“Why not?”
“I had not yet been delivered by the stork.”
“The stork?”
“I guess you do it differently in Mundania. Here in Xanth the storks receive the three dots of the ellipsis, which carry a lot of information, and take their time to develop a suitable baby, which they then deliver to the mother.”
Tartan was amazed, as seemed to happen often in Xanth. “You mean there’s no pregnancy?”
“Pregnancy?”
“I guess not,” Tartan said.
“You boys must be having quite a dialog,” Tara said. “How long do you plan to stand there with your eyes unfocused?”
“A girl’s panties freak out Xanth males,” Tartan said. “And there’s no pregnancy. The stork delivers babies.”
“You’re joking!” Then her expression changed as she heard from Monica. “Not,” she added weakly.
“I’m not saying I believe it.”
Tara turned away from him and lifted her skirt.
Fingers snapped by his ear. “Snap out of it,” Tara said behind him.
“What—what happened?”
“On Monica’s advice I flashed you with her panties. You freaked out. So that much is true, and she assures me the rest is too. Xanth is truly a different realm.”
“I freaked out?”
“You were standing there frozen, your eyeballs locked.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Slow motion.” She faced away again and lifted the hem of her skirt very slowly. Tartan admired her legs, then her thighs, then as the panty line appeared—
She dropped the skirt. “See? You’re dizzy.”
“I’m dizzy,” he agreed. He hadn’t actually glimpsed her panties, merely the very edge. That was enough to satisfy him that there was definitely magic.
“A girl can stop a man in mid charge by flashing him,” Ted explained. “It’s a weapon they have.”
“That must be why all the women I’ve seen here wear dresses with skirts,” Tartan said. “No jeans or trousers.”
“Of course. Why would a girl deprive herself of her most potent weapon?”
“But I didn’t freak out when that mermaid flashed me.”
“She wasn’t wearing panties.”
“You mean a girl’s bare bottom doesn’t—?”
“Not the way panties do.”
“I continue to be amazed. Does Monica freak you out?”
“No. First, because I’ve known her from childhood. Second, because she prefers to play fair. She’s odd that way.”
“But if there were a real threat—?”
“She’d use ’em.”
“Now I better appreciate why Tara and I might want to exchange hosts at some point. If we had to get past a flashing female, you could do it if Tara were in charge.”
“So I could,” Ted agreed thoughtfully. “If we saw it coming.”
“And that’s what you meant, back at the shoe tree, about showing too much. I would have freaked out, and Tara would have caught on.”
“Exactly.”
They walked on along the enchanted path. Ahead they saw a person sitting on a rock beside the path. As they got closer, it was apparent that it was a lovely young woman, with pure silver hair, and she was weeping.
“Oh, my,” Tartan said aloud. “I can’t stand to see a woman cry.”
“We’ll have to try to comfort her,” Tara said.
“Yes,” he said, gratified by her support. She had said she was jealous about the mermaid, but it seemed that was a special case. The mermaid had been trying to seduce him, or worse. She was not jealous of all other women. “Let’s check with our hosts.”
“This is not something we know anything about,” Ted said. “She’s not from these parts.”
Tartan glanced at Tara. “Not local,” she said. “But she couldn’t be on the enchanted path if she were any threat to us.”
So Monica’s information was similar to Ted’s. They approached the weeping girl. “Uh, miss—” Tartan said.
The woman jumped. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come.” Her face was as lovely as her body, though tear stained.
“We don’t know you,” Tara said. “We’re on our way to the Good Magician’s Castle, and saw you here. Is there anything we might do to help you?”
“I just came from there,” the girl wailed. “It’s awful!”
“He didn’t answer your question?” Tartan asked.
“He answered it,” she said, and went into another siege of grief.
Tartan and Tara exchanged a look, and it was clear that both their hosts were baffled too. “Let’s start at the beginning,” Tartan said. “I am Tartan from Mundania, and my companion is Tara, also from Mundania. We are just visiting, using native hosts, trying to perform a mission.”
“I’m Emerald,” the girl said. “You can see my nails.” She held up her hands. Her fingernails were solid emerald green. “I’m a dragon.”
“A what?” Tara asked, startled.
“A dragon. I’m in human form at the moment. I could show you, but I’d have to go off the enchanted path to have room. It’s a long story.”
“This sounds true,” Ted said. “She does have a dragon odor.”
“Maybe we should hear your story,” Tartan said. “If you care to tell it.”
Emerald considered. “I suppose I could tell you. It isn’t as if we’ll ever see each other again.”
“Tell us,” Tara said encouragingly.
“Thirteen years ago the Land of Xanth was running short of dragons,” Emerald said. “Clio, the Muse of History, made a journey out beyond Ptero to Dragon World and made a deal with the dragons to import a number to Xanth, to replace the shortage. Thus came all manner of dragons: Fire, Smoke, Steam, Suction, Tongue.”
“Tongue?” Tartan asked.
“Prehensile. They can wrap their tongues around anything and draw it in to eat. Anyway, the dragons resettled Xanth, and all was well for a while. Some dragons were able transform to human shape, being smart enough to associate with humans on an equal basis.” She paused half a moment. “I am of that line.”
“We gathered that,” Tara said.
“But most dragons regard the human form as demeaning, so do not exercise this ability. So a relative few of us practice it.” She smiled briefly. “I learned humility early. Anyway, given this rich new territory, the dragons multiplied, and soon there were too many for the land to properly support. They realized that strong leadership was needed. Therefore they conducted elections, without the knowledge of the humans, who might not have understood. They decided on a king, and I am his daughter.”
“You’re a princess!” Tartan said.
“Yes, unfortunately. A dragon princess. I was well trained in dragonly ways and am excellent at fighting, but still looked down on because I did not mind appearing human, and I can fight also in this form. But I am also empathic, a trait not highly regarded among dragons, as it interferes with hunting and feeding.”
“Do you mean emphatic?” Tara asked.
“No, that means forceful. Empathy means identifying with the feelings of others.”
“Such as potential prey,” Tartan said. “I can see how that would make killing and eating it awkward.”
“Exactly. I have been trained to kill, and I can kill, but I don’t much like it. I would rather discuss things with humans than eat them. That makes me something of a pariah among my kind.”
“We sympathize,” Tara said, with three quarters of a smile.
“Not that dragons were preying on humans or other humanoids like elves, gnomes, and goblins,” Emerald said. “Part of the deal had been for the two species to be at peace. But some humans were hunting dragons, though they weren’t supposed to, and that annoyed many of us. Some humans were getting kille
d, and they thought it was by dragons, because there were more dragons than ever. Tensions increased between the two species. The notion of war developed, with neither species really opposed to it; each would be glad to be rid of the other. However, my father and I knew that such a war would lead to needless casualties on both sides. So my father sent me to visit the Good Magician and ask for a way to avert the impending war. That is what I did.”
“But you said he gave you an answer,” Tartan said. “So why were you weeping?”
“That relates to the rest of the story. You see, he told me that the most expedient way to ensure peace was for me to marry a human prince.”
“That might do it,” Tara said.
“Yes it might,” Emerald agreed. “And I think my father had something of the sort in mind when he sent me. But it’s no good.”
“Why not?” Tartan asked. “You look delightfully human, and crossbreeds happen in Xanth. Our hosts are crossbreeds. I’m sure any prince would be glad to have you, if you promised not to bite him.”
“I’m sure he would. But I can’t do it.”
“But why not?” Tara asked.
“Because what my father doesn’t know is that I’m a lesbian. The idea of marrying a man, even a noble prince, horrifies me. It’s not the species that is the problem, it’s the gender. I just can’t do it.”
“Oh, my,” Tartan said. “Now we appreciate your problem.”
“We certainly do,” Tara agreed. “But we’re just visitors. Maybe our hosts have thoughts.”
They turned the bodies over to the hosts. “Hello. I am Demon Ted, a demon/human crossbreed. I don’t have any problem with your dragon nature, and I’d be interested in you myself, because you’re beautiful, except that I’m not royal and I’m male.”
“I am DeMonica, a demon/naga crossbreed. I am of royal lineage. I don’t have any problem with your dragon nature either, but my romantic interest is in men.”
“And there it is,” Emerald said. “My romantic orientation is what dooms my mission. I don’t dare return to my father with my mission unfulfilled, yet it is not in me to marry a prince. Oh, woe is me!” She relapsed into tears.
“What Service did the Good Magician require of you for his useless Answer?” Ted asked.
“None. He said my mission was worthy, but he couldn’t help me at this time, so there was no charge. He told me to go on my way.”
“That was halfway nice of him,” Monica said. “Which is about as far as he goes. What will you do now?”
Emerald considered. “I guess I’ll go find a nice private spot and end myself, since I have no viable alternatives in life.”
Both Ted and Monica winced.
“Look, Emerald,” Ted said after the winces dissipated, leaving small smudges in the air. “We just hate to see a pretty creature like you go that way. Why don’t you wait here, and once we’re done with the Good Magician, we’ll come back this way and you can join our Quest.”
“Quest?”
“We’re helping Tartan and Tara save Xanth from a fate worse than oblivion: torment by the Ghost Writer,” Monica said. “Maybe you can help us, in your dragon form, by flying up and intercepting the Night Colt and chomping him. Meanwhile we’ll look out for some way to help you in return. Maybe there’s something none of us are thinking of yet, but will in time.”
“I suppose,” Emerald said uncertainly. “At least I could look for a suitable spot to end myself.”
“That too,” Ted agreed, almost generating another wince. “Now we’ll return to being hosts.”
Tartan and Tara came to the fore. “We agree with them,” Tartan said. “In a magic land like Xanth, there must be a way to ease your burden.”
“There has to be,” Tara agreed.
“Thank you,” Emerald said. “My hope is faint, but that’s more than I had before. Just the sympathy of the four of you helps a bit.”
They walked on, leaving Emerald there, no longer tearful. “We have to help her,” Tartan said.
“We will, somehow,” Tara agreed.
Chapter 5
Prince Dolin
“Thar she blows!” Tartan exclaimed as the castle turrets came into sight. There had been no doubt about finding the Good Magician’s Castle, because Ted and Monica were familiar with the route, and the path led right there.
“It’s beautiful,” Tara said.
“Careful, girl. Last time you said that, you wound up kissing a cloud.”
“It was worth it.”
“Remember,” Ted said. “You can’t just walk in. There’ll be three Challenges to navigate. Monica and I won’t be able to help you there; you’ll be on your own. That’s the Good Magician’s rule.”
“We’ll handle it,” Tara said, evidently responding to a similar message from Monica. “But considering that we’re on a mission to help Xanth, and the Magician must know that, why should he obstruct our way?”
“He doesn’t like to be bothered by folk who aren’t serious,” Ted said. “So he discourages them.”
“Emerald must have gotten through,” Tara said. “She was plenty serious. Yet he didn’t help her.”
“The Good Magician is known for several things,” Ted said. “His grumpiness, his obscurity, and his way of always being right in the end. He must have had reason to turn her down.”
“I’m not sure I much like him,” Tara said. Then: “What?!” The two punctuation marks were clear, not seeming to like being jammed together.
“Monica’s telling her what else the Magician is known for,” Ted said. “He has five and a half wives.”
“Five and a half wives!” Tartan exclaimed. “I thought Xanth was monogamous.”
“It is. It’s a long story.”
“Condense it.”
“Humfrey—that’s his name—went to Hell in a hand basket and was given back all his former wives for the prior century or so. They had faded out naturally, in time, and been stored there. So suddenly he had them all back: Dara Demoness, the Maiden Taiwan, Rose of Roogna, Sofia Mundane, the Gorgon, and last and least, MareAnn, who is good with horses. She’s the half, though she was his first love.”
“That’s quite a roster,” Tartan said.
“I could tell you more. Each has a book-length story.”
“I’ll pass, for now. So how do all those wives get along together?”
“Just fine. They all have a common trial: Humfrey himself. They take turns, one month apiece. It’s like a relay race. So we’ll encounter this month’s Designated Wife, whoever she is. That’s how they bypass the monogamy issue.”
“But first we have to navigate three Challenges,” Tara said aloud. “On our own.”
“Let’s do it.”
They walked toward the castle, which was set in a pretty moat, with ornamental trees surrounding it. There was no sign of danger. The path led right to the drawbridge, which was conveniently down; they would not have to swim.
A huge head lifted out of the water, perched on a massive serpentine neck. “A moat monster!” Tara exclaimed as the monster eyed them and licked its lips.
“Let’s not swim.”
“Not,” she agreed with a shudder. “That thing isn’t even trying to tempt us with a sexy body. It’s just hungry.”
They rounded a tree and came across several equines sitting up like dogs and using their front hooves to hold little sandwiches. This was odd but not threatening. But as they approached, for the path went right through the group of animals, somehow the scene shifted so that the creatures were blocking the way with their massive bodies.
“Maybe we can go around,” Tartan said.
They walked to the side, but that too turned out to be blocked. They tried the other side, only to find yet more bodies. “There appears to be no way through,” Tara said.
“This must be a Challenge. We h
ave to find a way to get safely past it.”
“Maybe we can climb over them,” she said hesitantly.
They tried, but the bodies turned out to be taller than they looked, forming an effective wall. “I don’t think we can do it, physically,” Tartan said, frustrated.
“We can do it as ghosts,” Tara said. “We can part with the host bodies here and go on by ourselves.”
“Good idea. Last one out is a rusty pot.”
They paused, not emerging. “I can’t get out,” Tara said.
“Neither can I. We’re locked in. So it seems we have to do it physically.”
“Somehow,” she agreed.
“I just thought of something. Xanth is a land of puns. Maybe there’s a pun.”
“A pun about horses eating appetizers?” Then she groaned.
“What?”
“The pun. I just got it. A sight pun. Horse d’oeuvres.”
Now Tartan groaned. But she was right, because the horses faded away, leaving the path clear. They had handled the first Challenge, almost by accident.
But in barely three moments there was another barrier. Floating spheres with little arms and legs hovered across the path, jostling together.
“Why do I suspect that we won’t be able to pass by them?” Tartan asked rhetorically.
They tried, and the spheres blocked them off high, low, and to the sides. No passage.
“Another pun?” Tara asked.
“I can’t think what.”
“They have letters printed on them. Maybe they have names.”
Tartan looked. AAA, BBB, CCC and so on. “Designations, at least,” he agreed. “Maybe if we get to ZZZ we’ll be able to get around the end.”
But there turned out to be no end. Instead the orbs started having different combinations, like ABC, ACD, or ADE. That didn’t help.
Then he saw one that said ABS. And a light bulb actually flashed over his head.
“I saw that,” Tara said. “You got a bright idea!”
“I did. It’s crazy, but—”
“This is a crazy place. Out with it.”
Ghost Writer in the Sky Page 8
