be gained by killing in anger. It was really their own fault; they should have tried the medium’s coffee and gotten a glimpse into the near future, and picked up on the lurking threat. Astrid would try to be smarter hereafter.

  At the camp, Santo unfolded the Playground, and the children happily ran into it. Only Firenze looked back, as if he would have liked to participate in the adult discussion but had a greater responsibility. Astrid was coming to appreciate him more.

  Then she thought of something else. “Fornax?” she asked.

  There was no response. The Demoness did not appear. That confirmed what Astrid had suspected: no Demons would be involved in their deliberation. Demons normally did not interfere in mortal events, particularly those relating to Demon Wagers. They let things play out naturally. That was the point of their bets: they were decided by the vagaries of insignificant whimsy, which is what mortal affairs normally were to Demons.

  The group of adults settled in a wide circle. “One thing I’m not clear on,” Art said. “The Demons have a Bet on whether Xanth will survive. Demon Xanth of course bet Yes, and Demoness Fornax bet No. So how come Xanth is trying to mess up Fornax, when saving the child will help him win?”

  “And why did Fornax save Squid,” Merge asked, “when she could have won her bet merely by staying out of it?”

  “Demons are huge and complicated,” Pewter said. “Their reasons for things may be opaque to folk of the mortal realm.”

  “And Demon Nemesis,” Astrid said. “He’s been hot for Fornax for, well, maybe a billion years, but she never gave him the time of day, not that he needs it, much less what he really wants. Is he using this to get back at her?”

  “What is it he wants of her?” Tiara asked.

  “Just one thing,” Metria said. “He’s male. She’s female. You know what that means.”

  “Oh,” Tiara said, blushing. She had learned about men and women, but remained a bit naïve around the edges.

  “So is he going to trade his vote for her favor?” Art asked.

  “Probably,” Pewter agreed. “And without that vote she will surely lose.”

  “She doesn’t want to oblige him,” Astrid said. “It’s a crime to have a child’s life be hostage to his lust.”

  “Demons don’t care about crime,” Kandy said. “But you know, I just remembered: in my capacity as intermediary I have picked up some information. Nemesis bet Xanth will survive. It’s Jupiter who bet it won’t. So Nemesis can’t use that particular thing to coerce Fornax. He’s already on her side in that respect. That is, what she did helps enable him to win.”

  “But if she still refuses him personally, what then?” Astrid asked.

  “Would he torpedo his own bet to spite her?” Kandy asked. “I don’t know the male mind in this respect.”

  “He might,” Art said. “Males can do suicidally stupid things when they get hung up on women.”

  “So maybe things will cancel out, and it will be up to us to make the case, one way or the other,” Kandy said. “Except that we don’t want to.”

  “Actually, I do want to,” Astrid said. “I want to save Squid, and not have Fornax punished for doing something decent. But I’m not competent. That’s my problem.”

  “Maybe you can argue it emotionally,” Merge said. “As you said, it’s a decent thing Fornax did.”

  “Do Demons decide things emotionally?”

  “No they don’t,” Metria said. “They are soulless; they have no tender feelings. All they care about are the facts, and status. Only if they get souls, or parts of souls, as I did, do they start being at all feeling, and then it’s not certain. If Demon Xanth had heeded his half soul, he’d have saved the child himself.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Astrid said sadly.

  “Well, let’s go about our business, and think about it,” Ease said. “We have a day and night to think of something.”

  What else could they do? They split up and went about their various tasks.

  Astrid, left alone, wandered into the Playground to see how the children were doing. To her surprise they were not playing on the swings, slides, seesaws, or merry-go-round. They were gathered by the stage, deep in discussion.

  She approached them. “Is there a problem? I thought you would be having fun.”

  “There is a problem,” Firenze said. “Saving Xanth.”

  “We want to do our part,” Santo said.

  “That’s nice,” Astrid said. “But that kind of responsibility is for adults. We don’t want to burden you children with it.”

  “We know how Xanth can end,” Firenze said. “We were there, in the future. We’re here now because of it. We don’t want the same thing to happen here.”

  “We told Squid about what happened,” Santo said.

  “Fornax saved me,” Squid agreed. “Now they’re mad at her.”

  “That is true,” Astrid agreed. “She was supposed to stay out of it. But I asked her to help, and she did.”

  “Have you come up with something?” Squid asked.

  “Only arguments I fear will be rejected,” Astrid confessed.

  “We want to help you find the right one,” Win said.

  “But this is too complicated for—”

  “So we’re making a Play,” Myst said.

  Astrid considered it. “So the Playground will enhance your group power,” she said, working it out. “So you can guide me to the best argument.”

  All five children nodded.

  Astrid realized that it just might work. She needed to formulate the most effective argument to save Fornax, and thus Squid, and Xanth. The Playground might know. Certainly it was a better prospect than her confused pondering.

  She was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, children,” she said, dissolved into tears.

  They clustered around her reassuringly. She opened her mouth to warn them not to get too close, then saw they were all holding their breath. They knew. She had to smile.

  Then they retreated. “But we’ll need an audience,” Firenze said. “The Playground thinks a play is not complete without an audience.”

  “The Playground is correct,” Astrid said. “I
will be your audience.”

  “Thank you!” the children chorused, then went back to their huddle.

  Astrid remained touched by the children’s effort. They had given up their playing time to pitch in on the main problem, showing surprising maturity. They were good children. But were they readily adoptable? Firenze’s dramatic temper, Santo’s formidable and sometimes dangerous talent, Squid’s alien nature. Even the two smallest, Win and Myst, might have problems, because the perpetual wind at Win’s back tended to blow things away from her, and Myst, sweet as she was, could escape any discipline she wanted to. Ordinary families might not put up with any of that. So this whole effort could still founder.

  The children completed their conference. “We’re ready!” Squid called.

  “What, no rehearsal?” Astrid asked.

  “We know our lines,” Santo said.

  “It’s sort of informal,” Firenze explained.

  Astrid shrugged. They knew what they were doing.

  She took her place as the Audience, while the children mounted the stage. It started with a monologue by Santo, in center stage. “I am Cecil,” he announced. “My talent is stealing tea cups. I discovered it when my mother sent me to harvest a cup of butter, but instead I stole our neighbor’s butter cup. I couldn’t help it; I had cuptomania.”

  Astrid laughed, recognizing the pun.

  “I was getting in trouble where I lived,” Cecil continued. “Because I couldn’t stop, and the neighbors were running out of tea cups. So I decided to try to make my curse of a talent useful. I got a job as the leader of the Curse Fiends.”

  Now Firenze joined him. “I am the chief Curse Friend.” He had evidently picked up on the fact that they called themselves friends, while others called them fiends. They were human beings, but generally not very friendly to outsiders. “My singing Tea Cup was stolen by an invisible Giant, who used a trumpet mute to silence her so that I did not hear her being taken. Now she’s in a gilded cage and forced to sing for the giant. I need to get her back.”

  “I will steal her back,” Cecil said.

  “See that you do,” the chief said gruffly.

  Cecil walked around the stage, evidently looking for the lost Tea Cup. He came across Squid, who was singing “La-la-la” prettily.

  “Excuse me, have you seen a Singing Tea Cup?” Cecil asked.

  “I am the Singing Tea Cup,” she said, forming briefly into a large cup.

  “But I thought it was a—”

  “I am an A-cup,” she said. “I wish I were a D-cup. The giant promised I could be a D if I took a deep enough breath. D is for Deep. Is it working?” She took a deep breath.

  Astrid hesitated to applaud the humor, uncertain whether the children knew the adult implication. They might have heard a woman fussing about her cup size and put it in as incidental dialogue.

  “But you’re beautiful the way you are,” Cecil said.

  “I am? Thank you!” She kissed him on the cheek. “My talent is to make all kinds of teas, but it helps to have big enough cups.”

  “I am here to rescue you from captivity by the big bad giant,” Cecil said.

  “Oh, he’s not so bad. He treats me as well as the Curse Fiend did.”

  “You don’t want to be rescued?”

  “Oh, sure. But going from one cage to another isn’t rescue. I want to be free to go wherever I want, do anything I want, and have a nice romance. Maybe with you.”

  “Well—” Cecil began uncertainly.

  “Then it’s decided! Let’s run away to some far-off place where nobody will even find us. Then we can kiss all we want to.”

  “I don’t know—”

  She looked at him challengingly. Astrid realized that there was a fine actress in the making, considering that she was only six years old. “Do I have to kiss you again?”

  “No!” Cecil said quickly. “I’ll do it. We’ll flee to a distant land.”

  The two held hands and ran around the stage.

  “Fee fi fo fum!” Win and Myst cried together, using their cupped hands. The wind and mist of their talents amplified it impressively. “I smell the stink of a thieving bum!”

  “The giant’s after us!” Tea Cup cried in alarm.

  “Let’s hide behind that Blessing bush,” Cecil said. “He won’t look there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s making a cursory search.”

  Astrid stifled a groan. Cursory—curse-ory. Anathema to a blessing bush.

  Indeed, the invisible giant was cursing: “Fee fo fi fum!”

  They ran to hide behind Win, who was now playing the part of the Blessing. Sure enough, the giant tromped all around the stage, as Myst made the sounds of his footfalls, but never looked there. He tromped away, surely frustrated.

  “But what about our deal!” the Curse Friend Chief demanded. “I want my Tea Cup back!”

  Cecil sighed. “That was the deal.”

  “Maybe this will fix it,” Tea Cup said. She picked several leaves from the Blessing and swallowed them. Then she walked toward the Chief.

  “Ugh!” the Chief exclaimed. “You’re Blessed. I’m a Curse Friend. I can’t stand you!”

  “Then I’ll go,” Tea Cup agreed. “So as not to cause you further distress.”

  “And they’ll probably live happily ever after,” the Chief grumbled as they departed.

  The Play was over. The actors gathered at center stage and formally bowed to the audience. Astrid applauded vigorously; she really was impressed.

  “Now we can help you,” Firenze said, satisfied.

  “Well, I’m not sure exactly how,” Astrid said. “Some of my arguments are complicated.”

  “We don’t need to understand them,” Santo said. “We just need to hear them. Then we’ll know.”

  It did seem worth a try. The children sat on the edge of the stage, dangling their legs, facing her, listening.

  “When I come before the Demon Judges tomorrow,” Astrid said, “maybe I’ll appeal to their self-interest. Demon Xanth has bet that the Land of Xanth will survive, and he’ll lose if it doesn’t. So will Demon Nemesis. The Demons’ main entertainment seems to be watching the oddities that happen in Xanth. What else would they have to be on, if Xanth was gone? So it makes sense for them to decide to spare Fornax.”

  The children shook their heads. Their consensus was that this was the wrong course. Bleep! It seemed that saving Xanth was one thing, and saving the child was another, and it was the latter that this particular case was about.

  “Well, I can argue that though she’s technically in violation, she did it for a good reason. To save a child. That should override the appeal of winning the Demon Bet.”

  They shook their heads again. Bleep once more. The technicality trumped the good reason.

  “Well, there’s what I learned from Fornax, about the utter boredom and loneliness of being a Demon. They have to vie for Demon Points because that’s the only way to ease that boredom. If they want to find some meaning in their bleak immortal existences, they need to do what Fornax is doing, and start doing things for emotional reasons.”

  But again the children were negative. It seemed that most Demons were not into emotions, regardless of their benefits.

  “Or maybe simply because decency is its own reward.”

  Still no. It wasn’t that Demons were indecent; they simply had no concern about the subject.

  “But what else is there?” Astrid exploded. “There’s got to be some argument that will convince them.”

  The children shook their heads.

  “No argument will convince them?” she asked, appalled.

  Firenze jumped dawn and came to her. “There’s a way,” he said. “We feel it. You just haven’t found it yet.”

  “No argument works, but there is a way?”

>   “Yes.”

  Astrid considered it, frustrated. “Maybe I am phrasing the question wrong. Suppose I say how can I best forward my case? Instead of which argument could prevail? Would that make a difference?”

  The children nodded yes.

  This was odd. Could such a small technical difference change the outcome? The two questions were essentially similar. Well, if it offered hope, she’d take it. “Very well. Let me run through my arguments again, with that in mind.”

  She did, and the children remained negative. Except for one: that Fornax had acted to save the child.

  “But the Demons will reject that!” Astrid protested. “We’ve already verified that. A mortal human might accept it, especially a woman, especially a mother, but these are inhuman males.”

  Yet that was the one. Her best course was to put forward an argument that she knew the Demons would reject.

  Astrid shook her head, bemused. “Since I have no better alternative, I’ll do it. But I fear your guidance has gone haywire.”

  “We don’t understand it either,” Firenze said. “But we feel its rightness.”

  “At any rate, thank you for your help, all of you,” Astrid said. “I really appreciate your effort.”

  “We like you, Astrid,” Squid said. “And you’re doing it to save me. And Xanth.”

  “Hold your breath,” Astrid said. “I’m about to get all mushy.” She picked up the child and hugged her, briefly.

  Then they left the Playground, folded it up, and returned to the camp.

  “I have an approach,” Astrid announced to the others. “I can’t say I’m confident, but it has been approved by the Playground, for what that’s worth.”

  “We haven’t really tested it the Playground,” Kandy said. “Let’s hope it proves out.”

  “Exactly what did it say?” Merge asked.

  Astrid described the play and the following test of arguments. “So I’m going to remind them that Fornax acted to save a child. Then they will vote against Fornax. But somehow it will work out. If the Playground is correct.”