Ghost Writer in the Sky

by Anthony, Piers

  “Yes, Sorceress Tapis,” Electra said humbly. “At least I’ll serve the food.”

  The Sorceress smiled acquiescence. “Then you will join us.” She walked grandly toward her chair at the head of the table.

  Dolin hurried around to hold her chair for her. “Why thank you, Prince,” she said as she sat. “Where did you learn your manners?”

  “From my mother, the Princess Taplin,” he said. “She told me it was important for a prince to be mannerly.”

  The Sorceress gave a visible start. “Please, tell me your identities and situations.”

  Now Dolin did the honors, as they all sat and Electra busily served pies and milkpods. “We are a party from your far future, here to escape an unfortunate situation. This is Princess Emerald of the dragon realm, a dragon in human form.” Emerald nodded. Electra, less sophisticated than the others, looked awed. “The maiden Amara, host to the Goddess Isis.” Amara nodded, then manifested briefly as Isis, causing all three of their hosts to stare momentarily before recovering their manners. “The Mundane lady Tara, in a host. The Mundane man Tartan, in human host. They are here on a mission to save Xanth from an embarrassing threat. The dog Tata joined us along the way. And myself, Prince Dolin, son of Princess Taplin, your daughter. I greet you, Grandmother Tapis.” Clearly, more memories were returning, now that he was in the presence of his grandmother.

  Tapis frowned apologetically. “I find this difficult to believe. You came from the Year 1117?” Evidently Electra had told her.

  “We did,” Dolin answered.

  “By what means?”

  “Aunt Mera arranged it.”

  Mera opened her mouth, but Tapis silenced her with half a glance. “What do you know of Mera?”

  Dolin considered briefly. “She joined my mother in the future, helping to take care of me. Her talent is—is to travel between realities.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “She did, in my time. She was instrumental in making me part of this party. I love her.”

  Mera gazed at him with a tightly controlled glance. This was her own future history he was describing.

  Tapis considered a good two thirds of a moment. “You must understand, this is not something we can accept just on your say-so. You could be actors in some remarkable play. Do you have any proof of your futuristic origin?”

  Dolin spread his hands. “None, Grandmother.”

  Tapis focused on his right hand, where he wore the ring. “Tell me about the ring you wear,” she said, her voice deceptively calm.

  “Gladly, Grandmother. It is your ring, which you gave to your daughter Taplin to secure her during her long Sleep, along with the magic coverlet. That coverlet became my blanket when I was young, and now the ring contains my soul. It is invaluable to me.”

  “May I touch it?”

  “Of course, Grandmother.” Dolin held out his hand.

  Tapis put a finger to the ring. There was a faint flash. “It is indeed my ring.”

  “Taplin swore never to part with it!” Mera said indignantly.

  Dolin smiled understandingly. “It was Mother’s most treasured possession. She loaned it to me for a time to enable me to survive. I remember this as I address it.”

  “To survive?” Tapis asked sharply.

  “I do not remember this portion directly, of course, but Aunt Mera told me, and I know it is true. When I was eight years old I happened to be in the vicinity when the Sea Hag was changing hosts.”

  “The Sea Hag!” Mera exclaimed. “She’s notorious.”

  “Yes. She is a dreadful creature. It seems she lives eternally by taking new young host bodies when the old ones wear out. When I saw it happen she was wroth and threw me to a monster, who consumed me, and I died. Mother was devastated. But she found a way to save me by catching my soul in this magic ring. There it will remain until I marry a princess in the primary Xanth reality, when I will become real there and live again, as an adult. But only there; I can never return to thank Mother, for in her reality I died as a child. Aunt Mera will bring the empty ring back to her once I am secure, and she will be happy, as she has not been in seventeen years.”

  “Now I understand,” Mera said tearfully. “What an awful history. I see now that I must go to help my sister save you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Electra said. “How can marriage in another reality restore your life?”

  Dolin spread his hands. “This is not a thing I properly understand. But if it is not true, then I am doomed.”

  “I understand it,” Tapis said. “There are many alternates, most of which are possibilities rather than realities. When an alternate person comes to Xanth proper, he or she can stay there only about a month before fading out. But if that person marries a regular resident, and has a child, that child then anchors that person in Xanth, because a child must have a father and a mother. You, Dolin, being royal, must marry a person of your station.”

  “Yes, if I can find a suitable princess and persuade her to gamble on me,” Dolin agreed.

  “That would not be much of a gamble,” Tara said. “You’re handsome and accomplished and nice.”

  Dolin laughed. “But it seems there aren’t many available princesses. Emerald, here, would have been ideal.”

  “I’m a dragon,” Emerald protested. Tata woofed agreement.

  “That matters not,” Tapis said. “She is a princess, and grounded in reality. She would do.”

  “Then why doesn’t she?” Electra asked.

  Emerald sighed. “That is my tragedy. I must marry a human prince to secure detente between the dragons and the humans, so that there will not be divisive war. That is why my father sent me to the human realm. Prince Dolin certainly qualifies, and I like him personally, but I just can’t do it.”

  “Why not?” Electra asked before Tapis could shush her.

  “Because I am a lesbian,” Emerald said. “I can’t bear to marry any man, prince or no.”

  Mera looked shocked, but did not speak.

  “And I respect that,” Dolin said. “I would not care to marry a man either.”

  The others laughed, and Tata woofed, but there was an undercurrent of awkwardness verging on distress.

  Emerald took a breath. “But if you can’t find your princess, Dolin, and are faced with oblivion, rather than let that happen I would marry you. I value you too much to allow you to die through any neglect of mine.”

  “I sincerely appreciate the gesture,” Dolin said. “And I know you would make a fine wife, one with a certain fire.” He smiled briefly. “But I would never inflict such a sacrifice on you. We are better as friends.”

  “Yes,” Emerald agreed, clearly relieved.

  “It seems that there are complications quite apart from your presence here,” the Sorceress said. “Well, there may be proof of your origin and nature, Grandson, if you care to demonstrate it.”

  “How is that, Grandmother?”

  “It will hinge on your authenticity as my grandson, because of course you do not exist today. Still there are things you should know. Such as Taplin’s talent.”

  “Why yes, I do know that,” Dolin said. “It is sleeping.”

  “Sleeping?” Tara asked. “Everyone sleeps.”

  “Ah, but this is different,” Dolin said. “The rest of us sleep for only a few hours at a time. Taplin can sleep indefinitely.”

  “Like for several centuries,” Mera said.

  “But—” Tara said. “But now I think of it, what about, um, natural functions? Didn’t she need to eat? And to eliminate? To exercise? Wouldn’t her flesh bruise or rot if she didn’t move for hundreds of years?”

  “That’s it,” Dolin said. “She is able to sleep without those impediments. Neither did she ever suffer bad dreams. Neither did she age. She woke the same age as she was when she slept. She is the perfect sleep
er. That is her talent, which no one else has. That enabled her to reach the future, marry, and signal for me.”

  “That is a talent,” Tara agreed, impressed.

  “It also enables her to pass the time when life becomes uncomfortable,” Dolin said. “She will sleep until Princess Mera returns with news of me.” He frowned. “And if that news is not good, then she may sleep and never wake again.”

  Tapis nodded. “You do know about her. That is a positive signal. My daughter Taplin departed on her long Sleep only a year ago, on a journey of what you say will be 880 years total. There are three things that I share with my daughters, and if you also share them, then you are authentic.”

  “I do not know what these may be,” Dolin said. “My memory is imperfect, because of complications of my situation. I recall things only as they relate to me.”

  “One is an ugly little wart on the left little toe.”

  Dolin looked surprised. “I am in the host body of another man; this is not my true form. But I have had an itch on that toe, as if something should be there. Now I remember as a child, trying to scrub it off.”

  The Sorceress nodded. “What is your favorite food?”

  “Why, I never thought about it before. But now that I do, it is hayberry longcake. I could eat that until I got sick, and still love it.”

  Mera’s mouth dropped open. “Me too,” she said.

  “And me,” Tapis said. “We shall have it today for dessert, as we always do. But perhaps you could have heard of this.”

  “I could have guessed,” Dolin said. “Now I remember how Mother loves it.”

  “One other thing,” Tapis said. “Do you know my talent?”

  “Why yes, now that you ask,” Dolin said. “You make marvelous magic tapestries.”

  “How do I make them?”

  “Why of course you weeve them.”

  Tata tried to suppress a woof of amusement.

  “I do what?”

  “You weeve them with marvelous dexterity and magic.”

  There was part of a silence.

  “I think you mean weave,” Amara said diplomatically.

  “Yes, weeve,” Dolin agreed.

  “Uh-oh,” Tartan murmured.

  “There is a problem?” Dolin asked.

  “The word is weave,” Amara said. “Are you unable to say it correctly?”

  Dolin considered. “Now I appreciate the distinction, hearing the way you say it. If that is correct, then yes, I am unable to say it your way.”

  “Oh, my,” Mera said.

  Dolin spread his hands. “If that disproves my authenticity, then I am sorry. I truly thought I was your grandson, Sorceress, and your nephew, Mera. Certainly I should be able to speak the word correctly. I apologize for being an imposter. It was not my intent.”

  “No,” Mera said. “I, too, pronounce it weeve. So did my sister Taplin.”

  “And so do I,” Tapis said. “I do weeve my tapestries.”

  “They do,” Electra said. “None of them can say weave.”

  Dolin was confused. “But that means—”

  “Welcome to the family, grandson,” Tapis said with a smile. “I am glad, for it is apparent that you are a fine young man.”

  “And that my sister didn’t give away her ring for nothing,” Mera said.

  They had finished the meal. Electra stood. “I’ll clear.”

  “Not yet, dear,” Tapis said, and the girl sat back down obediently.

  “There is more?” Emerald asked.

  “There surely is,” Tapis said. “How much do any of you understand about alternate realities?”

  “Why, they surely exist,” Dolin said. “Because I am from one.”

  “What is the primary reality?”

  “That is the one that these good folk occupy,” Dolin said. “The one I seek to join.”

  “How does it differ from yours?”

  “I do not know about other respects,” Dolin said carefully. “But in it, Princess Electra is a grandmother, as she is not in mine.”

  “I’m a what?” Electra asked, astonished.

  Dolin smiled. “We met her. She is forty-six years old, the mother of twin girls, now adults.” He paused. “She welcomed me like a long lost nephew, and the twin daughters did too, as if I were their brother. I don’t understand that.”

  “Maybe I do,” Mera said. “Who is your father?”

  “Prince Dolph.” Then he looked surprised. “The same man Electra married!”

  “So you are a nephew,” Mera said. “Or more correctly a stepson. And a half brother to the princesses. In another reality.”

  “It seems I am,” Dolin agreed, amazed. “Now I understand why Dawn and Eve greeted me so affectionately. They knew.”

  “How did Electra get to your time, our future?” Tapis asked.

  “I am not sure,” Dolin said. “I have very little background history of that reality, or of my own.”

  “I can answer that,” Amara said. “It is a significant part of Xanth’s known History. The Evil Magician Murphy put a curse on the household of the Sorceress Tapis, and it caused Electra to accidentally bite the apple and fall into the coffin to sleep for a thousand years.”

  “Not Taplin?” Mera asked. “Then how can my sister be safely asleep right now, on her way to the future?”

  “Because that was the prime reality,” Tapis said. “Call it Number One. We are Number Two, where the curse did not strike and my daughter departed as planned.”

  “We’re not real?” Mera asked.

  “We are real,” Tapis said. “Merely not primary. All realities exist, and we are surely in most, but some are more fundamental than others.”

  “Wow,” Electra said.

  “I have a problem,” Tara said. “If only Taplin had the power to sleep for centuries without harm, how did Electra do it in the other reality? Why didn’t she die of old age in her sleep?”

  “Oh, I can answer that,” Electra said. “My talent is electricity. It imbues me, and protects me. It would have put me into a sort of stasis so that I had no natural functions or aging until kissed awake.”

  “Ah,” Tara said.

  “Who did you say I married, there in the future?”

  “You married Prince Dolph,” Amara said. “He had been enamored of Princess Nada Naga, but he knew that you—Electra—had to marry him or die, so he married you, and soon came to love you. Your daughters are Dawn and Eve, both highly regarded Sorceresses.”

  “But I’m not royal!” Electra protested. “I’m just a common servant girl.”

  “Not any more,” Tapis said, smiling. “But if Electra took Taplin’s place in the future, in that reality, what happened to Taplin here in the past?”

  “I believe she married King Roogna,” Amara said. “She fared well enough, considering.”

  “That’s a relief,” Tapis said. “I would not want her to marry beneath her station.”

  “That leaves me,” Mera said. “If I am to help my sister and Dolin, how do I get back to the future? There is not another apple for me to bite, and I am not at all certain how well I would survive such a long sleep if I did bite one.”

  “That is the question,” Tapis said. “Obviously you do need to get there, lest we be inflicted with paradox.”

  “I am perplexed,” Dolin said. “It was your spell, Aunt Mera, in the future, that sent us here. Are you not able to make another to take us and yourself back?”

  Mera shook her head. “Not my spell. I don’t do time travel.”

  “That’s right,” Tara said. “You made a deal with the Magician of Time. He wanted to get to another reality where he might have a better situation, and you knew you would need a time spell. So you traded. He gave you a Time Bomb set for this time, and you shifted him to another reality. And here we are.”
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  “It is more devious than that,” Mera said. “I evidently shifted us into this second reality so that Taplin could have her Sleep, having lost it to Electra before, and in the future I arranged to send the group of you here. But whenever I exert my talent, things change. I may not affect anything in this reality, but rather shift us into another reality. You won’t want another alternate; you need to stay in this one. Is that clear?”

  “Not at all, Aunt,” Dolin said with a smile. The others were similarly confused, Tata included.

  “My daughter is a Sorceress,” Tapis said fondly. “Her talent can be frighteningly potent and devious. It is best that she not use it unless there is overriding reason. She used it to enable Taplin to take her scheduled Sleep, then found a Self Storage unit to take herself to the future to join her sister so she could help. The alternates seem to vary in their timescales, so she might indeed shift you back to your future time, but it would surely be a new reality, quite different from the one you came from.”

  “That won’t do,” Mera said. “You would be lost amidst foreign realities.”

  “I still don’t properly understand,” Amara said. “But this is making me nervous.”

  “As are all of us,” Tara agreed with a shudder.

  “This Self Storage unit,” Tartan said. “In Mundania they are used to store things so the house doesn’t get overcrowded. I gather it’s not quite the same in Xanth.”

  “It is not,” Tapis agreed. “A person sets the unit for a given period, then enters and closes the door. She goes into stasis and is aware of no passage of time. But when she emerges, she is when she chose. It is clear that this worked for Mera.”

  “Exactly. So can we all use another to return to our own time?”

  “No. They are rare, and the one she used was the only one we knew of. It might take a century to search out another, and then it would probably be too small for the group of you.”

  “Bleep,” Tartan swore.

  The Sorceress looked at him. He was immediately embarrassed. “I apologize for my language. It’s just—”

  “Let us ponder overnight,” Tapis said. “Perhaps in the morning we will have a clearer view of our alternatives.”

  They didn’t argue. The Sorceress was right: they all needed time to think.