Air Apparent

by Piers Anthony

  “Lethe!” Debra exclaimed. “Doesn’t that make you forget things?”

  “Yes. That’s why it’s dangerous. Bev says this is the time to do it, when we can succeed. I will lock it in place so we can safely get a bottle of it. Timur will cool it to freezing after it’s in the bottle so it won’t leak out. It may be a challenge, no pun, but we’ll get it done.”

  “So it’s not so bad, working for the Good Magician,” Bev said hopefully.

  “Not bad at all,” Steph agreed. “You’ll like it, if you get through to Ask your Question. What did you say your name is?”

  There it was. She had to answer. “Debra.”

  “Say,” Timur said, stepping toward her. He reached for her chest.

  Debra cringed.

  “You’re scaring her,” Steph told him. “What’s gotten into you, Tim?”

  He snapped out of it, embarrassed. “Sorry. Something—never mind.”

  “We have a job to do,” Steph said. “You can’t just go grabbing underage girls.” She hustled him on past. “Sorry about that, Deb,” she said over her shoulder. “He’s not like that. Usually.” They went on.

  Debra made a silent sigh of relief. She had gotten through, this time.

  She would have to use the drawbridge. Fortunately it was down across the moat, having just been used by the three. However she doubted it would just let her cross. Xanth was a magic land, and just about everything had magic and attitude to go with it.

  Sure enough, the moment she set foot on the path toward the drawbridge, an array of cats appeared. They seemed to be in a queue before a chamber where a lion and a witch guarded a wardrobe. Each cat presented coins before being allowed to disappear into the wardrobe.

  There was something halfway familiar about the scene, but Debra couldn’t quite place it. She attempted to pass the line, but immediately the cats hissed and spit at her. “I’m not trying to break into your line,” Debra said. “I just want to move on to the other side of it.” But they evidently didn’t understand. They would not let her through.

  She paused, considering. This must be a Challenge. But how did it apply? Was she supposed to join the line and go into the big wardrobe? Somehow she doubted it; whatever was in it was not something she wanted. More likely she just needed to get them to let her pass their line.

  This was Xanth. It was a land of puns. Could this be some kind of pun?

  Then she got it. “Fee-line!” she cried. “Feline. You’re cats lining up to pay your fee for entry to whatever it is you’re going to.”

  The scene faded, lion, witch, wardrobe and all. She had gotten the pun, or at least enough of it to qualify. Maybe it was part of some other story. She stepped forward, advancing toward the drawbridge.

  But now there was some kind of stem in her way. It was huge, with milky joints, and extended in such a tangle it would be quite awkward to get around, over, or through it. It was surely another pun. But what?

  She traced an offshoot tendril, and discovered a big animal growing from it. In fact it was a Mundane cow! “Hi, Bossy,” she said.

  “Mooo!” the cow responded amiably.

  What kind of a plant grew cows?

  Then she got it: “Bo-vine!”

  The cow-plant faded, allowing her to take a few more steps toward the drawbridge. She was getting through the Challenge.

  But now she came to a collection of odd creatures milling around. The path led right through their pen, and she hesitated to barge through. She had to figure out what kind of puns these creatures were.

  One was a teddy bear–like creature picking what looked like cupcakes from a plant and eating them. With each one it ate, the animal became funnier, changing colors, sizes, and shapes. What were those sweetbreads?

  She picked one and tasted it. Suddenly she felt insanely witty. “What do you call a dull ogre?” she asked rhetorically. “A medi-ogre! What about a liquid yellow flower that shoots seeds from its center? A pistil! What about tea that kills you? Mortalitea!”

  Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. What was she saying? This was such crude humor it was positively unladylike. What had gotten into her?

  That piece of cupcake she had just eaten. That bun, the same kind that was making the teddy bear react just as crazily. What was in it?

  Then she caught on. “It’s not a bun, it’s a pun! It makes me emit stinky puns!” But what about the animal? It wasn’t stinking. It must be adapted to handle this diet. “And you’re a Punda!” she exclaimed, pleased.

  The creature faded. She had identified it.

  But there were others. For example, an ox-like animal that looked exceedingly stupid. What could it be?

  She nibbled a bit more of the pun she still held. “A Flummox!” she said. The creature faded.

  Then next was an inlet of the moat, on which floated what seemed to be a block of ice. It was a miniature iceberg, but there was something odd about it. It was moving, but she wasn’t sure how fast, and she couldn’t tell exactly where it was. It wasn’t that it was fuzzy, just that somehow it seemed impossible to judge both position and motion at the same time.

  Something nagged her memory. Something in physics class, or a footnote in the text. “It’s a Heisen-berg!” she exclaimed.

  The berg faded; it had been fathomed. Her brain had nearly split, but she had gotten it. The Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

  Now there was a big muscular bug. It was lifting rocks out of the way, heaving them with phenomenal efforts. Some it took bites from, evidently liking the taste. What could it be?

  She nibbled again on the pun. “Dine-o-mite!” she said. “Or maybe dino-might. Explosively strong bug.”

  The mite faded. It had been contained.

  She stepped forward—and encountered a phenomenal musical note that sent shivers halfway up her spine and tremors along the rest of it. She fell back, alarmed. What could this be? She had never before reacted this way to mere music.

  This had to be another pun. But how could there be a pun in music, a mere single note? Too many such notes would give her a backache.

  Then she got it. “It’s a Spinal Chord!”

  The remnant of the note faded, and with it her pain in the spine. She took another step.

  A fenced area appeared, filled with people: men, women, children. They all seemed somewhat motley, as if they knew themselves to be of no account. Some of them were working at sundry tasks, not very hard or well.

  One person stood apart, in an adjacent lot. He was handsome and well dressed, and seemed to be the very picture of success. The path led directly to him.

  There had to be a pun, but whatever could it be? A successful man, separated from the other folk: what was special or funny about that?

  She took another bite of the bun, and got it. “You’re out standing in your field!” she told the man.

  He glanced at her, nodding, as he faded.

  And it seemed she had finally won through this Challenge, because there were no more puns. The path was open to the drawbridge.

  Debra approached the drawbridge. There was a man guarding it. He was about six feet tall, fit, with curly brown hair and a mustache. In fact just the kind she liked to get secret crushes on. She hoped he didn’t demand to know her name.

  “Hello,” she said cautiously. “I need to cross the bridge, if that’s all right.”

  He shook his head. “Hello to you. I’m Bernie, and I’m here to prevent you from doing that. If you try to set foot on it I will pick you up and toss you into the moat.”

  “But there are sharks there!” she protested.

  “Plus a hungry moat monster,” he agreed. “So you had better not try.”

  “But I need to see the Good Magician.”

  “He doesn’t need to see you, honey. He doesn’t like to be bothered.”

  “I have to see him!” she wailed. “He’s the only one who can possibly help me.”

  Bernie looked at her with some compassion. “Look, honey, I have a daughter of my
own. I never want to see her hurt. But I have a job to do here. This is a Challenge. I will not let you pass if I can help it.”

  A sympathetic Challenge. That struck her as unusual. Maybe she could learn something useful. So she talked with him. “How can you stand all these puns?”

  “I love puns! You ran afoul of some good ones.”

  “They were awful ones!”

  “Same thing, honey. The very best puns are the real stinkers. Let’s face it: the Land of Xanth is pretty much made of puns. If you can’t handle them, you don’t belong here.”

  He had a point. But this wasn’t getting her across the drawbridge. Maybe she could befriend him, and he would let her by after all. Or something. “What’s the best/worst pun you’ve seen, Bernie?”

  “That’s easy! It’s the Bombshell.”

  “The bombshell? I thought that was a pretty woman.”

  “It is, in Mundania. Here it’s an explosive shell. It can stun men just by its look, and when you throw it, it explodes and stuns everyone in the vicinity. I love it. But of course I’m a man; it wouldn’t have the same effect on you.”

  “I suppose not,” Debra agreed. “But isn’t a shell a cylinder with gunpowder in it, or dynamite?” She flinched inwardly, remembering the pun on that word she had recently passed. “What’s so special about that?”

  “It’s the shape of the shell, honey. Like the sexiest woman alive.”

  Oh. Debra gazed into the moat, trying to think of some other lead, as this one wasn’t working out.

  She saw the hourglass figure of a woman who was shapelier than Debra had ever dreamed of being. Yet it was a shell. Could it be?

  She reached into the water and lifted it out. “What do you think of this?” she asked, holding it up.

  Bernie stared. “That’s it! The Bombshell!”

  “This?” She turned it around so that it showed the plush bottom that revealed just a bit of panty.

  Bernie didn’t answer. She looked at him, and saw he was frozen in place, staring at the shell. He had freaked out! Now she remembered that the sight of women’s panties did that to men in Xanth, and maybe in Mundania too. As long as the figure was in view, he would remain in stasis. Men were like that; they just couldn’t take their eyes off something sexy.

  She had found the key to passing this Challenge. She set the bombshell carefully on the ground, taking care not to conceal any part of it. Bernie’s eyes followed it, locked on.

  She stepped away from the shell. Bernie didn’t move. She walked quietly around him and set foot on the draw-bridge. He did not react. She had found the way through, as much by luck as design. But of course the Challenges were designed to be solved; a person just had to be alert. She was glad she hadn’t had to throw the shell at him; its mere appearance was enough.

  Two Challenges done. One to go.

  She crossed the moat and came to the portcullis that guarded the castle entrance. The bars were raised, but she didn’t quite trust this: would the whole heavy thing come plunging down on her head if she walked under it?

  She poked one hand under, ready to yank it back. Nothing happened. So she nerved herself and jumped past, giving the thing no time to catch her.

  That turned out to be just as well, because the bars crashed down just behind her. Now she was locked inside the castle.

  Well, it was where she wanted to be. She looked around, and found herself in a short hall leading to a garden area. It was a pretty garden, with many trees, shrubs, paths, and pools. If this was a Challenge, it was a nice one. Of course she didn’t trust it. There would be some mischief here.

  A big sign said ASK NOT WHAT CONCERNS YOU NOT, LEST YOU HEAR WHAT PLEASES YOU NOT.

  Well, that was plain enough. She would not ask any stupid questions. That was surely part of the Challenge.

  She entered the garden, as there wasn’t much else to do, with her retreat closed off by the portcullis. She saw that each plant and pool was neatly labeled. There were assorted pie trees and milkweeds, but she doubted she was here to eat or drink. So she followed a path, knowing that it was bound to lead somewhere. Right ahead it crossed another path.

  Suddenly a big red light flashed in front of her. She froze in place, held there magically. Had she ventured into a wrong place?

  But then the light turned green, and she was free to move again. She realized it had been a stoplight. Just like Mundania, only here it was literal: she couldn’t move until it changed color.

  “Got caught by the light, eh?” a man inquired from the other path.

  “Yes,” Debra agreed, embarrassed.

  “If there’s a problem, I can fix it,” the man said. “I’m a pathologist. I take care of enchanted paths.”

  “Thank you, there’s no problem,” she said. Except where the third Challenge was, and she was sure she couldn’t ask him. Now she knew it was all right to talk, to answer, just not to ask.

  She moved on quickly, because the man looked as if he were about to ask her name, and she didn’t want that.

  She came to a pool where a red-haired woman and a girl were working. The girl was pointing to things, and the woman was using a net to catch them and lift them into a tank behind her. They looked like bundles of snakes.

  The woman spied her. “Hello. I am Theresa, and this is Aurora Sky. We’re from Mundania.”

  “So am I,” Debra said, gratified. “I’m Debra.” It was okay to tell her name to a woman.

  “Oh, then you know how it is. We came here to ask Questions, and now are serving our Services.”

  “I’ll be doing the same,” Debra agreed.

  Aurora pointed. “Yes, that’s a good one,” Theresa said, and put the net to the water. She lifted out their catch.

  Debra stared. That was no bundle of snakes. In fact it was a little monster! A creature with seven snapping heads. “Why are you saving those?” Debra asked.

  Oops. She had asked a question.

  “This is hydraponics,” Theresa explained. “We’re growing hydras in water. But first we have to catch them. Aurora is very good at spotting them.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to ask,” Debra said, abashed.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Now you’ll pay a penalty. I’m sorry.”

  “A penalty,” Debra agreed nervously.

  Then suddenly she burst into giggles. She couldn’t help herself; her fit could not be contained. She rolled on the ground, stifled giggles bursting forth.

  “Oh, it’s the Giggles!” Theresa said. “How awful!”

  Debra tried to respond, but couldn’t speak around the ongoing giggles.

  “It’s my fault,” Theresa said. “I distracted you, and you forgot. So I’ll help you to the extent I am able. The Giggles are a member of the Vole family. They are invisibly small. They get into your clothing and cause uncontrollable fits of giggling. They must have been waiting for you to give them the pretext. The only way to get rid of them is to wash them off, and out of your clothing. But that may not be easy.”

  “Th—the—thank you!” Debra gasped between giggles. She scrambled toward the nearest pool.

  “Not here!” Theresa said. “The hydra will get you.”

  Now Debra saw that the little monsters were accompanied by a big monster in the water. The adult hydra could have swallowed her four limbs and one head with single gulps of five of its seven heads, and seemed eager to do so. Indeed, this was not the place to wash.

  “I’m not allowed to tell you where,” Theresa said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s—hee hee!—all—giggle!—right,” Debra gasped. She scrambled on down the path, looking for water she could use before she expired of giggling.

  She came to a larger pool of what looked like clear, clean water. But five men were dancing on it, to loud crude music. The sign said River Dancers, and evidently they had a joint talent that enabled them to dance on water. They were looking at her as they danced, perhaps appreciating the audience.

  She would have to remove her clothing and get
in the water right by their feet. They would be able to look down and see all of her without breaking their steps. She was giggling up a storm, but was not amused. At age thirteen she might not have as full a body as she would have soon, but she certainly did not want men staring at it bare. She struggled onward.

  The next pond was private, but its identifying sign said Illixir. She stifled her giggles long enough to see that a chip of wood floated in it. It was probably healing elixir with reverse wood, so that instead of healing people it made them ill. She managed to poke a finger in the water, and immediately it felt as if it were festering. The chip was out of reach; she couldn’t pull it out and let the water revert to healing elixir. She had to move on.

  The next pool was labeled Love Spring. If she bathed in that, she would fall in love with the next man she saw. That was no good, for more than one reason. She staggered on, still giggling. Her ribs were getting sore with all that laughing, but she couldn’t stop. Bleep those Giggles!

  Another pool was labeled Hate Spring. That was worse.

  Then she came to a pool that was on fire. Sure enough, it was labeled Firewater. It would boil her alive.

  Then she got smart. She saw a chip of wood lying near it. It looked exactly like the chip of reverse wood she had seen before. She picked it up and flipped it into the water.

  The flames extinguished. The pool had become the opposite of firewater, which should be water water.

  Debra plunged in, clothing and all. Then she scrambled out of her clothing and swam naked. She was no longer giggling; she had washed off the invisible beasties. What a relief!

  She caught her pieces of clothing and dragged them through the water, making sure everything was washed out. Then she climbed back to shore and shook herself dry. How glad she was that this pool was in a secluded glade!

  But she still had to make it through the third Challenge. She was beginning to wonder: was this to be an endless array of puns and tricks? She had put up with it so far, but was it really worth it?

  She pondered while her clothing dried. The more she thought about it, the more she was annoyed. Maybe it was time to do something about it.