Roc and a Hard Place

by Piers Anthony

  Something was interfering with her natural shape-shifting ability. She realized that she had probably been put under some kind of spell, and had recovered from only part of it, so that she was now awake, but possessed of no other special abilities.

  And this strange man must have been similarly treated.

  She sat down on the soft bed that filled the bottom of the well, and considered him more carefully. He was a handsome brute, firm of feature and muscular of body. And, as she peered more closely, she saw a light golden crown on his head. He was a Prince!

  “I wish I had known about you before,” she murmured appreciatively. “I have been looking for a suitable Prince for more time than I care to confess. But of course, you're probably obnoxious, as most males are, when awake.” She peered yet more closely. “And you look to be about twentythree years old. Too young for me, because I am twentysix.”

  She pondered, and considered, and thought, and finally decided to take a chance and wake the handsome stranger.

  She spoke to him, but there was no response. She shook his shoulder, but he did not stir. Finally she tried her ultimate.

  She got down on her hands and knees, put her mouth to his, and kissed him. But it was no use; he continued to sleep. It was the first time such a thing had happened; she had been able almost to wake the dead with a kiss. Maybe that magic, too, had been stifled by the enchantment on her.

  She sighed. Unable either to escape or to wake the man, she would simply have to wait this out. She lay down again beside him, took his hand in hers so that she would know if he stirred, and suddenly she was unconscious.

  “So much for the beauty contest,” Metria remarked. “Neither one of them really got hot.” She was peering through the transparent cloud substance of the confinement tower. Or rather, into the big magic mirror that showed the distant tower as if it were made of glass.

  “They're both decent folk,” Jenny Elf said. “At least, I know Nada is. I think this plot of yours is crazy.”

  “They both need to be married,” King Nabob said.

  “That's the point. This is merely stage one.”

  “I still think it won't work,” Jenny said. But Sammy Cat, in her arms, looked thoughtful.

  The two prisoners in the well woke together. “Oh!” Nada cried, and tried to change form, for it was not proper to be unclothed in human form with a strange man. But she remained unable to change. So she draped her hair across her torso, covering most of it, though parts of her insisted on poking through.

  “You're awake!” Vore said, as startled as she.

  “And so are you,” she said, not unreasonably, hastily letting go of his hand.

  He looked around, then down at his bare self. He tried to fashion clothing around himself, but that power, too, was inoperative. Realizing that there was nothing to be done about it, as his hair was not nearly as long as hers, he made the best of it. “Hello. I am Prince Vore.”

  “I am Princess Nada.” For a reason neither understood, neither gave further identification.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I can remember seeing.” As a conversational gambit, this lacked finesse.

  She, however, took it in stride. “And you are the handsomest man. Even if you are young.”

  He shrugged. “I am as I am. Do you know how we came to be confined here?”

  “I was about to ask you that. One moment I was in my royal chamber; the next, I woke here—beside you. You were asleep.”

  “Oh? When I woke before, you were the one sleeping.”

  She pursed her lips, fashioning, if not a moue, at least not a neigh. “I think we have been enchanted.”

  “My thought exactly. But to what purpose?”

  She considered. “I remember a story my father told me as a child, about a demons' contest—but that's irrelevant.

  Perhaps someone has abducted us, and means to hold us for ransom.”

  “But why deprive us of our clothing?”

  “So we can't escape without attracting notice?”

  “Princess Nada, I think you would attract notice anywhere, regardless of your attire.”

  “I presume you mean that as a compliment.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I thank you. Do you think we can get out of this well?”

  He cast about. The soft stuff of which the bed was made seemed malleable. He drew some forth and fashioned it into a cord. “Perhaps, if this is strong enough, I can make a rope that will reach the turret above.”

  “I will help you,” she said immediately.

  They got to work on it forthwith, and such was their mutual dexterity that they soon had a fine strong rope forming.

  Her fingers were nimble for the fine threads, and his hands were strong for the stout rope. She admired his hands, among other things, and he admired her fingers, among other things.

  When they had a sufficient length, he made a loop at one end and flung it up so that it neatly caught on a turret. Then he hauled himself up, hand over hand, his muscles straining because he wasn't used to climbing, a wall the hard way. He reached the top, sat on the turret, and peered down. “Your turn, Nada!” he called.

  She shook her head. “I'm afraid I lack your strength, Vore. I cannot haul myself up in the forthright manner you did. Perhaps you should go and see if you can win your freedom.”

  He gazed at her a bit more closely, and saw that while most of his own extra flesh was in the form of muscles on his arms, most of hers was in the form of curvature on her torso and legs. That would indeed not do for hand-over-hand climbing. “By no means, Nada. Make a loop at the bottom and sit in it, and I will haul you up.”

  She did so, and soon he had brought her also to the top.

  Then they both looked around.

  They were perched on the top of a tower, which was part of a formidable castle. The castle was on a white island in a dark blue sea.

  “Should we make own way down and then inquire within the castle?” Nada asked.

  “I like your trusting nature. But I suspect that whoever or whatever occupies this castle is what has imprisoned us, and we should avoid contact if we possibly can.”

  “I like your sensible caution. Indeed, you are surely correct, and my notion was foolish. What else should we do?”

  For a moment they faced each other, and each became further aware that the other was of wondrously aesthetic aspect as well as possessing trust and caution that nicely complemented each other. But their situation was too precarious to allow them much chance for reflection.

  “Maybe we should get down and try to find a boat,” she said.

  “Agreed. And some clothing. Though I admit it is no great burden to behold you as you are.”

  She blushed half a shade, becoming twice as pretty, though that was impossible. He might be young, but there was something about him. “I might say the same for you.”

  Then he lowered her to the ground, and handed himself down. He jerked on the rope, and the loop came off the turret and fell to the ground beside them.

  They skulked around the castle, hiding in the shade of the walls. They found what might be a locked boatshed. Vore was going to bash it open, but Nada cautioned him about the noise. Instead she slipped a twisted thread from the rope in through the latch-hole and managed to lift the inner latch.

  Thus they got inside the boatshed silently. “How can a Princess have developed such skill at thievery?” Vore asked admiringly.

  “I once had a certain passion for cookies, which were kept locked up,” she confessed. “So I learned how to acquire them without attracting attention.”

  There was a small airboat inside. Vore put it into the air, and it floated. “I had expected a waterboat,” he said, “but this will do.”

  Nada climbed in, and Vore pushed the boat out the open door, then got in himself. It sank a bit lower in the air because of their weight, but floated well enough. Vore took the oars and stroked, and the little craft moved smoothly in the opposite direction.

&
nbsp; There was a noise in the castle. “Oops, someone is stirring,” Nada said, alarmed. “We must flee before they spy us.”

  Vore put his back into it, and the boat fairly shot out from the castle. Now Nada looked down and discovered that what surrounded the castle wasn't water, but sky blue air. No wonder there was an airboat! The castle was floating in the air, on a cloud.

  Soon they were able to hide behind another cloud, out of view of the castle. Their escape seemed to be successful.

  “But we didn't find any clothes,” Vore said, remembering.

  “Perhaps I can do something about that,” Nada said.

  “You row us down the ground and see if you recognize any landmarks. I will unravel our rope and try to weave some cloth.” She proceeded to do just that, her fingers becoming nimble again.

  “You have amazing skills for a Princess,” Vore remarked appreciatively.

  “Well, as a Naga Princess, I need to. The goblins press us pretty hard, and no one can be slack.”

  “You are naga?” he asked, surprised.

  “Oh, I can say that now,” she said, surprised myself.

  “The effects of that spell must be wearing further off. Yes, I am Princess Nada Naga, once betrothed to Prince Dolph Human but now adrift, as it were. Does that dismay you?”

  “There might have been a time when it would have,” he said. “But now that I know you, it has the opposite effect.

  Can you change to serpent form?”

  “I will try.” Suddenly she was a coiled serpent. Then her human head appeared on the serpent's body. “Yes, my powers are returning.” She returned to full human form.

  “Then perhaps mine are also,” Vore said. “I am a demon.”

  “A demon!”

  “Prince D. Vore. Does that dismay you?”

  “Yes, for I was coming to like you.”

  He puffed into smoke, then re-formed in human guise.

  “Yes, I can now do demonly things. But why does this dismay you?”

  “Because now you will pop away forever in a cloud of mocking laughter, and I will understand how foolish I have been to think you were nice. For a demon has no soul, and therefore no conscience, and cannot love.”

  Vore considered. “Once that might have been the case.

  But I have come to know you, and I think that since I have been constrained by my father to marry, you are the one I would like to wed. You have qualities I never appreciated in a mortal creature before, and you are a Princess.”

  Nada laughed, somewhat bitterly. “I don't think any male ever noticed qualities in me, only my form. But you would not want to marry me, because then you might get half my soul, and become bound in a way you have never been before.”

  “I realize that. But perhaps it would be worth it. Could you spare half your soul?”

  “For marriage to a Prince of demons? I think I could.

  Even if he is young.”

  “Well, I am twenty-three hundred years old.”

  “Which is equivalent to twenty-three in human terms. I never thought I'd love a younger man.” She shrugged. “But these things happen, and allowances have to be made.”

  The boat came to rest on the ground. “Then perhaps our interests coincide,” Vore said. “I think we should make it formal, before our captors or pursuers strike again.” He took her hand. “Princess Nada, will you—”

  A dragon erupted from a nearby cave and launched itself toward them. Nada immediately became a huge serpent, and Vore's free hand sprouted a wickedly gleaming sword.

  The dragon hesitated.

  “—marry me?” Vore continued.

  The dragon decided to attack after all. But the serpent chomped it on the neck, and the demon thrust the sword hilt deep up its nose. The dragon sneezed, not being completely comfortable, and backed away.

  Nada's human head appeared on the serpent. “Yes,” she said.

  The sword disappeared. The demon took the serpent body in his arms and kissed the human face. “We are betrothed,” he said.

  “Agreed,” she said, resuming full human form. Then they kissed again.

  Suddenly several people stood around them. One was the Demon Professor Grossclout. “I heard that!” he said triumphantly. “I shall perform the ceremony at the Nameless Castle from which you just escaped, right after the trial is over.”

  Another was King Nabob. “So did I. The wedding will be within a fortnight. There will be an alliance between the naga and the demons.”

  A third was the Demoness Metria. “And it serves you right,” she said. Then she turned to the fourth. “Jenny Elf, I need to borrow your cat.”

  Jenny was startled. “My cat? Sammy?”

  “Yes. The Professor wouldn't tell me where to find you, until I agreed to get his son married. Now that's done, so I can get on with my mission.”

  Nada and Vore both turned to her. “Mission?” Nada asked, somehow seeming not entirely pleased. “I thought you came to serve Jenny and me our summonses.”

  “That, too.”

  “This was arranged?” Vore asked, seeming curiously similarly displeased.

  “Sure. It was the demons' beauty contest.”

  Vore and Nada exchanged a glance fraught with something or other. “We should break the be—” Nada started.

  Grossclout fixed her with his patented glare, stopping her in mid-word. “I think not.”

  “She's right,” Vore said. “We should not tolerate such interference in our—”

  “Look at her and say it,” King Nabob said.

  Vore looked at Nada. Nada looked at Vore. He saw Xanth's most beautiful woman, and a Princess. She saw a considerably handsome and talented man, and a Prince. Each saw a truly worthwhile match. Then their respective willpowers melted and they kissed again.

  “We shall name the grandchild DeMonica,” Grossclout said, and Nabob nodded agreement.

  “I guess you can borrow Sammy,” Jenny Elf said to Metria.

  Chapter 7

  AISLE

  “What is it you need to find?” Jenny asked, keeping firm hold of Sammy Cat so he wouldn't bound away to find it the moment it was spoken.

  “Arnolde Centaur.”

  “A centaur? Couldn't you just ask at one of the centaur villages, or at Centaur Isle?”

  “I did. The centaurs of Centaur Isle won't even speak of him, because they think magic in a centaur is obscene; I'm sure he's not there. Centaurs in other places haven't seen him in years. They say he must be one hundred twenty-six years old by now, if he's still alive. But Com-Pewter says he's still around somewhere. I just have to find him.”

  “He must be a very special centaur.”

  “He is. He's a Magician who can make an aisle of magic in Mundania. I need him to go after the Mundanes on my list.”

  “Mundanes?”

  “Dug and Kim. They—”

  “Oh, yes! I was Kim's Companion in the game, three years ago.”

  Metria paused. “That's right; I've been doing so many things, I'm forgetting who knows what. And Nada was Dug's Companion. He kept trying to get a glimpse of her panties.”

  “And got expelled from the game for it, she tells me,” Jenny agreed, laughing. “After that he behaved, and became a tolerably good person. Kim was a bit wild too, at first, but settled down. It will be great to see them again.”

  “We will. I have to get them both to that trial on time, or the Simurgh won't consider my job to be done, and the Good Magician won't tell me how to get the stork's notice.”

  Jenny cocked her head. “You haven't learned how to do that?”

  Metria smiled. “I summoned the stork centuries ago. But I didn't stay to take care of my baby girl. I think after that the stork decided I wasn't a suitable address for deliveries, so it ignores my signals, though I am now married and half souled and intend to be a good mother.”

  “Maybe you just haven't sent enough of them. I understand that some messages get lost.”

  “Seven hundred and fifty in a year?”<
br />
  Jenny pursed her lips. “I guess you do need some help. The stork has tuned you out.” She looked around. “Well, let's get started. Sammy may outrun me, so you will have to keep him in sight. I'll catch up eventually; I always do.”

  She set the orange cat down. “Sammy, we need to find Arnolde Centaur.” The cat was off in a bound, an orange streak amidst the foliage. “Wait for me!” Jenny cried futilely, chasing after him.

  Metria didn't wait; she sailed in pursuit of the feline. The cat was fast, but not as fast as a demoness. So they zoomed along through forest and field, upscale and downscale, and across rivers, mountains, and deserts.

  Then Sammy paused. There was a creature standing in the way. It was larger and shaggier than the cat, and looked dangerous. It seemed to be some kind of oink. But Sammy didn't seem frightened, just bored.

  “And of course, the economics of infrastructure must also be considered,” the oink was saying. “These consist of fifteen overlapping conditions that must be predicated on inversely bludgeoning circumstances, with due allowance for rapprochement incentives and integral negations.”

  “What in Xanth are you?” Metria demanded. “Aside from being the dullest creature I've encountered recently.”

  The oink glanced at her. “I'm a wild bore, of course. It is my business to bore you to death.”

  “You don't have to stand for this,” Metria told the cat. “Just go on around him.”

  That broke Sammy's seeming trance of boredom, and he skirted the bore and resumed running.

  Jenny arrived. “Wait for me!” she cried.

  “Certainly,” the bore said.

  “No you don't,” Metria said. “Go around him.”

  Jenny obediently moved to the side, where some pretty yellow vines were growing up along the trees. But Metria recognized the vines. “Not that way!” she called.

  Jenny pulled back, but the wild bore, barging after her, crashed into the vines. Suddenly there was a thick yellow splatter of fluid, drenching him. “Oh, ugh!” he squealed. “Ammonia!”

  “Not exactly,” Metria said. “Those are golden showers climbing rose vines.” Then she zoomed on after the cat, seeing that Jenny had gotten safely past the bore, who would have to go somewhere to wash himself off.